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.
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