Revelation before Advent 6: six seals and four horsemen

This is the fifth of a series of blog posts on the book of Revelation. There's an introduction to the series. Previous reading: ch 5, Song to the Lamb. Where I quote from the Bible, it's generally the New Revised Standard Version unless I say otherwise. The numbering covers the chapters of the book, not the days of the reading. 

We come now to chapter 6, and to a set of characters who are among the best-known figures in popular culture arising from this book. We see four riders on horses, generally known (though not in the text) as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

In the previous chapter, the Lamb who had been slain was handed a sealed scroll (i.e. a book), closed with seven seals. Here we see six of the seals opened - the scroll is not read, but the opening of each seal has a strange and catastrophic effect on the world. It is the beginning of the unravelling of the way the world has been, the beginning of the end times.

The opening of each of the first four seals leads to the release to the world of a horse and its rider, summoned in turn by one of the four living creatures calling 'Come!'. Each horse is a different colour (white, red, black, green); and each of the riders has a different characteristic. The first holds a bow, and is described that 'he came out conquering and to conquer'. The second holds a huge sword and 'is permitted to take peace from the earth'. The third holds a pair of scales and is accompanied by a voice talking of food and payment. The fourth is simply described as Death, followed by Hades, and they are given authority over a quarter of the earth, to kill by sword, famine, pestilence, and wild animals.

Traditionally, the four horsemen have been called Pestilence, War, Famine and Death. They have been greatly feared throughout 2000 years of Christian history, and depicted as signs of the end. But we don't need to look to the end times to see their presence; they are everywhere, in the here and now. But the more we see those terrible four coming (and of course the first three are all linked and feed off each other and feed Death), the worse things become.

The criticism is often levelled against parts of the Christian faith that it is individualistic, too concerned with individual salvation and not enough with wider injustice. There is some truth in that, though the teachings of Jesus have plenty to say about injustice (and the whole story of the Hebrew scriptures is one of collective justice). Things do get more individualistic in the letters of St Paul. But here we are right back at systemic effects. The work of the four horsemen is that which affects the whole world.

Uncomfortably, their work appears to be sanctioned, or at least called out, by the Lamb of God and the four living creatures in front of the throne of God. What can we make of this? Surely this is not saying that God sanctions pestilence, war, famine & death? Later chapters may or may not help, we shall see. But I'm reminded apocalyptic literature is a cry of the oppressed against the powerful (see my sermon on Daniel 7 for more on this theme), and that when oppressed people are hurting, they sometimes want to kick back, at least in their imaginations. It's clear from the start of Revelation that John and the people to whom he wrote were very much persecuted for their faith; and that some of the book is an imagination of God's comeback on their oppressors. Sometimes people in a bad enough situation just want to tear down the whole system, however bad things might become as a result (I've just heard a podcast by Rob Bell and Peter Rollins arguing among other things that this was one reason for the election of Donald Trump).

Two more seals to mention. The fifth seal is about those persecuted people, those killed for faith, whose souls become revealed when the seal is opened; they are dressed in white and told to wait for others who are still to be killed, whereupon they will be rescued together - not entirely encouraging! The sixth seal leads to great destruction upon the world - the sun is black, the stars fall, the sky and the mountains vanish; and the powerful hide in terror from the "wrath of the Lamb". End times indeed, and the beginning of greater and greater destruction, as the book recounts. I will want to hold on to the thought that this is the literature of the oppressed.

Next reading: ch 7: marking the righteous souls

Revelation before Advent 5: Song to the Lamb

This is the fourth of a series of blog posts on the book of Revelation. There's an introduction to the series. Previous reading: ch 4, John before the throne of God. Where I quote from the Bible, it's generally the New Revised Standard Version unless I say otherwise. The numbering covers the chapters of the book, not the days of the reading. 

I'm reading one of the Harry Potter books to my son at bedtime at the moment (so far his dreams are free from Dementors, and I hope it continues), so in that spirit I'm beginning to feel a little like Hermione Granger in reading some of these chapters from Revelation. I have this urge to read and understand everything before I can possibly say a thing. But: I'm reading a chapter (or two) per day, and have plenty of other things to do with my time; and the commentaries I've found are either very complex or rather strange; and besides, the texts demand more of an emotional reaction than a scholarly one. That said, I did read the Oxford Bible Commentary on the chapter, and the text in an interlineal Greek-English version, and I've said previously that understanding the symbolism is important with this book.

Nonetheless, I'm more inclined tonight, reading chapter 5, to go with an emotional reaction. And here it is: song. We have two songs in this chapter and it happens that I've sung both of them. A bit of context of the story. John is still in the throne room, and sees the hand of God holding a scroll (subject not mentioned) which is sealed with seven seals. Nobody is worthy to open the scroll, John is distraught, until one of the 24 elders who says that the Lion of Judah has conquered and can open the scroll. And John sees not a lion but a lamb who had been slaughtered, and now has seven horns (of power) and seven eyes (of wisdom). The lamb takes the scroll and the four living creatures and the elders bow down before it.

The lamb hasn't been mentioned previously in the book. However it's used as a symbol of Jesus once in the gospels, "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" and a few times in the Acts of the Apostles and the letters. It's a reference to the Passover sacrifice of a lamb, and the idea of Jesus' death as a sacrifice. Here these things are present, but in the background, except that we're reminded three times in the chapter that the lamb was slaughtered.

And so to the first song. In the NRSV this begins "You are worthy to take the scroll". In the King James Version of the Bible it begins "Thou art worthy to take the book". In that form I remember it well as the culminating song of the musical Bind Us Together, a series of praise songs which is largely forgotten as a collection although some of the songs are still sung. In my memory this song is slow and sonorous, as befits a song to be sung by a group of elders.

The second song is better known, and is described as being sung by "thousands of thousands" of angels. The text begins "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain" and it forms the culmination of Handel's magnificent Messiah, where the text "blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto him" is a majestic fugue. It's a wonderful ending to a wonderful piece (and it gives the lie to the idea that the piece belongs just to Christmas time).

And lastly the song comes from every creature on earth and heaven: "to the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honour and glory and might for ever and ever". I don't know of a setting of that one, but we can say amen to those words!

We'll find out more about that scroll, but here the emphasis is on the lamb, and the song sung to the lamb. This is a message deep in Christological ideas of sacrifice and glory, following on from the praise given to God, and sitting within the throne room. Within the throne room, praise to God happens for ever; but now something has changed, something new is happening. The lamb is here, the lamb was slain, and the lamb receives song. 

Next reading: ch 6. six seals and four horsemen

Revelation before Advent 4: John before the throne of God

This is the third of a series of blog posts on the book of Revelation. There's an introduction to the series. Previous reading: ch 2+3, John blogs to seven churches. Where I quote from the Bible, it's generally the New Revised Standard Version unless I say otherwise. The numbering covers the chapters of the book, not the days of the reading. 

So we're on to chapter 4. Reading this tonight, I was heard to say "I need to read it in more than one translation, this is a strange one". Well it is, but then it's not unique in this book! (And, for what it's worth, there are few differences between the two main translations I use, the New Revised Standard Version and the New International Version.)

I'm not a huge fan of section titles in Bibles - they often conceal as much as they reveal - but in this case the NRSV's title for this chapter is about right: "The Heavenly Worship". John sees a door into heaven (in passing, following a question from my wife Becky, traditionally John who wrote Revelation was identified with John who wrote the fourth gospel and John who wrote three letters found in the NT, but modern biblical scholars are divided and many doubt these to be the same person). He passes through the door "in the Spirit" - perhaps in some sort of visionary state rather than physically - and finds himself in a throne room, in front of the throne of God. This in itself is a sort of vision, of power and worship.

There is no description of God as such except that he has the colour of jasper and cornelian (two jewels), but we're told about the surroundings - a rainbow, a sea of glass, seven flaming torches (described as the seven spirits of God), lightning and thunder. Around the throne are twenty-four other thrones, each occupied by an elder dressed in white. And on each corner of the throne there are four living creatures, of the sort that might be seen in a vision - six wings, eyes all around them, each looking like a different creature (lion, ox, human, eagle).

Clearly there's deep symbolism here (again). Traditionally the four creatures have been equated with the four gospel writers (which would be odd if John himself is seeing them) and used as the symbols of the four writers, but there's no mention of that here. The number twenty-four is twice twelve, and twelve is a crucial number in Jewish faith, being the number of the tribes of Israel (hence its recurrence in the twelve apostles of Jesus); but who exactly who are the twenty-four elders is unclear.

It feels a bit like a royal court, ruling the heavens as advisors to God. There are several Old Testament passages with visions of God on his throne which resemble this text closely - Isaiah 6, Ezekiel 1, Daniel 7 - and in some of these the court is explicitly identified. The details are very close to those earlier visions, which isn't so surprising - Jewish literature often draws on earlier texts, and spiritual visions of all kinds draw for their interpretation on the visionary's experiences.

But this is a court where power is not the point. The point is worship. The four creatures are said to be singing constantly "holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come". The twenty-four elders give praise to God as worthy "to receive glory and honour and power". Whatever their own power or authority, their first concern is to give honour to God, not to celebrate their own power.

Before everything else, worship and praise of God comes first. There are strange sights to be seen, but worship of God comes first. And that phrase "who was and is and is to come" shows the eternal nature of the experience. It existed in the past, exists now, and will continue to exist for ever. There have been times in our history when Jerusalem, or perhaps Constantinople, were called the centre of the world, the navel, the eternal place. In this text, it is the throne of God which is the eternal place.

Today is Remembrance Sunday, a day to think about death and life and peace and war. I have any number of issues with the politics of the day, but I respect the death of so many people in so many pointless wars. War is an abomination, and it arises from struggles over power. Here we see the ultimate source of power, and it has no room for violence or war. It has room only for worship, and for the love of God.

Moreover, I'm writing this in front of the television, half-watching a programe about a wonderful humanitarian, a Sikh man who has travelled from the UK to Iraq to bring aid to people in terrible suffering. The people who inflict that suffering are not of God. There is no room for hate or destruction in front of the throne of God. Nor is there room for the petty differences between faiths - good people, doing the will of God, are the same everywhere, whether called Sikh, Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or atheist. All those who live out love are worshipping God, calling holy, holy, holy to the one who was, and is, and is to come. And may it be so.

Next reading: ch 5, Song to the Lamb

Revelation before Advent 2+3: John blogs to seven churches

This is the second of a series of blog posts on the book of Revelation. There's an introduction to the series. The previous reading was ch 1, the gift of prophecy. Where I quote from the Bible, it's generally the New Revised Standard Version unless I say otherwise. The numbering covers the chapters of the book, not the days of the reading.

 

So I guess just as John was influenced by his context, so are his contemporary readers… My reading of chapters 2 and 3 (which belong together) are strongly influenced by having spent the day at the Premier Digital Conference in London.

I spoke about what we might call ‘informational mission’ – the way in which information can be understood in church contexts. I drew, of course, on our work in the Difference That Makes a Difference research group, and Bateson’s definition of information, as well as the work of the URC’s Blended LearningTask Group.

Making a Difference for God: understanding information in churches from Magnus Ramage

There was much talk about reaching out to others online (as well as reaching in, and reaching God). As befits a digital event, there was a hugely busy backchannel on Twitter. Perhaps my single favourite quote from the day comes from Pete Phillips of Durham University: “Church should be digitally savvy, digitally connected, but always incarnational”.

But enough of the conference, because that brings me neatly to Revelation chapters 2 & 3. In the last episode, we saw John’s calling as a prophet, to speak to the seven churches of Asia (mostly now in modern-day Turkey). And here we see John writing a letter to each of those churches (under prophetic inspiration, the text tells us – in my online Bible the entire chapter is marked in red, the traditional way of denoting the words of Jesus).

There’s something strikingly modern, even rather digital, about these letters. They could have come from an online email generator. They’re short. They’re to the point, and well structured. All the letters share the same structure:

• there’s an introduction “To the angel of the church in X write:”;
• then a text that begins “These are the words of him who…” with a description from the prophetic vision;
• then some kind of specific message of praise or warning for that churches;
• lastly a summary which begins each time “Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches” followed by a take-home message, a promise of what might happen (in some cases these two elements are reversed).

The last sentence could easily be a tweet, the rest has a public-facing feel that, while it has a target, could nowadays just as easily sit on a blog or Facebook.

In other words, John was using the communications technology of his time, writing to the seven churches but with an eye to other readers, writing in a stylised format that could easily be understood and interpreted by others.

What of the content of the messages to the churches? Each of these could be interpreted at length (I once heard a sermon series which took a week on each mini-letter) but I’ll only discuss them briefly:

• The church in Ephesus - praised for their endurance, and that they haven’t grown weary. But they’re also told they’re lacking in love – perhaps that an enthusiasm they once had has been lost over time. They’re also warned off a group called the Nicolaitans, who John clearly objected to (little is known of this group). They promised the right to eat from the tree of life.
• The church in Smyrna – praised from their afflictions and poverty. They receive little criticism, but are warned that they have great suffering and persecution to come. They’re promised that they will not “be harmed by the second death” (of the spirit as well as the body).
• The church in Pergamum – these words, they are told, come from one who holds a double-edged sword (seen in chapter 1). They are reassured that they live in the place where Satan reigns, and praised for their faithfulness, even when one of their number was put to death. But they’re still criticised for false beliefs – the teachings of Balaam and again the Nicolaitans. Their promise is stranger still – hidden manna and a secret name written on a white stone.
• The church in Thyatira – they are praised for their deeds, faith and perseverance, and that they are “doing more than you did at first” (NIV). But they’re greatly criticised for a female prophet known as Jezebel, who is said to mislead the faithful into immorality. I imagine this text has been used at times by misogynists to speak against any women in leadership; it doesn’t say this, but rather speaks against a single person. This letter feels especially harsh.
• The church in Sardis – they are warned to wake up, as they are spiritually dead. This closely resembles the wisdom literature which often talked of people or groups being spiritually dead; but it continues in a passage reminiscent of Jesus’ parable of the watchful slaves, told to keep watch as they do not know when the Son of Man will return. Not everyone in Sardis is like this, they are reassured, and those people will walk with the Son of Man, dressed in white.
• The church in Philadelphia – they are reassured rather than criticised, as ones with little power yet who kept God’s word. They are distinguished from the “synagogue of Satan” (constantly this book is full of strong language), and reassured that the Son of Man is coming soon.
• Lastly the church in Laodicea - the most critical letter of all. They are described as lukewarm, neither hot nor cold. They are personally rich, but do not realise how spiritually poor they are – “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked”. They are told that he (the Son of Man, or Jesus) stands at the door and knocks, a much-loved verse (though with clear echo of “knock, and the door will be opened to you” in the Sermon on the Mount), but they need to respond if they want him to come in to eat with them.

Lots of strong & symbolic language. It feels very much of its time – despite John’s statement that it is prophetic, the words closely resemble those of St Paul writing his various pastoral letters to churches. The letters intervene in a variety of local disputes, probably some with quite small groups of Christians, even those some of the towns were important ones in the Graeco-Roman world.

So the details of the letters seem to me less important than the form and the style. John writes in a timely and interesting style - whether the message has much to say to us today is a different question, but we can certainly learn much from his means of communication. Such letters to individual churches from a local bishop or other regional church leader would certainly get attention!

Next reading: ch 4, John before the throne of God

Revelation before Advent 1: the gift of prophecy

This is the first of a series of blog posts on the book of Revelation. There's an introduction to the series. Where I quote from the Bible, it's generally the New Revised Standard Version unless I say otherwise.

Chapter 1 of Revelation begins with a bang. First, we get a greeting of the kind that's found in many of the letters of the New Testament - from an elder to the various churches he's writing to. Except that he doesn't say it's from himself, but rather that he's speaking on behalf of "him who is and who was and who is to come" (God) and also from Jesus. So immediately we have a claim of prophecy - that the author, already identified as John, is speaking on behaf of God and Jesus.

Then we have a couple of brief statements of faith, of which one (v7), "Look! He is coming with the clouds!..." is important in the church's understanding of the coming of Christ, and is the basis of Charles Wesley's hymn "Lo he comes with clouds descending".

And then we're into the prophetic vision, where the prophet is given their commission by the divine. The Old Testmanent is full of these encounters - Isaiah, Daniel, Ezekiel and many others had an experience, often described very vividly, of the presence of the divine telling them to speak. John is in the same position. He tells us of his location (the island of Patmos), his condition (persecution for the sake of God & Jesus) and then his experience.

He has an encounter of the Son of Man, in white but with eyes of fire, feet of bronze and a voice of the waters, holding stars and surrounded by lampstands. A vision of power, though not the enthroned figure that Daniel saw of the Son of Man. The mystical number seven, which will recur throughout the book, makes it first apperance here, at least to refer to seven churches to whom John is commanded to send the message. The Son of Man, a mysterious figure from Daniel ch7 popular in Jewish apocalyptic literature of the time, is not identified here with Jesus (and Jesus is mentioned elsewhere in the chapter), but others have chosen to read him in that way. And in the usual way of these prophetic visions, the Son of Man explains the vision to John, unpacking its different elements. That won't be offered to us so much in later chapters!

What to make of this? From a Jewish perspective it would be very familiar as an establishment of prophecy. John is staking his claim as a legitimate prophet who has encountered the divine and been given a specific mission. He situates himself very clearly in the time he's writing, with late first-century (or early second-century) accounts of churches which were important; of times of persecution; and of talk of the Son of Man. John was writing a book for his times, as a prophetic vision from God. He wasn't speaking of the end of the world, but the time here and now.

Given the wild imagery of later chapters, I'll want to hang on to this: John is speaking of the here and now, not the distant future. It's a revelation for the present time. Those who seek to take it as a prophecy for events happening 2000 years later (and there are such people) should be very careful.

And there's the language: some beautiful phrases and passages, which ring down the centuries. "I am the Alpha and the Omega", "Look he is coming with the clouds", "I am the first and the last, and the living one". But none of it exactly cosy and everyday. These are high words, about high things. They may be about the present day, but they're not about the everyday.

An interesting start. It gets harder as we go on...

Next reading: ch 2+3, John blogs to seven churches

Revelation before Advent: introduction

I'm going to read the book of Revelation chapter-by-chapter daily between today and the start of Advent (Sunday 27th November). This post explains why, as I intend to blog each day's reading and reflections.

First (and this is the church-insider answer), there's a long church tradition in reading Revelation in the run-up to Advent - not necessarily the whole book, but perhaps parts of it. The first Sunday of Advent is the start of the church year, the beginning of a new season, and the time when we consider the coming of Christ. This makes it relevant to consider the end times before we look at the new times, and Revelation is a book that does both these things. Advent, as any liturgical purist will tell you, is about as much about the second coming of Christ as it is a preparation for Christmas. There's an excellent blog post by Rev. Erik Parker on why Advent matters so much. Now, I don't come from a church background which has rules about these things - I grew up in a tradition (Church of Scotland) that de-emphasised the church calendar, spent 15 years in one that explicitly rejected it (Quakers) and am now in one (United Reformed Church) where it's observed rather patchily. But actually I like the church calendar and find it a helpful rhythm. So there's an answer from tradition.

Image: Hieronymous Bosch, Saint John on Patmos, via Wikipedia

But this year is different. By almost any measure, 2016 feels like a year of disasters: bombings in Belgium and France, ongoing awfulness in Syria, a British MP murdered in her consistuency, murders at a gay nightclub in Florida - the list goes on. But worse things still: in Britain we've had Brexit, in the US a deeply divisive and nasty election ultimately won by Donald Trump - both times won by a narrow margin following a campaign full of half-truths, but where the victors seem determined to make the maximum from their success. Dark things have been shown by these events - racism, sexism, unwillingness to trust others, violence, divisiveness. If not exactly the end-times, then it feels like a really unpleasant time to be living through.

And that's the theme of Revelation. Earlier in the year I preached a sermon on the book of Daniel, and read and thought about apocalyptic literature, to which both books belong. It appears to be a prophecy about the future, but it's really about the present times - when the book was written, and just possibly now. It's a very complex book, full of imagery and metaphor. As one biblical commentator says, many readers "associate it with eccentric and even dangerous sects addicted to millenarian fantasy". It's a strange book. But I've valued the time I've spent with it, and I've wanted for a while to spend more time with the book.

So: one or two chapters (there are 16 days left before Advent, and 22 chapters) per day, and hopefully a blog post about what I'm finding. Wish me luck!

Links to individual chapters, updated each day:
ch 1, the gift of prophecy
ch 2+3, John blogs to seven churches
ch 4, John before the throne of God
ch 5, Song to the Lamb

ch 6. six seals and four horsemen

ch 7, marking the righteous souls

ch 8+9, angels, trumpets & disasters

ch 10+11, eating his words
ch 12+13, the woman, the dragon and the beasts
ch 14, many more angels, warnings & harvests
ch 15+16, seven bowls, seven plagues
ch 17+18, the fall of Babylon (and Rome)
ch 19, Hallelujah, and a white horse
ch 20, the millennium, the lake of fire, and existential angst
ch 21, new heaven and new earth
ch 22, the healing of the nations and the inclusion of all

Meaning, selection and narrative: why we don't see the information others see

In our DTMD (Difference That Makes a Difference) research group, which is focused on information as used in a wide range of fields, we've lately been very preoccupied with the role of narrative. It's the theme of our workshop next year in Gothenburg as part of the IS4SI summit on information. My colleague David Chapman has recently written an excellent blog post on the subject, concluding that:

My argument here is that 'more information' does not in general help, because the narrative chooses or creates the information to fit the story.  But still, not all narratives are equal.

Today I've been thinking about narrative in a slightly different way, in conversation with David and other OU colleagues at a research away day. It seems to me that one of the key aspects of narrative comes from what we select to view as information, and then weave together into a narrative. This is an iterative process: when something that might be considered information arises into our consciousness, but doesn't fit the narrative, we often completely fail to notice it. It's not just that we see these items and decide (however explicitly) that the item doesn't fit our narrative and must be rejected; it's that we don't even register these items in the first place.

Image: Wikispaces

Here are two recent political examples, one from progressive thinkers and one from conservative thinkers (keeping it fair and balanced!)

First, the progressive version of selective information. In the EU referendum, those in favour of the UK remaining in the EU frequently reported knowing nobody who was in favour of the Leave campaign, and had little sense of that campaign making traction with their arguments. I happen to have voted in favour of Remain, and had little sympathy with the Leave campaign's arguments (though I'm not sure I had any direct conversations with anyone in favour of Leave), but it was clear that there were those prepared to listen to them. The result came as a nasty shock, but not entirely a surprise. For others in favour of Remain, the result was a surprise because they failed to treat the serious risk of the Leave campaign succeeding as real information.

Second, the conservative version of selective information. This week, US presidential candidate Donald Trump was heard on tape making disgraceful misogynist statements about his treatment of, and attitude to women. Many Republican politicians have condemned the candidate and withdrawn their support. Curiously, however, this has not been seen amongst many prominent evangelical Christians. This is a group which has often been supportive of Republican politicians, but might have been expected to condemn Trump given their conservative sexual attitudes. I don't think it's sufficient to regard this as hypocrisy - rather I think it's a matter of selective information. The narrative of Republican = good, Democrat = bad (and the anti-abortion stance of Trump) is so strong for these evangelicals that they are simply unable to see the unethical nature of Trump's (apparent) behaviour.

This process of selecting information has similarities to other perspectives on information. Our former colleague Sue Holwell refers to those items of the world which we select as important as 'capta':

Data are available to us, and capta are the result of consciously selecting some data for attention, or creating some new category.

Likewise, Gregory Bateson, whose definition of information as 'the difference that makes a difference' forms the foundation of our work, refers to selection as the way in which we make sense of the differences in the world. Quoting Immanuel Kant, he wrote:

Kant, in the Critique of Judgment – if I understand him correctly – asserts that the most elementary aesthetic act is the selection of a fact. He argues that in a piece of chalk there are an infinite number of potential facts. ... The sensory receptors cannot accept it; they filter it out. What they do is to select certain facts out of the piece of chalk.

Information is the process of giving meaning to those selected facts, those capta - of constructing narratives built up from potential facts. But when we construct those narratives, we notice some could-be facts, some potential items of information, and fail to notice others. This is not deceit, or hypocrisy; it is the way we construct narratives, the way we build up information.