ENDINGS AND NEW BEGINNINGS

Bible 101, Part 9: Apocalyptic Literature

Daniel 7:15-28; Revelation 12:7-12; 22:8-17

August 23, 2009 – Rev. Jerry Duggins

We have at last arrived at that portion of the Bible that no one wants to read, but everyone is very curious about. Perhaps no other section of scripture has suffered as much abuse from its so-called interpreters. It is admittedly mysterious, its imagery fantastic and bizarre. In the literature on Revelation, you can hear the debate between pre-millenialists and post-millenialists. You can read various viewpoints on the rapture. You can become engaged in the effort to decode Revelation as you look for clues to the date of the “end.” If you’ve taken an interest in LaHaye’s Left Behind series, I certainly hope that you are enjoying them, but don’t imagine they have anything to do with the meaning of the Revelation of John.

Thirty-five years ago, when I first began to take an interest in the Bible, people like Hal Lindsey were writing books that claimed they could identify the year when the world would come to an end. They were suggesting that the Soviet Union was Gog or Magog, that the re-establishment of Israel as a nation marked the beginning of the events described in Revelation. They said that the mark of the beast was the social security number, that the anti-Christ was the Pope and if he wasn’t, the currently sitting president was a popular candidate. The fact that most of the predictions have proved false hasn’t in the least deterred others from making new claims. Before I can say anything constructive, I need you to do something for me. Take that mental eraser and rub away all that stuff. It is mostly (I hope you will excuse the technical word here) “bunk.”

Revelation is not a time-table for the end of the world. Its pages are full of vivid imagery, not secret code. Its intent is to encourage faithful Christians, not to scare the heathen into a profession of faith. So whatever you may have heard, relax. Heaven is not limited to the first 144,000 who find a bright, shiny, white robe. You’re not in imminent danger of being cast into a lake of fire, and Jesus isn’t coming back tomorrow on the clouds with an army of angels to judge humanity. Relax. Put all the doom-saying and fear-mongering from your mind. Consider what Jesus said to his disciples before his arrest, at the moment of crisis, “Let not your hearts be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me.” That’s what the message of Revelation boils down to.

Admittedly, it takes a rather circuitous route. It is not an easy book to read and understand. At first glance it looks so little like the rest of the Bible, but it is very rooted in the Bible. It’s the poetry we find in Song of Solomon, pushed to its limits. It’s the lament of Jeremiah taken to the extreme. It’s the praise of the Psalmist in an otherworldly context. It’s the sacred history on the large screen. It’s everything you read in the Bible taken to the next level.

So, whatever you may have heard, forget it. Let’s start at the beginning. The first question to be asked in dealing with any scripture really, is what type of writing are we dealing with? Is it poetry, narrative, prophecy, wisdom? All of these things belong to Revelation, but the overall genre is “apocalyptic.” There are short sections of Matthew, Mark and Luke that are apocalyptic, as well as some isolated verses in Thessalonians and in the OT, the latter half of Daniel.

The word itself means literally “to uncover.” So we translate the Apocalypse of John as Revelation, but the question we must ask is: “What is being revealed?” Some suggest that Revelation lays out a time table for the “end,” but this is to completely misunderstand the purpose of apocalypse. It is less concerned with the future than it is with the current crisis. Apocalyptic always arises from the crisis in which the faith community finds itself.

Take the passage we read in Daniel. The audience for this text lives in the second century before Christ. They are faithful Jews living under the oppressive rule of the Greeks. Their temple has been turned into a place of worship for false gods, and laws have been passed forbidding them to practice their own faith. A sort of cultural genocide is taking place. Certainly some of the faithful wondered when this all would end, but their question goes deeper. They really want to know, “why is this happening to us now?” Not when will it end, but why? Apocalyptic attempts to uncover the hidden meaning behind current events, the current crisis.

So the writer tells them the story of Daniel. Perhaps you recall Daniel in the lions’ den. How did he get there? He refused to abide by a new law restricting him in the practice of his faith. The book also includes a story about three men (Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego) in a fiery furnace. They also refused to bow to a statue of the king.

Now Daniel lived in the fifth century during the time of the Persians and Medes. What’s interesting is that we have no other records of this empire being so intolerant of the Jewish faith and in fact it is Cyrus, the Persian king of that time, who allows the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild their temple. So the stories in the first six chapters of Daniel heighten the tension his readers must be feeling; and then there is this vision. It’s told as though speaking into the future, but it reflects events that have already happened to the readers. So they’re in this crisis and the vision tells them this happened before. It reassures that the current crisis is not the end of the matter. God remains ruler of the universe and has not forgotten the people.

It doesn’t really answer the question of meaning, but it does acknowledge the struggle taking place between God and the forces of evil. Apocalyptic gives voice to the suffering in the world, says that somehow it belongs in the world in which we live, but it never has the last word. At the end of Daniel’s vision, we read, “As for me, Daniel, my thoughts greatly terrified me, and my face turned pale; but I kept the matter in my mind.” These words are perhaps more reflective of second-century BCE audience of the book of Daniel.

The issues are the same as for Job or the psalmist or the people wandering in the wilderness; and the answer is the same: God will rise to the challenge. Our task: to remain faithful in the midst of suffering.

Why does Apocalyptic seem so different? In the first place, it uses “mythic” language to tell its story. This means it is more concerned with truth than with facts, more concerned with the crisis that cuts across all times than with a linear view of history. It wants to err on the side of overstating its case not understating it. Struggles are raised to a cosmic level.

In some ways it tries to hide the current crisis in order to get at the underlying, larger issues. So it feels very different from the epistles which are almost too specific. And it differs from the gospels whose stories seem so earthy that we have little trouble placing ourselves inside them.

We don’t really know very much about John’s community. We don’t even know which John wrote the book. It’s addressed to churches in Asia minor and we do know that there were several local persecutions in that area, but it could just as well be that the church faced a more general cultural resistance rather than political persecution. Revelation offers us few clues to the details of John’s community. That is what makes Apocalyptic so different from the rest of scripture.

But the message is clear: whatever the challenge to faith, stay the course. The reign of God is present though it may be hidden and the time will come when all can plainly see it. And this message is what ties it to the rest of the Bible. For much of the Bible is written from crisis and attempts to address itself to the feeling that God is absent. The silent God is the question that lies beneath much of the Bible.

Let me put all this in a different context. Apocalyptic is a subset of an area of theology that we call eschatology. Most commonly this is understood as the study of the “end times,” but it would be more accurate to characterize it as the study of the kingdom of God. In eschatology, we ask a number of questions. We might begin with the question asked by the disciples before Jesus’ ascension. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 1:6). “When can we expect the kingdom?” The descendants of Abraham asked this question when they were slaves in Egypt and again when they wandered the wilderness. The Psalmist asked it when he wrote, “How long, O Lord, must I wait for you to answer my cry?”

Jesus seemed to suggest that the kingdom was already present when he described it as in your midst. But the early church asked it again when Jesus’ return didn’t happen as they expected.

Beginning perhaps with Kierkegaard and taken up by Bultmann, theologians began to shift their concern. They turned inward and instead of asking when the kingdom would come, they asked “How can I take it into myself?”

But then one can’t just retreat into oneself. There is a great disparity between the world as we observe it and the kingdom of God as we expect it; and we have to ask “why? What’s the meaning behind all this?” That’s apocalyptic, and again, Revelation doesn’t give answers. At most it outlines a structure. God is in the world and has not abandoned it. Faithfulness does count for something in this life. And God will have the last word.

And finally in the field of eschatology, with the liberation theologians, we are beginning to ask, “Where is the kingdom?” Here you’ll read much about solidarity with the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized.

All of these questions concern themselves with the presence of God. When can we expect to feel God present? How can we appropriate a sense of God’s presence? Why does God seem so absent in the moment of crisis? And where do we see God “at work” today?

When you read Apocalyptic, there are many things to consider. It is not easy. But I think you will be helped by keeping the questions before you, by remembering that it’s speaking to people in crisis and seeking to reassure them so that they can find strength for the journey.

There are no time tables. Apocalyptic addresses itself to all times. The struggle is real. There is no wiping the slate clean with a wave of God’s magic wand. There’s no waiting until it all gets better.

“The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes, take the water of life as a gift.”

There is no waiting for the future. The time is now, even in the midst of difficult times. Now is the time to drink. Now is the time to begin anew. Amen.