Tolkien wrote Letters from Father Christmas to his children when they were young to delight and entertain them. He created imaginative stories and illustrated them himself. He started writing annual letters from Father Christmas to his children to bring joy to their lives. But as Tolkien’s words remind us; perception is never neutral – it is shaped by what we choose to see and not see. Tolkien invited his children to see Christmas differently.
There is so much ritual, tradition, ceremony and repetition in the Christmas season that it is easy to get de-sensitised. And yet I am admonished every year – to not forget the feeling that invites me to pause and re-see what is familiar. I did that recently with a friend.
It was a normal supper. Nothing fancy. Just typical Midwest food and great conversation. Our host was a friend we had met in church. She is a counselor with many degrees and a heart for people. My wife and I enjoy our conversations with her. Wisdom is gained in our discussions. We discuss family, faith, and life. We did not know that she is also an artist. Once an art teacher and gallery owner. Such an interesting life.
After supper we moved to the front room for more conversation. She asked us if we wanted to see one of her paintings. Absolutely, we replied. This was a special one.
She then brought the painting out and sat it near the fireplace. We were in awe. Something about the painting hit me. The painting itself is large – 6 feet tall x 3 feet wide. I could not speak, only look. And I stared at it for a long time. Something was different about this piece. After what seemed like an hour, we began to discuss the details and story behind her work. I could have listened for days. I was a child again listening to the Christmas story, but my perspective changed. I saw Christmas differently for sure. But I also reflected on my life and work.
The painting is of the nativity event. This photo of the painting will not do it justice, the light shining on it made a world of difference. There are so many parts to the painting that I could bring out that resonated in me: the faces of the four friends, the view of the onlooker’s faces that we don’t see in a typical nativity piece, the lamb looking back at the artist, Joseph waving his hand for her to come see, and the best one – the artist being on the side of the holy family, and this resonating with her so profoundly that it changed her perspective of life. Time does not allow me to share more – I invite you to see for yourself. What more do you see in the painting?
But what really struck me was the reversal of the gaze of the people in the nativity and seeing those in the margins in a different way. How often do we see the world from only our view? How challenging to see through the eyes of another? How much has our bias been framed and primed for us?
Nativity Scenes
Traditionally, most nativity scenes are arranged for us to look at Mary, Joseph, and Jesus – framed as objects of reverence. The viewer is outside, gazing inward.
Reversed Gaze
But not this one. I saw what I had not seen before. The gaze was different. This reminded me of what I may have missed all these years about the nativity. It bothers me to think that I may not have seen all there is to this story before. I have only looked one way for many years. What if I have missed meaning in other areas of my life, my faith, and my worldview, and my work because of my perspective. I could be wrong. But that’s ok. I see differently now. I was unsettled in a good way by this painting and its meaning.
In this experience, I began to reflect on what perspective means. It originates from the Latin perspectiva: “science of optics, seeing through.”
The word is rooted in perspicere: per- (“through”) + specere (“to look, to see”).
Originally it was used in medieval philosophy and art to describe the ‘science of sight’, optics, and later the technique of representing depth in painting. The idea of representing depth captured me.
By the 14th century, the word meant “view, outlook,” and by the 17th century, it expanded metaphorically to mean “mental outlook, point of view.”
Imagine being seen by the figures inside the nativity. Instead of observing them, they observe us. Thinking this way caused me to ask myself: What does it mean to be looked at by vulnerability, by an expectation of perfection, by an embodied fragile people? How do people see me?
Embodied Wisdom
Many believe the nativity is not a show, it is incarnation – God entering the world through weakness, poverty, and embodied dependence.
When I sat with that painting, I realized that incarnation is not an abstract doctrine; it is a way of seeing the world. Incarnation means that wisdom does not descend from above as a set of principles. It arrives in bodies—tired, poor, wandering, uncertain, and human. It arrives at the margins, not the center. It arrives in vulnerability, not control.
All of this reflection has been stimulated by my renewed understanding of risk through studying SPoR. Long writes, ‘There are none more blind than those who don’t want to see. For those who know how to envision risk, the world changes.’ This line has stayed with me. Because the nativity, its embodied fragility, invites us to see what we have trained ourselves to overlook. It invites us to be seen by the very vulnerability we often avoid.
Implications for Safety Work
In a recent SPoR module on risk and theology, we studied Jurgen Moltmann’s writings and I was impacted by how much wisdom there is for safety people in the concepts of vulnerability – the condition of being open, fragile, and exposed — and how that openness becomes a source of learning. And solidarity – the act of standing with others, sharing risk, and refusing to reduce safety to metrics. Our weekly conversations opened my eyes to more than I grew up knowing and practicing: one discussion that I applied to my work is that safety is not only about numbers and policies, but flesh, breath, and stories. So, for me, seeing a different perspective was valuable. And if I look back, it always has been. Somewhere along the path of life, we stop looking for that other perspective.
I began to think about how this might apply to my safety practice. What is my perspective in safety? I used to see safety practice like this:
Safety’s One-Way Gaze:
Observation and control: Workers are watched, observed, and hazards are entered in a spreadsheet. The gaze is outward from the safety manager to the workers.
Another View – What if I allowed myself to see differently?
- Flipping the gaze: What if I allow myself to be seen by the workers, their reality, their risk, and their embodied realities of fatigue, grief, and resilience. Reflection: Safety is less about surveillance and more about solidarity.
- Embodied wisdom: The nativity story does an excellent job of teaching that divine wisdom is carried in weary suffering bodies. Wisdom to help us with safety work often emerges from listening to the lived experiences of those who carry risk all day long. Reflection: Minimize the metrics and see the people you were meant to help.
But there is another interesting perspective in her painting. I noticed after reflecting on the painting, that the artist is not in the painting. She is behind Joseph’s hand and, is seen motioning for her to come and see. She felt accepted and cared for on that side. And that is what changed her perspective.
Do you believe that allowing the vulnerable to see you would change your perspective? Are you seen as standing in solidarity with those who are tired and hurting?
The nativity painting reminded me that perspective is not fixed. It can be re-envisioned. It can be changed. It can be reversed. And when it is, the world looks different—risk looks different—people look different.
Parker Palmer reminds us; wisdom begins when we allow another’s perspective to interrupt our own. Reversing the gaze is not about looking harder — it’s about letting ourselves be seen, taught, and transformed by the view from someone else’s place in the world.
When we learn to see through another’s eyes, our world grows larger — and so does our capacity for wisdom.
So, I end with the question that has stayed with me since that afternoon by the fireplace:
What does safety look like when the vulnerable gaze upon me? What do they see? And what might change if you and I allowed their embodied wisdom to shape our perspective?
Rob Long says
Thanks Billy. There’s no doubt, you can’t innovate using the same lens you used last time. Similarly, you can’t see the world properly is you lens is safety.