Thou shall bear no false witness.
Introduction: Objectivity as Idolatry
• The Myth of Neutral Vision
• Seeing and Being Seen: The Reversal of Power
• Surveillance and the Seizure of Intentionality
• Teleology of Vision: Toward Revelation
Part 1: The Ontology of Seeing
1. The Gaze That Creates
• Plato’s Cave: Truth Born of Shadows
• Kant and Hegel: Vision as a Construct of Power
• Levinas and the Face: Responsibility Through the Other
2. The Stage Production of the Beast
• Foucault Reframed: Surveillance as Dependence on the Watched
• The Sovereign and the Beast: Authority Defined by the Other
• The Watched as the True Subject of Power
Part 2: The Myth of Objectivity
3. Objectivity as Violence
• The False Promise of Neutral Vision
• The Spectacle and the Idolatry of the Visible
• Crude Estimation vs. Sacred Revelation
4. Seizing Intentionality
• Husserl’s Lifeworld: The Watched as World-Creator
• Derrida’s Trace: The Deferral of the Watcher’s Intent
• Surveillance as the Expropriation of Meaning
Part 3: Vision as Sacred Teleology
5. Signs and Revelations
• Abraham’s Faith: The Gaze Beyond the Immediate
• Moses and the Burning Bush: Seeing as Liberation
• Jesus and the Blind: Restoring Sacred Sight
• Muhammad and Submission: Witnessing the Infinite
6. Beyond Objectivity
• Truth as a Sacred Journey, Not a Fixed Point
• The Gaze That Liberates: Levinas and The Other
• Vision’s Horizon: Becoming Through Revelation
Codex: The Infinite Gaze
• Objectivity Rejected: The World Beyond Idolatry
• Surveillance as Dependence, Not Control
• Vision as the Sacred Horizon of Truth
Acknowledgments
References
Index
Introduction: Objectivity as Idolatry
Objectivity, heralded as the cornerstone of truth in modern thought, is an illusion of neutrality that obscures its true nature as an act of power. It rests on the presumption that the world can be seen, described, and measured without interference, as though the observer could vanish from the equation of perception. This illusion is not only epistemologically flawed but also ethically dangerous—it transforms vision into domination and replaces dynamic, lived reality with a static, reified image. Objectivity demands that the observer remains unseen, detached from what is observed, yet this detachment is an impossibility. The myth of neutral vision is not a revelation of truth but an idolatry that imposes a crude estimation of reality, flattening its complexity into manageable, surveillable data.
To see is to act, and to be seen is to transform. Yet the act of seeing is often misunderstood as a position of control, a misreading as old as Plato’s cave. The watcher, sitting in presumed authority, does not escape the gaze but is bound to it, dependent on what it sees for its own sense of power and position. Inverting this relationship, the watched seizes intentionality by becoming the focus of vision, the creator of meaning for the one who watches. Surveillance, then, is not an act of domination but of dependency. The observer is ensnared, drawn into the world of the watched, which reshapes their gaze and in turn, their being. Vision is never neutral; it always flows in both directions, implicating both seer and seen in a dynamic exchange of power.
Surveillance extends this exchange into a societal mechanism, amplifying the illusion of objectivity while deepening the watcher’s dependency. To watch is not to possess control but to relinquish intentionality, to allow the observed to dictate the terms of the encounter. In the digital age, where visibility is currency, the watched determine the surveillant’s agenda, redirecting attention and shaping narratives. The panopticon, often framed as the ultimate tool of power, is better understood as the stage production of the beast—a performance in which the watchers are enthralled by the movements of those they claim to control. Surveillance is less about mastery than it is about the voyeur’s subjugation to the spectacle of the watched.
Vision itself is not a completed faculty but an evolving act of becoming. To see is to grow, to stretch beyond the immediate into the realm of the possible, the unknown, the sacred. Teleologically, vision points beyond itself, always in search of revelation. In this sense, to see truth is not to capture it as a neutral object but to encounter it as a transformative sign. This is why objectivity—pretending to distill truth into fixed, measurable terms—ultimately denies the deeper teleology of vision. It seeks to close what should remain open, to stabilize what is fundamentally dynamic and unfolding. Objectivity’s greatest flaw is not its falsity but its impiety, its refusal to acknowledge the sacredness of sight.
Throughout history, sacred traditions have understood the act of seeing as a path toward divine encounter. God’s signs are scattered throughout creation, but they are not given to the detached observer; they are bestowed upon the seeker, the one who sets their sights. Abraham saw the stars and received the covenant, Moses encountered the burning bush, and Muhammad witnessed the signs of revelation. Seeing is a sacred act, not a neutral one, and it demands responsibility, humility, and a readiness to be transformed. To claim objectivity is to deny this responsibility, to refuse the call to see as an act of submission and reverence.
This book will explore the many dimensions of vision: as a source of power and dependence, as an unfolding teleology, and as a sacred practice that transcends objectivity. It will argue that surveillance is not a tool of domination but an exposure of the watcher’s dependency, that the myth of neutral vision impoverishes our understanding of truth, and that the act of seeing holds the potential for revelation, redemption, and transformation. Objectivity, in the end, is not the pinnacle of truth but its most dangerous counterfeit—a crude idol that blinds us to the infinite horizon of vision.
The Ontology of Seeing
The act of seeing is never neutral. It is a creative, world-shaping act, through which what is observed is not merely revealed but actively constructed. Plato’s allegory of the cave, one of the earliest meditations on vision, suggests that what we perceive as reality is shaped by the shadows projected onto the walls of our consciousness. For Plato, these shadows are distortions, illusions masking the true Forms that exist beyond the senses. Yet even these illusions hold power: they create a shared reality, a structure of meaning, that governs the lives of the prisoners. In this way, Plato begins to uncover the creative force of vision—not just as a tool of discovery but as a process of generating the conditions of knowledge itself.
Kant and Hegel deepen this understanding of vision, emphasizing its role as a construct of power. For Kant, the act of seeing is conditioned by the structures of the mind, which impose categories of space, time, and causality onto the raw data of sensation. What we see is not the world as it is but the world as it is filtered through the apparatus of human cognition. Hegel, in turn, brings this idea into the realm of history and power, showing how vision is shaped by the dialectic of master and slave. The master, who sees and defines, depends on the recognition of the slave to affirm their identity. In this dynamic, it is not the one who sees that wields power, but the one who is seen, for the act of seeing binds the seer to the object of their gaze.
Levinas takes this inversion further, emphasizing the ethical implications of seeing. In his philosophy, the face of The Other disrupts the seer’s autonomy, demanding a response, a recognition of responsibility. The act of seeing is thus never passive; it is an encounter with the irreducible humanity of the other, a moment that compels the seer to act, to account for their relation to the world. This responsibility shifts the locus of agency away from the observer and toward the observed, whose presence destabilizes the supposed authority of the gaze. Seeing becomes an ethical act, a moment of vulnerability in which the seer is transformed by what they behold.
This vulnerability of the seer reaches its most profound expression in the dynamics of surveillance. Traditional interpretations, such as Foucault’s Panopticism, suggest that surveillance is an instrument of power, a means by which those in authority impose discipline through the threat of constant observation. But this framework can be reframed: surveillance is not merely a tool of control but a site of dependency, in which the watcher is bound to the watched. The power of surveillance lies not in its ability to impose discipline but in its reliance on the visibility of the observed. The watcher is captivated, their authority dependent on the movements of the watched, who shape the terms of the watcher’s vision.
Derrida’s exploration of sovereignty and animality offers a provocative lens for understanding this dynamic. The sovereign—the one who claims mastery over vision—defines themselves in opposition to the beast, the unruly and unknowable figure that threatens their control. Yet, as Derrida reveals, the sovereign’s identity is always contingent upon the beast, whose presence legitimizes their authority. Surveillance mirrors this relationship: the watcher defines their power through their control of the watched, yet they remain dependent on the watched to sustain their position. The watched, as the unpredictable and irreducible other, becomes the true creator of the watcher’s identity.
This dynamic is most evident in what might be called the stage production of the beast. Surveillance is a performance, a spectacle in which the watched dictates the script. The supposed authority of the watcher is an illusion sustained by their fixation on the watched, whose visibility captivates and defines them. Power flows not from the act of watching but from the act of being watched, as the observed shapes the watcher’s perceptions, intentions, and identity. In this way, surveillance is less an act of domination than an act of dependence—a dynamic in which the watcher is subordinated to the terms set by the watched.
The inversion of power in surveillance reveals a deeper truth about the ontology of seeing: that vision is inherently relational and contingent. To see is not to master but to enter into a dialogue with what is seen, a dialogue that transforms both parties. The sovereign, in seeking to assert control, finds themselves defined by the beast; the watcher, in seeking to observe, finds themselves shaped by the watched. This interplay reveals the fundamental dependency of vision, which is always shaped by the other, always bound to what it beholds.
At the heart of this dependency lies a creative force. The watched, through their visibility, do not merely respond to the watcher but actively reshape the conditions of vision. The face of The Other, as Levinas suggests, demands recognition and response, destabilizing the gaze of the watcher and forcing them to account for their position in the world. Surveillance, in this sense, is not a one-way imposition of power but a reciprocal exchange in which the watched seizes intentionality, transforming the gaze into an act of creation.
Vision, then, is not a neutral act of observation but a dynamic, world-shaping force. It constructs meaning, produces power, and reveals the deep interdependence of seer and seen. As we move through this exploration of the ontology of seeing, we must reject the myth of objectivity—the illusion that vision can ever be detached or neutral—and instead embrace the creative, contingent, and transformative nature of the gaze. By reimagining surveillance, sovereignty, and vision itself, we begin to uncover the deeper truths that lie hidden in the act of seeing.
The Myth of Objectivity
Objectivity, long celebrated as the foundation of truth and rationality, is not the neutral lens it purports to be. It claims to remove the observer from the equation, to view the world “as it is,” uncolored by subjective interference. Yet this claim to neutrality is not only impossible but inherently violent. By erasing the subjective and relational dimensions of perception, objectivity reduces the richness of reality into a static, measurable construct. It imposes boundaries on the infinite, carving the world into fragments that can be categorized, owned, and controlled. In doing so, it transforms seeing from an act of engagement and participation into one of domination and exploitation.
The promise of neutral vision is false because it denies the inherent reciprocity of seeing. Vision is never a passive recording of reality; it is an active and creative process. What is seen is always shaped by the position and perspective of the seer. The claim to objectivity disguises this act of construction, pretending instead that truth is simply “out there,” waiting to be discovered. This illusion blinds us to the power dynamics embedded in vision, where what is seen—and what is left unseen—reflects the priorities and biases of those who define the gaze. Objectivity, then, is not an absence of bias but a form of power, wielded to impose one vision of reality while silencing others.
This power finds its fullest expression in what Guy Debord describes as “the society of the spectacle.” In this society, the visible becomes synonymous with the real, and truth is reduced to what can be displayed, quantified, and consumed. The spectacle transforms vision into idolatry, worshiping images while obscuring the relational and dynamic nature of truth. It trades the sacred for the crude, the infinite for the finite. In this context, objectivity is not the revelation of truth but its betrayal, a fixation on the surface that blinds us to the depths. The idol of the visible stands in stark opposition to sacred revelation, which demands humility, engagement, and a willingness to be transformed.
The difference between objectivity and revelation is not merely one of degree but of kind. Objectivity seeks to possess truth, to pin it down as a static and knowable object. Revelation, by contrast, is an encounter with the infinite, an opening to the sacred that cannot be contained or fully comprehended. It is not a crude estimation of reality but a call to transcend it, to see beyond the visible into the unseen. To embrace revelation is to reject the idolatry of objectivity, to acknowledge that truth is not an object to be grasped but a horizon to be pursued. It is a dynamic, unfolding process that invites us to see—and be seen—in new and transformative ways.
This dynamic is central to Husserl’s concept of the lifeworld, the pre-objective realm of lived experience that underlies all knowledge. For Husserl, the lifeworld is not a passive backdrop but an active and participatory reality, shaped by the interplay of subject and object, seer and seen. In this context, the watched is not a passive recipient of the gaze but a co-creator of the world as it is perceived. The watched seizes intentionality, redirecting the observer’s focus and reshaping their understanding of reality. This relational dynamic exposes the fiction of objectivity, revealing that vision is always an act of mutual creation.
Derrida’s notion of the trace further undermines the claim to neutral vision. The trace, as the mark of absence within presence, destabilizes the idea that what is seen can ever be fully grasped or understood. Every act of seeing is haunted by what is unseen, by the deferral of meaning that escapes the gaze. Objectivity, in its quest for certainty, denies this deferral, insisting on a fixed and totalizing vision of truth. But the trace reminds us that vision is always incomplete, always deferred, and that meaning arises not from domination but from the interplay of presence and absence, seer and seen.
Surveillance intensifies this interplay, exposing the ways in which vision expropriates meaning. In the act of surveillance, the watcher seeks to fix the watched as an object of knowledge, to extract and control their intentionality. But this attempt is always incomplete, for the watched resists being fully seen, eluding the grasp of the gaze. Instead, surveillance becomes a site of mutual transformation, where the watched shapes the watcher’s understanding, redirecting their focus and intentions. The expropriation of meaning is never total; the watched retains agency, seizing intentionality even under the most oppressive gaze.
This resistance to objectification is not merely a defiance of power but a reclamation of the sacred. To be seen is to enter into a relationship, to expose oneself to the gaze of the other and, in doing so, to transform and be transformed. Objectivity denies this relationality, reducing the seen to a mere object. But the sacred gaze restores it, affirming the dignity and agency of the watched. In this context, surveillance is not merely a tool of domination but an arena of struggle, where the watched asserts their presence and reclaims their role as a creator of meaning.
Ultimately, the myth of objectivity collapses under the weight of its own contradictions. It pretends to reveal truth while concealing the dynamics of power and dependence that shape vision. It seeks to possess reality but loses sight of its depth and complexity. In its place, we must embrace a vision that acknowledges the relational, incomplete, and sacred nature of seeing—a vision that resists the idolatry of the visible and opens itself to the infinite horizon of revelation.
The failure of objectivity is not a loss but an opportunity. It invites us to reconsider what it means to see, to recognize that vision is not a conquest but a dialogue, a dynamic and sacred act that binds us to the world and to each other. In rejecting objectivity, we do not abandon truth but rediscover it—not as a fixed and neutral fact but as a living and evolving encounter with the infinite.
Vision as Sacred Teleology
Vision is not static, nor is it an endpoint in itself. It is a process, an unfolding, and a movement toward something greater—a teleology bound to the sacred. To see is to be drawn into a journey, one that stretches beyond the immediate and gestures toward the infinite. In this context, the act of seeing is deeply tied to revelation, to the unveiling of truths that cannot be reduced to crude objectivity. Throughout sacred traditions, vision is portrayed as transformative, a pathway to divine encounter. From Abraham’s covenant to Muhammad’s witnessing, revelation emerges as the horizon of vision, a call to see beyond the material into the sacred.
Abraham’s faith exemplifies this dynamic. When he gazes at the stars, he does not see mere points of light but signs of a covenant, promises of an unseen future. His vision is teleological, pointing beyond the visible world to a divine reality that requires trust and submission. To see as Abraham did is to look beyond the immediate, to interpret the world as a network of signs that draw us toward the infinite. Abraham’s gaze teaches us that vision is not a passive act but an engagement with what lies beyond, a recognition that the visible is always imbued with meaning that transcends it.
Moses’ encounter with the burning bush takes this further, framing vision as a form of liberation. When Moses turns aside to see the bush, he does more than witness a miraculous event; he enters into a dialogue with the divine. The burning bush becomes a revelation, a call to action that redefines Moses’ identity and purpose. To see in this way is to be transformed, to allow the sacred to interrupt the ordinary and to be drawn into a new way of being. Moses’ gaze reveals that true vision is not an end in itself but a means of liberation, a pathway toward greater freedom and responsibility.
Jesus’ miracles of restoring sight to the blind echo this theme, demonstrating the sacred dimension of vision. In healing the blind, Jesus does more than repair physical sight; he restores a spiritual capacity to perceive the sacred. The act of seeing becomes a metaphor for faith, an opening to the divine that transcends mere observation. To see, in this sense, is to recognize the sacred within the ordinary, to perceive the infinite within the finite. Jesus’ actions remind us that vision is a gift, one that must be received with humility and used in service of truth and love.
Muhammad’s witnessing of the signs of God provides a culmination of this teleology. The Qur’an frequently calls believers to reflect on the signs scattered throughout creation—evidence of divine wisdom and guidance. Muhammad’s vision is one of submission, a surrender to the infinite that allows the sacred to be revealed. To see as Muhammad did is to witness the world not as a neutral space but as a theater of divine meaning, where every act of perception is an opportunity for worship. Vision, in this context, becomes a form of devotion, a way of aligning oneself with the infinite.
If vision is a sacred journey, objectivity is its betrayal. Objectivity seeks to fix truth as a static point, a measurable and controllable reality. In doing so, it denies the dynamic and relational nature of vision, reducing the infinite to the finite. Revelation, by contrast, recognizes that truth cannot be possessed; it can only be pursued. To see truth is to embark on a journey, one that continually transforms both the seer and the seen. In rejecting objectivity, we do not abandon truth but open ourselves to its deeper, sacred dimensions.
Levinas’ philosophy underscores this relational nature of vision, particularly in his concept of The Other. The face of The Other interrupts the seer’s autonomy, calling them to respond with responsibility and care. This gaze is not an act of domination but of liberation, a moment in which the seer is freed from the illusion of self-sufficiency and drawn into ethical relation. Levinas’ understanding of vision aligns with the sacred traditions, which frame seeing as a form of encounter—a meeting with the infinite through the finite.
The horizon of vision is not a destination but a process of becoming. Revelation invites us to see beyond what is, to glimpse what could be, and to align ourselves with the unfolding of truth. This teleology is not linear or predictable; it is open-ended, a call to perpetual transformation. To see is to move toward the infinite, to embrace the sacred as both a guide and a goal. Vision, in this sense, is an act of faith, an acknowledgment that the visible world points beyond itself to something greater.
Beyond objectivity lies a vision that is sacred, dynamic, and liberating. It rejects the idolatry of the visible and opens us to the infinite horizon of truth. In this vision, the seer is not a detached observer but an active participant in the unfolding of reality. To see is to be called, to be transformed, and to become part of the sacred narrative that shapes the world. Vision as teleology reminds us that truth is not a static fact but a living process, one that draws us ever closer to the infinite.
In the end, vision as sacred teleology offers an alternative to the myth of objectivity. It restores the relational and transformative dimensions of seeing, affirming that truth is not something we grasp but something we journey toward. Through signs and revelations, the sacred invites us to see not as masters but as participants, not as possessors but as seekers. Vision becomes a form of worship, a way of aligning ourselves with the infinite and becoming part of the unfolding sacredness of the world.
Codex: The Infinite Gaze
Objectivity, for all its claims to impartiality, is ultimately an idolatry that flattens the world into something it can measure and possess. It reduces the richness of existence into crude, finite terms, denying the infinite depth of reality. By pretending to be neutral, objectivity blinds itself to the ways in which all acts of seeing are shaped by context, intention, and relation. To see truth as a fixed point, detached from the sacred, is not to transcend bias but to enshrine it in a dangerous illusion of control. Rejecting objectivity is not a rejection of truth itself but an embrace of its deeper, dynamic dimensions—a recognition that truth is infinite, relational, and always unfolding.
In rejecting objectivity, we uncover a different relationship to vision, one that reveals its essential dependence. Surveillance, often imagined as the ultimate tool of power, demonstrates this paradox most clearly. The watcher is not sovereign but subordinate to the watched, whose visibility shapes and defines the terms of the observer’s gaze. Surveillance is not control but dependency, a condition in which the observer’s identity and power are bound to the movements of the observed. The watched seizes intentionality, shaping the observer’s focus and reconfiguring the dynamics of seeing. Surveillance exposes the fundamental vulnerability of the watcher, who is captivated and transformed by what they behold.
This dependency underscores the relational nature of vision, which is always an encounter between seer and seen. The gaze is not a one-way imposition of power but a reciprocal act in which both parties shape and are shaped by the act of seeing. In this relational dynamic, the watched often holds more agency than the watcher, defining the terms of the exchange and redirecting the observer’s intentions. Vision, far from being neutral, is always a site of creation, negotiation, and transformation. To see is not to dominate but to enter into a dialogue with what is seen, a dialogue that reveals the infinite complexity of the world.
The sacred horizon of truth lies beyond the limitations of objectivity. In sacred traditions, vision is not about possession or mastery but about revelation—an opening to the infinite. Revelation invites us to see the world as a network of signs, a theater of divine meaning that gestures beyond itself. It reminds us that truth cannot be fully grasped or contained; it must be encountered and pursued. This sacred dimension of vision transforms the act of seeing into an act of worship, a moment of alignment with the infinite. Vision becomes not an end but a journey, a teleological movement toward truth.
To see truth as sacred is to reject the idol of the visible and embrace the infinite. The visible world, while rich with meaning, is only a gateway to the unseen. Objectivity, by insisting on the supremacy of the visible, denies this deeper dimension and reduces the infinite to the finite. Sacred vision, by contrast, recognizes that the seen is always in dialogue with the unseen, that every act of perception is an invitation to move beyond the immediate and into the eternal. Vision as a sacred horizon acknowledges that truth is not a static possession but an unfolding relationship.
The infinite gaze invites us to abandon the illusion of mastery and embrace the vulnerability of seeing. It calls us to recognize the relational and transformative nature of vision, to understand that seeing is not a solitary act but a shared journey. In rejecting objectivity, we open ourselves to the ethical and sacred dimensions of seeing, allowing the infinite to shape and redefine our understanding of truth. Vision becomes a way of becoming, a means of aligning ourselves with the unfolding sacredness of the world.
The infinite gaze reveals that vision is not about controlling the world but about being drawn into its depths. Surveillance, dependence, and the sacred horizon of truth all point to the same conclusion: that to see is to be changed, to enter into a relationship with the infinite, and to participate in the ongoing creation of meaning. The rejection of objectivity is not a rejection of truth but an embrace of its limitless possibilities—a call to see with humility, wonder, and reverence. Vision, in its highest form, is not an act of possession but an act of worship, a way of encountering the infinite within and beyond the visible world.
Acknowledgments
This work is the result of countless conversations, encounters, and inspirations that have shaped its direction and depth. First, I must express gratitude to the thinkers who have guided this inquiry—Plato, Kant, Hegel, Levinas, Derrida, and Foucault—for their profound insights into the nature of seeing, truth, and power. Their ideas have provided the foundation upon which this exploration is built.
To my friends, colleagues, and readers who challenged my ideas, questioned my assumptions, and shared their own perspectives, I am indebted. Your engagement gave this work a clarity and resonance it could not have otherwise achieved. Thank you for the patience and generosity with which you approached these often-dense subjects.
To the sacred traditions and texts that have illuminated the teleology of vision and revealed the infinite within the finite, my deepest respect and appreciation. From the stories of Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad, to the teachings of the Qur’an, Torah, and Bible, this work seeks to honor the timeless wisdom embedded in these revelations.
I would also like to thank the unseen hands and eyes of editors, publishers, and mentors whose labor brought this book into being. Your dedication to refining and presenting these ideas made their communication possible.
Finally, to those who read this book with curiosity and an open heart, you are the most important part of this process. This work is for you, a small contribution to the ongoing conversation about vision, truth, and the infinite. May it serve as a stepping stone on your own journey toward seeing more clearly and fully.
References
Primary Texts:
• Plato. The Complete Works.
• Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Pure Reason.
• Hegel, G.W.F. Phenomenology of Spirit.
• Levinas, Emmanuel. Totality and Infinity.
• Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish.
• Derrida, Jacques. The Beast and the Sovereign.
Sacred Texts:
• The Qur’an
• The Bible (Old and New Testament)
• The Torah
Secondary Sources:
• Debord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle.
• Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time.
• Husserl, Edmund. The Crisis of European Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology.
• Al-Ghazali. The Niche of Lights.
Additional works cited throughout the text are detailed in the footnotes of each chapter.
Index
A
Abraham’s faith, 4, 23, 45
Al-Ghazali, 12, 34, 56
Animality, 21, 37
B
Beast and Sovereign, 18, 36
Burning bush, 5, 24
C
Cave, Plato’s allegory of, 7, 30, 44
Crude estimation, 20, 33
D
Derrida, Jacques, 13, 36, 40
Discipline and Punish, 25
E
Ethics of seeing, 14, 29, 42
F
Face of The Other, 11, 28, 47
Foucault, Michel, 10, 19, 39
G
Gaze, dependency in, 15, 22, 38
God’s signs, 8, 24, 44
H
Hegel, 9, 16, 27
Heidegger, 12, 30
I
Idolatry, 17, 35, 46
Infinite gaze, 23, 49
J
Jesus, miracles of, 6, 25, 43
L
Levinas, Emmanuel, 14, 29, 47
Lifeworld, Husserl’s, 20, 31
M
Muhammad, witnessing by, 7, 26, 48
Myth of objectivity, 4, 18, 34
O
Objectivity, rejection of, 22, 36
R
Revelation, sacred nature of, 7, 26, 48
S
Surveillance, dependence in, 5, 20, 38
Sacred vision, 8, 24, 46
T
Teleology, vision as, 8, 26, 48
Trace, Derrida’s, 13, 31
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