This fall, our small study group decided to take a closer look at the book of Revelation. All of us admitted that we found it a bit difficult to understand. The first time we met, we did a read-through of the entire book and it left us more baffled than ever, but also intrigued. As we have delved deeper into the graphic visions and vivid poetry, we have been surprised, over and over again. To quote one of the participants: "Mind blown...again!" It is more historical and at the same time more relevant than we imagined. It is more in tune with the rest of the biblical witness than we knew. It is more cohesive and intelligible and carefully crafted than we expected. And it is so much more hopeful than recent books and movies focused on the end-times led us to believe.
It is always best to view a book as a whole instead of plucking out provocative, twitter-size quotes, and an attempt at wholeness is my intent here. Though we are only half-way through our study, I want to give you a sense of the whole by offering a small sampling, a taste so to speak, of some of the things we have been learning (and unlearning) in our study of Revelation. First, let's take note of a few general points and then look closer at two well-known passages.
General points:
1. Revelation is not answering the question, "What about the end of the world?" It is answering the question, "Is God faithful?"
2. Revelation is written to a specific community: seven first-century churches who find themselves pastorless (John is in exile), persecuted, and powerless in the shadow of a superpower (Roman empire). At worst, they fear extinction and the best they can hope for seems to be endless suffering. In other words, things have not gone as they expected, and they are struggling to hold on to faith, to live in hope, and to express love. Revelation is not fortune telling; it is the message of God spoken to the first-century church, calling it to focus on the reign of God instead of the rule of Rome.
3. Revelation is about a clash of loyalties, about those who have power and those who don't. It is written to the powerless, and the writer presents a reality which is in stark contrast to the context of the hearers-readers. In other words, Revelation turns many of the common understandings of the world (and power) on their heads.
4. Apocalypse (the Greek word translated as revelation) means "to reveal" not to conceal. Revelation is not coded language. It was meant to be understood by the seven churches to which it was read (otherwise, what was the point?). The problem with seeing Revelation as a coded message is that one resorts to a form of literalism (this means that) which disregards the complexity and depth of the poetic symbols and pictures.
5. The medium of Revelation is pictures, not propositions. Reading Revelation is like walking through an art gallery: the word-pictures hit you on a level which goes beyond fact and reason. The imaginative senses are engaged as the reader is invited to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch. Symbols and pictures communicate that which cannot be expressed in any other way. Pictures do not function in linear logic, and despite what we may have been taught, the visions in Revelation are not literal (just like nothing in an art gallery is literal).
6. There are 404 verses in Revelation and 518 references to earlier Scriptures (though no direct quotes). Revelation is not new; it continuously sends the reader back to the story of God's interaction with the world (we find hints of Ezekiel, Daniel, Psalms, Isaiah, the history of Israel, the gospels, etc.).
7. The writer states that Revelation is a proclamation about and from Jesus Christ. There are seven visions of Christ in the book. We must not lose sight of this central theme when reading the various (scary and violent) visions.
With that in mind, let's take a closer look at two passages: the throne scene and the four horsemen of the apocalypse.
The Throne Scene (chapters 4 and 5): There is a long build-up in this scenario; many things surrounding the throne are described, but we are left in suspense about who exactly is on the throne. In chapter 5, we are told that the triumphant Lion of the tribe of Judah is the one able to open the seals and the scroll, so that is what we expect to see on the throne. However, when John looks, what he sees is a Lamb, not a lion. A small lamb, a slaughtered lamb. It is a literary device meant to shock. We expect the great ruler of heavenly realms to be represented by the king of the beasts, but instead, we get a little lamb, a slain lamb. Arnion (little lamb) is the definitive word for Christ in Revelation (it occurs 29 times). Biblical scholar Eugene Boring believes that the key to understanding Revelation is found in the relationship between the lion and the lamb. When it comes time for judgment, we might expect the meek and mild lamb (the crucified Jesus) to give way to the conquering, mighty lion. But no, the one on the throne is always and forever the lamb that was slain. In Revelation, conquering means no more or less than dying. It never means destructive judgment on the enemies of Christ and Christians (which is what we are tempted to read into Revelation when we interpret the violent visions literally). Jesus stood before the Roman court, faithful unto death, and this was his victory. John calls Christians to the same messianic conquest and in doing so, redefines military, violent conquest as conquering through love. The Lamb is not the king of the beasts in disguise; the Lamb is always in contrast to the beast(s).
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (6:1-8): The four horses and riders portrayed in the seven seals of Revelation have often been interpreted as predictions of horrible catastrophes awaiting humankind at the end of the world. Let me suggest that we put aside all the legends which have become attached to these figures and, instead, think about what these images meant to the intended audience, the first-century hearers-readers, the church living under an oppressive superpower. What we find is that John is not predicting the end of the world, but portraying the justice of God acting on human arrogance and abusive power.
1) The first horse is white, ridden by an archer. To the first-century reader, this would immediately call up the dreaded Parthians who were the only mounted archers in that part of the world, and their trademark was white horses. Parthia was on the Eastern border of the empire, and one of the few places never subdued by the Romans. This horse functions to announce the beginning of the end of the Roman empire, a message of great hope to the persecuted church: Roman sovereignty is to be replaced by God's sovereignty.
2) The second horse is red and its rider is given authority to take peace from the earth. To the first century reader, this would be a reassurance that Pax Romana (the enforced, violent version of peace found in the Roman empire) is to be replaced by real peace, the peace of Christ (John 14:27).
3) The third is a black horse with scales, initiating famine. To the first century reader, the notion of famine would mean the end of Roman prosperity (gained at the expense of those it conquered). Basic necessities will be rationed, costing eight to sixteen times their normal price, but oil and wine (luxury items) will be untouched. In other words, the third horse speaks of an economic upheaval/reversal.
4) The fourth horse is the pale, sickly horse which represents death. This is not merely referring to historical, literal catastrophes, but to death personified. To the first-century Christians, all too familiar with martyrdom, a vision in which Death comes not only to the powerless but to the powerful would signify some measure of justice. In this reversal, worldly power offers no protection from destruction. It is worth noting that death is associated with wild beasts, again a contrast to the slain Lamb.
Biblical scholar, Eugene Boring, comments on the four horsemen: "These forces which seem to be powerful are actually mere parodies of the ultimate power of God represented in the Lamb. The rider on the white horse does look deceptively like Christ, but his 'conquering' is the this-worldly power of death that kills others, not the true power of the Lamb who dies for others." [1] Always, at the centre of all these visions, is the Lamb on the throne. The reader is reminded of this when, at the end of the sixth seal, the writer inserts an unusual phrase. "With one exquisitely paradoxical phrase, John calls before the imagination of his hearer-readers both the terror of the coming judgment and the glad tidings that the judge is the One who has already paid the supreme penalty in behalf of the world. Though it is no less wrath for being so, the wrath is the 'wrath of the Lamb.'" [2]
At the end of the six woes, we hear the cries of the people (rich and strong, slave and free), wondering who is able to stand in the face of these troubles and judgments. In the next chapter, we find the answer to this question. Those who are still standing are the angels and the great multitude before the throne, worshipping the Lamb. All hope is not lost. Destruction is not inevitable. Eugene Peterson observes that the seals which reveal the seven woes (chapter 6) are contrasted to the sealing of the faithful servants of God (chapter 7). He writes that the faithful "are protected from the God-separating effects of evil even as [they] experience the suffering caused by evil." [3]
The book of Revelation is meant to be a message of hope to the first-century church (and to the church throughout history as well). It is also a call to be faithful, even unto death, as Christ the Lamb of God was faithful. The kingdoms and empires of this world will fall, but the Lamb, forever marked by loving sacrifice, is seated on the throne of heaven for all eternity. I don't know about you, but I find that encouraging.
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[1] M. Eugene Boring, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching: Revelation (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1989),124.
[2] Boring, 127.
[3] Eugene H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1988), 83.
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