No Caesar in the Palace
“That the mirth of the wicked is brief, the joy of the godless lasts but a moment. Though the pride of the godless person reaches to the heavens and his head touches the clouds, he will perish forever, like his own dung; those who have seen him will say, ‘Where is he?’ Like a dream, he flies away, no more to be found, banished like a vision of the night. The eye that saw him will not see him again; his place will look on him no more.” (Job 20: 5-9)
I can hardly believe Labor Day has already come and gone. Where did August go? I worked so much during August that I will forever call it Labor Month, leading up to the Labor Day holiday. While I’m still hoping to get a month’s vacation in return for my 30+ days of super-human efforts, that’s a pipe dream. Still, having an extra day off to recover is appreciated.
This is my first time working for an executive who played a key role in my organization’s annual conference. The event took place last week – in Las Vegas, no less. In addition to my regular day job supporting the CPO and seven other executives, I organized 21 customer/partner/analyst and press meetings for my primary boss during the event – tracking everything on multiple spreadsheets for both the CPO and the six additional executives I support who also attended the event. The preparations kept me locked to my desk for an average of 14+ hour days over two weeks, with few breaks in between.
David brought cereal to me in my office after I rose before dawn and ate beside me to spend time with me. I took 10-minute lunch breaks and abandoned our nightly dog walking ritual over that interval, opting to keep working until 10 or 10:30 pm each evening. By the start of the second week of this routine, I began waking with leg cramps that continued to plague me during the day. I had reduced my daily step count by 5000 paces over this interval, and my body was feeling the strain – big time.
Our conference was held in Caesars Palace, and while the Italian décor was beautiful, especially the full-sized replica of Michelangelo’s David, I told my David that all of it was fake – a shallow imitation of the beautiful Italian sculptures that the two of us had marveled over in their original environment. Sure, there were statues of horses, carriages, Roman gods, and pillars, but those in Rome had been carved by hand thousands of years ago. While I learned that the Palace statues had also been sculpted from marble by skilled artisans, they are still mere imitations of the originals.
Several of my fellow team members attending the conference are Italian, and I asked one what he thought of the décor. “This is Caesars Palace, and yet Caesar is not here: only Augustus,” came his reply. I couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. While I later learned that Caesar was the title of a Roman emperor, rather than a person, of which “Augustus” was one, my friend’s perception matched my own. There was, in fact, no emperor in the Palace – only shallow replicas of the same.
The same sentiment stuck with me throughout my trip. The glitz and glamor were over the top in Las Vegas, with nothing of real value to show. After venturing out on my second night to determine whether there really was a canal with working gondolas in the Venetian hotel (there was!), I felt like I had to avert my eyes around every corner.
“Don’t look left, Sara,” one of my work friends told me as we ventured to Fremont Street on our third night during the conference. David had advised me to go there to see the overhead light show and the famous “Smoking Cowboy” sign he’d seen decades ago when visiting the city in his younger years. Knowing my sensitivities and values, my friend guided me along the street while preventing me from seeing the scantily clad men and women that bordered our path. I had shockingly wandered across several of these women the night before and told my friend of my stunned impressions.
“This place isn’t for me,” I told one of the hotel staff members, Carmen, overlooking our breakfast buffet the next morning. I had asked her how long she’d lived there, prompting her to reply: “My whole life. My children and grandchildren live with me.”
“Don’t look right,” I was warned, averting my vision. “Don’t look at all, Sara,” my friend said, as I put my hand on her shoulder and allowed her to lead me along the street. While the light show was iconic, the cowboy sign had been replaced with a more miniature replica, and our visit yielded no great impression on my part. I couldn’t wait to return to my room at the hotel.
“There’s a lot of glitz, but it barely covers what’s underneath,” I replied. “Alongside all the fancy hotels, I saw people lying on the street and drunks walking beside the tourists. It’s easy to get caught up in all the glamour, but it looks like there are a lot of less fortunate people living right alongside this, as well.” Carmen nodded her head in agreement. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s all true.”
With rent prices close to $4,000/month for a 3-bedroom home, according to the Uber driver who escorted me to the airport, homelessness is on the rise in Sin City. There were 26,000 evictions in 2024, according to Eviction Lab, which adds to the number of persons living on the street. Crime has risen 20 percent over the past year, as a result.
“Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas,” a renter living near a homeless encampment said. “We are filled with trash, garbage and homeless people sleeping in the streets. We’re so fabulous.”
While there’s no doubt that the casinos, shows, and spectacle of this town are a continual draw to many – one of my executives even boasted that he’d visited 30 times over the years – I saw only emptiness, fleeting fun, and shallow attempts at finding pleasure that can never satisfy.
“Those people need prayer,” I told David, as we prayed for them over lunch when I returned. “That entire city – those that live there and those that visit – all of them need Jesus.”
Just as Caesars Palace boasted no Caesar, so the promise of happiness to those seeking it through worldly means is false and shallow.
An empty palace can never compare to the joy of our salvation, just as a winning slot machine is incomparable to the riches awaiting believers in heaven. Just as there is no Caesar in the Palace, there can be no joy without a Savior. Anything else is just a fake, temporary version of the real deal. I pray that all those who are seeking will find Him– in Las Vegas and beyond.
