Written Down, Written Up
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
I can recall quite vividly two times in my teen years when I “signed up.” First, at age thirteen I was confirmed by my father-pastor at St. Paul’s E. and R. Church in Blackburn, Missouri. It was quite an event in the church. On the previous Sunday my confirmation mate, Vivian Kirchoff, and I were examined by my father on the catechism before the entire congregation. The Sunday after confirmation we joined in Holy Communion for the first time. On the Sunday of confirmation we processed into church. After the service Mr. Chester Grube, the church secretary, took Vivian and me to the back of the church where we signed the big book of church members. Mr. Grube made quite a dramatic event of the signing. In that moment we became full adult members of the church. All of this after we had reiterated the vow of the catechism:
Lord Jesus, for thee I live,
for thee I suffer,
for thee I die!
Lord Jesus, thine will I be in life and in death!
Grant me, O Lord, eternal salvation! Amen.
The second “signing up” was that at eighteen I went to Marshall, the county seat of our Saline County, with my dad and “registered” for the draft as was required by law. I had had extended conversation with my dad about the registration. I asked for and promptly received classification as IVD, a deferment for ministerial study. I had decided in my junior year in high school where I was headed. I had no sense at the time of the moral ambiguity of the classification. I was glad to be properly “registered.” In college I joined a throng of pre-theological students who also had IVD classifications. These two “signings” situated me, as I finished high school, “registered” as church member and “registered” as a citizen.
All of this memory came back to me as I was astonished, yet again, to notice that in the early verses of Luke’s birth narrative that the term “register” occurs four times:
A decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered (v. 1).
This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria (v. 2).
All went to their own towns to be registered (v. 3).
He [Joseph] went to be registered with Mary (v. 5).
The narrative is framed as an imperial act of “registration.” The Greek term is apographo, that is, “written down.” All were to be “written down” under imperial auspices in the same way I had been “written down” by the church and by the government. Joseph and Mary, vulnerable peasants from the shabby village of Nazareth, were ‘written down” by the empire in its long reach into the peasant economy. And of course, the only two conventional reasons for such imperial “registration” are to keep proper tax records for future taxation, and proper manpower rosters for future military drafts. Joseph exhibited no resistance against the registration. He engaged in no civil disobedience but complied with the imperial requirement.
That report concerning Caesar’s “registration” is only an introduction for Luke. The real narrative, beginning in verse 8, is quite otherwise. The real narrative is about angelic messengers announcing the arrival of a savior, the Messiah, the Lord (v. 11). The messengers bespeak the emergence of an alternative governance. The shepherds, lowest of the lowly, likely even “lower” than Joseph the carpenter, were awed and moved to doxology that pushed outside of imperial boundaries. I wonder if the shepherds had “registered” with the empire of Rome. I wonder if they were “written down” by the empire. Perhaps they were too obscure and elusive to be caught in such a registration. We do not know; we only know that they were readily welcomed into an alternative governance. They gladly received it!
So I have wondered about being “written down.” Joseph was written down! That is why he went from Nazareth to Bethlehem, in order to be written down. Maybe he would be recruited for imperial war. Almost certainly he would be taxed. But he and Mary did not flee to Egypt in order to avoid either the draft or taxation. They fled because they knew that that the local authority, a Jewish king, wanted their baby dead. They were written down by Rome, but they fled in fear for their lives. Being written down by the empire would never keep them safe!
It is enough to see, in Luke’s framing of the birth narrative, that it was the empire’s urge to get the family of the carpenter written down that created the venue for the Messianic birth. This led me to consider other such acts of governmental “writing down” in scripture.
The most dramatic case of such writing down is that of King David in II Samuel 24:1-9. Curiously, the census proposed by David was instigated through divine cunning (v. 1). From the outset we are put on notice that the census (writing down!) is inimical to the will of YHWH who “incited” David in anger. David ordered the census (v. 2), but is immediately challenged by his leading general, Joab (v. 3). We know that Joab is an advocate of the old tribal order, so that later on he will oppose and resist the royal ambition of his son, Solomon (I Kings 1:25, 2:28-35). Joab knowingly regards the proposed census as an excessive reach of royal power and a violation of old tribal protocol. Thus Joab’s question to David is a tacit rebuke of the king. The king, however, does not even bother to respond to Joab. He proceeds promptly to the census that is to be conducted by his military. If we consider the mode of implementation plus the summary statement of verse 9, we can see that the purpose of the census is the mobilization of military manpower:
Joab reported to the king the number of those who had been recorded: in Israel there were eight hundred thousand soldiers able to draw the sword, and those of Judah were five hundred thousand (II Samuel 24:9).
The census-taking military surveyed the entire land, down to every territory and village (vv. 5-8). They sought out every possible military recruit, a sum that was in the end quite impressive. The king could be reassured that he had ample manpower available for his military ambitions and adventures (see II Samuel 8:1-14).
We are told at the outset of our narrative that YHWH “incited” (v. 1) David. It was as if YHWH jeopardized David by putting the idea in his head. The matter is made acutely ironic in verse 10. It finally occurred, even to David, that instigating the census was sinful. That judgment attributed to David here (and apparently to YHWH as well) reflects the old tribal resistance to royal regimentation, on which see I Samuel 8:11-13 that anticipates exactly such royal recruitment:
He [the king] will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and reap his harvest, and some to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers (I Samuel 8:11-13).
Thus the census is understood to be a part of the persistent predatory propensity of royal power in which David now participates. The acknowledgement of David (and of YHWH!) in II Samuel 24:10 is congruent with the objection raised by Joab earlier in the narrative. While YHWH does not directly condemn the census as sinful, the three options offered to David in 24:12-13 confirm the point. The census, whether by David or belatedly by Caesar, is a contradiction of YHWH’s intent for social ordering. It is a sin for some with power to mobilize the clout over more vulnerable folk in order to implement their eagerness for domination and control.
The matter is tilted somewhat differently in the alternative version of the narrative in I Chronicles 21:1-6. In this rendering, the first verse has “Satan” incite David to initiate the census. As given here, Satan is no longer the “tester” of the Job narrative but is an instigator of evil. Thus the work of evoking evil by David is now separated from YHWH who can be “displeased” by the census without being its instigator at the same time. Because Satan is now engaged, YHWH’s own part in the narrative is much less ambiguous.
The only other scriptural mention of a census is voiced by Gamaliel, a “teacher of the law,” in Acts 5:37. Gamaliel issues a cautionary word to his colleagues by citing an earlier case of such action. Almost incidentally he alludes to “Judas the Galilean” who resisted the imperial census:
After him Judas the Galilean rose up at the time of the census and got people to follow him; he also perished, and all who followed him were scattered (Acts 5:37).
His resistance to the census ended in death and disorder. Gamaliel has no good word to speak for the census, but warns against rash resistance to it. (This same census, according to Arndt and Gingrich [88], is also mentioned by Josephus, so it was a well-known event in the life of the community.) We are able to see the inclination of seriously religious people to resist royal regimentation via the census. It is not a good or wise matter to be “written down” by the regime. Such a “writing down” can only function to further the dangerous accumulation of power.
There is, however, an alternative “writing down” that is to be celebrated by the faithful. The matter is noted in three very different kinds of texts in the New Testament. First, when Jesus welcomes back the seventy from their successful restorative work, he warns that they should not rejoice in the success of their work. Rather, he says to the seventy faithful disciples:
Do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven (Luke 10:20).
The verb is the same as that used in the birth narrative (apographo). The imagery is of a scroll that contains the names of all those who are welcomed into the rule of God. This usage likely reflects the fact that Luke was a learned man who lived in a world of writing. Thus he can readily utilize imagery of a written roster of the faithful. Those who live out the restorative power of Jesus have their names written in the registry of the welcomed. We may imagine, though it is not stated, that the seventy were not registered with the empire, as they had a different “membership.” They belonged elsewhere.
Second, the letter to the Hebrews bids the faithful under duress to fresh resolve for fidelity:
Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed (Hebrews 12:12-13).
And then the writer offers a sweeping assurance to the faithful:
But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel (vv. 22-24).
In a flood of images, the faithful will have arrived at
Mount Zion,
the city of the living God,
the heavenly Jerusalem,
the assembly of the firstborn,
God the judge of all,
the spirits of the righteous, and
to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.
The images pile up as a torrent. Our interest is in the phrase, “the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled” in heaven (v. 23). Again it is the verb apographo, “written down.” Those who endure persecution in faithfulness will be admitted to the company of those who are “written down” in heaven, that is, in the realm where God, and not Caesar, presides.
Third, in the vision of the apocalypse, the “books were opened” (Revelation 20:12). One of the books is “the Book of Life.” In this vision, we have a tight quid pro quo, as tight as the rigor of the covenant of Deuteronomy. Records are kept of the way lives are lived, and all are judged “according to what they have done.” Some were written in the Book of Life. But there is warning to those who do not get entry into the Book of Life:
Anyone whose name was not found written in the Book of Life was thrown into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:15).
A different future “in heaven” is on offer for those who have lived faithfully and obediently. It is to these faithful, to them alone, that a wondrous future is on offer:
See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away (Revelation 21:3-4).
The ones excluded from this glorious future are left on the outside:
But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the polluted, the murderers, the fornicators, the sorcerers, the idolaters, and all liars, their place will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death (v. 8).
It is worth noting that the verb “written” is utilized to confirm the promise:
“See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true (v. 5).
The substance of the promise to the faithful consists in “the water of life” (v. 6; see John 4:13-15), and a reiteration of the ancient covenantal formula:
I will be their God and they will be my children (v. 7).
Thus the imagery of writing:
written in heaven (Luke 10:20).
written in heaven (Hebrews 12:23).
written in the book of life (Revelation 20:15).
The verb is used in these three very different genres of literature; all offer an “enrollment” that is alternative to being “registered” by Caesar. All three usages appeal to the verb apographo, an invitation to a radical choice. One can be “written down” in either book, but not in both. Back in my teens, as I “registered” as a church member, and as I “registered” as a citizen, I had not seen the contradiction of these two “registrations.” Belatedly, in our current sociopolitical environment of violence, the either/or of these alternative “writing down” is much clearer to me and more generally. The community of the faithful might indeed be on notice about being “written down” or being “written up.”
Footnote from my remembered reading:
Joad reports to Muley that he is out of prison on parole and has “Got to report ever’ so often.” Muley asks Joad how it was in prison at McAlester. He responds:
…I got along O.K. Minded my own business, like any guy would. I learned to write nice as hell. Birds an’ stuff like that, too; not just word writin’. My ol’ man’ll be sore when he sees me whip out a bird in one stroke. Pa’s gonna be mad when he sees me do that. He don’t like no fancy stuff like that. He don’t even like word writin’. Kinda scares ‘im, I guess. Ever’ time Pa seen writin’, somebody took somepin away from ‘im. (John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath, 69-70).
Writing is an instrument of power; it mostly belongs to the regime that may “write up” one all the way from traffic tickets to income tax payments. The faithful are otherwise “written down.” That is what happened when I was “confirmed,” a matter of much more weight than either Mr. Grube or I understood at the time.
