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The Letters to the Seven Churches

With the seven letters that make up chapters 2 and 3 of the Revelation, one turns from the glories of the introductory materials—the salutation, doxology, opening vision of Christ, and commission of John—to the actual situation of the churches themselves. How much grander it would have been for John to have gone immediately from 1:20 to 4:1! But that would be to miss too much in terms of the point of the book, which was, after all, written to these seven specific churches. In the opening vision Christ appears as standing among them, and John’s commission to write to them was intended in part to do with “what is now” (1:19). In fact what is said here (chs. 2–3) helps to make sense both of the book as a whole and of the preceding commission to John in 1:19 in particular. Whatever else may be true of these individual letters, as a group they let his first readers in on one dimension of “what is”; namely the condition of the church(es), which fills John with concern.

Before one considers each church individually, however, it is important to note that all the believers who are to receive this document end up reading every one else’s mail, as it were—a sure indication that the individual Christian communities still did not think of themselves in isolated terms, but as all belonging to the same larger reality. This is obviously purposeful on John’s part, since these churches are related geographically and each needs to know how the Lord feels about the others. Thus, the living Christ—the One who walks in the midst of the lampstands—addresses each of the churches individually, but he also expects each to take heed to what he says to the others by way of the encouragements and warnings that follow. After all, each letter concludes with the words, “what the Spirit says to the churches.” This reality probably says something about the unity of the early church, which is basically unknown to the church(es) of later centuries.

The seven letters themselves tend to follow a similar pattern, although some items found in the first letter are missing here and there in the letters that follow. First up always is Christ himself, who is consistently presented with the introductory “these are the words of . . .” The depiction of Christ that follows then picks up some dimension of the imagery from 1:12–16. This is then followed by words of praise and/or censure for the church itself. These in turn are followed by words of warning (sometimes followed by further praise), with a concluding word of admonition (the one consistent element in all of the letters) and/or final promise. When one gets to the letter to Sardis (3:1–6) the more universal nature of all the letters becomes obvious, since the concluding promise to the “overcomers” reads, “those who are victorious will, like them, be dressed in white.” The “like them” picks up the immediately preceding promise to the faithful in Sardis, who “will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy.” The clear implication is that the promise made to the Sardinian believers will also be true of the “victorious” believers in all the churches, and thus to all those who are reading everyone else’s mail.

To the Church in Ephesus (2:1–7)

1“To the angel1 of the church in Ephesus write:

These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks among the seven golden lampstands: 2I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. 3You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.

4Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. 5Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. 6But you have this in your favor: You hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate.

7Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To those who are victorious, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.

Without breaking stride, Christ continues speaking to John by commanding him to write to the angel of the church in Ephesus. But this first word appearing in the address to the churches is also the one that has caused considerable difficulty for later interpreters, not to mention readers. As previously noted, in each case the letter is addressed to the angelos of the church. Among the many interpretations of this word (“pastor,” “bishop,” “angel,” or some other kind of special messenger), the most likely one is that adopted by the translators of the NIV, who render it literally with “to the angel,” while footnoting the option “messenger.” The reason for going this route seems quite simple, and is related to the apocalyptic genre itself. Nowhere in these documents are “angels” thought of as anything other than angels. What John appears to do, therefore, is to keep the apocalyptic genre alive by the use of this word, since what follows in each case is the least apocalyptic material in the entire document. Most likely it is John’s need to address the seven churches in a basically straightforward manner, accompanied by his desire to keep intact the apocalyptic nature of the book as a whole, that has brought about this unusual way of speaking to the seven churches. After all, angels reappear throughout the book as presenting or carrying out the divine plan. Even so, throughout John’s entire vision angels are consistently placed in a secondary position to Christ (on which matter, cf. Hebrews 1:5–14).

A contemporary visitor to the site of the ruins of Ephesus can only be amazed to learn that in John’s day the city was located on the coastline itself, since its harbor has long been silted by years of flow from the Cayster River, so that its ruins are now some miles inland. But in John’s day it was the foremost city of the Roman province of Asia, the flower of Asia if you will, and one of the leading cities in the entire Mediterranean world. An important commercial center, it thus became a haven for a large number of diaspora Jews, many of whom had also secured citizenship. Moreover, it was also both a religious tourist site (home of the famous temple of Artemis) and one of the well-known places of asylum (like the Old Testament “cities of refuge”). It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the church in Ephesus holds pride of place among the seven churches. Furthermore, even though its failure (traditionally, “you have forsaken your first love”) is perhaps the best known of all, it is also the church that is given some of the most lavish commendation.

As with each of the letters, this one begins with the phrase these are the words of him who, which is then followed by a descriptor, taken in most cases from some part of the preceding imagery of Christ in 1:13–16. In this first instance Christ is presented by a combination of language from 1:16 (him who holds the seven stars in his right hand) and 1:13 (and walks among the seven golden lampstands), which would appear to be the most basic way Christ could be described when using terms from the preceding vision. The “seven angels” are thus under Christ’s own absolute authority (in his right hand); and he himself is present among the churches to whom he now has John write on his behalf.

This is followed immediately by a considerable expression of praise for the church, praise that has three dimensions to it, all of which in the Greek text are introduced by the main verb I know. The first thing Christ knows, and thus reveals about them, is a more general depiction of praise, expressed in three basic parts (in what evolves into a considerably convoluted sentence2). First, he commends them for their deeds,3 which as a plural is probably to be understood as the general (catch-all) term. This is then spelled out as having two dimensions to it: your hard work and your perseverance. “Work” in this case most likely refers to every form of labor that directly involves ministry (= service to others) of any kind, while “perseverance” means that they have not flagged in doing so.

At least that is what John himself seems to intend when he spells out their “deeds” in a second clause that is dependent on the main verb, “I know.” When elaborated with a bit of detail, their “work” in this case basically has to do with rejecting false teachers. That is, the Lord’s primary concern, and thus John’s ultimate concern, is with the gospel as such, which in the Johannine corpus refers not simply to its theological content, but also to the way people live in the world on the basis of that content. Thus, when the “deeds” for which they are commended are elaborated, they have to do with contending for the truth of the gospel over against some believers who have gotten off track vis-à-vis its truth.

First up, then, is the fact that you cannot tolerate wicked people, a clause that must be kept in context or else it can become a kind of club that the “righteous” might use in contending with the “unrighteous.” These people’s wickedness has altogether to do with their claim to be apostles but are not. At stake for John at this point in time is the truth of the gospel over against those who would twist it into a “gospel” of their own making. But at issue for later readers is the ambiguous word “false,” as to whether it refers to the self-designated “apostles” or whether it refers to their teaching as such. Probably it is a bit of both; that is, they are “false” apostles precisely because they are offering a “false” gospel, and that is what makes them “wicked.” Nineteen centuries later one can only speculate as to the nature of the falsehood they are putting forward, but in light of John’s Gospel and his First Epistle we are probably to understand this false teaching as some kind of doceticism, with its denial of the goodness of the material world in general, and of the human body in particular. How such people had been tested and found . . . false cannot be known with precision from this distance in time, but the emphasis in both the Gospel and First Epistle on Christ’s having come “in the flesh” suggests that inherent to their “gospel” was a denial of the genuine physical reality of Christ’s incarnation.

The final clause in Christ’s opening commendation to this church comes in the form of the three Greek words that the NIV translators have rendered persevered / endured hardships / not grown weary. This sounds very much like John is writing to a church under siege, and while it is common for us at our distance to think of these believers as very near the source, as it were, in fact they are most likely at least a full generation, if not two, removed from the first believers in this part of the Roman Empire. That is, if these churches were founded in the 50s, as seems most likely, their present membership would be composed of only a few who were there from their beginnings. Thus it is not difficult for persons in their seventies to hear these words in light of their many years of service to our Lord, who have “stayed with the stuff” as it were and have “not grown weary,” even though there might have been every good reason for them to have done so.

Given this kind of commendation, one is then not quite prepared for the critique and call for repentance that follow, a critique that is easy enough to understand in terms of its meaning as such (the love you had at first), but is less so in terms of the object of their love. Was John referring to their love for Christ, or for one another and others? Although the scholarly house is rather evenly divided on this matter, one wonders whether John was not purposefully ambiguous, considering that in his understanding of things (in the Gospel and First John) love for Christ and love for his people are so closely interrelated. Although there are no specifics as to how this failure might have expressed itself in Ephesus, the clue is most likely to be found in the following admonition that they repent and do the things you did at first. The reason this failure calls for repentance is found in John’s Gospel: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (13:35). Their failure at this key point means that the gospel as good news for sinners can no longer be heard for the good news that it is. Thus the call for repentance, and the threat that follows.

The significance of this failure in terms of Johannine Christianity4 is to be found in the admonition, consider how far you have fallen!, which is followed by a warning that at the same time keeps the imagery intact: If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. This particular warning has created no end of trouble for later believers, who for the most part perceive the punishment to far exceed the crime. But that says more about us than it does about the author of the Johannine literature, since he perceived the whole of the Christian faith to be a matter of experiencing God’s love for us through Christ and then returning that love to him by loving others. From his perspective, to fail at this point is to fail exceedingly—if not altogether—which is why for him the “punishment” is precisely in keeping with the “crime.” And “love” for John is not simply a matter of attitude toward others; the only love worthy of the name from his perspective lies in their doing the things you did at first. Thus the only correct response to their current failure is to “repent.”

The tension John feels for this church, a church with which tradition tells us he had a long and enduring relationship, is to be found in a second word of praise (a phenomenon unique to this letter). Thus, as though loathe to let the last word to them be one of censure and warning, he adds, But you have this in your favor: You hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. With this word our own later understanding of the passage begins to grow dim, since apart from the further reference to them in 2:15 (regarding Pergamum) there is no other known mention of the “Nicolaitans” in ancient literature. This leaves room, of course, for a large number of guesses; but the only one that borders on certainty is that these people were followers of a man named Nicolaus. But who he was, and what he taught, simply cannot be known from our distance, and speculation here is ultimately useless. What we know for sure is that Christ “hates” their “practices” (v. 6) and their “teaching” (2:15), which for John are always related realities.

This second word of praise for the Ephesian church is then followed by the admonition, which is repeated in identical form at the end of each of the seven letters: Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. Two matters need to be noted. First, whether intentionally so or not, John’s Trinitarian understanding of God emerges here as assumption and without reflection. The lead-in to these letters at the end of chapter 1 makes it clear that the living Christ is the one who is speaking these words to the churches, words which God the Father gave him (1:1); now we learn that Christ’s way of doing so is by means of the Spirit. Nothing profound is intended by this; almost certainly it simply betrays John’s theological perspective without his trying to do so. Second, and to repeat an obvious point made at the outset, here is the further evidence that John intends each of the churches to hear what the living Christ by his Spirit has to say to each of the others.

John concludes each of these letters with a promise that is addressed to those who are victorious,5 language that assumes that at least one way of perceiving Christian life is that of continuous warfare, presumably in the ultimate battle of life against Satan and his minions. The promise in this first instance takes the reader back, apparently deliberately, to the beginning point of all human life—the garden of Eden. Thus the first promise to the “victors” in the book serves along with the imagery in 22:26 to bookend the entire narrative of John’s Apocalypse, and in the latter occurrence to bookend the entire Christian Bible. Thus what Adam and Eve were forbidden to do because of their failure to obey, God’s redeemed people will experience as a restored Eden, where they are now allowed to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God. It is difficult to imagine a more striking and powerful imagery than this one, with which John sets the tone for what he understood as the ultimate concern of his Revelation. And again, even though this is addressed to the believers in Ephesus, by the very nature of the book it is equally intended for the others who were to read it.

To the Church in Smyrna (2:8–11)

8“To the angel of the church in Smyrna write:

These are the words of him who is the First and the Last, who died and came to life again. 9I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich! I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan. 10Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer. I tell you, the devil will put some of you in prison to test you, and you will suffer persecution for ten days. Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor’s crown.

11Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. Those who are victorious will not be hurt at all by the second death.

John’s second letter is directed to the church in Smyrna, a city about fifty miles north of Ephesus at the head of a deep gulf, and therefore with an excellent harbor. In wealth, commercial importance, and splendor, it was one of the foremost cities of Asia Minor. A temple in honor of the emperor Tiberius had been granted the city in 20 CE; hence it had also become a leading site for emperor worship. The origin of the church itself is unknown, but is probably related to Paul’s mission to Ephesus on one of his several stays there. The church in Smyrna is better known to us in the years just beyond John’s time, through the letters of Ignatius of Antioch. On his way to Rome for martyrdom Ignatius had stopped for a short stay in Smyrna, where he also wrote four of his seven preserved letters. The letter he wrote back to the church in Smyrna and to Polycarp, its “bishop,”7 when he traveled further north to Troas, on the same western end of Anatolia (present-day Turkey), serves as the basic source of what little later information we have.

Turning to the present text, as with each of the letters, this one begins with these are the words of him (Christ), who in this case is described by a combination of two phrases taken from the Lord’s own words in 1:17–18. He is the First and the Last, which as noted regarding this phrase in 1:17, is language borrowed from Yahweh’s self-identification in Isaiah 44:6. Thus Christ is presented first of all as the Eternal One, to which is added the most significant event of his incarnation—who died and came to life again. The significance of these appellations for this church can be found in the content of the letter itself, since whatever else a suffering church may need to hear, at the heart of things is the reality of Christ’s resurrection. Indeed it is content such as this that drove the leaders of the early church (the church fathers) to wrestle theologically with this core reality of the Christian faith—that the Eternal One, without beginning or ending, becomes the Incarnate One, who in his incarnation experienced our singular reality of death, but who through his resurrection guaranteed our own future.

In one of the two instances (see Pergamum below) where Christ’s “knowing” the church is not expressed in terms of “your deeds,” his knowledge of the Smyrnan believers is threefold, all of which give expression to the hardship they are currently experiencing because of their faith in him. Thus Christ begins with two words about their suffering: I know your afflictions and your poverty. The Greek word rendered “afflictions” is actually in the singular, and is the basic New Testament word for trials and afflictions of all kinds—although it is of interest that it occurs only three times in the Revelation (here and in vv. 10 and 22). The believers’ “affliction” in this case includes “your poverty,” which is probably related to their being followers of Christ in an intensely proud pagan city, where such anti-idolatrous outsiders as these would be scarcely tolerated. But the living Christ immediately reminds them that their poverty is only of one kind, having to do with material well-being in the present world. In the real world, the one where Christ alone is Lord, their wealthy fellow townspeople are the truly impoverished, as he reminds the believers themselves, yet you are rich!

The third item in the list of Christ’s “knowing” these suffering believers8 has to do with the verbal abuse (slander) they have experienced, especially from the (apparently) privileged Jewish community in their city. Since John is himself a Jew, and given that his fellow Jews do not fare well in his Gospel either, his language regarding them here is especially strong—but not anti-Semitic, as some of his detractors would claim. From the perspective of Christ, crucified and risen, those who belong to the same Jewish worldview that rejected Christ historically are not true Jews; rather they are now to be understood as those who say they are Jews and are not. That much is easy enough to handle; the more difficult clause is the concluding one: but are a synagogue of Satan.9 Although this pronouncement sounds especially harsh when heard by modern ears, it is not intended by John to be derogatory, but to represent the present reality in Smyrna. What seems certain from John’s sentence is that the Jewish community had taken the lead in whatever had happened to bring about the believers’ “afflictions and . . . poverty.” This is anti-Semitic only to those who read the Gospel accounts of Jesus and his disciples, themselves Jews, in a presuppositional way.

The risen Christ’s response to those who are about to suffer for him in Smyrna is not especially encouraging in itself, as the next two sentences make plain. First, he enjoins them, do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer, thus making clear that their suffering was both an inevitable and immediate result of their being followers of the Crucified One. Second, he spells out the nature of their on-the-horizon suffering: the devil will put some of you in prison to test you, language that is full of theological grist, even as it spells out the harsh realities of what awaits these particular believers. Not one to yell “devil” (as in “the devil made me do it”) at every occurrence of evil, John nevertheless recognizes that lying behind the evil that persists in Smyrna is “our ancient foe, who seeks to work us woe.” The nature of the persecution will be imprisonment, whatever that would have meant at that time in such a city; but its ultimate purpose from the divine perspective was to serve as a means “to test you.” That it is said this persecution will last for ten days is to be understood as indicating that it would be for a limited time only.

That the threat was a real one, full of imminent danger, is made certain by the final admonition: Be faithful, even to the point of death. As we know from the letters of both Ignatius and Polycarp, these were not idle warnings for the Smyrnan believers. Already toward the end of the first Christian century John recognized that the warnings of Jesus regarding his disciples were moving toward their fulfillment in this sector of the Empire in the province of Asia. While this is easy for us to see from hindsight, John was “in the Spirit” (1:10), which made it possible for him to see with foresight. So the Lord urges faithfulness on them, because the ultimate result of such faithfulness comes from him: I will give you life as your victor’s crown—thus reflecting the warfare imagery that permeates the whole of the Revelation. From one perspective this might seem like a strange thing to say to those who were currently alive, but in fact it is written from the perspective of what was about to happen to them. And since Christ had identified himself as the one “who died and came to life again,” their “victor’s crown” was his to give!

The letter then concludes with the same admonition found in the preceding letter, and in all the subsequent ones: Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. Also as before, the final promise is expressed in language appropriate to the content of the letter itself. As always, those who are victorious is a reference to God’s people, now based on Christ’s triumph noted at the outset (“who died and came to life again”). In this case they are promised they will not be hurt at all by the second death, a reference to the eschatological future of those who have rejected Christ, which is spelled out in plain terms in 20:14 (“the lake of fire is the second death”). As always in this book, this is a promise intended for all its readers who remain faithful to Christ.

To the Church in Pergamum (2:12–17)

12“To the angel of the church in Pergamum write:

These are the words of him who has the sharp, double-edged sword. 13I know where you live—where Satan has his throne. Yet you remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in me, even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in your city—where Satan lives.

14Nevertheless, I have a few things against you: There are some among you who hold to the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin so that they ate food sacrificed to idols and committed sexual immorality. 15Likewise, you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans. 16Repent therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth.

17Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To those who are victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give each of them a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.

By John’s time Pergamum had been a city of considerable importance for at least the four preceding centuries. Perched atop a considerable acropolis twelve miles inland from the Aegean Sea, it served as the seat of the Attalid empire, whose kings were major players in the events of Asia Minor during the latter period of the Hellenistic empire and on into the Roman. Its last Attalid kings had bequeathed their city to Rome, who made it their seat of government for the province of Asia (although this was always being contested by Ephesus). A temple to the imperial cult was built in 29 BCE in honor of Rome and Caesar Augustus; eventually, shortly after John’s time, a splendid temple to Trajan had been constructed, thus ensuring the ongoing worship of the emperor. Before that the city already had significant temples dedicated to Zeus, Athena, Dionysius, and Asclepius; the temple of the latter, being the “god of healing,” was a special attraction, vying in importance with the Ascelpion in Corinth.

In this, the second of only two of the letters where Christ’s words do not begin with “I know your deeds,” what is expressed rather is I know where you live. In his description of Pergamum John uses language (twice in v. 13) to emphasize its satanic nature: where Satan has his throne and your city where Satan lives. These appellations seem to be intentionally related to one or more of the phenomena noted above, referring either to the temple of Zeus with its imposing altar-platform (still an imposing sight even in ruins), or to its being a conspicuous seat of pagan worship, or to the worship of Asclepius whose symbol was a serpent, or to the prominence of emperor worship. Although I lean toward the latter, it may well be that John’s appellation was simply a way of emphasizing the accumulative affect of these pagan realities. Nor is it surprising that for the church in this city John picks up imagery from chapter 1, to the effect that what follows are the words of him who has the sharp, double-edged sword, words that are intended not to threaten, but to encourage the believers in this ultra-pagan setting.

The opening sentence (all of v. 13) is one of the more convoluted in the entire book, and has rightly been broken up in the NIV into something more manageable in English. Furthermore, as with Smyrna, John does not begin with an acknowledgement of their “deeds,” but with the fact that you remain true to my name, despite the onslaught of paganism that surrounded them at every turn.10 But it was not that onslaught John had in mind, but the fact that persecution in Pergamum had already resulted in one of the earliest known martyrdoms in Christian history, that of Antipas, my faithful witness,11 who was put to death in your city. The believers there would thus have had good reason, humanly speaking, to renounce your faith in me; that they did not do so is what stands center stage in this strong commendation of them. Here are followers of the Crucified One who have learned from experience that discipleship in his name could mean death at the hands of the Empire, just as Christ himself had experienced. And all of this because they live where Satan lives, John’s now-Christian epithet for a city where Christian blood is first known to have been spilt.

Nevertheless, despite these warm affirmations, the risen Christ had a few things to say against you. The “few things” in this case turn out to be two, both of which have to do with some among you who hold to two different forms of false teaching, both of which, since they are noted only here in ancient literature, are otherwise not known to us with any degree of certainty (although there has been a long history of guesses). The first of these is referred to as the teaching of Balaam, a reference from Numbers 25:1–2 to the Israelite men who had sexual relations with the Moabite women, who “invited them to the sacrifices of their gods,” where they “ate the sacrificial meal and bowed down before these gods.” This matter will occur again in the Lord’s strong denunciations against the church in Thyatira, where it receives more detailed condemnation. The best guess regarding the present situation would seem to be that some believers in Christ were wanting to have it both ways—to be followers of Christ with an occasional visit to the pagan meals.

Christ’s second judgment against this church comes in verse 15: Likewise, and now in considerable contrast to the believers in Ephesus, you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans. As noted above (on 2:6), what this might refer to specifically is no longer known to us. What is significant for the first readers of this document is that two churches in the same general geographical area took quite opposite stances with regard to this false teaching. In Ephesus the believers are praised for rejecting “the teaching of the Nicolaitans”; those here are censured because they “also have those [among them] who hold to” this false teaching. And since this appears in a sentence that indicates that some of them likewise hold to this false teaching, it almost certainly is not to be understood as including the two sins already censured, idolatry and sexual immorality.

In keeping with the warning in the first letter (to Ephesus), but not found in the second (to Smyrna), the risen Christ calls on the church in Pergamum to repent therefore, which is the only hope for survival that the church would have had. But whereas the former threat was the removal of “your lampstand from its place”—severe punishment indeed!—in this second instance failure to repent means that otherwise, I will come to you and will fight against them. Here in particular one should note the change in pronouns, from “you” to “them.” This is not a battle against the whole church, although they are indeed to repent for letting this false teaching exist among them, but warfare carried on specifically “against them,” the purveyors of and adherents to this false teaching. The means by which the risen Christ will do battle against them is with the sword of my mouth, thus indicating that the sword in the original picture (1:16) is intended for battle, not simply for defense. All of this is imagery, of course, but it is difficult to escape its very strong implications, that Christ intends to purify his church and will personally do battle against those who would pervert his pure gospel into something else.

Following the call to hear what the Spirit says to the churches, which is common to each of the letters, in this instance the promise to those who are victorious (note again the battle imagery) is full of mystery for later readers. First, the promise is that I will give them some of the hidden manna. The allusion to manna is clear enough—having to do with divine provision for God’s pilgrim people—but what was intended by calling it “hidden” is simply not known to us, although it has opened the door to all manner of speculation! The implication is most likely eschatological; that is, it is a metaphor for the divine provision that awaits all those who are Christ’s. As with the long discourse in John 6, and looking toward the future, this imagery seems intended to point to the final great eschatological feast provided for God’s redeemed people, later called the “marriage supper of the lamb” (Rev 19:6–9). It almost certainly is intended also to stand in stark contrast to meals eaten in the pagan temples in honor of false gods.

Second, the promise is that I will also give each of them a white stone. This curious clause is most likely intended to be multivalent imagery, since there are at least three known possibilities from the ancient world that may lie behind it. Its first referent is most likely to the description of the manna in Exodus 16:31, where we learn that “it was white like coriander seed.” This seems to be the most likely first referent in the present case. But if one couples this reference with two other data from the period then this language can be shown to make a great deal of sense. On the one hand, there is good evidence that jury verdicts from this period produced a black stone if the accused was found guilty, but a white stone if acquitted. At the same time, on the other hand, there is some evidence that white stones were used to gain admission to public festivals. If one were to combine this evidence, then the “hidden manna” they are to receive at the Eschaton, vis-à-vis their refusal to participate in the local pagan festivals, represents their form of admission to the final festive meal that believers are to experience at the “marriage supper of the Lamb.”

In any case, these promises are all to be understood as eschatological, and the new name written on each individual white stone, which is known only to the one who receives it, seems to anticipate the further promise in 3:12 (cf. 22:3–4) that Christ’s own name will be written on the foreheads of the redeemed. For now each has his or her own “new name,” known only to the individual believer. In a cultural context where naming carried a great deal more significance than it does in most Western cultures (the exceptions are when people are named after someone of importance to the family involved), this eschatological promise is an important reminder that Christ knows his own and gives them their new name. In John’s day, and for a church that had already known a degree of persecution, this was surely intended to be a means of considerable encouragement.

To the Church in Thyatira (2:18–29)

18“To the angel of the church in Thyatira write:

These are the words of the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze. 19I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first.

20Nevertheless, I have this against you: You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophet. By her teaching she misleads my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols. 21I have given her time to repent of her immorality, but she is unwilling. 22So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely, unless they repent of her ways. 23I will strike her children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds. 24Now I say to the rest of you in Thyatira, to you who do not hold to her teaching and have not learned Satan’s so-called deep secrets, ‘I will not impose any other burden on you, 25except to hold on to what you have until I come.’

26To those who are victorious and do my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations—27they ‘will rule them with an iron scepter and will dash them to pieces like pottery’12—just as I have received authority from my Father. 28I will also give them the morning star. 29Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

Although Thyatira was probably the least significant of the seven cities/towns to which John wrote, the letter they received is the longest of the seven. The town itself was founded as a military outpost by the Attalid rulers of Pergamum, lying about fifty miles on its southeastern flank. By the time of John, however, it had become a town of trades and crafts, especially well known for its purple dye industry and its fine bronze. Significant for understanding the present letter is the fact that all such trades had guilds, which were very close-knit clubs—a kind of local union—that served as the primary social structure for the artisans and their families. Each of these guilds had their patron deities, and the primary social events among the guilds were the festive meals, where food was served in a context where it had been sacrificed to the patron deity. Very often these meals became an occasion for sexual immorality to flourish, where “girls” were made available at the male-only meals.

These kinds of religious practices had a long history before they flourished in Thyatira and elsewhere in the Roman Empire. One encounters them for the first time in Scripture when Israel sinned in the incident of the golden calf, where the primary expression of their idolatry did not involve direct worship of the calf, but as the biblical text narrates it, “they sat down to eat and drink and got up to indulge in revelry” (Exodus 32:6). This same thing happened again in Moab, where we are told that “the men began to indulge in sexual immorality with Moabite women, [and] the people ate the sacrificial meal and bowed down before these gods” (Numbers 25:1–2).13 This is the same issue Paul dealt with in 1 Corinthians 8–10, where in 10:7–8 he alludes to both of these Old Testament texts. It was the perfect religion for the sexually indulgent; create gods who were lustful and sexually promiscuous, and then worship the gods that have been created in our own fallen image. It unfortunately re-emerges from time to time, sometimes even within an alleged Christian venue.

God’s own attitude toward such sin—the reality in which we most strikingly share the divine image (the creation of another human being in our own image)—is among the strongest of the seven letters. John begins by reminding his readers that Christ is none other than the Son of God, whose depiction in this case picks up from 1:14b–15a the side-by-side images regarding his eyes and feet: whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze. Thus the living Christ has eyes that will penetrate to the heart of the false worship that is being promoted in Thyatira, and feet that “will strike [Jezebel’s] children dead.”

Even so, the Lord himself does not begin there, but with a return to the phrase that appears in the first letter, and will recur in the following three: I know your deeds. As with Ephesus, this turns out to be a considerable commendation. First, they are recognized for their love and faith, a striking reversal of the normal—and thus expected—order of these two virtues. The apparent reason for this is found in what comes next, where your service and perseverance appear intentionally to correspond to the two virtues—their love had led to service and their faith to perseverance. The third commendation, that you are now doing more than you did at first, is somewhat ambiguous from our distance; most likely the “doing more” is related to their “love,” which has produced their “service.”

This opening commendation, therefore, leaves one quite unprepared to hear14 next, Nevertheless, I have this against you. The reason such commendation could be forthcoming in light of what follows lies with the verb you tolerate. Thus what emerges next is not the strong condemnation of a church that has capitulated to false teaching; rather it has allowed such teaching to go on unchecked. The imagery in this case is especially striking and therefore powerful. The woman responsible for promoting the false teaching styles herself a prophet, so that she misleads [apparently some, but not all of] my servants. What they are being misled to believe is that one can follow Christ and at the same time engage in some of the pagan practices as well. Most likely this would have been done for the sake of accommodation, so that one could be a part of the believing community in Thyatira without losing one’s friends and (especially) one’s position in the trade guilds. The argument in this case could apparently be made quite persuasively: one is merely eating, not worshiping the god in whose honor the meal is being eaten. And as for sexual immorality, this is biblical language altogether; very few in the Greco-Roman world ever have considered sexual relationships outside of the marriage bond (at least with temple prostitutes) to be a form of wrongdoing.

Christ’s response to “Jezebel” and her false teaching has several dimensions to it. First, he tried to rescue the woman herself: I have given her time to repent of her immorality. This suggests that the present letter is not the first time Christ has tried to deal with her. But as with most such false teachings, repentance is neither sought nor wanted; thus she is unwilling. As a way of catching her attention, Christ intends to bring her low by physical suffering. What follows, therefore, is to be understood as a warning—both for the false prophet herself and for those who would pay her any attention. The first step will be to cast her on a bed of suffering, which will also be extended to those who have chosen to follow her: I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely as well, but only if they do not repent of her ways. Very likely the phrase “cast her on a bed” is intended as irony: her “bed” as the place of harlotry is now a place of illness, since she is playing the role of a harlot with regard to the truth.

The second step in her judgment, I will strike her children dead, is one of the more puzzling moments in the book, as to whether, or to what degree, this language is to be understood literally or figuratively. The first dimension of the puzzle lies with the words “her children.” Does this refer to literal physical children of Jezebel herself, where the implication is that she is the wife of someone in the community? Or is it an allusion to her “spiritual children,” those who have become so by being persuaded by her palaver? Although one cannot be sure, in light of the concerns of the letter and of the whole book, the latter seems to be the more likely. It is not personal vindictiveness against the woman’s own offspring that concerns Christ, but the necessity to bring an end to those who have become her spiritual offspring.

The second part of the puzzle lies with the verb “strike dead.” Again, is this intended to be a literal judgment on them for allowing themselves to be duped by foolishness? Or does this refer to the final outcome of their suffering if they do not repent and thus come to their senses? The answer in this case is much more difficult to determine, but all things considered in the context of the Revelation as a whole, it would seem most likely to refer to more immediate “death,” which at the same time would leave them without any hope of a future with Christ and his people. After all, how could the next sentence have meaning for the rest, if this were not so?

In any case, the goal of this judgment on Jezebel and her children is that all the churches will know (clear evidence that the letters are intended for all to read) two realities about the risen Christ. First, he is the one who searches hearts and minds. One can scarcely miss the very high Christology that is assumed by this declaration on the part of our Lord. Whatever else Israel understood about their God, they knew that ultimately it was not just the creation of the physical world, nor the fact that he could see what people did, that made Yahweh unlike the gods of the surrounding peoples. Rather, one of the major things that set Yahweh apart from others was the fact that Israel’s God saw into people’s hearts, and thus understood their thinking and deepest motives. Thus the psalmist cried out, “search me . . . and know my heart” (Psalm 139:23), and through Jeremiah Yahweh himself spoke to his people, “I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind” (Jeremiah 17:10). Thus in the present context, the judgments to be meted out on “Jezebel” and her “children” will mean that “all the churches” will know that Christ himself assumes this highest of divine characteristics.

Moreover, and precisely because Christ can “search the hearts and minds,” he will repay each of you according to your deeds. One should not miss the sudden change of personal pronouns at this point in the letter. What began as “unless they repent of her ways” is then followed with “all the churches will know,” which in turn is followed by “I will repay each of you according to your deeds.” Thus, whether intended so by John or not, lying at the center of the letters to the seven churches is this word of both comfort and warning to them all. Now the appellation at the beginning of the letter, “the words of the Son of God,” also makes good sense. The one speaking these words to the believers in Thyatira is at the same time speaking them to all the churches, and thus through John to all the subsequent readers of this document. So also while it is true that this clause comes at the end of the section of admonition, it further serves as the appropriate lead-in to the words of encouragement that follow.

To this point John’s concern has been with the influence of “Jezebel” on this community as a whole, and the description has been all about her, both her false teaching and the Lord’s judgment on her; and all of this for the sake of “all the churches.” But with verse 24 the living Christ addresses the rest of you in Thyatira by way of admonition; and quite in keeping with the concerns of the letter, “the rest” are described in terms over against Jezebel herself. Thus you do not hold to her teaching and have not learned Satan’s so-called deep secrets. This latter phrase comes unexpectedly to the reader, since nothing that has preceded would indicate that her teaching is either related to Satan or is full of “deep secrets.” In fact, the NIV has simply tried to make good sense in English of a phrase in Greek that literally says, “who have not known the depths of Satan, as they call it.” A straightforward reading of this clause suggests that Jezebel and her followers are themselves responsible for calling their “deep secrets” the “depths of Satan,” whatever that might mean. Scholarly guesses, of course, have been long forthcoming; but in fact no one from this distance can be sure of either the what or the why of this teaching, or of the intent that lay behind calling it by this name. Very likely she was promoting her own teaching as “the deep things of God,” whereas reality is that she was teaching the deep things of Satan. Another credible option is that, very much like the church in Corinth, she had argued that since an idol has no reality as such, one can enter the deep places of Satan himself without fearing harm. In any case, what is certain is that John, through revelation from Christ, recognizes her teaching as an abomination, while many of the believers in Thyatira seem obviously not to have done so.

It is of interest that the preceding appellation regarding “Satan’s so-called deep secrets” actually lies at the heart of Christ’s commendation “to the rest of you in Thyatira,” which basically says to them, first, that they are doing well, and second, urges them to persist in so doing “until I come.” What they receive, therefore, is an admonition preceded by a promise: I will not impose any other burden on you, except to hold on to what you have until I come. To readers at a later time in history this seems to be a most unusual way of putting it, where the concern is simply that they remain faithful to Christ until the end. The implication of the language on its own would seem to be that following Christ already has a dimension of “burden” to it, to which nothing further will be added. More likely, however, what is expressed in this somewhat negative way is ultimately intended quite positively. There is no “burden” to be seen in their not being able to indulge in eating idol food and engaging in sexually irresponsible behavior in the context of pagan deities. Rather, even though this prohibition might be understood as burdensome by some in that cultural setting, the Lord’s real concern lies with what they are to do rather than to flirt with Jezebel and her teaching. They are simply “to hold on to what [they] have,” and to do so until the coming of Christ himself. Simple obedience is not burdensome, whereas trying to finesse Christian teaching so as to make it fit with one’s own desires can be thoroughly so.15

In the concluding paragraph, and for reasons that are not at all clear, a subtle change in the order of things takes place, which is also maintained in the following three letters. Thus the admonition, Whoever has ears, let them hear, which occurs at this point in the first three letters, now appears at the end. What these believers receive, rather, is a lavish promise, made to those who—in keeping with what is said to the other churches—are victorious, which in this case is elaborated with the addition of do my will to the end. That is, being “victorious” in John’s understanding lies with doing Christ’s will on a continuing basis. The promise is expressed altogether in biblical terms: I will give the “victorious” authority over the nations, which is then elaborated, they will rule them with an iron scepter and will dash them to pieces like pottery. This language is taken directly from the Septuagint of Psalm 2:8–9. The first promise echoes 2:8, where David is told by Yahweh to “ask of me” and “I will give you the nations for your inheritance.” Although on its own one might question whether John had this passage in mind, what is said next makes it certain, since it is a nearly direct citation of verse 2:9.

The significance of this citation lies with the fact that this psalm, placed at the beginning of the Davidic psalter, was understood by early Christians to find its fulfillment in Christ (see, e.g., Acts 13:33 and Matt 3:17). Thus the implication of the promise is that these believers would be participating with Christ in the final judgment of the nations (see Luke 22:28–30 and 1 Corinthians 6:2; cf. also Rev. 12:5). It is this reality that lies behind the addition, just as I have received authority from my Father, which again in its own way reflects a Christian understanding of Psalm 2.

But that is not all. Christ will also give them the morning star. Here is yet another obscure image for those of us reading the document at a much later time. The term first occurs in an especially obscure passage in Isaiah 14:12, where it most likely refers to the fallen king of Babylon, and thus has a negative referent. But the present usage is altogether positive, and in 22:16 below Christ himself is called “the bright Morning Star.” Thus perhaps what John understood this to mean was that the victors will be given eschatological glory, which they will share with Christ himself. Or perhaps this is a somewhat obtuse way of indicating that they will receive Christ himself (= be eternally in his presence) as the ultimate prize of their victory.

To the Church in Sardis (3:1–6)

1“To the angel16 of the church in Sardis write:

These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits17 of God and the seven stars. I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. 2Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. 3Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.

4Yet you have a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes. They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy. 5Those who are victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out their names from the book of life, but will acknowledge their names before my Father and his angels. 6Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

Of the seven cities to whose churches these letters are written, Sardis easily outstrips the others in terms of its antiquity and well-known history. Its most famous king, the sixth-century Croesus, became legendary for his wealth. Indeed, in some ways the city of John’s time had everything: choice location, climate, economy, wealth, and culture. But the city also presents us with an interesting paradox, since its history and significance were both real and illusory.

On the one hand, its history went way back, as far as—or further than—ancient Troy to the north. Its location determined everything. It was situated fifty miles east-northeast of Ephesus, positioned on a huge promontory that jutted out from a mountain range at the south end of a large and very fertile valley. There it sat 1500 feet above the floor of the valley, barely connected to the mountain range, and with sheer cliffs on all other sides. Because of its strategic—and nearly impregnable—location, Sardis had had a long, continuous history of prosperity, and of some importance. Indeed, by the time of the Revelation, the city was still so, after centuries of existence—illustrated by the fact that when it was devastated by a famous earthquake in 17 CE,18 it was rebuilt by the emperor himself, and then only nine years later it competed with ten other cities as the site for an imperial temple.

On the other hand, that same location and history gave the city a sense of invincibility, and of significance as a major player on the bigger scene, that far outstripped the actual facts of its history. So much was this so that the Sardians lived something of an illusion as to their security and their real significance. For example, their apparent invincibility, to which the satirist Lucian still alludes in the second century (comparing the taking of Sardis to an impossible undertaking) was not altogether true historically. In actual fact, they had been conquered twice: by Cyrus of Persia (6th c. BCE), who had captured Croesus himself; and by Antiochus the Great (3rd c. BCE). In both cases, the capture was brought off by some who scaled its cliffs at points considered impregnable.

Since all of this was well known, and was mentioned in a variety of ways in ancient literature, it is unlikely that the church could have missed the direct allusion to these events, when Christ says to them that he will come upon them as a thief. Furthermore, the city’s own sense of significance was more illusory than real; so, for example, in their bid for the imperial temple, they foolishly based their appeal almost altogether on their illustrious past as making them deserving of this favor. As a result, they lost the bid to Smyrna, whose appeal was based on current significance.

The evidence of this letter suggests that the church itself had taken on some of the characteristics of the city. Thus the letter is primarily a word of warning and admonition (vv. 1b–3), while only verse 4, by way of contrast, is a word of commendation.19 Indeed, perhaps the most striking thing about this letter, especially for those who are reading the letters in sequence, is this reversal of the order of things. Up to now there has been commendation or praise, followed by judgment; here that is reversed: judgment followed by commendation.

Christ’s identification in this case picks up two different items from the vision in chapter 1. He is identified first as him who holds the seven spirits of God, and second as the one who holds the seven stars. The striking thing about the former of these is that this holding of the seven spirits is not said explicitly in chapter 1, where Christ is introduced. Rather, there the “seven spirits of God” is John’s way of introducing the Holy Spirit at the outset. Only here do we come across John’s own view of the close relationship between Christ and the Spirit. That is, both the Spirit and the churches are here identified in terms of their close relationship to Christ himself.

What follows next is the somewhat normal: I know your deeds.20 But what follows this is anything but normal, since the “deeds” in this instance are not those to be commended, but those for which they come under Christ’s judgment. It is not that there is no one or nothing to commend—there is indeed (v. 4)—but that their overall condition is utterly desperate in the eyes of the living Christ, although almost certainly not so in their own eyes, or in the eyes of others. What makes this warning so poignant is that the judgment makes no mention of either external pressures or immorality. They are not racked by suffering from without, nor wrenched by heresy within, nor ruined by internal moral decay. Their judgment is singular: they have a reputation of being alive, but in fact are dead, which evidenced by the reality that none of their works has ever been brought to completion: I have found your works unfinished in the sight of my God. Hence the first word to them is a wake up call; and in so doing they are to strengthen what remains and is about to die. From the outside they look fine, they have all the appearance of life; but on the inside there is no life at all, they are as good as dead. From our distance we cannot know what all of this entails; perhaps, just like their city, they are living on their past reputation. Indeed, anybody visiting either the city or the church would think it vigorous and alive, but in both cases that is mostly illusion.

In the case of the church, this probably also represents subtle accommodation to the culture (as in Thyatira). As someone put it well, “they are a perfect model of inoffensive Christianity”—not lukewarm, as Laodicea, but looking very much alive, while in fact they are stone dead. This now also makes sense of the designation of Christ as the one “who holds the seven spirits of God,” which offers further evidence in support of the view that this term is symbolic for the Holy Spirit. This is especially so for Johannine Christianity, since for him the Spirit is clearly the giver of life; and what has been lost in Sardis is the life that the Spirit alone brings.

This accounts for the warning, which the NIV has rendered “wake up.” Although this is good colloquial English, John’s words are literally “become watchful.” After all, the imagery is not that of people who are sleeping, but of those who appear to be alert yet in fact are quite unaware of their desperate situation. They are totally without comprehension as to their own condition, including their present total ineffectiveness in Sardis; nor do they have a clue about the real threat that stands on the horizon in the form of the Empire. They are therefore urged to strengthen what remains and is about to die.

At the heart of their having lost touch with reality is an apparent complacency with regard to the coming of the Lord. Thus they are exhorted first to remember . . . what you have received and heard. And “remember” does not mean simply to recall the past, but to act on it. They are further urged to hold it fast, and repent. Here is yet another of those moments in this book where the reader is slightly jarred by the order of things. That is, the logical sequence here would be to “repent” and thus return to “holding fast” the gospel that they had embraced a generation ago; but Christ’s order here represents the basic concern, which is not their repentance per se, but their returning to a steadfastness toward the gospel in their complacent city.

The final warning takes a page out of their own history. If they do not wake up, then in a way similar to the city’s own well-known past, they are about to be caught off guard. Christ himself will come like the thief, in the sense that a thief comes when one does not expect it. In their case, you will not know at what time I will come to you. With this John is using a metaphor that can be traced back to the teaching of Christ himself (Matt 24:42), and which had been used earlier by Paul in one of his letters (1 Thess 5:2). Whereas the metaphor itself has for some a troubling dimension to it—comparing the coming of Christ to a thief’s break-in—one must allow metaphors to serve their singular purpose and not push them beyond that. In each biblical case the metaphor points not just to the coming of Christ, but to his coming when people are not expecting it. In the case of the believers in Sardis, they appear to have lost touch with reality. No longer are they looking forward with eagerness to Christ’s coming, but they are now “coasting,” feeling secure and impregnable, and are no longer watchful. And as in the history of their city, they are about to be caught off guard, like the thief who comes at the unexpected moment.

What they receive, therefore, is a wake up call, which has the twin imperatives, remember and repent. They are to “remember” what they have received and heard; and they are “repent” by returning to obedience and to holding fast to what you have received and heard. Thus in keeping with the metaphor with which the letter begins, that they have a reputation of being alive, the fact is that life is ebbing out of them—they are about to die. But if they do repent, then the promise (v. 5) will follow, I will never blot out their names from the book of life—a term that now also serves as a wordplay on their presently being dead.

But not all is warning and judgment. Some (a few) are walking with unsullied garments now; they have not soiled their clothes. The end result, therefore, and in keeping with the metaphor, is that they will walk with, me dressed in white. Given the history of this city and its loyalty to Rome, this metaphor is very likely an allusion to the Roman triumphal procession, where to honor their returning, conquering heroes the citizens lined the streets in white and thus joined in the parade. In like manner some in Sardis will be considered worthy to join in the Lord’s triumph when he returns as conqueror.

More importantly still, their names will not be blotted out from the book of life, which in 21:17 is called “the Lamb’s book of life.” In this first occurrence, however, it would seem to have a double referent. First, this very well may refer in part to the citizen rosters of the Greco-Roman cities, thus reflecting their own pride of place in Sardis. But second, its more immediate referent biblically is by way of two Old Testament texts. Thus, in Exodus 32:32–33 Yahweh responds to Moses’ interceding for Israel by saying, “Whoever has sinned against me I will blot out of my book,” a concept that in Psalm 69:28 is referred to as “the book of life.” This language is then picked up by Paul in Philippians 4:3, as well as here and later in the Revelation. Thus the names of the believers in Sardis are enrolled on the heavenly citizenship roster, and because of this at the final procession of Christ and his saints they will walk with him in white (cf. 19:14).

The final part of the promise is equally compelling, where Christ’s promise to the victors is that I will acknowledge their names before my Father and his angels. Given the significance of naming in the ancient world, this would most likely have been seen as the ultimate kudo. Thus, not only will their names not be blotted out, but at the Eschaton the Savior will acknowledge them by name before God the Father and the entire heavenly host. One can only hope that this kind of promise, following the censure in verse 2 (having a reputation for being alive, but being actually dead) and the warnings in verse 3, would have caused the whole community indeed to “wake up,” so as to have their names acknowledged by the Son before the Father.

To the Church in Philadelphia (3:7–13)

7“To the angel of the church in Philadelphia write:

These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of David. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. 8I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. 9I will make those who are of the synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews though they are not, but are liars—I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you. 10Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come upon the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth.

11I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. 12Those who are victorious I will make pillars in the temple of my God. Never again will they leave it. I will write on them the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on them my new name. 13Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

The youngest of the seven cities, Philadelphia sat a little more than thirty miles east-southeast of Sardis. Although its origins are a bit obscure, it was apparently founded during the early second century BCE, at the height of the Attalid (Pergameme) control of Anatolia. It was named after Attalus II, fifth successor to the throne in Pergamum, who came to that position after the death of his brother, to whom he had shown such remarkable loyalty that he had received the name Philadelphus. It was most likely founded as an outpost city, thus securing Hellenistic influence over local peoples in the area.21

Its location secured for it a long history after our period. Nestled as it was at the southern edge of a level river basin, it sat astraddle the main routes north and south, and at the head of a large plain of lava deposit soil that was perfect for vineyards. The most important feature of the town, however, was its location almost atop the fault responsible for the severe earthquake noted above regarding Sardis (17 CE), of which Strabo writes just a few years later, “Philadelphia has not even its walls secure, but they are daily shaken and split in some degree. The people continually pay attention to earth-tremors and plan their buildings with this factor in mind.” And later,

beyond the Lydians are the Mysians and the city of Philadelphia, full of earthquakes, for the walls never cease being cracked, and different parts of the city are constantly suffering damage. That is why the actual town has few inhabitants, but the majority live as farmers in the countryside, as they have fertile land. But one is surprised even at the few, that they are so fond of the place when they have such insecure dwellings. And one would be even more amazed at those who founded it.22

The result was that the emperor Tiberius actually let them off paying taxes for one five-year period, until they could recover adequately from earthquake damage.

The insecurity of the people was furthered by a devastating earthquake near Laodicea in 60 CE. Added to this was the economic disaster imposed on them by the emperor Domitian in 92 CE, just a couple of years before our letter. In the kind of ill-advised move that the powerful can make, the emperor required grape growing empire-wide to be reduced in half—most likely, it is thought by historians, as a way to force the growing of corn for his armies. This rather foolish law had particularly devastating effect on places like Philadelphia, which were largely dependent on vineyards for their livelihood. It appears to have fostered a strong sense of betrayal among the people, who had always been very pro-emperor. In a variety of ways much of this history makes sense of some of the data in our letter.23

The ascription about Christ in verse 7 is the first in the series that is not basically a reflection of the vision in 1:16–18; yet even here John’s creativity is at work, for the key word is “key,” which appeared in 1:19, where Christ holds “the keys of death and Hades.” But before that we are given a description of Christ that is especially significant. What the NIV has chosen to render as adjectives with who is holy and true, are rather titular, since the adjectives in both cases are preceded by the definite article (“the”). Thus Christ is here designated as “the Holy One” and “the True One.” The significance of these referents is that, in the first case, it reflects Old Testament language about God, who is frequently designated as “the Holy One” (see e.g., Isaiah 40:25; Habakkuk 3:3). Later, in Revelation 6:10, this is the very language used of God the Father—“the Holy and True One”—while in 19:11 Christ is called “Faithful and True.” All of this again reflects John’s assumed high Christology, where titles elsewhere used for God the Father are without note or argumentation used for the Son.

The second descriptor of Christ is that he holds the key of David, which is then clarified to mean that what he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. This language is taken directly from Isaiah 22:22, in an oracle of judgment against Shebna, the “keeper of the keys” (= the steward in charge of the royal palace), that another would take his place. In John’s imagery, this royal privilege belongs not to the king’s steward, but to the King himself; and it is said in anticipation of the promise in verse 8 that follows. All of this is again in keeping with the high Christology noted above. It is of further interest that in both Isaiah and the Revelation the first task of the keeper of the keys is to open what is shut, not to lock what has previously been open.

The words to the church begin (for the fourth of five times in these letters) with the affirmation I know your deeds. But what follows is unique to the seven letters, in that praise for the present and promises for the future are intertwined. Philadelphia is also one of the two churches (along with Smyrna) that receive no critique of any kind. The result is that praise and promise are uniquely blended, in a letter with only one imperative: “hold on to what you have” (v. 11b). The praise comes in two forms: in verse 8b Christ commends them because even though you have little strength,24 you have in fact kept my word and have not denied my name; and in verse 10a they are commended because you have kept my command to endure patiently. Noticeably, these twofold words of praise say basically the same thing: that these believers have been loyal to the gospel even in the midst of severe persecution. In the first instance their loyalty is described on its negative side, in terms of their refusing to deny Christ’s name.

Another of the puzzles for later readers of this letter is the meaning of, and the historical reason for, their having “little strength.” The probable best guess is to see it as related to the Jewish community mentioned in verse 9, whose future is noted but whose specific faults are not, except to deny that they are true “Jews” (see the further discussion below). The meaning of “kept my word” is likewise not immediately clear. Does “word” mean a specific prophetic word to this church, or, perhaps more likely, does it represent the many words of Christ that are known and kept alive in this community? In either case, the emphasis in the commendation probably lies with their abiding faithfulness to the gospel message itself.

The second commendation, about keeping his “command to endure patiently” (v. 10a), is easy enough to understand as such; what is not known are the historical circumstances of the church that would have called for such a commendation. And here again is a place where speculation serves little or no purpose so as to further one’s understanding. What is perhaps worthy of note is that this is the third and final occurrence in these letters of the word rendered “endure.”25 Whereas three occurrences might seem considerable under ordinary circumstances, it might equally seem like only a few, given the present, less-than-ordinary circumstances of these churches. Moreover, this is surely to be understood as no small matter, as it seems to have been taken very often in the later church. Indeed, it is especially noteworthy that the command has inherent in it an understanding of discipleship that pervades the New Testament: that those who follow the Crucified One should not expect lesser treatment than what their Master received. Thus endurance as a command is simply part of the package for those who would be Christ’s disciples.

What follows immediately in this instance is the first of three promises made to this church, where the keeper of the keys assures them, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. Whereas this is rich imagery that one instinctively thinks she or he understands, in fact its specific intent for the Philadelphian believers is not immediately present for the later reader. On the one hand, given the overall concern of the Revelation as a document, this could easily be understood in terms of evangelism. If so, then Philadelphia is a place where Christ expects still more people to become his disciples through the ministry of the church. On the other hand, given the eschatological nature of the book as a whole, and especially in light of the eschatological imagery in verse 12, it more likely has a future referent, having to do with entrance into the final eschatological kingdom.

The second promise (v. 9), although future in its orientation, is best understood as a temporal rather than eschatological referent. That is, it most likely looks forward to an actual historical event rather than to the final event. Nonetheless, it is one of the more puzzling of the non-apocalyptic moments in the book. Its essential features are understandable enough: Christ will make some of the present opponents of the believing community fall down at your feet and acknowledge that the believers in Philadelphia are Christ’s beloved ones. But who these opponents are, and when this is expected to take place, is full of mystery. Furthermore, were not the author himself a Jew, whose concern always is for an ingathering of fellow Jews, the present description of them as those who are of the synagogue of Satan could on its own be understood as one of the more anti-Semitic moments in early Christian literature. Even though for later ears this sounds like a rather harsh thing to say about the synagogue in Philadelphia, this is most likely John’s present judgment as a disciple of the Crucified but now Risen One against a community that should have received its Messiah with open arms, but failed to do so.

The third promise (v. 10) comes as the apodosis (the “then” clause) of a sentence that begins, Since you have kept my command to endure patiently. This affirmation is a fitting protasis for the promise that follows: I will also keep you from the coming hour of trial. Thus the opening commendation for having “kept my word and . . . not denied my name” now has this singular further elaboration: the believers in Philadelphia “have kept my command to endure patiently.” In many ways this is an especially revealing moment in the book. After all, it is part of the larger Johannine picture that Christ’s disciples are expected to “keep his word,” that is, to obey the commands that he gave his disciples when he walked among them. But here, in a context where persecution is both hovering over them and in some cases already begun, the singular elaboration of keeping Christ’s word has to do with not denying Christ in the hour of intense trial that is about to descend.

Of further interest, but also of further difficulty for understanding from our distance, is the additional elaboration of the coming “hour of trial,” that it is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth. What John himself understood by this clause is a singular mystery. On the one hand, it is fully in keeping with the warnings of Jesus found in the Gospels;26 on the other hand, the present phrasing of this motif leaves the later reader with only guesses. Is this to be understood as a temporal event, soon to take place in the period of this writing? Or is it a more purely eschatological event, a way of describing the days preceding the coming of our Lord? Furthermore, in this particular case the readers are promised they will be to be “kept from” this hour of trial. Does this mean to be delivered from it altogether when it comes? Or does it mean to be kept secure by Christ even during its most intense expression? At this point, and as is often true with other such eschatological moments in the New Testament, we have little certainty about the when, and not total certainty about the what itself. That is, even though one can be sure from this passage that Christ intends to keep his own from this hour of trial, at this distance we simply can have no certainty as to the specifics of the event itself.

The final word to this church (v. 10) before the concluding words of promise27 takes the form of an admonition—the only one in this letter. In light of the fact that Christ is coming soon,28 they are urged to hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. Although this is perfectly understandable English, just as is the Greek itself, the final clause of this sentence is especially puzzling. Had the Lord said, “so that you will not lose your crown,” that would have made good sense in the context; but what it would mean for “no one to take your crown” is not at all clear—although it is very likely that the former is what John intended, despite the actual wording. Most likely this is a kind of shorthand for the fact that the divine giver is also the divine taker; or in the language of the KJV on which I was raised, God is the one who “giveth” and “taketh away” (Job 1:21). Finally, as throughout the New Testament, the “crown” the victor receives is not the diadem worn by kings or queens, but the wreath given the victor in the games.29

The promise to the victors in this case (v. 12) is full of echoes of the Philadelphians’ own history, while at the same time it altogether anticipates chapters 21–22 at the end of the book. The first two promises are especially fitting for the church in earthquake-prone Philadelphia. First, Christ says, I will make them pillars in the temple of my God. The very language anticipates a stability of the kind Philadelphians knew but little. This is imagery, of course, since no physical temple is to be expected in the Eschaton; indeed it is explicitly denied in 21:22. Moreover, what the NIV renders as never again will they leave it, says literally—and forcefully for the Philadelphians—“and outside they will never go out.” Thus for those who have had to abandon their town once and again, and for the many who had chosen to live outside the town in any case, this promise had very direct bearing.

As the ultimate sign of divine ownership, these believers are also promised that I [Christ] will write on them the name of my God and the name of the city of my God. Writing God’s name on them anticipates both the negative and positive forehead inscriptions found later in the book. In chapter 13 the beast will require his own name to be written on the forehead and the right hand, as evidence of enslavement; but in chapter 20:4 those who do not have his name written on the forehead, and thus are assumed to have God’s name written there, are given the privilege of enjoying the millennial reign with Christ. The “city” here, of course, is none other than the new Jerusalem, which is later seen as coming down out of heaven from my God. Thus these believers in earthquake-prone Philadelphia will inherit a city that will endure—and will exist without the tremors!

The final promise is the most significant of all: I will also write on them my new name. Two matters need comment here. First, the writing of Christ’s name on their foreheads is the ultimate sign of ownership, but an ownership not of enslavement but of ultimate and glorious freedom. Second, the “new name” is almost certainly an intentional foreshadowing of the vision in 19:11–21, where Christ the heavenly warrior defeats and thus destroys the beast. There Christ’s “new name” is “King of kings and Lord of lords”; and now in anticipation of that scene the victors in Philadelphia are promised to have that name written on them as well (but with location unmentioned, since it is a name of divine ownership, not of personal gain).

To the Church in Laodicea (3:14–22)

14“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:

These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. 15I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. 17You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. 18I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

19Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. 20Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me.

21To those who are victorious, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father on his throne. 22Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”

Laodicea, the last of the five cities on the northwesterly, southeasterly interior highway of Anatolia, was also the crossroads for the highway east and west. It therefore rather automatically became the premier city of the tri-cities in the Lycus River valley (which included Colossae and Hierapolis). It was also an extremely wealthy city, a fact noted in all kinds of deliberate and incidental ways throughout ancient historical and literary remains. It had become famous for three reasons in particular: first, for all practical purposes they were the Swiss bankers of antiquity, which meant that it was a city of considerable wealth; second, they were famous for a breed of sheep that produced an extremely fine and desirable black wool; and third, their proximity to a hot springs across the river made them a kind of medical center, famous worldwide for a specially mixed eye salve. It is therefore not difficult to see how in many respects it became “like city, like church”; indeed, practically everything in the letter reflects some aspect of a church located in this setting.

One should note at the beginning that the description of Christ in this final letter now abandons the vision in 1:16–18 altogether, in favor of a series of brief epithets. First, Christ reveals himself to them as the Amen, thus affirming the truth about God the Father to which he is bearing witness. Second, he is the faithful and true witness, language from 1:5 with the addition of the adjective “true.” Third, he is the ruler of God’s [= all] creation, a most striking appellation, both for the Apocalypse as a whole and for this letter in particular. Indeed, the closest thing to it in the New Testament is the affirmation by Paul in Colossians 1:15 that the Son “who is the image of the invisible God” is also “the firstborn over all creation.” Paul’s clause almost certainly means that his relationship to creation is that of “the firstborn,” and thus he is the rightful heir of all creation, just as he was the actual creator at the beginning.30 The apparent reason for this appellation here has to do with Laodicea’s location near one of the better-known natural phenomena in the ancient world.

What follows the introduction of Christ in verse 14b is an extended description (through v. 17) of Christ’s knowledge of their deeds, whose primary feature is the considerable difference between who they think they are and who Christ knows they are, which Christ reveals to them in this letter. This is a comeuppance of the highest order, a revelation that comes in four distinguishable steps. First (v. 15), Christ reveals their actual condition from the divine perspective: you are neither cold nor hot, which is probably a reflection on the fact that they are across the river from the actual hot springs, so that by the time the hot water reaches them across stream it has cooled enough to be insipid, useful for neither medicinal nor drinking purposes. The more remarkable moment of judgment comes next: Christ would rather have them either one or the other! In actuality, of course, he would prefer them to be “hot”; but if they were “cold” then they could more easily recognize their situation and be helped. Rather, his judgment is that because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. Besides revealing something about the ancients’ own view of drinking water, a view with which most moderns can easily identify, this sentence also reveals something about Christ’s own heart toward his people. The imagery is especially striking, and is common to anyone who has tried to get a drink of refreshing water from a public fountain, but found it tepid and spit it out instantly.

With verse 17 the imagery changes from drinking water to the plight of the wealthy, who by nature, of course, do not think of themselves as being in a quandary of any kind. The normal response of such people is I am rich, which is then elaborated in terms of having acquired wealth and therefore not needing a thing. But as is often the case, it is all a matter of perspective, in this instance theirs vis-à-vis Christ’s. Viewed from below they have everything one could want or need; viewed from above—and what they do not realize—they in fact are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. The first two of these five adjectives spell out the nature of their condition from the divine perspective: rather than not needing anything, their condition is rather a kind of wretchedness that calls for pity. The final three then spell out their actual condition: the “rich” are in fact impoverished, neither able to see nor clothed.

The divine response to their own unrecognized wretchedness is to counsel them to buy from Christ what is necessary to become what they think they are, but are not in fact. Thus Christ offers them gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich. This striking imagery, which on the surface seems obvious, is in fact less than certain. They would surely, as will later readers, understand easily enough the imagery of “gold refined in the fire.” But what the imagery points to, or whether it has any specific referent as such, is less than clear. Most likely the point of the imagery lies not simply with the gold itself, but especially with the fact that it needs to be “refined in the fire.” If so, then their own need to be “refined” as through fire is the ultimate point of the imagery. At the same time the imagery automatically points to something of great value.

The white clothes to wear, which is the second curative category, picks up the third of the preceding maladies. At the same time it takes one back to the imagery used in the letter to the church in Sardis, although the concern here is not so much with whiteness as such, but with the use of the clothes: so you can cover your shameful nakedness. The final expression, “shameful nakedness,” carries some ambiguity as well. Private nakedness is not to be thought of as shameful; what is shameful rather is the public expression of the “nakedness” of this church, which they of course cannot see, but which Christ sees clearly.

The third item they are to “buy” from Christ has to do with the second malady in verse 17, their blindness. They are to buy from me . . .

salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. Again, we are left a bit in the dark as to the presupposition behind this imagery. But the “salve” is to be understood as having curative properties to it, so that when applied the “scales” drop off and the blind can see.

These descriptions of this church’s impoverished condition and the corresponding divine cures are followed by two brief sentences that essentially have Laodicean repentance as their goal. First, the One described as “the faithful and true witness” (v. 14) affirms that those I love I rebuke and discipline. Indeed, all that has been said to this point is a plea of love. The affirmation itself seems simultaneously to point backward and forward. That is, the “rebuke” is what has in effect already taken place in the preceding sentences; the verb “I discipline” serves as a warning that leads into the second sentence: So be earnest, and repent. The root of the verb rendered “be earnest” is the Greek word for “zeal”; thus the call is not simply to repent, but to give oneself to it with great zeal. Repentance, it should be pointed out, is not what those who are “lukewarm” think they need to do. But as in all such cases this imperative is not optional; it is the necessary requisite for their being restored to health.

The final word to the Laodicean believers, which is one of open invitation, begins with an attention-getting imperative, “look!,” which traditionally had been rendered “behold!” The NIV translators have tried helpfully to capture its sense here with Here I am! This is a call for a church that thinks of itself far better than it should to wake up; not just to recognize their actual present condition, but to come to terms with the fact that Christ is pictured as on the outside, not inside! Perhaps even more remarkable in this case is the individualization of this invitation. Up to this point, and in keeping with the previous letters, the letter has been addressed to the community as a whole, even though the verbs are singular; that is, Christ is addressing the entire community in the second-person singular. But with this invitation the focus now shifts toward individuals within the community. Thus what begins with an invitation that sounds very much like the community-directed words in the previous letters, now takes on a rather striking individualization: If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and that person with me. This invitation, it must be noted, is still to the whole church, but the realization of it is now pictured at the individual level. Whether the Lord’s Table is in view here is moot, since the overall picture is one of hospitality; and whatever else, one must be careful not to push such imagery beyond its immediate reason for being: to call a lackluster community of faith to repentance.

The concluding promise to those who are victorious is in some ways the most lavish found in the seven letters. Such people who endure to the end are promised the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father on his throne. For people who tend to visualize such pictorial language, this promise could create any number of ocular problems, which in turn suggests that such evocative visual language should be understood for the imagery that it is and not be thought of in more literal terms. The promise to the victors in this case most likely intends to affirm that at the eschatological consummation of things they will share not the right to reign as such, but will experience as the ultimate privilege of their redemption: being enthroned as royalty. At the same time one must not miss the exceptionally high Christology that such language entails—that the Son and the Father sit on the same throne and thus share equally in the divine majesty that belongs to God alone.

Finally, one should note that as a conclusion to this letter, and thus to the letters as a whole, the last word is now the seven-times-repeated admonition, Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. As noted in the discussion of 2:7 above, this reflects John’s Trinitarian understanding of God as Father, Son (see v. 21 above), and Holy Spirit. Whereas it is Christ who is speaking in each case to the seven churches, each letter also includes the admonition to “hear what the Spirit says to the churches.” The very repetition of this admonition, by which it can begin to fall on deaf ears, is John’s emphatic way of telling all the churches—then and now—that what God the Father has to say to the church through Christ the Son is ultimately communicated through the Spirit, who in Johannine understanding is the Spirit of both the Father and the Son.

Fusing the Horizons: Christ and His Church(es)

Because the letters to the seven churches are the least apocalyptic in the book, and therefore the most straightforward and understandable, they are also the most frequently read and applied to the contemporary church(es). And as with these seven (probably intentionally representative) churches, the churches in most of Western Christendom also present a similar “mixed bag.” But it is also important at the outset to note that this section does not begin at 2:1, since grammatically it is a continuation of the words of the Risen Christ that began in 1:17. Thus, the real beginning point of the passage is at 1:9, where John introduces himself and his own situation, and then moves on to focus altogether on Christ. Therefore, one must avoid the constant temptation to put the emphasis on the churches themselves, since John’s emphasis is on Christ’s knowledge of these churches, which is being revealed here to one and all. Much of this, therefore, is especially difficult to apply to the present situation in western Christendom. It is not that we do not have a variety of churches with a variety of degrees of faithfulness and otherwise; rather it is the fact that most of our churches are individualized in such a way that we are conveniently isolated from each other, and therefore find it easy to hide our “dirty linen.”

Nonetheless, following the lead of Craig Koester,31 one can summarize the analogies between us and them as follows:

1. The problem of Assimilation. Very much the same way one can boil a frog by placing it in cold water and then turning on the heat, so the church, which of necessity must be in the world, at the same time is constantly, and often quite unwittingly, in danger of becoming like the world in which it is situated. This has been especially true of Western Christendom, and especially so in times of plenty, when the church tends to enjoy the same “upward mobility” experienced by the majority of the middle class, as they try to emulate the wealthy. The upshot of such assimilation is that the church has rather totally lost its prophetic voice, calling out God’s coming judgments on the world to which it has so easily accommodated itself. At this point we must once again prophesy to the world, not simply to change the world, but to keep it from changing us.

2. The problem of Complacency, which is closely related to the foregoing problem. Perhaps there is no bigger crisis in the churches of the Western world than this one, where the church seems to be more often full of “fans” rather than of followers of Jesus. Indeed, if being a Christian were a crime, it is doubtful whether there would be enough evidence to indict the many of us, who have settled into a Christianity of mediocrity rather than of burning passion to be Christ’s own people in this fallen, broken world. We tend to have just enough “religion” to make us basically inconspicuous in a world of self-centeredness, greed, and broken relationships. Hopefully, a careful reading of John’s Revelation might be able to change some of that.

3. The Problem of Persecution. Here is what faces millions of followers of the Crucified One in much of the world, but is unfortunately lacking in the West—“unfortunate” because persecution always has a way of purifying in ways that abundance does not. Also unfortunately, the lack of external pressure very often leads to mediocrity and complacency. This is not a call to a form of self-imposed self-flagellation, but rather a call to a kind of stewardship and discipleship that will make the complacent uncomfortable enough to try to counteract it with fury and scorn, rather than with benign neglect. Rather than wearing gold or silver crosses around our necks, we would better portray our devotion to Christ by being more like the Crucified One amidst a world of self-centeredness and greed.

May the ever merciful, ever compassionate God and his Christ come to his church in the West and re-create us back into the divine image that is so faithfully portrayed in this final book of the Christian canon.

1. Or messenger.

2. All of vv. 2–3 is one long sentence in Greek, held together by several kai’s (“and”), which function in different ways. Thus, “I know . . . and that you . . . and you have found . . . and you have persevered and endured hardships.”

3. The phrase “I know your deeds” will recur in the final four letters as well; this is altered only in the letters to Smyrna (“I know your afflictions and your poverty”) and to Pergamum (“I know where you live”).

4. On this matter see esp. John 14–17 and all of 1 and 2 John.

5. This is the first of 17 occurrences of this verb in the book, which occurs elsewhere in the NT only 11 other times (6 in 1 John, one of the many evidences of the Johannine character of the Apocalypse).

6. Which reads, “on each side of the river stood the tree of life.”

7. Polycarp himself was martyred for his faith ca. 155 CE.

8. In John’s Greek there is no new sentence here; it simply reads, “I know your afflictions and poverty—but you are rich—and the slander from the so-called Jews . . .”

9. This is the first of 17 occurrences of this name for the devil; see further 2:13, 24; 3:9; 12:9 (where he is further identified as “the ancient serpent called the devil”); 20:2 and 7. The name occurs elsewhere in the NT only in Acts 5:3 and 26:18. The term is a transliteration into Greek of the Hebrew word that occurs in Job 1:6–8, 12; 2:1–7, and Zech 3:1–2.

10. Because of its location on a very high butte, there were no roads or highways going through, and thus in and out of, Pergamum. It was reached only by a long encircling road that went to the city, and nowhere else. Thus to live in Pergamum as a Christian meant to be reminded constantly of its thoroughly pagan culture.

11. This is the first instance in Christian literature where the Greek word for “witness” (martyr) refers to one whose witness led to death. In time this kind of witness caused the Greek word, as a borrowed word, to refer in Christian circles to that special kind of witness (unto death) that lies behind its present meaning in English.

12. Psalm 2:9

13. On this matter cf. the preceding letter.

14. One must say “hear” at this point because the majority of the recipients of this document will have it read to them, in a culture where only about 15–20 percent could read or write. Indeed, the presupposition lying behind all the NT documents is that the recipients will have it read aloud to them in community, vis-à-vis the “silent reading” common to our culture.

15. The urgency of this matter for John reemerges in 9:20–21, where those upon whom God’s final wrath will fall, among other things, “did not repent of the works of their hands, nor stop worshiping demons and idols [in that order!] that cannot see or hear or walk; nor did they repent of their sexual immorality.”

16. Or messenger; also in verses 7 and 14.

17. That is, the sevenfold Spirit.

18. Which Pliny, some forty years later, called “the greatest disaster in human memory.”

19. It is of some interest that the original NIV translators chose to make a paragraph break at v. 4, on the basis of the contrast with vv. 1b–3, rather than at the natural stylistic breaking point, the commendation of the “victorious.”

20. See n. 3 above for the designation, “I know your deeds.”