(Note: again, there are three articles in this series, and I have arranged them below in sequence. The reader is encouraged to read the older posts first. I am writing this series with a certain arrangement and organization, and to fully understand these newer posts, it would be well to study the older ones first.)
Part of “apocalyptic” literature is the symbolism of numbers. It’s not just apocalyptic writing that uses numbers like this; remember that Jesus told Peter to forgive his brother “seventy times seven” times, i.e., indefinitely. But certainly the symbolism of numbers is extremely important in the book of Revelation. Indeed, it is impossible to correctly diagnose the book unless one understands that nearly all of the numbers therein are intended to be comprehended in their symbolic, rather than mathematically literal, meaning. In this post, I want to give a brief overview of the symbolic meaning of numbers in ancient Hebrew literature, again, something that is very common in apocalyptic-type literature.
“One.” Man saw a single object and came to associate the number “1” with unity or independent existence. “One’ thus stood for that which was unique and alone. This usage of the number “one,” to my immediate recollection, is not found in the book of Revelation or anywhere else in Scripture, though I stand to be corrected if an instance is brought forth.
“Two.” Amid the dangers of primitive life, with the fear of wild beasts or hostile attack by enemies, man gained courage in companionship. Two are stronger than one; thus “two” came to symbolize strengthening, confirmation, redoubled courage or energy. This number is found often in Scripture. For example, though Jesus sent out His disciples literally two by two in the “limited commission” (Matt. 10), there was symbolism in this: the Jews would understand that the message was being confirmed because two were involved in its dissemination. In Revelation 11:3-12, the truth of God is confirmed by two witnesses who are slain and rise again—a strong witness which prospers, then seems to be beaten to earth only to rise again in heavenly triumph. Also, there are two beasts mutually confirming and supporting each other in the war against righteousness (chapter 13). The meaning is that Satan is very strong, and his message convinces many. Against these two beasts, God has a “twofold” instrument of warfare—the conquering Christ and the sickle of judgment. They are too strong for the beasts to overcome. Thus, symbolically we see the cause of righteousness triumph over evil.
“Three.” This number was a symbol of the divine. The source of this could be the home where primitive man found the most divine things to be father love, mother love, and filial love. As knowledge of God increased, man understood Him as a “godhead three”—Father, Son, Spirit. There appear glimmerings of this not only in the Old Testament, but also in Greek philosophy and dreams. Thus, the most divine aspects of life could be symbolized with the number three. This isn’t often found, if at all, in the book of Revelation.
“Four.” When man looked outside the home, he had no conception of the modern world as we know it. The world was a flat surface with four boundaries. There were four winds from the four sides of the earth. Man believed there were four angels to govern the four winds. In town he placed himself within the confines of four walls. Thus, when man thought of the world, he though in terms of “four,” the “cosmic” number. In Revelation, the four living creatures would represent all the divisions of animal life (all breath praises God). The four horsemen symbolize all the destructive powers of humanity on this earth—powers that were to come in judgment upon the world. The world in which men lived and worked and died was symbolized by “four.”
To be continued…
Friday, March 5, 2010
Numerical Symbolism—II
Let us continue our study of the symbolic use of numbers in apocalyptic literature.
“Five.” Next, man turned from a study of his home and the world about him to study himself. Perhaps the decimal system arose from man studying his own fingers and toes. Be that as it may, early civilizations were cruel, hard, crude. Many men were maimed and crippled through disease, accident, warfare, etc. A perfect, full-rounded man was one who had all his members intact. Thus, the number “five,” doubled to “ten,” came to stand for human completeness. In Revelation, for example, the picture of the complete power of human government was a beast with ten horns. The dragon, the first beast, and the scarlet beast have ten horns each. With the last beast, the ten horns are called ten kings, i.e., complete world (human) power as it appeared (to John’s readers) to belong to Rome with her provincial system. All efforts to find a literal “ten” kings (or Caesars) are destined to fail because the number is not to be understood literally. It symbolizes complete, earthly human power as it appeared to the saints in the first century—who could overthrow Rome? Also, as a multiple, 10 occurs many times in Revelation. “70” is a very sacred number, and “1,000” (10 x 10 x10) is ultimate completeness, fullness, totality raised to the nth degree, nothing lacking. The saints’ “reign” in Revelation 20 has no weakness, but is absolute and entire. That could have been symbolized with simply “10,” but by raising it to third power, God is providing added comfort and assurance. It’s a marvelously soothing message to beleaguered saints in the first century, and just as marvelously misunderstood by so many people today—because they take the number literally. What a tragedy.
“Seven.” Ancient man then began to analyze and combine numbers and came up with some interesting ideas. He took the divine number—three—combined it with the perfect world number—four—and got seven, which was the most sacred number to the Hebrews. The number “seven” is found all through the Revelation—and other Scriptures—expressing sacredness through a union of heaven and earth. There are seven Spirits, churches, golden candlesticks, stars, and sections in the book. When the sacred number seven was multiplied by the complete number, 10, it yielded the very sacred “70.” Thus, there were 70 members of the Jewish high council, and 70 were sent out on another “limited commission” by Jesus. In one of the most beautiful figures in the Bible, referenced in the first article in this series, Jesus presented the idea of unlimited Christian forgiveness when He told Peter to forgive his brother 70 times 7 times. I have often wondered if God intended some sort of symbolically powerful meaning in the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans, which ended the Jewish system of worship and tribalism as it had theretofore existed--and has not existed since. It happened in 70 A.D.
“Twelve.” Four and three were also multiplied to give 12, which became a well-known symbol. To the Hebrews, 12 represented organized religion in the world. There were 12 tribes of Israel, 12 apostles, 12 gates to the Holy City. In Revelation, the number 12 was reduplicated to 144,000 (12 x 12 x 10 x 10 x 10)—religion combined with human completeness to the nth degree. In Revelation 7 and 15, this pictures the security of a perfect number sealed from the wrath of God visited upon the world. Not one of God’s people will be lost when He comes in judgment. The 12 represents God’s faithful, 10 signifies completeness. Again, 120—12 x 10—could have been used to supply the correct message, but God, by multiplying 12 and 10 out to 144,000 is giving an overabundance of assurance that He will not forget even the lowliest of His people, no, not one. What a beautiful figure this is!
To be continued…
“Five.” Next, man turned from a study of his home and the world about him to study himself. Perhaps the decimal system arose from man studying his own fingers and toes. Be that as it may, early civilizations were cruel, hard, crude. Many men were maimed and crippled through disease, accident, warfare, etc. A perfect, full-rounded man was one who had all his members intact. Thus, the number “five,” doubled to “ten,” came to stand for human completeness. In Revelation, for example, the picture of the complete power of human government was a beast with ten horns. The dragon, the first beast, and the scarlet beast have ten horns each. With the last beast, the ten horns are called ten kings, i.e., complete world (human) power as it appeared (to John’s readers) to belong to Rome with her provincial system. All efforts to find a literal “ten” kings (or Caesars) are destined to fail because the number is not to be understood literally. It symbolizes complete, earthly human power as it appeared to the saints in the first century—who could overthrow Rome? Also, as a multiple, 10 occurs many times in Revelation. “70” is a very sacred number, and “1,000” (10 x 10 x10) is ultimate completeness, fullness, totality raised to the nth degree, nothing lacking. The saints’ “reign” in Revelation 20 has no weakness, but is absolute and entire. That could have been symbolized with simply “10,” but by raising it to third power, God is providing added comfort and assurance. It’s a marvelously soothing message to beleaguered saints in the first century, and just as marvelously misunderstood by so many people today—because they take the number literally. What a tragedy.
“Seven.” Ancient man then began to analyze and combine numbers and came up with some interesting ideas. He took the divine number—three—combined it with the perfect world number—four—and got seven, which was the most sacred number to the Hebrews. The number “seven” is found all through the Revelation—and other Scriptures—expressing sacredness through a union of heaven and earth. There are seven Spirits, churches, golden candlesticks, stars, and sections in the book. When the sacred number seven was multiplied by the complete number, 10, it yielded the very sacred “70.” Thus, there were 70 members of the Jewish high council, and 70 were sent out on another “limited commission” by Jesus. In one of the most beautiful figures in the Bible, referenced in the first article in this series, Jesus presented the idea of unlimited Christian forgiveness when He told Peter to forgive his brother 70 times 7 times. I have often wondered if God intended some sort of symbolically powerful meaning in the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans, which ended the Jewish system of worship and tribalism as it had theretofore existed--and has not existed since. It happened in 70 A.D.
“Twelve.” Four and three were also multiplied to give 12, which became a well-known symbol. To the Hebrews, 12 represented organized religion in the world. There were 12 tribes of Israel, 12 apostles, 12 gates to the Holy City. In Revelation, the number 12 was reduplicated to 144,000 (12 x 12 x 10 x 10 x 10)—religion combined with human completeness to the nth degree. In Revelation 7 and 15, this pictures the security of a perfect number sealed from the wrath of God visited upon the world. Not one of God’s people will be lost when He comes in judgment. The 12 represents God’s faithful, 10 signifies completeness. Again, 120—12 x 10—could have been used to supply the correct message, but God, by multiplying 12 and 10 out to 144,000 is giving an overabundance of assurance that He will not forget even the lowliest of His people, no, not one. What a beautiful figure this is!
To be continued…
Numerical Symbolism—III
Let me conclude this series with two more very important numbers used symbolically in the book of Revelation.
“3½.” Seven was divided in two to get 3½. 3½ came to express the incomplete, that which was imperfect, restless longings not yet fulfilled, aspirations unrealized, or an indefinite, but finite, period of time. When an apocalyptic writer wanted to describe these conditions, for example, picturing the world as waiting for something which had not yet arrived, or when men in despair and confusion seeking peace and light, he would use 3½. This number actually takes several forms: 3½, “a time, times, and half a time,” 42 months (three and a half years), or 1,260 days (also three and a half years)—all of these have the same meaning. In Revelation 11, the two witnesses preached 3½ years—an indefinite time, filled with much despair. The court of the temple was trampled upon by the ungodly for 3½ years; saints were persecuted 42 months; the woman was in the wilderness 1,260 days. Always this represents the indefinite, the incomplete, a dissatisfied condition. But in it, there was still hope and patient waiting for a better day when truth would win out. A perfect apocalyptic literature-type figure.
“Six.” This last number, very important, needs to be mentioned. To the Jew, six had a sinister meaning. As seven was the sacred number, six fell short of it and failed. Thus, it was an evil number, like “13” is to many people today. Six was the charge that met defeat with success just within its grasp. Thus, in Revelation 13, “666” was evil, failure stretched out the nth degree. Satan’s success at overthrowing God’s people was very close, but ultimately this evil creature failed. “666” is not literally a man; all efforts to identify him as one literal person have been unsuccessful. “666” simply represents evil raised to the highest power; if any one man would be meant, John’s readers would have perceived it to be the Roman emperor, an evil person doing Satan’s work by persecuting God’s saints. By giving him the number “666,” God is saying this one is very evil, and will come close to achieving his wicked goals. But he will ultimately fail, for he falls short of the perfection of “seven.”
It is essential to remember that the numbers in the book of Revelation are symbolic, even when used literally (e.g., the seven churches of Asia represent all of God’s people). These numbers must not be understood with mathematical precision. When you see a number in Revelation, don’t even think in mathematical terms, think in conceptual terms, as John’s readers would have done. That is very difficult for us to do, because we don’t use numbers that way; it’s not part of our language. But it was to John’s readers and that’s the way they would have thought. I tell my history students, on the very first day of lecture, that if they are going to understand peoples of other time periods and cultures, they simply must learn to think like those people. Not easy, in fact, impossible to completely accomplish. But, as best as possible, it must be done to understand the Bible, and especially the book of Revelation. This will greatly aid in comprehending this remarkably beautiful, but obscure, book—obscure to those who fail to understand the historical circumstances and nature of apocalyptic writings.
Note: I must give thanks and credit to Ray Summers, whose book Worthy is the Lamb was the source of most of the material for this series, and also the one on apocalyptic literature. It is, far and away, the best book on the book of Revelation that I have ever studied.
“3½.” Seven was divided in two to get 3½. 3½ came to express the incomplete, that which was imperfect, restless longings not yet fulfilled, aspirations unrealized, or an indefinite, but finite, period of time. When an apocalyptic writer wanted to describe these conditions, for example, picturing the world as waiting for something which had not yet arrived, or when men in despair and confusion seeking peace and light, he would use 3½. This number actually takes several forms: 3½, “a time, times, and half a time,” 42 months (three and a half years), or 1,260 days (also three and a half years)—all of these have the same meaning. In Revelation 11, the two witnesses preached 3½ years—an indefinite time, filled with much despair. The court of the temple was trampled upon by the ungodly for 3½ years; saints were persecuted 42 months; the woman was in the wilderness 1,260 days. Always this represents the indefinite, the incomplete, a dissatisfied condition. But in it, there was still hope and patient waiting for a better day when truth would win out. A perfect apocalyptic literature-type figure.
“Six.” This last number, very important, needs to be mentioned. To the Jew, six had a sinister meaning. As seven was the sacred number, six fell short of it and failed. Thus, it was an evil number, like “13” is to many people today. Six was the charge that met defeat with success just within its grasp. Thus, in Revelation 13, “666” was evil, failure stretched out the nth degree. Satan’s success at overthrowing God’s people was very close, but ultimately this evil creature failed. “666” is not literally a man; all efforts to identify him as one literal person have been unsuccessful. “666” simply represents evil raised to the highest power; if any one man would be meant, John’s readers would have perceived it to be the Roman emperor, an evil person doing Satan’s work by persecuting God’s saints. By giving him the number “666,” God is saying this one is very evil, and will come close to achieving his wicked goals. But he will ultimately fail, for he falls short of the perfection of “seven.”
It is essential to remember that the numbers in the book of Revelation are symbolic, even when used literally (e.g., the seven churches of Asia represent all of God’s people). These numbers must not be understood with mathematical precision. When you see a number in Revelation, don’t even think in mathematical terms, think in conceptual terms, as John’s readers would have done. That is very difficult for us to do, because we don’t use numbers that way; it’s not part of our language. But it was to John’s readers and that’s the way they would have thought. I tell my history students, on the very first day of lecture, that if they are going to understand peoples of other time periods and cultures, they simply must learn to think like those people. Not easy, in fact, impossible to completely accomplish. But, as best as possible, it must be done to understand the Bible, and especially the book of Revelation. This will greatly aid in comprehending this remarkably beautiful, but obscure, book—obscure to those who fail to understand the historical circumstances and nature of apocalyptic writings.
Note: I must give thanks and credit to Ray Summers, whose book Worthy is the Lamb was the source of most of the material for this series, and also the one on apocalyptic literature. It is, far and away, the best book on the book of Revelation that I have ever studied.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Apocalyptic Literature I: Introduction
{There are three articles in this series and I have put them in sequence below.)
It is literally impossible to fully understand the book of Revelation if we do not understand apocalyptic literature. And indeed, this lack of comprehension is probably the major reason the book has been so widely misinterpreted. The word “apocalyptic” is from a Greek word, “apokalupsis,” which means “unveiling,” or “revelation.” And, yes, it is title of the book of Revelation in the original Greek. The purpose of apocalyptic literature is to make the message of the writer increasingly vivid through signs and symbols, and often very grotesque and frightening symbols they are. Most religions actually have something of this kind of literature within them, so it’s not peculiar to Judaism and Christianity.
But within the Jewish and Christian religions, this genre of literature was prominent from about 200 B.C. to 200 A.D., although there are examples of it earlier and later; Daniel 7 and Ezekiel 1 are illustrations of it in earlier Biblical books. To understand why it became so prominent around 200 B.C., we need—not surprisingly—a little historical background.
We’ve all heard of Alexander the Great. In about 333 B.C., he left Greece and headed east towards the Persian empire. Persia was a huge kingdom at that time and controlled Judea; recall your Biblical history. The Jews were in Babylonian captivity until 536 B.C. when the Persian king Cyrus allowed them to return home. Persia had destroyed Babylon and had taken over to become the great Middle Eastern empire. The Old Testament ends with the Jews under the domination of Persia. Well, in a series of wars in the 330s and 320s, Alexander conquered Persia and replaced it with a great Greek empire. Alexander died in 323 never having returned to Greece, and his great empire was divided among four of his generals. Judea and the Jews fell under the control of the Seleucid family of that division. And it’s from that origin that the apocalyptic literature of 200 B.C. to 200 A.D. began to arise.
Many of the Jews became quite enamored with Greek philosophy, much to the consternation of the more conservative thinkers of that religion (such as Pharisees). But that liberal Jewish element compromised the purity of Judaism and this led a strong backlash—an anti-Greek movement that was determined to keep the religion untainted from foreign influence. Some of this latter, anti-Greek group became mystics, people who see visions and have dreams—and in this case, visions and dreams of a better day, a release from the darkened conditions of the present time; darkened conditions such as the Greek domination and philosophical influence upon Judaism. Remember the book of Daniel; in chapter 7 he sees some vivid, “apocalyptic” scenes because of the captivity of the Jews in Babylon—four horrible, frightening creatures, but then the promise of the coming of the “Ancient of Days,” a deliverer. That’s a very good summary of apocalyptic literature, and quite frankly, that’s basically what it consists of. Think of the book of Revelation.
This form of literature got a big boost in the early 2nd century B.C. when a man named Antiochus Epiphanes ruled Judea (175-164). He was a bitter anti-Semite, the Adolf Hitler of his day. His reign was the darkest days the Jews had known since the Babylonian captivity. He prohibited on the pain of death observance of the Jewish religion. Antiochus put a statue of a heathen god in the temple in Jerusalem; he even sacrificed a pig on the altar. The Jews revolted against Antiochus, led by a family named Maccabee, and they actually will throw off the Greek regime and inaugurate a period of freedom for the Jews which will last about 100 years until the Romans show up. But what’s important for our study here is that the horrors of Antiochus Epiphanes’ reign led to the release of another series of apocalyptic visions from the mystics of the day—stunning, dramatic visions of horror followed by glorious deliverance—the very essence of apocalyptic literature. I’ll look at some of the conditions and purposes of that literature in my next post.
It is literally impossible to fully understand the book of Revelation if we do not understand apocalyptic literature. And indeed, this lack of comprehension is probably the major reason the book has been so widely misinterpreted. The word “apocalyptic” is from a Greek word, “apokalupsis,” which means “unveiling,” or “revelation.” And, yes, it is title of the book of Revelation in the original Greek. The purpose of apocalyptic literature is to make the message of the writer increasingly vivid through signs and symbols, and often very grotesque and frightening symbols they are. Most religions actually have something of this kind of literature within them, so it’s not peculiar to Judaism and Christianity.
But within the Jewish and Christian religions, this genre of literature was prominent from about 200 B.C. to 200 A.D., although there are examples of it earlier and later; Daniel 7 and Ezekiel 1 are illustrations of it in earlier Biblical books. To understand why it became so prominent around 200 B.C., we need—not surprisingly—a little historical background.
We’ve all heard of Alexander the Great. In about 333 B.C., he left Greece and headed east towards the Persian empire. Persia was a huge kingdom at that time and controlled Judea; recall your Biblical history. The Jews were in Babylonian captivity until 536 B.C. when the Persian king Cyrus allowed them to return home. Persia had destroyed Babylon and had taken over to become the great Middle Eastern empire. The Old Testament ends with the Jews under the domination of Persia. Well, in a series of wars in the 330s and 320s, Alexander conquered Persia and replaced it with a great Greek empire. Alexander died in 323 never having returned to Greece, and his great empire was divided among four of his generals. Judea and the Jews fell under the control of the Seleucid family of that division. And it’s from that origin that the apocalyptic literature of 200 B.C. to 200 A.D. began to arise.
Many of the Jews became quite enamored with Greek philosophy, much to the consternation of the more conservative thinkers of that religion (such as Pharisees). But that liberal Jewish element compromised the purity of Judaism and this led a strong backlash—an anti-Greek movement that was determined to keep the religion untainted from foreign influence. Some of this latter, anti-Greek group became mystics, people who see visions and have dreams—and in this case, visions and dreams of a better day, a release from the darkened conditions of the present time; darkened conditions such as the Greek domination and philosophical influence upon Judaism. Remember the book of Daniel; in chapter 7 he sees some vivid, “apocalyptic” scenes because of the captivity of the Jews in Babylon—four horrible, frightening creatures, but then the promise of the coming of the “Ancient of Days,” a deliverer. That’s a very good summary of apocalyptic literature, and quite frankly, that’s basically what it consists of. Think of the book of Revelation.
This form of literature got a big boost in the early 2nd century B.C. when a man named Antiochus Epiphanes ruled Judea (175-164). He was a bitter anti-Semite, the Adolf Hitler of his day. His reign was the darkest days the Jews had known since the Babylonian captivity. He prohibited on the pain of death observance of the Jewish religion. Antiochus put a statue of a heathen god in the temple in Jerusalem; he even sacrificed a pig on the altar. The Jews revolted against Antiochus, led by a family named Maccabee, and they actually will throw off the Greek regime and inaugurate a period of freedom for the Jews which will last about 100 years until the Romans show up. But what’s important for our study here is that the horrors of Antiochus Epiphanes’ reign led to the release of another series of apocalyptic visions from the mystics of the day—stunning, dramatic visions of horror followed by glorious deliverance—the very essence of apocalyptic literature. I’ll look at some of the conditions and purposes of that literature in my next post.
Apocalyptic Literature II: Conditions and Purposes
I explained in the first article of this series that apocalyptic literature was quite common in many religions, and that was true of Judaism and Christianity as well. It flourished in the latter two religions from about 200 B.C. to 200 A.D. I want to discuss in this post some of the background conditions of this genre of literature and then its purposes. I touched on this briefly in the first article, but let me do it in a bit more depth here.
Tumultuous times gave birth to apocalyptic literature. For example, the Babylonian captivity and the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes. And, as we shall see when we get to the book of Revelation, the persecution of Christians by Romans. There were trials, suffering, sorrow, near-despair—these sorts of emotions furnished the soil from which this literature grew. So the writers penned their works in days of adversity. The present time was pictured as one of great persecution, tribulation, and suffering, but, in glorious contrast, the future was a time of deliverance and triumph. God would intervene and lead His people to victory. This is the common theme of apocalyptic writings.
The purpose was to stress loyalty and stimulate faith by revealing the certain overthrow of evil and the final victory of God’s righteous cause. If we know we are going to win in the end, then it’s much easier to endure the trial, suffering, and persecution for a season. The apocalyptic books—and this is crucial—were always written in signs and symbols for the protection of the writer and reader alike; if the persecutors understood the true meaning, that could create even greater danger for those who possessed the literature. I’m not sure that always worked because, as noted, many religions wrote such books, but that was the idea. We find apocalyptic literature among the Jews when they were under foreign domination—again, examples of which are Daniel and Ezekiel in Babylon, and the dreadfulness of Antiochus Epiphanes. And, for Christians, John in the Roman empire.
The writer didn’t really deal with specific events; there would be some of that, but mostly he’s trying to get below the surface, delve to the bottom of the essence of things, find their real significance. If we try to find a precise meaning for every sign and symbol in an apocalyptic book, number one, we’ll fail because they don’t exist, and number two, we’ll miss the true import of what is being written. Look at the whole picture, not at the details—that’s what the author is trying to get us to do. He might sketch the entire course of world affairs with a view to presenting the ultimate triumph of righteousness over wickedness. The forest is what we want to look at first; individual trees might have some significance, but if we get lost in the details, we’ll miss the point. Good vs. evil is the theme, with evil initially appearing to have the upper hand, but the glorious conquest of God’s holy cause assured in the end. Our job is to endure while evil is in the ascendancy; or, as John wrote in what is probably the best summary thesis of the book of Revelation: “be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Rev. 2:10). And that’s not just “be faithful until you die;” that’s “be faithful, even if it causes your death.” Since we are going to win in the end, there’s really no excuse for compromise or surrender.
But can you imagine how comforting that would be to people who were in the midst of such suffering and persecution? “Hang on, God knows what you are going through, you’ll win in the end.” That’s why a futuristic interpretation of Revelation is in err. If, as premillennialism teaches, most of the book hasn’t even happened yet, what good was that going to do the people in John’s day? They needed comfort now; they needed to know that their enemy, Rome, was going to be punished and defeated, that the Lord knew their sorrows and tribulations and would deliver them. That’s what apocalyptic literature was designed to convey. The people in John’s day couldn’t have cared less what was going to happen in Israel or China or the United States in the 21st century; that wouldn’t have helped them in the least. And that’s not why John wrote his book.
And in apocalyptic literature, nearly all of that will be conveyed in weird, or gorgeous, or unreal, terrible features and scenes in visionary form. Signs and symbols, rarely specifics. It’s imperative we grasp that, and the purpose of those signs and symbols.
Tumultuous times gave birth to apocalyptic literature. For example, the Babylonian captivity and the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes. And, as we shall see when we get to the book of Revelation, the persecution of Christians by Romans. There were trials, suffering, sorrow, near-despair—these sorts of emotions furnished the soil from which this literature grew. So the writers penned their works in days of adversity. The present time was pictured as one of great persecution, tribulation, and suffering, but, in glorious contrast, the future was a time of deliverance and triumph. God would intervene and lead His people to victory. This is the common theme of apocalyptic writings.
The purpose was to stress loyalty and stimulate faith by revealing the certain overthrow of evil and the final victory of God’s righteous cause. If we know we are going to win in the end, then it’s much easier to endure the trial, suffering, and persecution for a season. The apocalyptic books—and this is crucial—were always written in signs and symbols for the protection of the writer and reader alike; if the persecutors understood the true meaning, that could create even greater danger for those who possessed the literature. I’m not sure that always worked because, as noted, many religions wrote such books, but that was the idea. We find apocalyptic literature among the Jews when they were under foreign domination—again, examples of which are Daniel and Ezekiel in Babylon, and the dreadfulness of Antiochus Epiphanes. And, for Christians, John in the Roman empire.
The writer didn’t really deal with specific events; there would be some of that, but mostly he’s trying to get below the surface, delve to the bottom of the essence of things, find their real significance. If we try to find a precise meaning for every sign and symbol in an apocalyptic book, number one, we’ll fail because they don’t exist, and number two, we’ll miss the true import of what is being written. Look at the whole picture, not at the details—that’s what the author is trying to get us to do. He might sketch the entire course of world affairs with a view to presenting the ultimate triumph of righteousness over wickedness. The forest is what we want to look at first; individual trees might have some significance, but if we get lost in the details, we’ll miss the point. Good vs. evil is the theme, with evil initially appearing to have the upper hand, but the glorious conquest of God’s holy cause assured in the end. Our job is to endure while evil is in the ascendancy; or, as John wrote in what is probably the best summary thesis of the book of Revelation: “be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Rev. 2:10). And that’s not just “be faithful until you die;” that’s “be faithful, even if it causes your death.” Since we are going to win in the end, there’s really no excuse for compromise or surrender.
But can you imagine how comforting that would be to people who were in the midst of such suffering and persecution? “Hang on, God knows what you are going through, you’ll win in the end.” That’s why a futuristic interpretation of Revelation is in err. If, as premillennialism teaches, most of the book hasn’t even happened yet, what good was that going to do the people in John’s day? They needed comfort now; they needed to know that their enemy, Rome, was going to be punished and defeated, that the Lord knew their sorrows and tribulations and would deliver them. That’s what apocalyptic literature was designed to convey. The people in John’s day couldn’t have cared less what was going to happen in Israel or China or the United States in the 21st century; that wouldn’t have helped them in the least. And that’s not why John wrote his book.
And in apocalyptic literature, nearly all of that will be conveyed in weird, or gorgeous, or unreal, terrible features and scenes in visionary form. Signs and symbols, rarely specifics. It’s imperative we grasp that, and the purpose of those signs and symbols.
Apocalyptic Literature-III: Characteristics
I discussed in the first two articles in this series the background, conditions, and purposes of apocalyptic literature. Let me discuss some of the characteristics one will find when reading material of an apocalyptic nature. Some of this will be a little repetitive, but that’s not bad given our basic unfamiliarity with type of writing.
1. Historical significance. There will nearly always be some critical historical situation with which an apocalyptic book is connected. For example, Daniel and Ezekiel in Babylonian captivity. There is a work called The Book of IV Ezra, written in the late 1st century A.D. which laments the destruction of Jerusalem by “Babylon” (Rome). In this book, everything in nature is out of harmony: the sun appears at midnight, the moon will shine at noon, blood will seep from wood, stones will speak, etc. The Book of Baruch was also written in the late 1st century to comfort the Jews after Rome destroyed Jerusalem. One more book I’d like to mention is The Assumption of Moses, written in the 1st century A.D. as a protest against the diversion of Israel’s interests towards political affairs, and to encourage piety while awaiting God’s intervention and triumph. Ray Summers, in his excellent book, Worthy is the Lamb, discusses the language of The Assumption: “The descriptions of the events attending the end is characteristic of this type of Jewish literature [apocalyptic]. The Heavenly One will arise from his throne and he will go forth with indignation and wrath because of the wickedness of men. The earth shall tremble; the high mountains shall be made low, and the hills shall be shaken and fall. The sun shall be turned to darkness; the moon shall give no light but shall be turned wholly into blood. The stars shall be disturbed. The sea will retire into the abyss, and the rivers shall be dried up. The eternal God will appear to punish the Gentiles and destroy all their idols. Israel shall be happy when she looks upon her enemies in hell. She shall rejoice and give thanks to her Creator” (Worthy is the Lamb, p. 12). This is apocalyptic literature; do you see a comparison with the book of Revelation? John wrote within the context of Roman persecution. There is always some critical historical condition behind an apocalyptic book.
2. Generally, pseudonymous authors. Not always—John wrote the Revelation under his own name. However, The Book of Enoch, for example, wasn’t written by Enoch, nor was The Assumption of Moses written by that great man. The authors remain anonymous not for base reasons. They have admiration for the greatness of previous prophets, there is a need for personal safety, there was a desire to emulate prophetic messages in a time when prophecy had ceased. And there were other motives as well, I’m sure. So, for the most part, the apocalyptic works are pseudonymous.
3. The message was presented in visions. I’ve already discussed this, and we have the Revelation as a perfect example. Also, look again at the illustrations in point 1 above. Visions were the chief means of expressing truth. They would vary from scenes in heaven to scenes on the earth. There is an abundance of messengers or angels who are God’s agents in securing the revelation to the seer. And we must not try to interpret these visions literally or to necessarily find specific historical events for each figure used.
4. Predictive. There is a predictive element to apocalyptic literature, but it’s general, not specific. Apocalypses deal with the character of events—good or evil—not the precise details. We must be very cautious in trying to apply specific historical events or people to the symbols of apocalyptic literature. This is done all the time by writers and, not surprisingly, there are hundreds of different ideas at to what a vision might specifically represent. And they are probably all wrong, because the vision dealt in general principles and not exact events. It’s especially difficult for us, who live far removed from the time of writing; those who lived at the time of the message would have had more of an idea of any particulars that might have been intended. But we do need to be familiar with the historical circumstances, at least in general, and seek to try to put ourselves in the shoes of those who first received the message.
5. A dramatic element. The author of the work tries to make the truths taught as vivid and forceful as possible. So there are often very grotesque and terrible symbols: rivers of blood, hailstones weighing 100 pounds, a dragon so large he knocks a third of the stars from the heavens with his tail, death riding on a horse, a woman with the moon as a dress and the sun as a footstool, animals with many heads and horns, a dragon, a beast, and a false prophet, each of whom vomits up a frog which joins in gathering an army. Some of these are found in the Revelation, and other places. But that’s the idea. Exaggerated symbols for the purpose of dramatic effect.
Once we get the nature of apocalyptic literature in mind, and realize that the book of Revelation is simply one example among many in ancient history, then we can have a better idea of what the book is about and avoid some of the egregious errors that have been made in interpreting it.
1. Historical significance. There will nearly always be some critical historical situation with which an apocalyptic book is connected. For example, Daniel and Ezekiel in Babylonian captivity. There is a work called The Book of IV Ezra, written in the late 1st century A.D. which laments the destruction of Jerusalem by “Babylon” (Rome). In this book, everything in nature is out of harmony: the sun appears at midnight, the moon will shine at noon, blood will seep from wood, stones will speak, etc. The Book of Baruch was also written in the late 1st century to comfort the Jews after Rome destroyed Jerusalem. One more book I’d like to mention is The Assumption of Moses, written in the 1st century A.D. as a protest against the diversion of Israel’s interests towards political affairs, and to encourage piety while awaiting God’s intervention and triumph. Ray Summers, in his excellent book, Worthy is the Lamb, discusses the language of The Assumption: “The descriptions of the events attending the end is characteristic of this type of Jewish literature [apocalyptic]. The Heavenly One will arise from his throne and he will go forth with indignation and wrath because of the wickedness of men. The earth shall tremble; the high mountains shall be made low, and the hills shall be shaken and fall. The sun shall be turned to darkness; the moon shall give no light but shall be turned wholly into blood. The stars shall be disturbed. The sea will retire into the abyss, and the rivers shall be dried up. The eternal God will appear to punish the Gentiles and destroy all their idols. Israel shall be happy when she looks upon her enemies in hell. She shall rejoice and give thanks to her Creator” (Worthy is the Lamb, p. 12). This is apocalyptic literature; do you see a comparison with the book of Revelation? John wrote within the context of Roman persecution. There is always some critical historical condition behind an apocalyptic book.
2. Generally, pseudonymous authors. Not always—John wrote the Revelation under his own name. However, The Book of Enoch, for example, wasn’t written by Enoch, nor was The Assumption of Moses written by that great man. The authors remain anonymous not for base reasons. They have admiration for the greatness of previous prophets, there is a need for personal safety, there was a desire to emulate prophetic messages in a time when prophecy had ceased. And there were other motives as well, I’m sure. So, for the most part, the apocalyptic works are pseudonymous.
3. The message was presented in visions. I’ve already discussed this, and we have the Revelation as a perfect example. Also, look again at the illustrations in point 1 above. Visions were the chief means of expressing truth. They would vary from scenes in heaven to scenes on the earth. There is an abundance of messengers or angels who are God’s agents in securing the revelation to the seer. And we must not try to interpret these visions literally or to necessarily find specific historical events for each figure used.
4. Predictive. There is a predictive element to apocalyptic literature, but it’s general, not specific. Apocalypses deal with the character of events—good or evil—not the precise details. We must be very cautious in trying to apply specific historical events or people to the symbols of apocalyptic literature. This is done all the time by writers and, not surprisingly, there are hundreds of different ideas at to what a vision might specifically represent. And they are probably all wrong, because the vision dealt in general principles and not exact events. It’s especially difficult for us, who live far removed from the time of writing; those who lived at the time of the message would have had more of an idea of any particulars that might have been intended. But we do need to be familiar with the historical circumstances, at least in general, and seek to try to put ourselves in the shoes of those who first received the message.
5. A dramatic element. The author of the work tries to make the truths taught as vivid and forceful as possible. So there are often very grotesque and terrible symbols: rivers of blood, hailstones weighing 100 pounds, a dragon so large he knocks a third of the stars from the heavens with his tail, death riding on a horse, a woman with the moon as a dress and the sun as a footstool, animals with many heads and horns, a dragon, a beast, and a false prophet, each of whom vomits up a frog which joins in gathering an army. Some of these are found in the Revelation, and other places. But that’s the idea. Exaggerated symbols for the purpose of dramatic effect.
Once we get the nature of apocalyptic literature in mind, and realize that the book of Revelation is simply one example among many in ancient history, then we can have a better idea of what the book is about and avoid some of the egregious errors that have been made in interpreting it.
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