Perhaps you’re like me and remember going to Bible studies ever since you were a teenager. Often on the docket were Paul’s letters, the Gospels, maybe a prophet here and there, but most everyone stayed away from Revelation. When preachers or teachers said they would be using the book of Revelation, they usually got a reaction like they were about to go whitewater rafting on Class V rapids.
Christians of today need to study and understand the book of Revelation. You might think I’m saying that because of all the horrible things going on in the world right now, and we need to understand when and how the end is going to come, right? Many Christians have internalized the general idea that Revelation is all about how the world will end and that studying it is an exercise in decoding its symbolism to find hidden references to modern-day events. This is largely thanks to the influence of end-times gurus like John Hagee and Jack Van Impe, or that strange but popular “Left Behind” series.
When you think of Revelation, you might think of figures like the “antichrist,” but this word only appears in the epistles of John in the context of refuting Gnosticism. You might think of words like “rapture,” but no such word appears in the entire Bible (the idea derives from a vision of Paul in 1 Thessalonians 4). You won’t even find any reference to hell; you will only find “abyss” (Greek abusson), one of several concepts found in Revelation that are intertwined with Greek mythology.
“St. John the Evangelist,” Print by
Cornelis Visscher, 1629-1658. Courtesy of Smithsonian Design Museum
So what is Revelation about, and why do I say Christians should be studying it in these times? Here in 2020, one can’t be blamed for feeling like the world is spiraling out of control. Although there is a need to feel that current events were planned and prophesied all along, we will miss Revelation’s most important message for our day if we read it looking for that assurance.
We need to understand Revelation not because it details the end of the world but because it is the Bible’s starkest warning against Christian assent to the violence of the empire.
One aspect of Revelation that can clue us in to the book’s intent is the number 666, described in Revelation 13:18 as the “number of the beast,” also now known as “the devil’s number.” In a system known as gematria, Hebrew letters also stand for numbers. For example, the letter raysh represents 200 and the letter nun 50. When you transliterate the Greek name “Caesar Nero” with Hebrew letters and add up all their corresponding numbers, you get 666.
Nero ruled the Roman Empire from 54-68 CE. He, like others, accepted divine accolades and demanded total allegiance and loyalty. Peter and Paul both were executed during his reign. Nero killed his own mother and first wife. He died by suicide in 68 (likely the “fatal wound” reference in Revelation 13:3). A bad period of instability followed, including the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 CE.
By the end of the century, persecution of Jews and Christians was very real, including during the time of Domitian (81-96 CE), a figure who was known to think quite highly of himself. The book of Revelation was likely composed near the end of his reign. Domitian was something of a “real estate developer” and is known for lavish spending on the building and remodeling of Rome and beyond, including the palace named after him. He was known to freely seize property for his own interests and execute members of the Roman Senate for suspected treason.
Revelation should make you think of people who would don the clothing and insignia of a political leader instead of “taking up their cross” and serving the “least of these.”
Revelation was indeed written concerning ultimate judgment against evil, but a very particular kind of evil — that of a brutal, power-hungry state that uses religion as a tool of legitimacy and control. Its heavily symbolic, apocalyptic language is essentially a warning to believers not to give in to this and to keep proclaiming and living the kingdom of a Christ who does not rule by force or domination.
Greco-Roman imperial religion was a big deal, and its authority was thought to be divinely sanctioned. We know from coins and other archeological evidence these Roman emperors were given titles like “lord,” “savior,” and “son of the gods.” In openly using those titles for Jesus, the early believers made it clear that they were seditiously swearing primary allegiance to a different kingdom: a kingdom of peace rather than war, a kingdom of service rather than servitude, a kingdom that gives the poor and oppressed a place of honor at the table. As Jesus himself said:
“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave — just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25-28 NIV)
And you thought Jesus never ventured into politics?
Revelation draws this distinction by contrasting the kingdom of a Lamb against a kingdom symbolized by things like beasts, dragons and people holding golden cups “filled with abominable things” (Revelation 17:4). The visions of John in Revelation are a way of communicating that Christ’s kingdom ultimately will win over the kind of kingdom the Romans maintain.
Therefore, for Revelation’s author, it is imperative that the church not sell out to or become “lukewarm” (Revelation 3:16) about the atrocities of the rich and powerful who are all too willing to use God to legitimize their direct and indirect violence against the masses.
In the “Left Behind” series, Nicolae Carpathia emerges as the Antichrist figure, the leader of a world government which he ultimately marshals against Christians. This representation is in line with popular understandings of the Bible’s apocalyptic literature, but this is quite off the mark. Revelation’s concern was not that Christians would find themselves powerless in the face of a hostile empire (that was the only reality they knew at the time), but that Christians would confuse the kingdoms and forget which they serve.
Brian Zahnd puts it this way: “Perhaps the best way to understand the book of Revelation is that it is a prophetic critique of civil religion … (found in) rich and powerful nations that believe they have a divine right to rule other nations and a manifest destiny to shape history according to their agenda.”
The book should not make you think of a mysterious, handsome figure who will one day institute a world order but the way in which Christians in the here and now wave the flag and the cross together as if they are two symbols of the same thing.
Revelation should make you think of people who would don the clothing and insignia of a political leader instead of “taking up their cross” and serving the “least of these.”
It should make you think of Christians who would trade their loyalty to the state in return for favors from the state.
It should make you think of how the poor, the immigrant and the sick are neglected by a nation’s policies with the support or apathy of people who claim to know Christ.
It should make you think of leaders who would use the violence of the state while posing with the symbols of the church.
It should make you ask, “What shall it profit us to gain the whole world but lose our soul?”
