After, perhaps, the Resurrection, these chapters represent one of the most triumphant and exultant scenes in all of Scripture. It represents a glimpse of the promises which have sustained the church since the time of Jesus' ministry. The mighty angel straddling the world has announced that the fulfillment of the mystery of God will be delayed no longer. Finally, after the terrible trials endured by the faithful and the horrific wrath exacted upon the whole earth by God, the kingdom of the Lord is come. The whole company in heaven announces that "The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever." The twenty-four elders sing still another new song of praise to Lord God Almighty. The temple in heaven is opened and the ark--the symbol of God's presence with His people--is revealed with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. The servants of God are rewarded; the destroyers of the world are destroyed; God is glorified. Hallelujah! Amen.
Yet this triumphant image is preceded immediately by a cold reminder of the reality of the church's road to that glorious moment. First, John is commissioned once again to prophesy, the very behavior which has landed him in exile on Patmos to begin with. This calling is illustrated graphically with the little scroll which, if you'll pardon the pun, proves a bitter pill to swallow. If it was not already obvious, the eating of the scroll foreshadows the hardship which will always be associated with enlistment into the divine cause.
The succeeding narrative continues this theme, as John records the prophetic career of two witnesses sent to preach to a city. He goes to extraordinary lengths to demonstrate for the reader the awesome power of these witnesses. If they are harmed in anyway, the aggressor will die by that same means. Any offense against them is met with a consuming fire which pours from their mouths. They can shut up the sky, turn rivers to blood, and inflict upon the people any plague imaginable. No sooner has John told us how tremendous is their power, however, then they are martyred on the streets of the city and left their to rot. The two witnesses who stood before the throne of God and wielded His power on earth suffer the same seemingly ignoble fate as so many simple Christians in John's audience.
The story does not end there nor should our retelling of it. The witnesses are raised, the oppressors punished, the final trumpet sounds, and the Lord reigns. The one truth does not, however, change the other. That there will be vindication one day does not promise any easy road today; the treacherous path to God does not negate the magnitude of His promises. In fact, the two play off each other as they do in this passage. It is precisely the hardship which is endured which make the triumphant announcement of the kingdom so sweet. It is precisely the promise repose of the divine reign that makes the bitterness of the journey bearable. The rapid succession of what appear to be three loosely related stories--John and the little scroll, the two witnesses, and the seventh trumpet--in truth resound this very theme. God's demands on His people are great, His rewards greater still. We can forever take comfort in this, allowing our hope for salvation be the force which sustains us and spurs us toward greater heights of faithfulness.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Re-Reading Revelation: Two Woes (Ch. 9)
The fifth and sixth trumpets are the first and second (of three) woes to be poured out on the earth. Even more than the trumpets and seals that came before them, these woes seem to be little more than a senseless raking of creation across the coals. The first woe involves the unleashing of an army of monstrous locusts with human faces and scorpion tails. They are empowered to torture--the divine permutation of "enhanced interrogation techniques"--all of creation for five months, such that "in those days people will seek death and will not find it. They will long to die, but death will flee from them." When the five months of unrelenting torture are complete, God is kind enough to oblige the wishes of humanity. The sixth trumpet blows, and the second woe comes in the form of two hundred million chimera-esque warriors tasked with killing one third of the world's population. In the course of a few lines of text, we have a level of carnage that would put Saving Private Ryan to shame.
Yet while so much of the text thus far has focused on revealing truths about the nature of God, John is clearly using this narrative to teach the reader something about the nature of humanity. The moral of the story, tact deftly on to the tail of all the bloodshed is this little revelation: "The rest of mankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands nor give up worshiping demons and idols of gold and silver and bronze and stone and wood, which cannot see or hear or walk, nor did they repent of their murders or their sorceries or their sexual immorality or their thefts." That thought, arriving as it does so rapidly on the heels of that awesome display of divine might, justifiably boggles the mind. The foolishness of the lost who pray to the mountains to protect them from their creator has already been highlighted, but with this scene they are shown to truly scale the heights of folly. God reveals Himself in power, in a way which is so patently undeniable that one would assume that humanity could not but turn to God and plead for mercy. That assumption would be incorrect.
With brutal clarity, John displays for the reader the human penchant for obstinacy. Like a divine reversal of the paradisial garden in which Adam and Eve were given every opportunity to avoid sin and found a way to sin anyway, at the end of the world God gives His creation the most powerful motivation imaginable to repent of its evil and turn to its creator. Still, it clings to its idols of murder and theft and sexual licentiousness, not to mention more tangible idols. With two sentences, John challenges the "if only" rhetoric still in use today. "If only God would still speak to us." "If only we had some proof that Jesus rose from the dead." "If only He would give us a sign." The fact of the matter is that even if someone where to be raised from the dead in their midst, they would not believe.
Contemporary Christians can take away from this a comfort that we have been specifically blessed for having believed without having seen. More importantly, however, it is a cautionary tale meant to keep us from wandering into the pitfalls of wanting just a little more proof than we have. We cannot be too often reminded that faith requires...well, faith. It is not about proof, whatever proofs may exist. It is not about well-reasoned arguments, whatever reasoned arguments we can make. It is about belief in and trust of a self-revealing God. It matters little whether we are hard pressed on every side by an oppressive Roman government or by the onslaught of evangelistic atheism. We must remember in whom we have faith and how paramount that faith is. I cannot help but recall the old hymn and concur that I know not why God's wondrous grace to me He has made known, but I know whom I have believed. That should be, for me, enough.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
Yet while so much of the text thus far has focused on revealing truths about the nature of God, John is clearly using this narrative to teach the reader something about the nature of humanity. The moral of the story, tact deftly on to the tail of all the bloodshed is this little revelation: "The rest of mankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands nor give up worshiping demons and idols of gold and silver and bronze and stone and wood, which cannot see or hear or walk, nor did they repent of their murders or their sorceries or their sexual immorality or their thefts." That thought, arriving as it does so rapidly on the heels of that awesome display of divine might, justifiably boggles the mind. The foolishness of the lost who pray to the mountains to protect them from their creator has already been highlighted, but with this scene they are shown to truly scale the heights of folly. God reveals Himself in power, in a way which is so patently undeniable that one would assume that humanity could not but turn to God and plead for mercy. That assumption would be incorrect.
With brutal clarity, John displays for the reader the human penchant for obstinacy. Like a divine reversal of the paradisial garden in which Adam and Eve were given every opportunity to avoid sin and found a way to sin anyway, at the end of the world God gives His creation the most powerful motivation imaginable to repent of its evil and turn to its creator. Still, it clings to its idols of murder and theft and sexual licentiousness, not to mention more tangible idols. With two sentences, John challenges the "if only" rhetoric still in use today. "If only God would still speak to us." "If only we had some proof that Jesus rose from the dead." "If only He would give us a sign." The fact of the matter is that even if someone where to be raised from the dead in their midst, they would not believe.
Contemporary Christians can take away from this a comfort that we have been specifically blessed for having believed without having seen. More importantly, however, it is a cautionary tale meant to keep us from wandering into the pitfalls of wanting just a little more proof than we have. We cannot be too often reminded that faith requires...well, faith. It is not about proof, whatever proofs may exist. It is not about well-reasoned arguments, whatever reasoned arguments we can make. It is about belief in and trust of a self-revealing God. It matters little whether we are hard pressed on every side by an oppressive Roman government or by the onslaught of evangelistic atheism. We must remember in whom we have faith and how paramount that faith is. I cannot help but recall the old hymn and concur that I know not why God's wondrous grace to me He has made known, but I know whom I have believed. That should be, for me, enough.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Re-Reading Revelation: Seals and Trumpets (Chs. 6-8)
With the beginning of chapter six it becomes significantly easier, and more tempting, to slip into quarrels about hermeneutics and misadventures into decoding symbols. While there are certainly eschatological questions to be answered in the chapters to come and there are serious disputes which require resolution, there are perhaps less contentious truths--though they are not, for this, less important or deliberate on the part of John--which can be embraced. What John offers the readers in the opening of the seven seals and the blowing of the first four trumpets is undoubtedly cryptic. It is even probable that his audience would have found the text equally cryptic, though they may have been less baffled by what was a more typical phenomenon at the time. What is apparent, however, are several central themes which run throughout.
The first of these is the way that John alternates deliberately between destruction and salvation, between judgment and mercy. For four seals, one terror after another is released upon the world. God's agents unleash war, death, conquest, and famine in rapid succession until one quarter of the earth's population is destroyed. Then the narrative jerks violently away to the martyrs of God beneath the altar, and the divine agents are depicted clothing the suffering servants of God and telling them to be at rest. Immediately, the sixth seal is broken and even greator horrors are unleased on the earth, leaving its inhabitants to cry out to the mountains, "Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb." After spending most of a chapter on the wholesale destruction of the earth, the scene breaks away for a full chapter of the angels proclaiming salvation on the servants of God. "...he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." The imagery is as tender as the former was alarming.
The juxtaposition is not merely a matter of demonstrating that God is both loving and stern. John also goes to great lengths to clearly contrast the responses of the children of God with those who are hopelessly set against Him. The saved, from every tribe, nation, and tongue, cry out together, "Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!" This is almost certainly intended by John to be ironic, considering that mere verses ago the objects of God's wrath sought salvation from the mountains. While the saints offer their prayers to God, the lost pray senselessly to the mountains for salvation. They should have known that God is God over all creation, even the mountains.
Which is the second theme running through the text. The catalogue of destruction which is offered up in the opening of the seven seals and the blowing of the first four trumpets is not some litany of divine sadism and must certainly be more than a mere ennumeration of destructive methodology. Instead, Revelation 6-8 is a creation text supremely concerned with reminding God's creatures in astonishing fashion that He is creator and Master of His creation. God created the myriad and magnificent flora of the earth; with the first trumpet He permits their destruction. God created the oceans and the life which teems in them; with the second trumpet He permits their destruction. God created the fresh water rivers which sustain all life on earth; with the third trumpet He permits their destruction. God made all the lights of the heavens; with the fourth trumpet He permits their destruction. Over the course of the divine drama, God rolls up His heavens, displaces His mountains, casts down His stars, opens up His depths, unleashes His wind, and shakes the very foundations of His earth until all creation is reminded that He is in fact Almighty. Even death, that most pernicious of Christian enemies, is not above God. He is its master and will allow its persistence in accordance with His will, be it through war or through famine. In a trivial sense, the whole passage boils down to the great, familiar Bill Cosby adage, "I brough you into this world; I can take you out of it." Except God can say it to the whole of creation.
Finally, the reader is reminded throughout this text that God is not only a God who judges, who forgives, who creates, and who can uncreate but He is also a God who listens. This would have been uniquely important to the Christians of John's audience who were suffering great trials. One can only imagine the countless prayers for deliverance which were offered up and which, by all appearances, were never answered. It would be a long time before Christ's church ever found longterm safety, and in many places it still languishes in waiting. That we suffer, John reminds us, is not because our God is apathetic. When the saints beneath the altar cry out to God, their pleas are not ignored. They do not get the retribution they are begging for, but it is not because God does not sympathize with them. His plans just supercede our impatience. Later, the prayers--presumably the similar prayers to those before--of God's people are offered up with a censer before the throne. In response, that censer is filled with fire from the altar and cast onto the earth with "peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning, and an earthquake." The prayers of the saints were not ignored nor were they wrong simply because they did not result in immediate action. They were heard and answered in power, an expectation that we can share provided that our prayers align themselves with the will of God.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
The first of these is the way that John alternates deliberately between destruction and salvation, between judgment and mercy. For four seals, one terror after another is released upon the world. God's agents unleash war, death, conquest, and famine in rapid succession until one quarter of the earth's population is destroyed. Then the narrative jerks violently away to the martyrs of God beneath the altar, and the divine agents are depicted clothing the suffering servants of God and telling them to be at rest. Immediately, the sixth seal is broken and even greator horrors are unleased on the earth, leaving its inhabitants to cry out to the mountains, "Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb." After spending most of a chapter on the wholesale destruction of the earth, the scene breaks away for a full chapter of the angels proclaiming salvation on the servants of God. "...he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." The imagery is as tender as the former was alarming.
The juxtaposition is not merely a matter of demonstrating that God is both loving and stern. John also goes to great lengths to clearly contrast the responses of the children of God with those who are hopelessly set against Him. The saved, from every tribe, nation, and tongue, cry out together, "Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!" This is almost certainly intended by John to be ironic, considering that mere verses ago the objects of God's wrath sought salvation from the mountains. While the saints offer their prayers to God, the lost pray senselessly to the mountains for salvation. They should have known that God is God over all creation, even the mountains.
Which is the second theme running through the text. The catalogue of destruction which is offered up in the opening of the seven seals and the blowing of the first four trumpets is not some litany of divine sadism and must certainly be more than a mere ennumeration of destructive methodology. Instead, Revelation 6-8 is a creation text supremely concerned with reminding God's creatures in astonishing fashion that He is creator and Master of His creation. God created the myriad and magnificent flora of the earth; with the first trumpet He permits their destruction. God created the oceans and the life which teems in them; with the second trumpet He permits their destruction. God created the fresh water rivers which sustain all life on earth; with the third trumpet He permits their destruction. God made all the lights of the heavens; with the fourth trumpet He permits their destruction. Over the course of the divine drama, God rolls up His heavens, displaces His mountains, casts down His stars, opens up His depths, unleashes His wind, and shakes the very foundations of His earth until all creation is reminded that He is in fact Almighty. Even death, that most pernicious of Christian enemies, is not above God. He is its master and will allow its persistence in accordance with His will, be it through war or through famine. In a trivial sense, the whole passage boils down to the great, familiar Bill Cosby adage, "I brough you into this world; I can take you out of it." Except God can say it to the whole of creation.
Finally, the reader is reminded throughout this text that God is not only a God who judges, who forgives, who creates, and who can uncreate but He is also a God who listens. This would have been uniquely important to the Christians of John's audience who were suffering great trials. One can only imagine the countless prayers for deliverance which were offered up and which, by all appearances, were never answered. It would be a long time before Christ's church ever found longterm safety, and in many places it still languishes in waiting. That we suffer, John reminds us, is not because our God is apathetic. When the saints beneath the altar cry out to God, their pleas are not ignored. They do not get the retribution they are begging for, but it is not because God does not sympathize with them. His plans just supercede our impatience. Later, the prayers--presumably the similar prayers to those before--of God's people are offered up with a censer before the throne. In response, that censer is filled with fire from the altar and cast onto the earth with "peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning, and an earthquake." The prayers of the saints were not ignored nor were they wrong simply because they did not result in immediate action. They were heard and answered in power, an expectation that we can share provided that our prayers align themselves with the will of God.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Pope Shocks World by Doing the Right Thing
The Catholic Church is making positive strides, at least as far as I'm concerned. Reuters reports:
The highlight of the article was this section, where it appears that the pope is taking the appropriate stance toward Christian violence in history. Rather than trying to deny it or to justify it, apparently "the pope asked forgiveness for his own church's use of violence in the past."
The emphasis is mine but appropriate. There is no truer way to approach the shameful Christian history of violence than to admit that its very exercise is contrary to the heart of the Gospel: peace, love, humility, and waiting on God. The actions of the pope emphaize another central feature of Christianity: repentance. For his leadership on this matter, we should all be grateful.
Pope Benedict, leading a global inter-religious meeting, acknowledged Thursday "with great shame" that Christianity had used force in its long history as he joined other religious leaders in condemning violence and terrorism in God's name.
Benedict spoke as he hosted some 300 religious leaders from around the world - including Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Zoroastrians, Taoists, Shintoists and Buddhists - in an inter-faith prayer gathering for peace in the city of St Francis, a universally recognized symbol of peace.
The highlight of the article was this section, where it appears that the pope is taking the appropriate stance toward Christian violence in history. Rather than trying to deny it or to justify it, apparently "the pope asked forgiveness for his own church's use of violence in the past."
"As a Christian I want to say at this point: yes, it is true, in the course of history, force has also been used in the name of the Christian faith," he said in his address to the delegations in an Assisi basilica.
"We acknowledge it with great shame. But it is utterly clear that this was an abuse of the Christian faith, one that evidently contradicts its true nature."
The emphasis is mine but appropriate. There is no truer way to approach the shameful Christian history of violence than to admit that its very exercise is contrary to the heart of the Gospel: peace, love, humility, and waiting on God. The actions of the pope emphaize another central feature of Christianity: repentance. For his leadership on this matter, we should all be grateful.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Re-Reading Revelation: Songs of the Church (Excursus 1)
With the exception of the Psalter, there is no text quite so littered with songs as Revelation. Yet, unlike with Psalms, questions of worship rarely arise when reading through Revelation. They are buried unceremoniously under a spate of eschatological quandries. With the exception of the occasional hymn writer, most readers skim quickly over the at least fifteen distinct songs in Revelation. That sad fact is unfortunate when one considers the rich fruit even a cursory study of them can bear.
One of the most immediately striking facts about the worship is Revelation is precisely who is engaged in praise of God. The congregation of praise ranges from the limited company surrounding the throne of God (4:8,11; 5:9-10; 7:12) to a comprehensive picture of the whole creation (5:13). Certainly this should teach us that none of God's creation is exempt from the obligation to worship, but lest we think that the phrase "every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea" is just a euphemism for all humanity, John throws a few curveballs our way. For example, at one point (16:7) the altar of God joins in the praise, singing "Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!" Not to be outdone, later (19:4) the throne of God will offer its own worship: "Praise our God, all you his servants, you who fear him, small and great." Without trying to be too flippant, it is clear that John truly believes that if God's people won't praise Him then at least His furniture will.
More critical, though perhaps less amusing, than who is doing the praising in Revelation is who the object of that praise is. John makes a particular point of contrasting throughout the book those who worship God and those who worship the beast (14:9) or those who worship demons (9:20) or the dragon (13:4). Much of the contents of the hymns deal directly with God's worthiness to receive praise. From the outset (4:11), the elders declare "Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power," and, of Christ, the multitude in heaven says (5:12) "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!" At the triumph over the beast (15:3-4), the victors ask in praise "O King of the nations! Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name?" Finally, as the narrative winds down (19:1-3), "Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God." In contrast, those who worshiped the beast are recipients of God's wrath (14:9-11). The good news for those who are constantly tempted to offer devotion to false gods--whether it be the genius of Ceasar or the perennial temptress of wealth--is that John shows himself not entirely immune to the temptation of false worship. On two occasions (19:10; 22:8) John tries to offer worship to an angel. In each instance, the angel rebukes John and offers him the simple command "Worship God." The latter of these instances occurs at the very end of the text, indicating that John's message is central to the whole book: whatever other idols vie for our allegiance, the duty of the whole creation can be distilled into "Worship God."
Finally, the content of the songs in Revelation have a great deal to teach us, in part because they say so little. While Psalms is notorious for its, at times, expansive, florid poetry, the psalms of Revelation are often no more than a couplet of Hebrew verse. For the most part, the conspiciously short hymns all have the same basic theme: glory to God. This is, undoubtedly, in part because the overarching purpose of Revelation is to demonstrate the superiority of God to all other powers which may be oppressing the churches. Still, it cannot be denied that John clearly demonstrates that the unqualified--not to mention unassuming--worship of God is appropriate in every situation. Before God has done anything (4:8), they sing, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!" When God is blessing (7:12), they sing, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen." When God is punishing (16:5-6), they sing, "Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments." And when the end of the book comes (19:6-8) and God has fulfilled all His people's expectations, the same theme resounds, "Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory." At all times, in all places, in all situations, the core message, simply and repeatedly expressed is fitting: "To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" (5:13)
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
One of the most immediately striking facts about the worship is Revelation is precisely who is engaged in praise of God. The congregation of praise ranges from the limited company surrounding the throne of God (4:8,11; 5:9-10; 7:12) to a comprehensive picture of the whole creation (5:13). Certainly this should teach us that none of God's creation is exempt from the obligation to worship, but lest we think that the phrase "every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea" is just a euphemism for all humanity, John throws a few curveballs our way. For example, at one point (16:7) the altar of God joins in the praise, singing "Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!" Not to be outdone, later (19:4) the throne of God will offer its own worship: "Praise our God, all you his servants, you who fear him, small and great." Without trying to be too flippant, it is clear that John truly believes that if God's people won't praise Him then at least His furniture will.
More critical, though perhaps less amusing, than who is doing the praising in Revelation is who the object of that praise is. John makes a particular point of contrasting throughout the book those who worship God and those who worship the beast (14:9) or those who worship demons (9:20) or the dragon (13:4). Much of the contents of the hymns deal directly with God's worthiness to receive praise. From the outset (4:11), the elders declare "Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power," and, of Christ, the multitude in heaven says (5:12) "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!" At the triumph over the beast (15:3-4), the victors ask in praise "O King of the nations! Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name?" Finally, as the narrative winds down (19:1-3), "Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God." In contrast, those who worshiped the beast are recipients of God's wrath (14:9-11). The good news for those who are constantly tempted to offer devotion to false gods--whether it be the genius of Ceasar or the perennial temptress of wealth--is that John shows himself not entirely immune to the temptation of false worship. On two occasions (19:10; 22:8) John tries to offer worship to an angel. In each instance, the angel rebukes John and offers him the simple command "Worship God." The latter of these instances occurs at the very end of the text, indicating that John's message is central to the whole book: whatever other idols vie for our allegiance, the duty of the whole creation can be distilled into "Worship God."
Finally, the content of the songs in Revelation have a great deal to teach us, in part because they say so little. While Psalms is notorious for its, at times, expansive, florid poetry, the psalms of Revelation are often no more than a couplet of Hebrew verse. For the most part, the conspiciously short hymns all have the same basic theme: glory to God. This is, undoubtedly, in part because the overarching purpose of Revelation is to demonstrate the superiority of God to all other powers which may be oppressing the churches. Still, it cannot be denied that John clearly demonstrates that the unqualified--not to mention unassuming--worship of God is appropriate in every situation. Before God has done anything (4:8), they sing, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!" When God is blessing (7:12), they sing, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen." When God is punishing (16:5-6), they sing, "Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments." And when the end of the book comes (19:6-8) and God has fulfilled all His people's expectations, the same theme resounds, "Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory." At all times, in all places, in all situations, the core message, simply and repeatedly expressed is fitting: "To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" (5:13)
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
Friday, October 28, 2011
William Lloyd Garrison Turns Over in His Grave
In a largely symbolic gesture, PETA is suing Sea World for keeping slaves:
First and foremost, the action is highly amusing, as all sideshow attractions are intended to be. The political cartoons of swearing in orcas in open court basically draw themselves. More pertinent, however, the action highlights the fundamental incompatibility between the ideology of groups like PETA and a theologically motivated environmentalism. In spite of considering myself a person who is most decidedly for the ethical treatment of animals, I cannot endorse a PETA paradigm which understands the role of animals in creation as somehow identical to that of humanity. However we interpret it, Scripture clearly indicates an economic if not an ontological distinction between humans and animals. We have a different role in the cosmic salvation plan than orcas.
In truth, however, PETA's argument is entirely consistent with the materialist understanding of the world which presents the clearest alternative to a faith-based understanding of the cosmos. Science would have us believe that the difference between Homo sapiens and Orcinus orca is one of human perspective. We see all animals as distinct from all humans only because we are on the inside looking out. An objective viewpoint reveals that the relationship between humans and animals is most like that between cheddar and cheese. If one species of animals has the right to self-determination and is legally protected from enslavement, then it is for Sea World to explain why another species of animals--distinct only in incidental ways--should not be afforded those rights. There are pragmatic or egocentric arguments to explain it, but PETA's argument is by no means as absurd as it appears at first blush. In fact, it likely only appears odd because we have a shared cultural heritage in the Judeo-Christian understanding of humanity. Would Sea World even exist of native shamanism had continued to dominate in the Americas?
A federal court is being asked to grant constitutional rights to five killer whales who perform at marine parks — an unprecedented and perhaps quixotic legal action that is nonetheless likely to stoke an ongoing, intense debate at America's law schools over expansion of animal rights.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is accusing the SeaWorld parks of keeping five star-performer whales in conditions that violate the 13th Amendment ban on slavery. SeaWorld depicted the suit as baseless.
First and foremost, the action is highly amusing, as all sideshow attractions are intended to be. The political cartoons of swearing in orcas in open court basically draw themselves. More pertinent, however, the action highlights the fundamental incompatibility between the ideology of groups like PETA and a theologically motivated environmentalism. In spite of considering myself a person who is most decidedly for the ethical treatment of animals, I cannot endorse a PETA paradigm which understands the role of animals in creation as somehow identical to that of humanity. However we interpret it, Scripture clearly indicates an economic if not an ontological distinction between humans and animals. We have a different role in the cosmic salvation plan than orcas.
In truth, however, PETA's argument is entirely consistent with the materialist understanding of the world which presents the clearest alternative to a faith-based understanding of the cosmos. Science would have us believe that the difference between Homo sapiens and Orcinus orca is one of human perspective. We see all animals as distinct from all humans only because we are on the inside looking out. An objective viewpoint reveals that the relationship between humans and animals is most like that between cheddar and cheese. If one species of animals has the right to self-determination and is legally protected from enslavement, then it is for Sea World to explain why another species of animals--distinct only in incidental ways--should not be afforded those rights. There are pragmatic or egocentric arguments to explain it, but PETA's argument is by no means as absurd as it appears at first blush. In fact, it likely only appears odd because we have a shared cultural heritage in the Judeo-Christian understanding of humanity. Would Sea World even exist of native shamanism had continued to dominate in the Americas?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Re-Reading Revelation: Throne Room (Chs. 4-5)
At the close of Chapter 4, with nearly one fifth of the book now completed, John has spent strikingly little time doing anything like predicting events of the near or distant future. Chapter 4 itself, quite the opposite, is dedicated to John's first direct experience of God. He finds himself standing before the divine throne in a surreal and awe-inspiring landscape. Heralded into the throne room by a trumpet like voice, he beholds the divine person seated on a throne, ruddier than the most fiery gemstones, and crowned with a emerald rainbow. The great throne, from which issues pleas of thunder and flashes of lightening, is surrounded by dozens of lesser thrones, seven burning flames, and a sea of crystal. Just to punctuate the scene, the four most gruesome creatures ever devised in Old Testament apocalyptic--all eyes and wings and bestial visages--surround the throne.
What should immediately strike the reader, and it is hard to imagine that this was not John's intention, is that these creatures--infinitely more terrible and wonderful and awesome than John himself--devote themselves constantly to worship. "They never cease to say, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!'" These creatures are the kind of divinities etched on hundreds of ancient Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian reliefs; they are the type of figures you would expect to find Canaanite idols of scattered throughout the Levant. They represent the epitome of human imagination and our conception of the supreme otherness of the demons and deities which populated the ancient world, and yet they have no other purpose in the throne room of God but to declare His holiness for all eternity. What's more, as often as they offer their praise to God--which is ironic, since John has always told us that this is a continuous act--the two dozen regal figures on the lesser thrones prostrate themselves before the throne of God and cry out "Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power..." In other words, John bursts into the throne room of God, and no sooner does he describe the splendor of its royal figures and mythic creatures than the whole scene erupts into a celestial liturgy in which all the most magnificent inhabitants of heaven take turns bowing and praising God eternally. The reader can even infer, by turning back to the narrative in Ezekiel 1 which John is clearly invoking, that John himself responded much as he had when confronted with the presence of the Lord in chapter 1 and joined the divine company in worship.
It is perhaps enough to take from this scene that the God whom we serve and who the persecuted readers served is greater than all other powers, familiar and fantastic. Certainly this is true and would have come to John's readers as a continued reassurance that the forces which oppressed them, both civil and celestial, were immediately reduced to nothing in the presence of God. There is, however, an additional message which can be derived from experiencing this scene with John. A professor of mine as an undergraduate once told our New Testament class that the greatest lesson that no one takes away from Revelation is that it teaches us who we worship and how we should worship Him. It is telling that the worship of God begins first with who He is and moves into what He has done. Beginning with a tripartite recognition of that supreme divine quality of holiness, the four creatures announce that God is praised as the one who was and is and is to come. Merely that God exists and that He exists as He is seems enough to warrant never ending praise from the four creatures. The elders, in turn, offer an antiphon announcing that God deserves all glory, honor, and power because He "created all things and by your will they existed and were created." If it were not enough that God is God, then the fact that He deigned to create obliges all of creation to glorify Him for their existence. Quite contrary to a modern attitude which praises God most fervently when some blessing is bestowed or some calamity averted, the lesson in worship given by John is that before you ever encounter God on a personal level or entreat Him for any specific blessing He is worthy of your unreserved, unqualified, unceasing praise. The moment He spoke everything which is into existence--and before even that by virtue of who He is--He deserved everything. That He settles for less is a testimony to His mercy; that we expect Him to, a testimony to our hubris.
Much the same formula continues passing into chapter five. After having been introduced to "him who sits on the throne," the reader is then confronted with the equally dramatic image of the Lamb: seated at the right hand of the throne of God with the appearance of a seven-horned, seven-eyed slain lamb. The response of the living creatures and the elders is no less immediate and no less unqualified than it was for the Father. They instantly begin a new song dedicated to the lamb which declares his worthiness for praise in terms equal with that of the one of the throne. The message becomes clear in the closing lines of the whole throne scene which summarize all of creation's appropriate response to God: "And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, 'To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!' And the four living creatures said, "Amen!" and the elders fell down and worshiped." There is no other appropriate response to the presence of our blessed, honorable, glorious, mighty God but immediate, unconditional, and unqualified worship.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
What should immediately strike the reader, and it is hard to imagine that this was not John's intention, is that these creatures--infinitely more terrible and wonderful and awesome than John himself--devote themselves constantly to worship. "They never cease to say, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!'" These creatures are the kind of divinities etched on hundreds of ancient Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian reliefs; they are the type of figures you would expect to find Canaanite idols of scattered throughout the Levant. They represent the epitome of human imagination and our conception of the supreme otherness of the demons and deities which populated the ancient world, and yet they have no other purpose in the throne room of God but to declare His holiness for all eternity. What's more, as often as they offer their praise to God--which is ironic, since John has always told us that this is a continuous act--the two dozen regal figures on the lesser thrones prostrate themselves before the throne of God and cry out "Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power..." In other words, John bursts into the throne room of God, and no sooner does he describe the splendor of its royal figures and mythic creatures than the whole scene erupts into a celestial liturgy in which all the most magnificent inhabitants of heaven take turns bowing and praising God eternally. The reader can even infer, by turning back to the narrative in Ezekiel 1 which John is clearly invoking, that John himself responded much as he had when confronted with the presence of the Lord in chapter 1 and joined the divine company in worship.
It is perhaps enough to take from this scene that the God whom we serve and who the persecuted readers served is greater than all other powers, familiar and fantastic. Certainly this is true and would have come to John's readers as a continued reassurance that the forces which oppressed them, both civil and celestial, were immediately reduced to nothing in the presence of God. There is, however, an additional message which can be derived from experiencing this scene with John. A professor of mine as an undergraduate once told our New Testament class that the greatest lesson that no one takes away from Revelation is that it teaches us who we worship and how we should worship Him. It is telling that the worship of God begins first with who He is and moves into what He has done. Beginning with a tripartite recognition of that supreme divine quality of holiness, the four creatures announce that God is praised as the one who was and is and is to come. Merely that God exists and that He exists as He is seems enough to warrant never ending praise from the four creatures. The elders, in turn, offer an antiphon announcing that God deserves all glory, honor, and power because He "created all things and by your will they existed and were created." If it were not enough that God is God, then the fact that He deigned to create obliges all of creation to glorify Him for their existence. Quite contrary to a modern attitude which praises God most fervently when some blessing is bestowed or some calamity averted, the lesson in worship given by John is that before you ever encounter God on a personal level or entreat Him for any specific blessing He is worthy of your unreserved, unqualified, unceasing praise. The moment He spoke everything which is into existence--and before even that by virtue of who He is--He deserved everything. That He settles for less is a testimony to His mercy; that we expect Him to, a testimony to our hubris.
Much the same formula continues passing into chapter five. After having been introduced to "him who sits on the throne," the reader is then confronted with the equally dramatic image of the Lamb: seated at the right hand of the throne of God with the appearance of a seven-horned, seven-eyed slain lamb. The response of the living creatures and the elders is no less immediate and no less unqualified than it was for the Father. They instantly begin a new song dedicated to the lamb which declares his worthiness for praise in terms equal with that of the one of the throne. The message becomes clear in the closing lines of the whole throne scene which summarize all of creation's appropriate response to God: "And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, 'To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!' And the four living creatures said, "Amen!" and the elders fell down and worshiped." There is no other appropriate response to the presence of our blessed, honorable, glorious, mighty God but immediate, unconditional, and unqualified worship.
*****
For a full list of "Re-reading Revelation" posts, see Re-reading Revelation: Statement of Purpose.
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