On a recent trip to Italy, my husband and I stayed in a Tuscan villa, complete with medieval tower. Overlooking the town of Certaldo, the Villa il Pozzo vineyards and groves have produced olives and a Super Tuscan red wine named Luia.
The second tower is as viewed from our room--a watchtower. Not as old as the original medieval tower around front, but not yesterday's construction either.
Multiple towers were common sights in and around Tuscany, including Sienna and Florence. One small hill town nearby, San Gimignano, is known for its towers. Fourteen of the original sixty remain!
I learned in Florence--in Dante's house--that each family of distinction (complete with coat of arms) had its own personal tower inside the city walls. Why? Because the rivalry among families inside the city was fierce. Having a tower was having your own personal castle, your place of refuge from the attack of an enemy.
In America, we lock our doors at night and sometimes install security systems. But I know of no such refuge towers in any of the neighborhoods I have lived in growing up along the eastern coast. And yet, we sing "tower of refuge and strength" ("Shout to the Lord"). Maybe it is because towers in America are impressive--think Donald Trump or the Twin Towers attacked on 9/11.
Jesus is a tower of refuge and strength: both in the ancient medieval sense of the word and in today's contemporary rhetoric of power.
When all the world seems against me and I feel weak and small, there is a tower to run and find safety in. A place of strength for my protection. A banner above to which I belong.
Dolce Vita en Christo!
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