I’m one who affirms hopefully that apocalyptic crises like the ones we’re in, especially in the United States, are always opportunities for steps forward in collective possibility and growth. But I also believe that God relies on us, always luring and inspiring us to bend the arc of the moral universe. We may choose lives that consider the impact of our decisions on the “seventh generation.” Or we may continue our current patriarchal, corporatist trajectory. The future is yet to unfold.
Archetypally, of course, we’ve been here before. Monsters and beasts in the form of empires and dictators have long threatened human life and the planet, and they’ve also long used religion as cover to do it. Revelation’s John of Patmos is one who glimpsed beyond the veil into sacred realities and told the tale. I’ve been on vacation and my personal experience of rest and relaxation feels incongruous with the seismic changes underway in the U.S. and the world. At the same time, I’m convinced the battle taking place is not only, or even primarily, in the realm of politics, but is within our interior lives.
The writer and activist adrienne marie brown understands the possibility of apocalyptic thinking, reflecting on something her mentor Grace Lee Boggs said:
“We must transform ourselves to transform the world,” which is taking me years to understand and embody. The way I think of it now is in the framework of the imagination battle: there is a war going on for the future—it is cultural, ideological, economic, and spiritual. And as in any war, there is a front line, a place where the action is urgent, where the battle will be won or lost. The world, the values of the world, are shaped by the choices each of us make. Which means my thinking, my actions, my relationships, and my life create a front line for the possibilities of the entire species. Each one of us is an individual practice ground for what the whole can or cannot do, will or will not do (emphasis mine).
The book of Revelation is all about the imagination battle that must take place for us to be transformed into whole-making people of love and justice. It is a visionary peek into what activist-scholar Ched Myers describes as a “war of myths,” a descriptive confrontation between the mythic power behind the injustices of our world and the larger life of God’s wholeness into which humanity is invited.
As usual, one of my contemplative practices is to pray and study with a short passage from the book of Revelation. Here’s what I worked with in June, from Revelation 9:13–21: destruction doesn’t work. Even God’s wrath burns out.
In John’s vision, chapter 9, God continues to be angry at the death-dealing imperial powers that oppress the poor and create suffering for marginalized people. (See this article on moving beyond God’s wrath). And as payback for dictatorial machinations, God responds in kind with divinely-ordered plagues and destruction that rains from heaven. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like God received Jesus’ memo that an eye for an eye leaves both people without an eye. But surprisingly enough, the plagues and punishments of Revelation do not work, even for God.
Here’s the biblical context, for those tracking: six out of seven angels are blowing their trumpets, and each time they do, some disaster strikes from heaven. It’s a sevenfold vision cycle of trumpet blasts following the previous sevenfold vision of seals being opened. After the first through five trumpets, plagues of hail and fire are unleashed, the sea becomes blood, and demonic locusts arise from the pit of the underworld.
After the sixth trumpet blows, yet another kind of beast emerges: countless cavalry ride monstrous horses that breathe fire, sulfur, and smoke for any that stand in their way. Roman cavalry at that time are used to deadly and shocking effect in battle, but John visions them as full-blown monsters. Revelation’s calvary is made up of horses akin to the Greek mythical Chimera, having lion’s heads and tails like serpents (that’s also a goat’s head there in the mythical image below). The vision is of such creatures amassed in an immeasurable army, spreading death and chaos. It’s an overwhelming image of warfare and destruction that, like locusts from the underworld, lends itself to our creative applications.
Image credit: “The Chimera of Arezzo,” Eric Parker, Creative Commons
But after this sixth trumpet and Chimera-cavalry attack, we read something astonishing.
We read that humanity “did not repent” (9:20). The rest of humankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent. . . —Revelation 9:20
It seems obvious, but I find this a fairly breathtaking admission from a notoriously difficult biblical text. The trumpet blasts, plagues, and woes do not change anything. The people do not repent. Violence, revenge, and uncontrolled anger do not, in the end, bring about the transformation that we—or even God—intend. They do not work. Instead, quoting Grace Lee Boggs, “we must transform ourselves to transform the world.” Which means resisting our tendency and desire to call down fire from heaven.
About halfway through Luke’s gospel (Luke 9:51–56), Jesus and his disciples are passing through Samaria on their way to Jerusalem. But for years, the Samaritans and Jews have been locked in a religious, cultural, and political war related to the proper place to worship God (in the Jerusalem temple or on Mount Gerizim). As expected, the Samaritans do not welcome Jesus and his nomadic band. But the disciples take their rejection as an affront and—mirroring all who think it’s God’s role to smite enemies—seek out divine punishment for the Samaritans’ offense. James and John turn to Jesus and ask, “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to destroy them?” And Jesus turns, rebukes them, and moves on to another village. In other words, wishing wrath-filled fire from heaven on adversaries, others, or just people we’re angry with is not what Jesus does. And, if we—as podcaster Tripp Fuller puts it—read the Bible with the assumption that God the Father-Mother is at least as nice as Jesus, well, God does not rain fire down on people, either.
We read the book of fire, Revelation, through the witness of the nonviolent and healing Jesus and, strangely, we find our fires being cooled.
Have a great month! I hope you all are finding some rest and renewal for the journeys of wholeness to which we are all called.
Apocalyptic culture corner: The new Jurassic World movie contains a terrifying vision of bio-engineered locusts. I’ll save the link this time, but google it for a scene worthy of Revelation.
P.S. How are you all holding up? I always welcome your thoughts, either via a comment or by “replying” to this email.
Interesting thoughts. I never considered this perspective. Thanks!
Thank you, Mark, for this piece. I was particularly taken with the idea that rather than berate ourselves for inaction in the face of the seemingly endless blows to our democratic ideals, we
need to transform ourselves, each in our own way. It will be fascinating to watch . We will do what we can.