Channel-flipping last night, I caught a National Geographic program proposing to delve into the mysteries of the Book of Revelation. It reminded me that I’ve been meaning to blog about the same thing. And I’m uniquely qualified because I’ve now read through it about three times in my lifetime.

That may not sound like much, but I’m not sure the guys at National Geographic have read it all the way through even once.

And it takes about three times before Revelation stops making you weird out. Maybe that’s the reason that, as the Orthodox Study Bible (OSB) points out, it’s the only New Testament book not publicly read in the services of the Orthodox Church. I had actually skirted it a time or two in reading through the Bible, but that doesn’t seem like the right answer either. Perhaps it’s unavoidable, but it’s hard not to start trying to solve it like it’s your own private jigsaw puzzle (”Oho! ‘The shape of the locusts was like horses prepared for battle … They had tails like scorpions, and there were stings in their tails.’ That could SO be like the AIDS virus or something! I’m a genius!”). But when you’ve worn yourself out with that — which doesn’t take long given that absolutely nothing is linear or totally cohesive — you get to some of the things that would break hearts over both at the National Geographic Society and, unfortunately, at many Protestant churches.

What it says, what it doesn’t say

Like so many books of the Bible, it’s amazing how much doesn’t get quoted. How many times have we heard about the Number of the Beast or the Whore of Babylon? Does anybody bother to mention that the book starts with three chapters concerning the encouragement and admonition of the seven churches under John’s care? Or that the chapter before the Number of the Beast bit is quite obviously a vision of Christ’s advent on earth and the inception of His Church?

By my quick count, 11 of the 22 chapters of Revelation concern the Church. Perhaps that’s why the OSB lists the theme for this book not as prophecy or warnings, but as “Faithfulness in tribulation.” Does it just ruin all the fun if it turns out that the biggest single reason for the Book of Revelation was not to give tip-offs about the future, but as a help for the faithful throughout the Church Age to remain steadfast?

Well, non-Christian readers would definitely say that it did (ruin the fun, that is). Symbology from Revelation has been lifted by everything from “Ghostbusters” to “The Omen” and at no time is there a hint of shame for presuming to grab sound-bytes from the New Testament while having contempt for its gospel message. But perhaps non-Christians aren’t alone in this. In reading through the epistles, it’s nearly impossible to miss the fact that the main reason for writing them was to educate, exhort and admonish churches, not individuals. For every verse that can get lifted from Ephesians or Galatians and become a Hallmark card, there are chapters that tell how bishops should be picked, how heretics should be ostracized, how specific people at specific times should be lauded or given messages or disciplined — in short, these are the beginnings of the Church. As much as a person can and should read them for their personal growth, to try and read every passage as if it must apply to you and you alone is not only unprofitable but narcissistic.

The Number of the Beast equals …

Perhaps the best example of this is the passage about The Beast and False Prophet that is about where the Church-challenged (both Christian and non- like) like to start reading. It starts at chapter 13 — mind you, we’re more than halfway through the book at this point. Coming just after the chapter corresponding to Christ’s coming (Chapter 12, which the OSB titles “The Woman, Her Child and the Dragon”), we hear of a beast which rises out of the sea, utters blasphemies, earns the worship of the world and makes war with the saints. After that comes The False Prophet which: has the authority of the Beast; makes the world worship the Beast; performs signs through magic; has his mark put on all without which they can’t buy or sell.

And here’s everyone’s favorite bit — “Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the Beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.”

Do enough Orthodox know that there is a plausible case to be made that we can figure out from that exactly who John was referring to? Maybe it’s just me and I was ignorant of this, but the first time I read the footnote to this verse in the OSB, it blew my little mind. Here it is in its entirety:

The letters of the alphabet were used as numbers in ancient times (as in “Roman numerals”). thus the numerical value of names could easily be calculated. “The name of the Beast” (v.17) is the numerical equivalent to the letters of the name of a man (some texts read “616″ instead of the well-known 666). John may be purposefully enigmatic, using a secret code to protect against a charge of sedition.

This is a predictably misunderstood passage, for the text itself says it requires wisdom and understanding. In the Bible, the number six stands for falling short, incompleteness, imperfection; seven, for perfection, fullness, completion; eight, for eschatological perfection, a superabundance of fullness. The sixth day, Friday, is the day of preparation; the seventh, the Sabbath, Saturday, a picture of the rest to come; the eighth day, Sunday, the day of the Resurrection, the final establishment of God’s Kingdom. The numerical equivalent of “Jesus” in Greek is 888. The numerical equivalent of “Nero Caesar” transliterated from Greek into Hebrew is 666, meaning the epitome of created inadequacy. The numerical equivalent of “Nero Caesar” transliterated from Latin into Hebrew is 616. If John were referring to Domitian, whom some considered to be Nero reincarnated, it would be safer to refer not to the present persecutor but to the one long gone.

Now, that’s not to say that that has to be the correct interpretation of the passage. OSB’s footnote goes on to say, “Some believe that ‘666′ is a symbol rather than a cryptogram, falling short of perfection in each of its digits, failure upon failure upon failure. … Many have attempted to identify ‘666′, but writing only one hundred years after John, St. Irenaeus had no idea to whom John was referring!”

But given the widely and wildly speculative guesses about interpretation of this symbol and so many others in Revelation, isn’t there at least a little room to consider that the answer could be hidden in plain sight? If you can stand to turn loose of the idea of Revelation as a book of clues for us clever 21st century types and think of it as a book written by a shepherd to strengthen his flock during a time of terrible persecution, does it even make sense to think he would have been so cruel as to hand them numerological head-scratchers? Isn’t it simpler and more reasonable to postulate that he only spoke in code where absolutely necessary to prevent anyone found with the text of being brought up on charges of sedition against the emperor?

Beautiful Mystery

That’s not to say that there isn’t still a lot of mystery to be pondered in Revelation. For one thing, just as it would be ridiculous to say (as the “Left Behind” crowd tend to say) that one interpretation MUST be right, it’s just as ridiculous to say that it CAN’T be right. The problem seems to be with the very-human, very-fallen tendency to claim to know The Truth whenever we happen to glimpse it out of the corner of our eye. For another thing, once you shear away all the portions of Revelation that could have the most applicability in earlier centuries, you’re still left with the the portions dealing with the fall of Babylon, the final battle, the last judgment and the New Jerusalem that take you from chapter 18 to the end of Revelation at chapter 22.

But mostly, it’s the sure knowledge that if we believe the Bible is the inspired word of God, it doesn’t follow that one of the longest books in the New Testament is just a throw-away. We’re meant to read it; we’re meant to ponder it. I realized on the last go-round that I could do a lot worse that try to memorize the signs from the beginning of the seven seals onward, just as I would memorize the Beatitudes or a psalm. If we’re not meant to obsess on them, it doesn’t seem that we’re meant to forget about them either, judging from Christ’s chiding of the apostles to know the signs of the end times as simply and naturally as they predict the weather.

Old Testament prophecy and New

In thinking about Revelation as a genuinely prophetic book, it turned out to be most helpful to think about the prophetic passages of the Old Testament. There were a scads of prophecies about the coming of the Lord’s Anointed One, but how could anyone know which ones to apply literally and which ones were meant symbolically? How could the coming Messiah be both “a man acquainted with sorrows” and “Prince of Peace”? If Isaiah and others pointed to an eventual triumph of Israel, can the Jews be blamed for not knowing that that wouldn’t mean a triumph in the earthly sense of the word?

It seems that no one, including the disciples, knew what was going on. When Christ is about to ascend, the disciples ask him “Lord, will You at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” As the footnote of the OSB reads, “The concern of the disciples is still fixed on the idea of an earthly kingdom.”) The Jews had the had the Law, the Prophets and the calling to be God’s chosen people, but they never expected that the Messiah would come not to proclaim their nation as the winner, but to repair the brokenness that began with the Fall.
John Mark Reynolds makes the point in a talk (sorry, don’t remember which one) that the closest anyone came to understanding what was needed wasn’t a Jew, but a Greek sophist living in the 4th century BC. It didn’t seem that the Jews considered that it was needful for God to intercede — for Someone outside of the brokenness to come and fix it. But Plato writing in the 7th book of “Republic” gives us an allegory: that all of us are like people living out our lives in a darkened cave and waiting for someone who has actually seen the true sunlight to come and tell us about it. (Wikipedia synopsis HERE.)

So there you are. So often in the times of the First Advent, you see that the Jews and the Gentiles were both required to create the right environment. We needed those whom God had chosen to carry the Ark to meet up with those who had begun to truly love Wisdom and Beauty. Those who had the answer but no question had to meet those that had the questions but no answer.

Don’t know if we’re in a similar position now or not. But maybe to arrive at the best understanding of the prophecies of Revelation — when (if?) they do start to come true — perhaps we will need both elements again. Maybe we will need both Christian theological scholars … and earnest, outside-the-box thinking from the people who make documentaries. Just a thought.

What it is, what it’s not

Going back to what the prophecies do say, and what they don’t, I get the closest to a real balance by remembering the wide gap in what the expectations were of the Messiah and what the reality was.

We would like it very much if the Book of Revelation had said something like: “And after ten hundreds of years, the Bride will be divided, and then one half will be divided over and over into many pieces. There will be found a world beyond the sea, and it will be New. Many peoples will rise up against their kings, and men will fly in the heavens …” and so on and so on. Then we could map everything out and proudly point out things to our non-Christian friends.

Yep, would’ve been nice. The ancient Jews wouldn’t have missed Christ if he had arrived turning a wooden staff into a snake and repelling Roman armies by raising his arms aloft. As C. S. Lewis says, the one thing God doesn’t do is the thing humans want the most — an encore.

So you’re left having to take Revelation for what it is and all that it is. There is prophecy that we mostly can’t recognize, but there’s heavenly liturgy that we should recognize all too well, because ancient Christians borrowed from it to build the liturgy we celebrate every Sunday.

• When we sing in the Cherubic Hymn “Let us who mystically represent the cherubim, and who sing the thrice-holy hymn …” we are remembering that we sing Holy, Holy, Holy as the angelic powers do in Revelation 4:8 in preparation of worship.
• For that matter, when we hear the Hallelujah Chorus, we should realize that the lyrics apply not to the nativity, but to Christ in the end times, as written in Revelation:

• “The Lord Omnipotent reigns (Rev. 19:6)
• “King of kings and Lord of lords (Rev. 19:16)
• “The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever (Rev. 11:15).”
• and of course “Alleluia! (Rev. 193 for one)” The OSB calls this “an outburst of celestial triumph” and notes that this is the only place in the New Testament this word is used.

So the imagery of Revelation is around us in church (and sometimes outside of it) even though we don’t claim to fully understand it. It’s as if the Church simply accepts it as both incomprehensible to the rational mind and somehow oddly comprehensible to the part of us that loses itself in worship. As if that book is one that you just take on faith, and consider that someday we will grow into it.

Amen. Would that that would be so.