Rv 13

9 May 2004

5th Sunday of Easter

“Do We Worship the Beast?”

            Hanging in my closet is a denim jacket that I’ve had for many years.  It contains a small variety of buttons that I’ve stuck into it from time to time.  It also has some images that I inscribed on it, using a little bleach and a paintbrush.  On one side, there appears a cross and a fish—an ancient symbol for Jesus Christ.  On the other side, the numerals 777 are visible.

            Why did I put that number on my jacket?  Let’s say, I wanted to be cool in a Christian way.  Some rock groups, then and now, use Satanic imagery as part of their…look—as part of their theatrical presence.  I had some friends who thought that was cool.  Anyway, my use of 777 was a protest against the idea that using 666, the number of the beast, is something that shows “you rock.”

But more than simply a reaction, it was an affirmation.  Considering the symbolic value of 7, the divine number of perfection, I tripled it to affirm the Holy Trinity—just as 666 is a denial of the Trinity.  And there were occasions when I was asked to explain my reasoning!

            But what am I doing?  I’m jumping to the very last verse of our reading!  Of course, it is hard to think of a single number that has provoked more speculation, more fear and loathing, more flights of fancy than 666.  (Our bulletin cover shows the work of someone who sees the number in the UPC—the Universal Price Code!)  In a recent example, last year US Highway 666, running through New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah, was renumbered US 491 to avoid any associations with evil.

            Besides that particular number, there’s no book in the Bible that’s produced more consternation, more misunderstanding, than Revelation.  And there’s probably no chapter in that book guiltier of those offenses than chapter 13.  That’s likely why today’s reading appears nowhere in our lectionary.  The compilers of the Revised Common Lectionary took the easy way out and decided to just skip this troublesome text.  Wimps.

            Actually, much of the misunderstanding of Revelation—and this chapter—comes from a failure to properly approach apocalyptic language.  The visions revealed to John are couched in this terminology unfamiliar to us.  Revelation is the primary source of apocalyptic literature in the New Testament.  It’s also found in the final sections of Isaiah and Zechariah and in several parts of Daniel.  The word “apocalypse” itself means “revelation.”

            Apocalyptic literature tends to portray cosmic battles between good and evil.  The imagery used consists of, among other things, vividly described calamities, angels and monsters, bizarre happenings up in the skies, and numbers employed in symbolic fashion.  Apocalyptic literature emerges during times when the faithful are facing severe persecution.  It lets them know that God has already won the victory, even though the powers of evil force them to make choices that are dangerous—even deadly—for themselves.

            The people to whom the book of Revelation was directed, the seven churches of Asia Minor, understood the idea of apocalyptic.  They understood its meanings.  Something similar in our American history is found in the spirituals which emerged during the time of slavery.  Many of those songs contain layers of meaning.  The words of the spirituals often served as codes—or symbols—that the slaves used to communicate in ways their white masters couldn’t understand.  That’s a key feature of apocalyptic language.  Remember, the verse that introduces 666 begins with a call for wisdom to “anyone with understanding” (v. 18).

History is filled with misunderstandings concerning the beast of Revelation:  misunderstandings that have been, at best, quaint in their silliness, and at worst, distressing in their violence.  In my “silly” category, I include such identifications with the beast as folk singer Pete Seeger, Ronald Wilson Reagan (the six letters in each of his names and his survival of a gunshot apparently qualified him), and Bill Gates.  The “violent” category includes any number of Popes and certain figures of the Reformation, like Luther.  In those cases, labeling someone the beast gave a perfect excuse for those itching for a fight.

The book of Revelation appears near the end of the first century.  At this time, Domitian is the Roman emperor.  He’s a real piece of work.  For many decades, even predating Jesus, the cult of the emperor has been developing.  That is, the emperor—Caesar—is undergoing a gradual evolution.  More and more, good Roman citizens are expected to offer a sacrifice to the image of the emperor.  They can worship other gods, but they must also perform this ritual.  Domitian comes to power, and he insists that “Lord and God” be made part of his name.

It’s important to understand that in first century Rome, terms like “Lord” and “salvation” are political words.  For the people to whom Revelation is addressed, the emperor is the beast.  When Christians say that Jesus is Lord—that salvation is in him, not in the glory of Rome—they’re on dangerous ground.  And when they refuse to offer sacrifice to Caesar, they’re perceived as enemies of the state.  As we see right away in chapter 1, this book is written from exile on the island of Patmos.  John says he’s guilty “because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (v. 9).

Both Hebrew and Greek letters were used as numbers.  Anyone’s name could be read as a number.  It just so happens that the name Nero Caesar, an especially vicious emperor who ruled when Peter and Paul were executed, becomes the number 666.  Plus, there was the widespread myth that Nero had been resurrected to become Domitian, thus adding to the identification.

John has two visions in chapter 13.  The first, the beast from the sea, is the one who’s usually just called “the beast.”  The second, starting with verse 11, is of a beast from the earth.  It’s called “the false prophet” later in the book (16:13, 19:20, 20:10).  In the vision, “it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon” (v. 11).  The dragon, identified as Satan in chapter 12, is the one who is served by both beasts.  The dragon, the beast, and the false prophet form an unholy trinity.

Notice how the false prophet appears to be something it isn’t.  Outwardly, it looks like a lamb—a suggestion of Christ or of goodness—but evil comes out of its mouth.  Who does John have in mind as this beast?  Possibilities include the provincial governor in Ephesus, overseeing Asia Minor, a man who might be called Domitian’s henchman.  Also, the high priest of the imperial cult is another likelihood.

You may have noticed that I haven’t yet used the word “antichrist.”  That word doesn’t appear in chapter 13, or anywhere else in the book of Revelation, for that matter.  We only find “antichrist” in the first two letters of John, and it’s used there in a particular way.  Antichrist here is one who denies that Jesus was the incarnate Christ, Messiah in the flesh.  1 John 2 indicates that there were a number of such people with the community, who have since left.

Similar teachings remain with us today.  We hear of those who say that Jesus of Nazareth is different from the Christ, or perhaps the Christic spirit.  There’s a multiplicity of viewpoints here.  Some say that everyone could be the Christ; others say that no one could.  A lot of these folks, going by the definition provided in John’s letters, would be considered antichrists—or participating in the spirit of antichrist.

So, if the beast of Revelation and the antichrists of 1 and 2 John began as separate ideas, how is it that they came together to form one rather slippery devil?  Michael White, Professor of Classics and Christian Origins at the University of Texas, served as a consultant for the Frontline program "Apocalypse!"  He offers some thoughts on the matter.[1]

First, there’s the belief among Bible scholars that, just as with “James,” there is more than one “John” in the New Testament.  It’s possible that John the apostle wrote the gospel and the letters, and another John, perhaps John the Elder, wrote Revelation.  If so, the similarity between the beast and antichrist would have led people to see them as one and the same.

There was also the growing idea at the end of the first century that an opponent of Christ would emerge in the final days before Jesus returns.  That idea is best expressed in 2 Thessalonians 2, which says that the day of Christ will not come before “the lawless one” is revealed.  By the way, even though 2 Thessalonians is attributed to Paul, it is increasingly seen to have come from this later time period.  After the Jewish revolt against Rome was crushed and Jerusalem was destroyed in the year 70 (remember the story of Masada?), a lot of people said, “If that wasn’t the final battle, as we first thought, when will it be?”  That crisis helped pave the way for understanding the antichrist as an individual who was yet to come.

Then, during the early Middle Ages (7th to 11th centuries), plenty of poorly educated preachers, who had little understanding of first century realities, added to the confusion.  Their sermon preparation tended to come from notes written in the margins of copies of the Bible.  These notes are called “glosses.”  In was in these glosses that fanciful and legendary ideas were added to the text of Revelation.

Among these ideas was “the birth of this Antichrist figure.  He was often depicted as being Jewish, or as having a Jewish mother who was impregnated by Satan himself.  These texts were often illustrated with lurid depictions of these ideas.  It was from this popular tradition that much of the later Antichrist myth was born, and with it some of the most deeply ingrained and [venomous] elements of [anti-Jewish bigotry].”[2]  We’re still dealing with that stuff today.

So, if the revelation to John—if his message to the churches drawn from the visions—isn’t about all this craziness, then what is it about?  In a way, the focal point of our chapter is verse 10.  Based on Jeremiah 15:2, we hear a warning about the risk of resistance to the empire.  The NRSV reads, “If you are to be taken captive, into captivity you go; if you kill with the sword, with the sword you must be killed.”  That last part sounds like a warning to the persecutors.  But there is an alternate reading in some versions that goes, “If you are killed with the sword, with the sword you must be killed.”  That fits in more with the idea of martyrdom.

            Still, I especially want us to look at the final line of that verse:  “Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints.”  Here, “endurance” is the Greek word upomonh (hupomone), sometimes translated “perseverance.”  But it can also have the sense of “resistance.”  So, instead of a call for endurance and faith—which seems to promote a rather passive posture—we can also understand John as urging the resistance and faith of the saints.  There’s a much more active feel to it.

            It’s been noted, “The Christian community represents resistance to the empire; it was a community of faith that discovered Satan’s presence in the empire; it also had the intelligence to understand (calculate) the frailty of the empire.”[3]  Remember John’s call for the churches to understand, to calculate, the number of the beast—to see through the lies of the beast.

            During the conference on spirituality at Montreat, keynote speaker Phyllis Tickle remarked on how we in the affluent West tend to spiritualize the scriptures.  There may be no better case of that than with the book of Revelation.  We undercut its relevance by pushing it off into the future.  We strip it of its power and turn it into something ridiculous.  By not letting John speak to his time and place, we prevent him from speaking to ours.

            The key problem in our chapter is worship of the beast.  The beast isn’t some cartoon character with “666” written on his forehead.  The beast is awesome; the beast is admirable!  What does the scripture say?  “In amazement the whole earth followed the beast…and they worshiped the beast, saying, ‘Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?’” (vv. 3-4).  Only something impressive, something magnificent, can earn that kind of devotion, that kind of praise.  John’s warning to the churches, then and now, is that empire is the beast—it is an idol.

            In his little book, Principalities and Powers in the New Testament, Heinrich Schlier makes these insightful comments about the beast:  “It is the crafty, coarse, and all-devouring Empire, the power of this world governed by bestial instinct, and appearing in bestial form.  This is not the ‘State’ as such, the political power which looks after public order [which is legitimate—that’s what Romans 13 is about]; it is the inhuman form of that degenerate political power which is the opposite of public order.”[4]

            Any empire—be it Roman, Ottoman, British, Soviet, or American—can degenerate into the beastly behavior we’re looking at here.  The events of the past couple of weeks should be evidence enough of that.  Some would even argue that empire, by its very nature, becomes the beast.

            So where does that leave the church?  Are we in danger of worshipping the empire, of sacrificing to the image of Caesar?  Caesar’s image has always been on money.  Does the god that Jesus referred to as “Mammon” still exist?  You know, Mammon isn’t money itself; it’s the god of money.  Perhaps Mammon survives the fall of individual empires.  Now, in America, it goes under the name “consumerism.”  I hope we realize that that’s about more than merely being a consumer!

            OK, are you still with me?  This has been one of my longer sermons.  And I’ve barely scratched the surface of today’s text.  There’s so much out there on Revelation.  But think about what I’ve said; reflect on these passages.  I ask you to share your comments, your questions…your insights.  It’s important to remember that we become like whatever we worship.  So, do we worship the beast, or the God of Jesus Christ?

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