Rejoicing on Doomsday (Rev 18:1-24)

Sadness and Joy—at the Same Thing

When my nephews Nathan and Matthew were younger, they loved building towers with blocks. For Nathan, the game was seeing how high he could build the tower. With sound engineering instincts, he’d construct a wide foundation and then build a progressively narrower tower. The taller the tower, the bigger his smile. For Matthew, the game was waiting for a spectacular collapse. The more the tower wobbled, the more his eyes sparkled with excitement.

Needless to say, when Nathan and Matthew embarked on a joint construction project, their building experience was a study in contradiction. Particularly at its conclusion…. As the tower began to wobble, fear filled Nathan’s eyes, as he frantically (and tragically) fought against gravity to keep the tower upright. Meanwhile Matthew was bouncing with glee, the heavy thuds of his jumping undoubtedly hastening the tower’s imminent demise. When the tower finally fell, there were simultaneous cries of sadness and joy. One nephew’s disappointment was the other nephew’s delight. One nephew saw the demise of something great, the other nephew saw the triumph of something even greater—namely, gravity.

The World in Lamentation

Today’s scripture opens right as the proverbial tower is beginning to wobble. John hears several voices from (or about) the immediate future—voices reacting to the imminent downfall of Babylon. As with my nephews, some are cries of sadness, some are cries of joy.

Of course, John’s not actually talking about Babylon, an empire that disappeared from the face of the earth roughly five centuries before Revelation was written. For John, the name “Babylon” is code for the Roman empire—which he assures his oppressed audience will not last forever. Babylon is a perfect comparison. In the Old Testament, Babylon conquered Judah and destroyed the first temple (much as Rome has recently demolished Jerusalem and destroyed the second temple). Babylon set the standard for what an empire is: militarily it dominates its weaker neighbors, politically it oppresses its residents into submission, economically it exploits the poor and extracts resources from neighboring territories, and religiously it sings its own praise and legitimates its deeds as the will of the gods.

Why would there be cries of sadness for the end of an oppressive society like Babylon (or in John’s world, Rome)? John explains: “All the nations have drunk of [her] wine” (Rev 18:3). Today we’d say that all the nations have drunk her Kool-Aid. In other words, as much as Rome’s immediate victims might cry out in protest, everyone else (and perhaps even the victims themselves) actually aspires to be what Rome is. Every nation dreams of becoming an empire, of controlling the world and its wealth the way that Rome did. John’s vision focuses specifically on kings and merchants, people who would have ridden on Rome’s coattails, who would have enjoyed the scraps from her table. “The kings of the earth,” he says, “who…lived in luxury with her, will weep and wail over her when they see the smoke of her burning…and [they will] say, ‘Alas, alas, the great city, Babylon the mighty city!’” (Rev 18:9-10). “The merchants of the earth,” John continues, “weep and mourn for her [too], since no one buys their cargo anymore…. The merchants…, who gained their wealth from her, will stand far off…weeping and mourning aloud, ‘Alas, alas, the great city…all this wealth has been laid to waste!’”

“Come Out!”

But these tears are only part of today’s scripture.

As you may well know, names are significant in the Bible. They’re not just identifiers. They contain stories.

By calling Rome “Babylon,” John is quietly suggesting that the power and riches of Rome might not be all that great. For Babylon harkens back to the birthplace of empire (cf. Gen 10:10), the city of Babel and its infamous tower. The name “Babel” tells the story of every empire, of what happens when humanity tries to rule in God’s place. The Hebrew word Babel means nearly the same thing as the English word “babble”: it means confusion and chaos. Thus Babylon becomes a biblical catchword for the ultimate fate of any empire. Just as the tower of Babel fell, so too all empires will fall (cf. Dan 2:44). One of our early Disciples leaders, David Lipscomb, masterfully interprets other passages of scripture to expound upon this truth, to explain that empires always fall under their own weight and hubris, under the influence of their own confusion and chaos, their own strife and bloodshed. He specifically cites Galatians 6:7: they will ultimately reap what they sow.

Hence the urgent cry that John hears in today’s scripture: “Then I heard another voice from heaven saying, ‘Come out of her, my people, so that you do not take part in her sins, and so that you do not share in her plagues’” (Rev 18:4). This voice from heaven elaborates that Babylon—Rome, in this case, but any empire, really—Babylon will suffer what she has rendered unto others. That is, she will reap as she sowed. (As Jesus eloquently put it, to live by the sword, is to die by the sword.) Accordingly, the voice from heaven urges people to leave Babylon. To break ties with her, to dissociate from her projects, to reinvest instead in God’s kingdom. “Come out of her, my people!”

One of our Disciples founders, Barton Stone, lived out this calling to “come out” of Babylon in a striking, almost surreal way. Listen to this journal entry from when he was 25 and visiting some islands outside Charleston, South Carolina:

Before I reached Charleston, I passed over Stone river into John’s and Wadmalaw islands. There I remained some days, and received the most friendly attention of gentlemen professing religion, living in splendid palaces, surrounded with a rich profusion of luxuries, and of every thing desirable…

“Splendid palaces,” “a rich profusion of luxuries,” “every thing desirable”—sort of sounds like the greatness of Babylon, doesn’t it? He continues:

 

[T]hese pleasures were heightened by free, humble, and pious conversation. But in the midst of all this glory, my soul sickened at the sight of slavery in more horrid forms than I had ever seen it before; poor [people]! Some chained to their work—some wearing iron collars—all half naked, and followed and driven by the merciless lash of a gentleman overseer—distress appeared scowling in every face. … This was the exciting cause of my abandonment of slavery.

Barton Stone sees through the “greatness” of the world he lives in—what some would call an empire—and perceives its corrupt foundation. Violence. Greed. Pride. And so he leaves. We don’t have time for a full history lesson on Barton Stone, but it is worth noting that his disillusionment with slavery ultimately led him to withdraw entirely from active participation in the government. He saw human government as antagonistic to the kingdom of God, as a human project that employed the ungodly means of force and violence to achieve its own will. He came to understand that his calling was not at all to change the world, but to bear witness to the world already changed—that is, to God’s kingdom here on earth.

Heaven Rejoices at Doomsday

In a very real sense, today’s scripture is about the legendary “doomsday.” It is a “doomsday” prophecy. For the original audience, it promised the fall of Rome, which was good news. For us today, it promises the fall of the empires in which we live…which may seem like less than good news.

Do you know where the word “doom” comes from? It actually comes from an Old English word “dom,” that simply means “law” or “judgment.” (A “kingdom” was the territory of a king’s “law” or “judgment.”) You can see how the meaning evolved into the terrible connotations of our word “doom.” When a person has received their sentence, when the law decreed its judgment or “dom,” that person was “doomed” to their fate. There was no escape.

Today, people are increasingly worried about a planetary “doomsday.” Pastor and theologian Brian McLaren insists that our planet is under a sentence “based on laws: not laws made by kings, congresses, parliaments, or courts, but deep laws written into the fabric of the cosmos, set in motion at the dawn of time…the laws of physics…of complex systems….of cause and effect. The Earth’s judgment will not be expressed in decrees, but in degrees of rising temperature, in numbers and intensity of storms, famines, droughts, and fire.”^[1] We might wonder whether this judgment might be expanded to include a sense of economic doom, where our world’s worship of money has sentenced us to a game of rising stakes and the winners are fewer and fewer; or a sense of geopolitical doom too, where our world’s worship of power has sentenced us to a tournament of nations and parties, endlessly dividing us up into competitors and enemies over increasingly scarce resources.

How jarring, then, to hear the final voice in today’s scripture, in which heaven celebrates this doom: “Rejoice over her, O heaven, you saints and apostles and prophets! … With such violence Babylon the great city will be thrown down, and will be found no more….” (Rev 18:20). Immediately following this sentence, this “dom,” this expression of “doom,” we hear at the beginning of Revelation 19 a heavenly chorus sing, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power to our God…” (Rev 19:1).

Here is the remarkable claim of Revelation, the remarkable insight of John’s vision: the fall of Babylon is one and the same with God’s salvation. The fall of human empire is part and parcel of God’s salvation. When I think of “doomsday,” I see markets crashing, economies collapsing, technologies failing, buildings burning, nations crumbling. But heaven sees God’s salvation. Heaven sees the end of slavery. Heaven sees the end of war. Heaven sees the end of economic exploitation, of people divided into rich and poor. Heaven sees the end of the earth’s suffering.

I think back to my nephews Nathan and Matthew, their mixed cries of horror and happiness, their shrieks of dismay and delight, as the tower of blocks began to fall. And I wonder if that’s not Revelation’s image of God’s salvation, when the world’s empires fall under their own weight and the witness of Christ endures, leading us into a better way.

I know these are not comforting images. It is difficult, even, to call this “good news.” But Revelation suggests that it is—that somewhere in the inevitable collapse of our human systems of government and control, there is good news. The downfall of something that is purportedly “great”—“fallen, fallen, is Babylon the great!” (Rev 18:1)—in fact marks the victory of something greater, namely God’s kingdom. It is not that God’s kingdom has triumphed by force, by violence, but that God’s kingdom has endured while everything else has fallen away.

Leaving Babylon Before It Falls

For Barton Stone, leaving Babylon behind before it fell meant leaving behind the quest to change the world—even to change the world for the better. Leaving Babylon behind meant not changing the world but living in God’s kingdom, bearing witness to the rest of the world that things could be different. For Barton Stone, leaving Babylon for God’s kingdom entailed a loss by worldly standards. He released slaves that he had inherited and relinquished what he called an “abundant salary” from a pastorate in the Presbyterian church so that he could instead live in and witness to the freedom of God’s grace.

What might coming out of Babylon mean for me? For us? In light of the doomsdays that lie on our horizon, I would suggest that coming out of Babylon means transferring our hopes and our allegiance from human systems to God’s kingdom. This past week, I found helpful these words from Brian McLaren, the pastor and theologian whom I cited earlier:

 

It’s time to withdraw emotional attachment from the collapsing human system, Jesus implies [when he talks about the lilies of the field and the ravens of the air]. It’s time to transfer attachment to the ecosystem of God, the sacred web of life that ravens and wildflowers thrive within, free of barns and bank accounts, free of worry and stress.

 

Every system of self-centered civilization with its barns and banks for hoarding will inevitably collapse, the story of the rich fool reminds us. Meanwhile, the divine economy…the divine ecosystem of interdependence and sharing, the holy and harmonious arrangement of life in which wildflowers and ravens live and thrive…it goes on. That’s where to put your heart….

 

So, Jesus says liquidate your capitol in the fragile, failing human system. Reinvest your energies in the larger-than-human system of life. That’s why loving your neighbors, especially your poor neighbors, is so important. Better to have less stored in your bank account and more given to those in need. Better to be poor in money and rich in generous relationships….

 

People often link the word ‘doom’ with the word ‘gloom.’ I can see why. If your heart is fully invested in the rich fools’ economy, the judgment that is passed upon that system is passed upon you. If the system in which your life has meaning is doomed, then your life feels meaningless. But if you withdraw your consent from the rich man’s human system of wealth, if you transfer your trust to the larger system, if you seek first and foremost the divine ecosystem, you will end up with everything you need. You won’t have to worry. You won’t have to be afraid. Your life has meaning because of its place in the divine ecosystem.

 

That’s true now, whatever happens tomorrow.

 

If I’m being honest, I don’t know that it is feasible at this moment for me—or any of us—to fully join the heavenly chorus that rejoices at the fall of Babylon. I suspect we all bear lingering ties, in some form or fashion, to Babylon. But today’s text invites us, at the very least, to hear the heavenly chorus. To consider the story of our world from a larger perspective than the smaller stories we live in—whether those be the story of a nation’s history, or the story of our free market economy, or the story of our technology and its progress. Those stories will come to an end. And when they do, even as the world cries in lamentation, heaven will be heard to rejoice…for an even greater story is coming to fruition, where slavery will be no more, swords and guns will be twisted into plowshares, and not a needy person will be found among us.  “Hallelujah!” heaven will sing. “Salvation and glory and power to our God, for his judgments are true and just” (Rev 19:1-2). 

Prayer

Courageous Christ
Whose good news heralds the end
Of the present order of things
…
Loosen our attachment to Babylon,
The bonds that bind us
In fear of what might be lost.
Grant us courage to invest instead
In your kingdom,
In love and relationship,
Which are eternal and boundless.
Amen.

 

---

[1] Brian McLaren, Life After Doom: Wisdom and Courage for a World Falling Apart (New York: St. Martin’s, 2024), 232.

"The Nature of the Beast" (Revelation 13:1-18)

From Do-Gooder to Tyrant

I remember a boy from fourth grade, Kevin, who was something of a teacher’s pet. When the teacher needed a volunteer to run an errand, Kevin was always first to raise his hand. When the class reviewed the answers to a test or an assignment, Kevin rocked in his seat with excitement, like a soda bottle about to explode, doing all he could to keep himself from blurting out the answers before the teacher called on him. As much as I might poke fun at Kevin in these memories, the truth is, he was a great student and a kind, responsible human being.

And then one day…he was assigned the role of Hall Monitor. Suddenly, the Kevin we all knew and loved (and poked fun at), disappeared. Gone was the do-gooder. In his place stood a tyrant. As a Hall Monitor, Kevin terrorized the school, writing up his fellow students for the most minor of infractions. He watched the halls like a hawk, and his cry was heard constantly: “Walk, don’t run—walk!” And, “On the right side—I said, ON THE RIGHT!” And, “Do that again, and I’ll call the principal!”

Needless to say, Kevin didn’t last long in the role. Doubtless he had noble intentions of ridding the hallway of all violations and misbehavior. But that bright orange Hall Monitor’s belt-and-sash had transformed him. The power had gone to his head. No longer did he treat his classmates as fellow humans, culpable of things like forgetting the rules or impatience or youthful excitement. Now he treated them as objects of his control, elements of a chaotic world that needed to be brought under his iron fist. 

Good Intentions, Bad Outcomes

What is it, exactly, that transformed Kevin from do-gooder to tyrant, from kind to controlling?

What is it that leads people with good intentions to do bad or harmful things?

You’ve probably heard about Facebook’s and Google’s recent legal troubles. Despite having internal research that suggested their products are addictive and potentially harmful, especially to teenagers and children, they brushed this evidence under the carpet and didn’t make any changes to address the issue. Later, internal documents were leaked, showing that Facebook and Google were well aware of the potential harm their products could cause. One internal report plainly concludes: “We make body image issues worse for one in three girls.”

Many Facebook and Google employees are proud of the work they do for their companies. As pioneers on the frontier of technology, they create new ways for people to connect with one another—that’s a noble venture, right? And yet many of these employees remained tight-lipped and said nothing when they learned about the addictive and potentially harmful effects of their products. Why? In a word: money. They were so wrapped up in the pursuits of their companies, who were so wrapped up in the pursuit of profit, that they chose to ignore these mental health concerns in order to maximize the bottom line. And the employees who initially indicated qualms or concerns were routinely bullied or pressured into silence, threatened with exclusion and termination.

The circumstances in this case are a bit more complicated than in the case of Kevin, but the dynamic is ultimately the same. Just as that bright orange belt-and-sash transformed Kevin from a do-gooder into a tyrant, so a Meta or Google name-badge transformed many conscientious employees from concerned to complicit, from honest and principled to silent and passive. 

But what, exactly, accounts for this transformation? According to our scripture today, it’s just “the nature of the beast” to make good people do bad things. Let’s read on to learn more….

The First Beast

1 And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, having ten horns and seven heads; and on its horns were ten diadems, and on its heads were blasphemous names.

Last week John shared a vision in which the collective martyrdom of the church—represented by two “witnesses” who were killed and then raised to life—led to the repentance of the world and the kingdom of the world being transformed into the kingdom of God (Rev 11). Right after that, however, John begins to share a different vision. And in my opinion, this point is crucial. Revelation is a compendium of visions. Some commentators have likened it to one of those Russian dolls, where smaller and smaller figurines are nestled inside one another. In other words, the visions of Revelations circle back on one another, providing more and more detail on the same event—and this event is the world being transformed into the kingdom of God.

In John’s current vision (which begins in Revelation 12), a dragon that represents Satan makes war against God in heaven. And remember, heaven here represents ultimate reality—what is real and true, despite any appearance to the contrary here on earth. Satan loses this war in heaven—and in a way that might surprise you. It is the martyrs, the Christ-followers who “did not cling to life even in the face of death,” who defeat Satan by “the blood of the lamb” (Rev 12:11). The message is loud and clear. The blood that wins the war for Christ is not the blood of the enemy, but the blood of the one who insists on loving others to the end. Put simply: Love wins. Not violence. Not power. Love.

But the vision continues in today’s scripture, because Satan falls from heaven to earth. Which is to say, now we’re seeing things not as they really are, but as they appear in our world. And the vision of things here on earth begins with a beast of ten horns and seven heads. We’ll find out more about this beast momentarily, so let’s read on….

 2 And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority.

The imagery of a leopard and a bear and a lion are a clear allusion to a vision that Daniel has in Babylon, where a lion, bear, leopard, and fourth beast emerge from the sea, one after the other. In Daniel’s vision, the four beasts represent four different empires—probably Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome (Dan 7). In John’s vision here in Revelation, the four beasts are combined into one, perhaps signifying that Rome is the fulfillment of what an empire is. It is, to date, the empire par excellence. And John explains that its power derives the dragon, which is to say, Satan. Which is another way of saying, Rome is not the true enemy. The emperor, the senators, the centurions—they are not evil or bad people themselves; they are under the spell of the dragon.

 3 One of its heads seemed to have received a death-blow, but its mortal wound had been healed. 

Each head of the beast represents a Roman emperor, we’re told later in the vision (Rev 17:9-10). Many scholars point out that, because of other clear references to Nero that we see in Revelation, this mention of a death-blow to one of the heads, which has since been healed, may refer to an ancient Roman urban myth that Nero did not really die when he appeared to die. (Sort of the ancient equivalent to our mythology of Elvis today.) Whispers and rumors circulated for some time after Nero’s death that, actually, he was still alive and would come back to reclaim the throne before long. Some scholars go further to say that this death-blow imagery is meant as a parody—a purposefully poor imitation—of Jesus, the slaughtered-yet-victorious Lamb. In other words, Nero is but a poor pretender to the throne on which Jesus actually sits.

In amazement the whole earth followed the beast—that is, the Roman empire. 4 They worshiped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?”

To be clear, when John says that the whole earth worships the dragon, he does not mean that they literally worship Satan. They do not bow down before carved idols of Satan or anything like that. Think instead of Jesus in the desert, when he is tempted by Satan. Satan shows him the kingdoms of the world and says, “all this authority…has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours” (Luke 4:8).  This temptation that Jesus resists, is the very same temptation to which the world falls, again and again and again. Every empire that has been and every empire that will be, falls for this temptation. It is the temptation toward power, toward control, toward getting your way no matter what. Notice the words of the world when they worship the beast: “Who can fight against it?” Who, in other words, is as powerful, as controlling, as dominating as this beast? This worship of the beast—this worship of Rome—was ubiquitous in the Roman empire, where coins featured a picture of the emperor and the words “son of God,” where sacrifices to the emperor were routinely required to enter the marketplace to buy and sell, where people regularly declared the greatness of Roman engineers, where people often trembled before the might of the the Roman military. (I wonder whether people don’t worship a similar beast today…?)

Has Satan actually been granted authority, as he has claimed? While this idea is theologically worrisome for many people, one of our Disciples forebears, David Lipscomb, argues that it is true. He says Satan’s authority goes all the way back to the garden of Eden. For when God created humanity, he charged them with responsibility and stewardship over the earth, which is to say, he granted them a portion of his own authority. But when the humans put their trust in the serpent, they gave away their authority. And so Satan’s authority is indeed genuine—not because God has given it to him, but because humanity has. What we worship, is what we give power to. When we worship the satanic fantasy of control and domination—we do not actually get the power that Satan promises. Rather we give it away. 

5 The beast—which is to say, the Roman Empire—was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. 6 It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling, that is, those who dwell in heaven. 7 Also it was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer them. It was given authority over every tribe and people and language and nation, 8 and all the inhabitants of the earth will worship it, everyone whose name has not been written from the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that was slaughtered.

John’s vision here paints a bleak picture. Nearly everyone worships the beast—and so gives it power to wreak havoc on the earth, especially against God and “the saints” (which is to say, followers of Christ). It is crucial at this point to remember John’s preceding vision in chapter 12. Remember that, in heaven, John saw Satan defeated. That is the ultimate truth, despite the appearance of Satan’s victory here on earth.

9 Let anyone who has an ear listen:

10 If you are to be taken captive,
    into captivity you go;
if you kill with the sword,
    with the sword you must be killed.

Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints.

John doesn’t pull any punches here. He acknowledges the most difficult realities that a Christ-follower might face. He’s not saying that everyone will endure these painful consequences, but rather encouraging everyone to resist worshiping the beast—the giant machine of the Roman empire—no matter the consequences. 

The Second Beast

11 Then I saw another beast that rose out of the earth; it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. 

Just as the wounded but revived head (symbolizing Nero) may have provided a parody—a purposefully poor imitation—of Christ crucified and risen, we see here another beast that bears a superficial resemblance to Jesus. For this second beast has two horns “like a lamb.” But that resemblance is a lie. For it speaks with the voice of the dragon—which is to say, the voice of Satan.

12 It exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose mortal wound had been healed. 13 It performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven to earth in the sight of all; 14 and by the signs that it is allowed to perform on behalf of the beast, it deceives the inhabitants of earth, telling them to make an image for the beast that had been wounded by the sword and yet lived; 15 and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image of the beast could even speak and cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed.

Think of this second beast as something of a cheerleader for the first beast, which is the Roman empire. The second beast is not the empire itself, but the adjacent institutions that glorify the empire and declare its glory and might. The second beast includes all the grand temples that host elaborate ceremonies for the Roman gods; and all the coliseums where gladiators fight and where the Roman army is honored and where the emperor is praised; and all the great technological accomplishments of the Roman empire, such as aqueducts and the extensive network of roads; and the Roman military, which can indeed rain fire from the heavens in the form of its archers and ballistics. All of these things inspire awe and wonder from the people, so that they take their hat off to the Roman empire, so that they pledge allegiance to the Roman empire, so that their holidays and their sacred songs and their most revered stories are all in honor of the Roman empire.

And yet notice the dark underbelly of the beasts. All those who do not get on board, who do not worship the beast, who do not feeds its insatiable appetite for power and money, are targeted, even to the point of death.

One historical point illuminates this dual dynamic of Roman glory and Roman terror. Many rulers in the Roman empire celebrated what they called the pax Romana, the “peace of Rome.” And yet, as one of Rome’s own military generals said, “If you want peace, then get ready for war.” In other words, Rome’s famous peace was just the flipside to Rome’s violence. Its glory was just a flipside to its reign of terror. As John puts it, the second beast—Rome’s cheerleader—“deceives the inhabitants of earth” (13:14). It promises peace…even as it makes war; glory…even as it brings terror on all who will not worship it; riches and luxury…even as it treats as expendable the last and the least.

 16 Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, 17 so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. 

This seems to be a specific reference to a common practice throughout the Roman empire. Whenever you went to the market to buy or sell products, you would first have to offer incense at an altar to the emperor. If you did, you would receive a mark indicating you were free to buy and sell. If you did not, you could not enter the marketplace.

18 This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is six hundred sixty-six.

This is one of the most famous lines in Revelation. Many scholars point out that when you spell out the name “Nero Caesar” using Hebrew letters, the number value of those letters adds up to “666.” Therefore, John seems to be linking the emperor Nero, who was known for his wanton cruelty and excessive indulgences, with the beast of the Roman empire—as though to say, here is how the empire shapes us, remakes us. We become what we worship. If you worship the beast, you will become beastly, just like Nero: selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, violent. 

The Beast and the Son of Man

Today’s scripture is a dense text. Personally, reading it and interpreting it has felt a little bit like trudging through mud and brambles and bushes. It’s been slow going, and there’s some slipping, and getting turned around….

So to end, I want to offer two simple conclusions that I draw from today’s scripture.

First, please note that the beast is not a person. I cannot emphasize this enough. Paul said it earlier: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood”—which means our struggle is not against Democrats or Republicans, not against liberals or conservatives, not against Russians or Iranians, and so on, and so on—“but against…the cosmic powers of this present darkness” (Eph 6:12), which is to say, the unseen spiritual forces that grip our world and shape us and remake us. For John of Patmos, the beast’s identity is clear; the beast is empire and all the institutions that are entangled with empire. The beast is this dark gravitational pull toward power and profit, toward the promise of control. Today, we might say the beast is nations, institutions, corporations, workplace cultures, and so on. Again, the beast is not identifiable with any one person involved in these various institutions, but these collective identities all exercise power over us—luring us to worship them, to serve them in their pursuit of more, more, more.

And when we worship any of these things, when we render our faith and allegiance to them rather than to God, we give them power over us. It is for this reason that good people—and we are all fundamentally good people created by a good God, as Genesis says at the very beginning of the story—it is for this reason that good people can help build a potentially harmful platform like Facebook and Instagram; that a do-gooder like Kevin can become a tyrant; that good, law-abiding citizens can endorse a violent, terror-inducing nation like Nazi Germany. (One early Disciples leader, David Lipscomb, remarked that national identity lures Christ-followers into a very unChristlike attitude and practice, namely causing them to view other humans as enemies—as happened in the Civil War. Lipscomb contended, on the contrary, that God’s kingdom is global and knows no borders.)

The second conclusion I draw is this. The beast makes us less than human. The beast remakes us in its image: selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, violent. It is no coincidence that the counterpoint to the beast in Revelation, Jesus Christ, more than once appears “like the son of man” (Rev 1:13). Which is to say, Jesus is the true human, the one who invites us back into our full humanity. If worshiping the beast makes us beastly, then the antidote is worshiping Jesus Christ and following him. To follow Christ is to divest ourselves of all the beastly influences that might get in the way of serving God and others—whether that be a bright orange sash-and-belt or a flag or corporate name tag.

Prayer

Patient and enduring Christ,

Who loves us to death and beyond,

And whose kingdom is without end

…

Open our eyes to see 

Where the beast still prowls

In our world,

Where it hardens our hearts

And makes us think only of ourselves;

Inspire us to give our faith and allegiance

To you 

And to walk with patient endurance

In your way.

Amen.

How the Kingdom Comes (Revelation 11:1-13)

Judgment Does Not Inspire Repentance

1 Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told, “Come and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, 2 but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.

Most biblical scholars agree that by the time John wrote Revelation, the temple in Jerusalem had already been destroyed by the Romans. (The Roman army had besieged Jerusalem and burned the temple to the ground in 70 CE after a large Jewish revolt.) So…why is John given instructions to mark off part of “the temple of God” (Rev 11:1)? What “temple” is being referred to? In fact, it is no great mystery. Paul and Peter both refer to the church as the temple of God (e.g., 2 Cor 6:16; 1 Pet 2:4-5), meaning that just as the physical temple in Jerusalem had once symbolized God’s presence dwelling among the people, so now the church community stood as a sign of God’s presence in the world.

John’s instructions here to mark off the inside of the temple but to allow the outer court to be overrun by the nations signifies a promise to the church that while the world may oppress and persecute them, God will always dwell in their midst. Nothing can touch or violate the inner sanctuary, which is to say, God’s presence among them. 

This promise is timely. Since last week in chapter 5, when John stood in the throne room and saw the slaughtered lamb exalted as the one who would save the world, John has seen vision after vision of disaster and calamity. He’s seen the legendary four horsemen of the apocalypse, delivering war, famine, pestilence, and death (Rev 6:1-8). He’s seen followers of Christ martyred (Rev 6:9-11). He’s seen the earth on fire and the sea filled with blood and the sky darkened (Rev 8). He’s seen a plague of mutant-looking locusts with the heads of lions and mouths that breathe fire and tails that sting like scorpions, wreaking death and havoc on the world (Rev 9).

In fact, that word “plague” is telling. Do you remember another biblical story filled with plagues? With locusts and blood-filled water? With death passing over every home? Rather than communicate an exact prediction of what was going to happen in his world (in the first-century Roman empire) or in our world (two millenia later), it seems more likely that these fantastic images are meant to bring to mind an old story. The story of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, whom God delivers to freedom after a series of plagues. John invites his audience to look all around them—to see the chaos of their own world, the Roman oppression and persecution of all who get in the way of the empire—John invites his audience to see this turmoil as the beginning of God’s deliverance. And just as in the exodus, when Hebrew homes were marked off from the angel of death who came to kill the firstborn child, so in the present time John tells his audience that no matter what happens, God is with them. The “inner temple” of God’s presence with them has been marked off and will never be breached. Persecutors can kill the body, but they can’t kill the soul. Earlier in chapters 6 and 7, John has visions that fill out this promise. He envisions many Christ-followers who lose their lives as then receiving white robes, robes which have been dipped in the blood of the lamb, and being led to “springs of the water of life,” where “every tear from their eyes” will be wiped away by God Godself (Rev 6:9-11; 7:14-17). The good news for these followers of Christ is that God will never leave their side; the suffering they endured is not in vain.

But what about the rest of the world? After all these plagues—which may be rightly interpreted as God’s judgment, although I would contend strongly that God’s judgment should be interpreted not as retributive punishment but as the natural consequences of our deeds, the fruit of our actions—after all these plagues, John tells us in Revelation 9:20,“The rest of humankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands….” Which fits perfectly with the Exodus story, right? After each plague, what happens to Pharaoh? His heart is hardened. There seems to be a fundamental truth here, one worth holding onto as we continue in today’s scripture. The fundamental truth is this: judgment does not inspire repentance. If anything, it seems to harden hearts.

When Healing Hurts

3 And I will grant my two witnesses authority to prophesy for one thousand two hundred sixty days, wearing sackcloth.”

4 These are the two olive trees and the two lampstands that stand before the Lord of the earth. 

These two witnesses likely symbolize the church as it bears faithful witness to the way of the slaughtered lamb. Why two? In ancient Jewish tradition, two witnesses were required to confirm the truth of an event. Thus two signifies that the church is here to confirm the truth of Jesus Christ.

5 And if anyone wants to harm them, fire pours from their mouth and consumes their foes; anyone who wants to harm them must be killed in this manner. 

Woah—that escalated quickly…. Has the church suddenly adopted a new tactic? Not love your enemies, but…kill your enemies?

Or maybe we should remember Revelation abounds in symbolic imagery. Jesus is a lamb. Churches are lampstands. Angels are stars. And so on. Here there seems to be an allusion to the prophet Jeremiah, who hears God say: “Because the people have spoken these words [against me], I will make my words in your mouth a fire and these people the wood it consumes” (Jer 5:14). In other words, the imagery of violence and terror that is attributed to these two witnesses—and thus to the church—may be read to symbolize the extreme discomfort and torment that people feel when they are confronted with their own wrongdoing or sin.

6 They have authority to shut the sky, so that no rain may fall during the days of their prophesying—this seems to be an allusion to Elijah, who prophesied a drought for three and a half years, the same amount time mentioned earlier in this chapter—and they have authority over the waters to turn them into blood, and to strike the earth with every kind of plague, as often as they desire. Again, allusions to the exodus story.

7 When they have finished their testimony, the beast that comes up from the bottomless pit—later it will become clear that this beast symbolizes the might of the Roman empire—will make war on them and conquer them and kill them, 8 and their dead bodies will lie in the street of the great city that is prophetically called Sodom and Egypt, where also their Lord was crucified. As we know, Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem, not in Sodom or Egypt. This is just another illustration of the fact that so much of Revelation is intentionally symbolic. Here the Roman empire, which crucified Jesus, is compared to Sodom and Egypt, places of injustice and oppression. 

9 For three and a half days members of the peoples and tribes and languages and nations will gaze at their dead bodies and refuse to let them be placed in a tomb; 10 and the inhabitants of the earth will gloat over them and celebrate and exchange presents, because these two prophets had been a torment to the inhabitants of the earth.

Last year, after Halloween, my brother and sister-in-law tried to limit my nephews’ intake of chocolate and candy by hiding the candy out in the garage and retrieving just a couple of pieces for each nephew after meals. They explained to my nephews that moderating their candy-intake was actually a kindness, something meant to help them. They didn’t want the boys to get stomachaches and to lose their appetite for real food. But within a few days, my brother started noticing empty candy wrappers in the living room, on the stairs, and most incriminating of all in my nephews’ bedroom. Nathan and Matthew had discovered the candy stash in the garage! When my brother moved the candy again, there was an almost violent outcry.

The point is this: trying to prevent bellyaches resulted in weeping and gnashing of teeth. Trying to help the boys “hurt” them. Just so, the witness of the church is felt as a “torment,” John says, by the inhabitants of the earth. I think of the way that some of the religious leaders grumbled and got upset when Jesus started eating with tax collectors and sinners, people who were unclean in more ways than one; for this profoundly unsettled the social hierarchy. Or I think of the way that many Judeans must have felt when they saw Jesus go to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner; was Jesus snubbing them for a known “traitor,” a person who robbed from good Jewish people and gave to Rome. Jesus was not crucified for being nice. Rather, his way of love and grace was so excruciatingly painful for some people, that the only solution was to eliminate him. 

A Twist—Egypt Delivered!

11 But after the three and a half days, the breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet, and those who saw them were terrified. 12 Then they heard a loud voice from heaven saying to them, “Come up here!” And they went up to heaven in a cloud while their enemies watched them. 13 At that moment there was a great earthquake, and a tenth of the city fell; seven thousand people were killed in the earthquake, and the rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven.

When God delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, the Egyptians, whose hearts had been hardened, were left to mourn the many who had died. There was no redemption for those whose hearts had been hardened.

But in this particular vision, after the two witnesses—who probably symbolize the church—are raised to life and exalted with God in heaven, the world around them finally repents and gives glory to God. In other words, there’s a twist in the old Exodus pattern. The first time around, only the slaves were delivered. This time, their oppressors are delivered too! Their hearts are softened. Judgment and painful consequences, shame and loss—these things did not inspire repentance. But the faithful, loving witness of the church does. The faithful, loving witness of the church “succeed[s] where the plagues have failed.” 

If this is good news (and I think it is, supremely so!)...it is also difficult news. The point of this vision is not that Christ-followers will “be spared from suffering and death, but rather that their suffering and death itself, like that of the Jesus whom the church worships and follows, will be the ultimate prophetic sign through which the world will be brought to glorify God.” Only when the world sees the church live in imitation of its savior, living in love to the last, giving its life for others—only then does it repent. Only then does “the kingdom of the world…become the kingdom of our Lord,” as John remarks just a couple verses later (Rev 11:15).

The Martyrdom of Parenthood?

As I ponder this good but difficult news, I find myself thinking about parenthood. I can only speculate, but it seems to me that there is a sense in which parenthood is one long martyrdom, one extended experience that mirrors the role of the church in the world. At the end of the day, a parent cannot control a child, no matter how hard they try. Judgment, consequences, shame—these are all tools that they might employ to inspire change, but as we have seen in Revelation the result is often the opposite. In the end, all a parent can do is model a good and healthy way to live and hope that their child will learn. (Perhaps the parable of the prodigal son reflects this truth that parenthood is a sort of martyrdom. The loving father must watch as his younger son marches off to his own destruction, hoping against hope that he will one day return.)

I think in particular of some family friends who have a daughter who fell into a bad crowd as a teenager. The family are Christ-followers, and I know that the parents modeled love and grace for their daughter in many ways. But despite their example (and certainly despite all the rules and restrictions they might have put into place), she rebelled and made choices that brought her to a dark place. Much like the prodigal son, she woke up one day and realized she did not have to live this way. There was a better way. Over time, she has come to resemble more and more her own father and mother, as she has chosen their way of living.

And this change—this repentance, we could call it—happened not because of some punishment. Yes, her pain awakened her to some hard truths. But if it had not been for the witness of her parents—the way they had lived and modeled for her—she wouldn’t have known to choose their way of life.

And so it is that I imagine parenthood to be one long martyrdom. Perhaps for some parents it even feels spiritually like a crucifixion. Nothing you can do but model a good way. The good news for parents—and ultimately for us followers of Christ—is that this is how God’s kingdom comes. Where judgments, threats, shame, rules, and everything else fails…the patient, enduring witness to love succeeds. In the end, love wins.

Prayer

Dear Christ,

Who came to our world,

Eating and drinking with sinners,

Welcoming them home with open arms

…

Grant us the peace

To let go of our quests for control

And instead to live

In your martyrdom of love,

By which the kingdom of God comes:

Amen.

 

The Lion and the Lamb (Rev 5:1-10)

About “Heaven”

In the book of Genesis, when Jacob is on the run from his murderous brother Esau, he stops for the night in the wilderness and sleeps on a stone. You might remember what happens next. He dreams about a stairway to heaven. At the top of the stairway stands God, who promises Jacob he will be with him and bless the world through him and bring him back home one day. When Jacob wakes up, he anoints the stone on which he slept with oil and names the place, “Bethel,” which means “House of God.” He explains: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it! … What an awesome place this is! It is none other than the house of God, the very gateway to heaven!” (Gen 28:16-17). 

Now, the point of the story is not that there is a distinct portal to heaven hidden somewhere in the Judean wilderness. Jacob’s experience does not reveal a magical site like the wardrobe in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia stories, where a person can transport from this world to another. The point, rather, is precisely what Jacob says first: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” In biblical narrative, heaven is not another world or place to which we might escape. “Heaven” is the way things really are, even when we’re not aware of it. “Heaven” is a way of talking about the deepest reality of this world. When Jacob makes a visit to heaven in his dream, he learns about the meaning of his life in this world.

I share this as a preface, because today we move ahead in Revelation to the next major section, which is where John of Patmos has a vision of God on a throne in heaven. But everything that John hears and sees in heaven has manifestly to do with what’s happening on earth. I suggest, then, as a rule of thumb that heaven is not meant to be seen as an actual other place but rather as the way things really are. In John’s vision in Revelation, he catches a glimpse of the way things really are on earth….

Hope and History Won’t Rhyme

1 Then I saw in the right hand of the one seated on the throne—God is the one seated on the throne—a scroll written on the inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals; 2 and I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it. 4 And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. 

One of the first animated films I remember seeing was The Sword in the Stone. You might recall the basic storyline, whether from that film or just from English folklore. There is an enchanted sword that is stuck in a stone, and the legend holds that whoever can pull the sword out will be the next king of England. Many strong men try to pull the sword out but cannot. Then one day a young Arthur comes along, not even knowing the significance of this particular sword, and casually pulls it out. The point is not that Arthur has some superhuman strength. Rather it is fate. He will grow into a mighty king one day. This destiny unlocks the sword from its place.

The opening section of today’s scripture describes a similar scenario. There’s a sealed scroll, and no one is able to open it. But there’s a difference between this scroll and the sword in the stone. Think about it. Pulling a sword from stone takes strength or might. Arthur draws the sword because his destiny is to become a strong and mighty king. But reading a scroll is a different task. It requires comprehension. Understanding. The inability of everyone to open the scroll is not meant to symbolize that everyone is weak, or that the scroll is bound together by some divine superglue. It symbolizes rather that no one could possibly read and understand what is written on this scroll.

When John of Patmos begins to weep bitterly, despairing that the scroll will ever be opened, his tears and anguish stand in for the tears and anguish of all Christ-followers who are living in the Roman Empire around the turn of the first century CE. They and John are weeping because their world does not make sense. Jesus announced the kingdom of God, and yet they still live in a world of persecution and oppression. Perhaps like Nico last week, they have experienced God’s love and liberation personally, but when they look upon the larger world they have trouble seeing how anything has changed. When they look upon the larger world, the way of Christ seems suddenly “weak” or “foolish.” It’s no coincidence that Paul talks about the gospel as a “mystery,” as something that doesn’t make immediate sense, as something that indeed seems “weak” and “foolish” to uncritical eyes. How is it that turning the other cheek and loving enemies is going to change things?

When the Irish band U2 wrote a song about the troubles in their own land, they gave poignant expression to the tears and anguish of John of Patmos and Christ-followers through the centuries. They titled the song “Peace on Earth,” and in it they sang: “Hear it every Christmastime / but hope and history won’t rhyme / so what’s it worth: / this ‘peace on earth’?

The Lion Roars

5 Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David…

I want to pause here in the middle of the verse because this language draws deeply from a rich tradition that would have immediately resonated with an audience familiar with the Jewish scriptures. Messianic prophecies in the Old Testament can be traced all the way back to Genesis, where Jacob’s final blessing on his twelve sons singles out Judah and anticipates his greatness and compares him to a lion. Later, the people of Israel will adopt the lion as their own image, as a mascot, so to speak. Solomon had images of lions carved into his throne (1 Kgs 10:19). Images of lions can be found adorning many ancient synagogues. 

In fact, there is a fascinating Jewish text, 2 Esdras, that is written around the same time as Revelation and contains its own prophecy about a messiah who appears as a lion. In the vision of 2 Esdras, the messiah-lion confronts an eagle, which clearly represents the Roman empire. The lion acts as a sort of cosmic judge, holding Rome to account for its deeds. Here’s just a snippet of the lion’s judgment: “[Y]ou [Rome[ have held sway over the world with great terror and over all the earth with grievous oppression, and for so long you have lived on the earth with deceit…. [Y]ou have oppressed the meek and injured the peaceable; you…have laid low the walls of those who did you no harm…. Therefore you, eagle, will surely disappear…so that the whole earth, freed from your violence, may be refreshed and relieved and may hope for the judgment and mercy of him who made it” (2 Esdras 11:40-46). After this stinging judgment, the imperious lion—untouched by the eagle—destroys it.

We can’t know for certain whether John of Patmos or his audience knew about this text. But what does seem certain is the appeal of a mighty lion that will come to the rescue and avenge the oppressed. For John and other Christ-followers living at the time—as well as for us today, perhaps—there lingers a hope that maybe the next time the messiah comes, he will operate in a different manner. The first time, he made himself vulnerable in his love, choosing to absorb suffering rather than inflict it. But the next time, we perhaps hope, he will look more like a lion. He will make the evil to feel God’s wrath; he will make the wicked pay. 

“Has Conquered”

(5) [See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David] has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”

If John’s hopes were raised with the promise of a messiah lion, a savior who could make sense of the mess of the world by putting the bad guys in their place, by giving them a good old fashioned licking…then the words that immediately follow may have him scratching his head. Sure, there’s the language of “conquering,” which is undoubtedly what John and his contemporaries would have loved to hear—namely, the Roman empire “conquered,” subdued, defeated. But the problem is grammatical. “Has conquered.” In other words, past tense. It’s already happened.

Which brings John and all of us back to our former tears and anguish. Which brings us all back to a world that just doesn’t make sense. If God’s messiah has already conquered, then…why do we still have war? Crime? Hunger? Poverty? If God’s messiah really has already conquered the world, then maybe God could do the courtesy of telling the bad guys that they’ve been defeated and should cease their wickedness at once.

The Lion Is…a Slaughtered Lamb

6 Then I saw between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. 

We’ve been moving really slowly through the scripture—almost a half a verse at a time. I invite you to imagine John’s experience in slow motion. First he hears about a messiah-lion arriving on the scene. His heart leaps with hope, and he begins to turn his head to look for the lion. Then he hears that the lion has already “conquered,” which plants a seed of confusion and doubt in his heart. And now, finally, he sees the Lion of Judah. Except…it’s not a lion. It’s a slaughtered lamb. Perhaps his heart falls in disappointment. Any lingering hope that the messiah Jesus will come back with a vengeance is dashed. Instead, what John sees and learns is that the way of Jesus does not change. 

Just as importantly, John sees and learns that what looks like defeat is in fact victory.

In my interpretation, this is ultimately the “content” of the scroll. That is, “love wins.” This story—this way of seeing the world—simply doesn’t compute with us who desire a strong lion. No wonder we wouldn’t be able to read the scroll. It wouldn’t make sense to us. For us, hope and history don’t rhyme. But for Jesus, the slaughtered lamb, they do. 

A Different Interpretation of History: 

Love Wins

Listen to the song that gets sung by the heavenly faithful as the slaughtered lamb, Jesus, takes the scroll.

7 He went and took the scroll from the right hand of the one who was seated on the throne. 8 When he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell before the Lamb, each holding a harp and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. 9 They sing a new song:

“You are worthy to take the scroll

    and to open its seals,

for you were slaughtered and by your blood you ransomed for God

    saints from every tribe and language and people and nation;

10 you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God,

    and they will reign on earth.”

Like the Passover lamb that liberated and empowered the Hebrew slaves to become God’s people (cf. Ex 19:5-6), Jesus as the slaughtered lamb of God liberates followers of Christ to become part of God’s kingdom. Which is to say, he gives us eyes to see the world differently. He gives us a different interpretation of history, the right and true interpretation of history. “Love wins.” 

Remember what we observed about “heaven” earlier? Namely, that it is not necessarily a physical place but the way things really are. Well, here John sees the way things really are. The slaughtered lamb of God is the only one who is able to read and comprehend history, because only the slaughtered lamb has fully trusted in and experienced the love of God, which is stronger than death. For Christ, it all makes sense, because he sees that love endures beyond death.

The Mothers of East Los Angeles

If you still have doubts about this interpretation of history—that love wins, not power and strength—you’re not alone. I have doubts too. Almost every day, I experience a reflexive thought or feeling that glories in vengeance, in payback, in retribution, in people getting what’s coming to them. That instinct for the lion is alive and well in me. But…my faith tugs me in the direction of the slaughtered lamb. 

To close, I’d like to share a sketch of people who follow the slaughtered lamb, people who live in the kingdom of God right here, right now. In the early-to-mid 1990s, gang violence in east Los Angeles spiked considerably. In the poorest parish of Los Angeles, which also features the largest public housing complex west of the Mississippi, nearly every family had lost a child or relative to gang violence. The outside sentiment was that this problem required a real crackdown: more law enforcement, tougher police, harsher consequences. You could even consider this kind of response, “tough love.” A gesture of care toward the community through the controlled use of force.

But inside the community, many of the mothers had been participating weekly in gospel study groups where they asked questions like: “What’s going on around us? What does the gospel say about these problems? What would Jesus do in this situation?” Their answers to these questions led them in a very different direction. Away from the militant lion and closer to the slaughtered lamb. They formed a committee to respond specifically to the violence that plagued their neighborhood. And the way it worked was, whenever someone heard gunshots fired or learned of an intensifying conflict or caught wind of a planned shooting, they would alert the rest of the group, and as many as could make it to the flashpoint would march between rival gangs and armed men, pleading with them to stop killing each other. (I wonder if this isn’t what real “tough love” looks like. Doesn’t it take a whole lot more toughness and strength to love others at risk to one’s own safety than it does to act violently…?) In addition to these direct interventions, the mothers met every weekend for what came to be known as “Love Walks,” where they would walk the streets of their neighborhood and tell gang members with words and with actions—such as home-cooked food and songs—“You are all our sons. We love you. We don’t want you to kill each other.” Their Christlike response planted seeds for some remarkable transformation in the neighborhood—not only a deescalation of violence, but also an increase in communication and attention to real needs, such as employment opportunities.

John heard the heavenly faithful sing, “You have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth” (Rev 5:10). Some people think these words refer to some distant future that will be instituted by a lion-like messiah. I believe they refer to people who follow the slaughtered Lamb right now, people who live in his kingdom at this very moment—people like the courageous mothers of east Los Angeles.

Prayer

Dear Christ Jesus,

Like John of Patmos

We look upon our world

With bafflement and despair,

Uncertain that your vulnerable love

Is the way …

Grant us eyes to see you as John did,

Not as lion but as lamb,

That we might respond to the world

With your vulnerable, enduring, conquering love.

Amen.