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INTRODUCTION TO THE REVELATION OF JOHN

The Strange Book

When we embark upon the study of Revelation, we feel ourselves projected into a different world. Here is something quite unlike the rest of the New Testament. Not only is Revelation different; it is also notoriously difficult to understand. The result is that it has sometimes been abandoned as quite unintelligible and it has sometimes become the playground of religious eccentrics, who use it to map out celestial timetables of what is to come or who find in it evidence for their own eccentricities. One despairing commentator said that there are as many riddles in Revelation as there are words, and another that the study of Revelation either finds or leaves the reader mad.

The founder of the Protestant Reformation, Martin Luther, would have denied Revelation a place in the New Testament. Along with James, Jude, 2 Peter and Hebrews, he relegated it to a separate list at the end of his New Testament. He declared that in it there are only images and visions such as are found nowhere else in the Bible. He complained that, notwithstanding the obscurity of his writing, the writer had the boldness to add threats and promises for those who disobeyed or kept his words, unintelligible though they were. In it, said Luther, Christ is neither taught nor acknowledged; and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit is not perceptible in it. Another Reformation scholar, Huldreich Zwingli, is equally hostile to Revelation. ‘With the Apocalypse,’ he writes, ‘we have no concern, for it is not a biblical book . . . The Apocalypse has no savour of the mouth or the mind of John. I can, if I so will, reject its testimonies.’ Most voices have stressed the unintelligibility of Revelation, and not a few have questioned its right to a place in the New Testament.

On the other hand, there are those in every generation who have loved this book. In his commentary, T. S. Kepler quotes the verdict of the early Church historian and Archbishop of Quebec, Philip Carrington, and makes it his own: ‘In the case of Revelation, we are dealing with an artist greater than Stevenson or Coleridge or Bach. St John has a better sense of the right word than Stevenson; he has a greater command of unearthly supernatural loveliness than Coleridge; he has a richer sense of melody and rhythm and composition than Bach . . . It is the only masterpiece of pure art in the New Testament . . . Its fulness and richness and harmonic variety place it far above Greek tragedy.’

We shall no doubt find this book difficult and bewildering; but doubtless, too, we shall find it infinitely worth while to wrestle with it until it gives us its blessing and opens its riches to us.

Apocalyptic Literature

In any study of Revelation, we must begin by remembering the basic fact that, although unique in the New Testament, it is nonetheless representative of a kind of literature which was the most common of all in the period between the Old and the New Testaments. Revelation is commonly called the Apocalypse – in Greek apokalupsis. Between the Old and the New Testaments, there grew up a great mass of what is called apocalyptic literature, the product of an indestructible Jewish hope.

The Jews could not forget that they were the chosen people of God. To them, that involved the certainty that some day they would arrive at world supremacy. In their early history, they looked forward to the coming of a king of David’s line who would unite the nation and lead them to greatness. A shoot was to come forth from the stump of Jesse (Isaiah 11:1, 11:10). God would raise up a righteous branch for David (Jeremiah 23:5). Some day, the people would serve David, their king (Jeremiah 30:9). David would be their shepherd and their king (Ezekiel 34:23, 37:24). The booth of David would be repaired (Amos 9:11); out of Bethlehem there would come a ruler who would be great to the ends of the earth (Micah 5:2–4).

But the whole history of Israel contradicted these hopes. After the death of Solomon, the kingdom – small enough to begin with – split into two under Rehoboam and Jeroboam, and so lost its unity. The northern kingdom, with its capital at Samaria, vanished in the last quarter of the eighth century BC before the assault of the Assyrians, never again reappeared in history and is now referred to as the lost ten tribes. The southern kingdom, with its capital at Jerusalem, was reduced to slavery and exile by the Babylonians in the early part of the sixth century BC. It later came under the rule of the Persians, the Greeks and finally the Romans. History for the Jews was a catalogue of disasters from which it became clear that no human deliverer could rescue them.

The Two Ages

Jewish thought stubbornly held to the conviction of the chosenness of the Jews but had to adjust itself to the facts of history. It did so by working out a scheme of history. The Jews divided all time into two ages. There was this present age, which is wholly bad and beyond redemption. For it, there can be nothing but total destruction. The Jews, therefore, waited for the end of things as they are. There was the age which is to come, which was to be wholly good, the golden age of God, in which would be peace, prosperity and righteousness, and the place of God’s chosen people would at last be upheld as theirs by right.

How was this present age to become the age which is to come? The Jews believed that the change could never be brought about by human agency and, therefore, looked for the direct intervention of God. He would come striding on to the stage of history to blast this present world out of existence and bring in his golden time. The day of the coming of God was called the day of the Lord and was to be a terrible time of fear and destruction and judgment, which would be the signs of the coming new age.

All apocalyptic literature deals with these events – the sin of the present age, the terrors of the time between, and the blessings of the time to come. It is entirely composed of dreams and visions of the end. That means that all apocalyptic literature is inevitably cryptic. It is continually attempting to describe the indescribable, to say the unsayable and to paint the unpaintable.

This is further complicated by another fact. It was only natural that these apocalyptic visions should flame the more brightly in the minds of people living under tyranny and oppression. The more some alien power held them down, the more they dreamed of the destruction of that power and of their own recognition and restoration. But it would only have worsened the situation if the oppressing power could have understood these dreams. Such writings would have seemed the works of rebellious revolutionaries. These books, therefore, were frequently written in code, deliberately couched in language which was unintelligible to the outsider; and inevitably there are many cases in which they remain unintelligible because the key to the code no longer exists. But the more we know about the historical background of such books, the better we can interpret them.

The Book of Revelation

All this is the precise picture of our Revelation. There are any number of Jewish apocalypses – Enoch, the Sibylline Oracles, the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, the Ascension of Isaiah, the Assumption of Moses, the Apocalypse of Baruch, 4 Ezra. Our Revelation is a Christian apocalypse. It is the only one in the New Testament, although there were many other similar writings which did not gain admission. It is written exactly on the Jewish pattern and follows the basic idea of the two ages. The only difference is that, for the day of the Lord, it substitutes the coming in power of Jesus Christ. Not only the pattern but also the details are the same. The Jewish apocalypses had a standard sequence of events which were to happen at the last time; these events all have their place in Revelation.

Before we go on to outline that pattern of events, another question arises. Both apocalyptic and prophecy deal with the events which are to come. What, then, is the difference between them?

Apocalyptic and Prophecy

The difference between the prophets and the writers of apocalyptic was very real. There were two main differences – one of message and one of method.

(1) The prophets thought in terms of this present world. Their message was often a cry for social, economic and political justice, and was always a summons to obey and serve God within this present world. To the prophets, it was this world which was to be reformed and in which God’s kingdom would come. This has been expressed by saying that the prophets believed in history. They believed that, in the events of history, God’s purpose was being worked out. In one sense, the prophets were optimists – for, however sternly they condemned the present state of affairs, they nonetheless believed that things could be put right if men and women would accept the will of God. To the apocalyptists, the world was beyond help in the present. They believed not in the reformation but in the destruction of this present world. They looked forward to the creation of a new world when this one had been shattered by the avenging wrath of God. In one sense, therefore, the apocalyptists were pessimists, for they did not believe that things as they were could ever be cured. True, they were quite certain that the golden age would come – but only after this world had been destroyed.

(2) The message of the prophets was spoken; the message of the apocalyptists was always written. Apocalyptic is a literary production. Had it been delivered by word of mouth, people would never have understood it. It is difficult, involved, often unintelligible; it has to be pored over before it can be understood. Further, the prophets always spoke under their own names; but all apocalyptic writings – except our New Testament one – are pseudonymous. They are put into the mouths of great ones of the past, like Noah, Enoch, Isaiah, Moses, the Twelve Patriarchs, Ezra and Baruch. There is something rather sad about this. Those who wrote the apocalyptic literature had the feeling that greatness had gone from the earth; they did not have the confidence in their own position and authority to put their names to their works, and attributed them to the great figures of the past, thereby seeking to give them an authority greater than their own names could have given. As the New Testament scholar Adolf Jülicher put it: ‘Apocalyptic is prophecy turned senile.’

The Pattern of Apocalyptic

Apocalyptic literature has a pattern: it seeks to describe the things which will happen at the last times and the blessedness which will follow; and the same pictures occur over and over again. It always, so to speak, worked with the same materials; and these materials find their place in our Book of Revelation.

(1) In apocalyptic literature, the Messiah was a divine, pre-existent, other-worldly figure of power and glory, waiting to descend into the world to begin his all-conquering career. He existed in heaven before the creation of the world, before the sun and the stars were made; and he is preserved in the presence of the Almighty (1 Enoch 48:3, 48:6, 62:7; 4 Ezra 13:25–6). He will come to put down the mighty from their seats, to dethrone the kings of the earth and to break the teeth of sinners (1 Enoch 42:2–6, 48:2–9, 62:5–9, 69:26–9). In apocalyptic, there was nothing human or gentle about the Messiah; he was a divine figure of avenging power and glory before whom the earth trembled in terror.

(2) The coming of the Messiah was to be preceded by the return of Elijah, who would prepare the way for him (Malachi 4:5–6). Elijah was to stand upon the hills of Israel, so the Rabbis said, and announce the coming of the Messiah with a voice so great that it would sound from one end of the earth to the other.

(3) The last terrible times were known as ‘the travail of the Messiah’. The coming of the messianic age would be like the agony of birth. In the gospels, Jesus is depicted as foretelling the signs of the end and is reported as saying: ‘All this is but the beginning of the birth pangs’ (Matthew 24:8; Mark 13:8).

(4) The last days will be a time of terror. Even the mighty will cry bitterly (Zephaniah 1:14); the inhabitants of the land shall tremble (Joel 2:1); people will be terrified and will seek some place to hide and will find none (1 Enoch 102:1, 102:3).

(5) The last days will be a time when the world will be shattered, a time of cosmic upheaval when the universe, as we know it, will disintegrate. The stars will be extinguished; the sun will be turned into darkness and the moon into blood (Isaiah 13:10; Joel 2:30–1, 3:15). The firmament will crash in ruins; there will be a torrent of raging fire, and creation will become a molten mass (Sibylline Oracles 3:83–9). The seasons will lose their order, and there will be neither night nor dawn (Sibylline Oracles 3:796–806).

(6) The last days will be a time when human relationships will be destroyed. Hatred and enmity will reign upon the earth. People will turn against their neighbours (Zechariah 14:13). Brothers will kill each other; parents will murder their own children; from dawn to sunset they shall slay one another (1 Enoch 100:1–2). Honour will be turned into shame, strength into humiliation, and beauty into ugliness. Jealousy will arise in those who did not think much of themselves, and passion will take hold of those who were peaceful (2 Baruch 48:31–7).

(7) The last days will be a time of judgment. God will come like a refiner’s fire – and who can endure the day of his coming (Malachi 3:1–3)? It is by the fire and the sword that God will plead with people (Isaiah 66:15–16). The Son of Man will destroy sinners from the earth (1 Enoch 69:27), and the smell of brimstone will pervade all things (Sibylline Oracles 3:58–61). The sinners will be burned up as Sodom was long ago (Jubilees 36:10–11).

(8) In all these visions, the Gentiles have their place – but it is not always the same place.

(a) Sometimes the vision is that the Gentiles will be totally destroyed. Babylon will become such a desolation that there will be no place for the wandering Arabs to plant their tents among the ruins, no place for the shepherds to graze their sheep; it will be nothing more than a desert inhabited by the beasts (Isaiah 13:19–22). God will trample down the Gentiles in his anger (Isaiah 63:6). The Gentiles will come over in chains to Israel (Isaiah 45:14).

(b) Sometimes one last gathering of the Gentiles against Jerusalem is depicted, and one last battle in which they are destroyed (Ezekiel 38:14–39:16; Zechariah 14:1–11). The kings of the nations will throw themselves against Jerusalem; they will seek to ravage the shrine of the Holy One; they will place their thrones in a ring round the city, with their faithless people with them; but it will be only for their final destruction (Sibylline Oracles 3:663–72).

(c) Sometimes there is the picture of the conversion of the Gentiles through Israel. God has given Israel as a light to the Gentiles, that God’s salvation may reach to the ends of the earth (Isaiah 49:6). The coastlands wait upon God (Isaiah 51:5); the ends of the earth are invited to look to God and be saved (Isaiah 45:20–2). The Son of Man will be a light to the Gentiles (1 Enoch 48:4–5). Nations shall come from the ends of the earth to Jerusalem to see the glory of God (Psalms of Solomon 17:31).

Of all the pictures in connection with the Gentiles, the most common is that of the destruction of the Gentiles and the exaltation of Israel.

(9) In the last days, the Jews who have been scattered throughout the earth will be gathered into the holy city again. They will come back from Assyria and from Egypt and will worship the Lord in his holy mountain (Isaiah 27:12–13). The hills will be removed and the valleys will be filled in, and even the trees will gather to give them shade as they come back (Baruch 5:5–9). Even those who died as exiles in far countries will be brought back.

(10) In the last days, the New Jerusalem, which is already prepared in heaven with God (4 Ezra 10:44–59; 2 Baruch 4:2–6), will come down among men and women. It will be more beautiful than anything else, with foundations of sapphires, pinnacles of agate, and jewelled gates on walls of precious stones (Isaiah 54:11–12; Tobit 13:16). The glory of the latter house will be greater than the glory of the former (Haggai 2:9).

(11) An essential part of the apocalyptic picture of the last days was the resurrection of the dead. ‘Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt’ (Daniel 12:2–3). Sheol and the grave will give back that which has been entrusted to them (1 Enoch 51:1). The scope of the resurrection of the dead varied. Sometimes it was to apply only to the righteous in Israel; sometimes to all Israel; and sometimes to all people everywhere. Whatever form it took, it is true to say that now for the first time we see emerging a strong hope of a life beyond the grave.

(12) There were differences as to how long the messianic kingdom was to last. The most natural – and the most usual – view was to think of it as lasting forever. The kingdom of the saints is an everlasting kingdom (Daniel 7:27). Some believed that the reign of the Messiah would last for 400 years. They arrived at this figure from a comparison of Genesis 15:13 and Psalm 90:15. In Genesis, Abraham is told that the period of affliction of the children of Israel will be 400 years; the psalmist’s prayer is that God will make the nation glad for as many days as he has afflicted them and as many years as they have seen evil. In Revelation, the view is that there is to be a reign of the saints for 1,000 years; then the final battle with the assembled powers of evil; then the golden age of God.

Such were the events which the apocalyptic writers pictured in the last days; and practically all of them find their place in the pictures of Revelation. To complete the picture, we may briefly summarize the blessings of the coming age.

The Blessings of the Age to Come

(1) The divided kingdom will be united again. The house of Judah will walk again with the house of Israel (Jeremiah 3:18; Isaiah 11:13; Hosea 1:11). The old divisions will be healed, and the people of God will be one.

(2) There will be in the world an amazing fertility. The wilderness will become a field (Isaiah 32:15); it will become like the garden of Eden (Isaiah 51:3); the desert will rejoice and blossom like the crocus (Isaiah 35:1). The earth will yield its fruit ten thousandfold; on each vine will be 1,000 branches, on each branch 1,000 clusters, in each cluster 1,000 grapes, and each grape will give a cor (120 gallons) of wine (2 Baruch 29:5–8). There will be a situation of plenty, such as the world has never known, and the hungry will rejoice.

(3) A consistent part of the dream of the new age was that in it all wars would cease. The swords will be beaten into ploughshares and the spears into pruning-hooks (Isaiah 2:4). There will be no sword or noise of battle. There will be a common law for everyone and a great peace throughout the earth, and king will be friendly with king (Sibylline Oracles 3:751–60).

(4) One of the loveliest ideas concerning the new age was that in it there would be no more conflict between wild animals or between human beings and the animal world. The leopard and the kid, the cow and the bear, the lion and the calf will play and lie down together (Isaiah 11:6–9, 65:25). There will be a new covenant between human beings and all living creatures (Hosea 2:18). Even a child will be able to play where the poisonous reptiles have their holes and their dens (Isaiah 11:6–9; 2 Baruch 73:6). In all nature, there will be a universal reign of friendship in which none will wish to do another any harm.

(5) The coming age will bring the end of weariness, of sorrow and of pain. The people will not faint or pine any more (Jeremiah 31:12); everlasting joy will be upon their heads (Isaiah 35:10). There will be no such thing as an untimely death (Isaiah 65:20–2); no one will say: ‘I am sick’ (Isaiah 33:24); death will be swallowed up, and God will wipe tears from all faces (Isaiah 25:8). Disease will withdraw; anxiety, anguish and lamentation will pass away; childbirth will have no pain; the reaper will not grow weary and the builder will not be toilworn (2 Baruch 73:2–74:4). The age to come will be one when what the Roman poet Virgil called ‘the tears of things’ will be no more.

(6) The age to come will be an age of righteousness. There will be perfect holiness among human beings. This generation will be a good generation, living in the fear of the Lord in the days of mercy (Psalms of Solomon 17:28–49, 18:9–10).

The Book of Revelation is the New Testament representative of all these apocalyptic works which tell of the terrors before the end of time and of the blessings of the age to come; and it uses all the familiar imagery. It may often be difficult and even unintelligible to us; but, for the most part, it was using pictures and ideas which those who read it would have known and understood.

The Author of Revelation

(1) Revelation was written by a man called John. He begins by saying that God sent the visions he is going to relate to his servant John (1:1). The main body of the book begins with the statement that it is from John to the seven churches in Asia (1:4). ‘I, John,’ he says, ‘am the one who heard and saw these things’ (22:8).

(2) This John was a Christian who lived in Asia in the same sphere as the Christians of the seven churches. He calls himself the brother of those to whom he writes; and he says that he too shares in the tribulations through which they are passing (1:9).

(3) He was most probably a Jew of Palestine who had come to Asia Minor late in life. We can deduce this from the kind of Greek that he writes. It is vivid, powerful and pictorial, but from the point of view of grammar it is easily the worst Greek in the New Testament. He makes mistakes which even those with only a basic knowledge of Greek would never make. Greek is certainly not his native language; and it is often clear that he is writing in Greek and thinking in Hebrew. He has a detailed knowledge of the Old Testament. He quotes it or alludes to it 245 times. These quotations come from about twenty Old Testament books; his favourites are Isaiah, Daniel, Ezekiel, Psalms, Exodus, Jeremiah and Zechariah. Not only does he know the Old Testament intimately; he is also familiar with the apocalyptic books written between the Testaments.

(4) His claim for himself is that he is a prophet, and it is on that fact that he bases his right to speak. The command of the risen Christ to him is that he must prophesy (10:11). It is through the spirit of prophecy that Jesus gives his witness to the Church (19:10). God is the God of the holy prophets and sends his angel to show his servants what is going to happen in the world (22:6). The angel speaks to him of his brothers the prophets (22:9). His book is characteristically prophecy or the words of prophecy (22:7, 22:10, 22:18–19).

It is here that John’s authority lies. He does not call himself an apostle, as Paul does when he wants to underline his right to speak. He has no ‘official’ or administrative position in the Church; he is a prophet. He writes what he sees; and, since what he sees comes from God, his word is faithful and true (1:11, 1:19).

When John was writing, the prophets had a very special place in the Church. He was writing, as we shall see, in about AD 90. By that time, the Church had two kinds of ministry. There was the local ministry; those engaged in it were settled permanently in one congregation as the elders, the deacons and the teachers. There was also the travelling ministry of those whose sphere of work was not confined to any one congregation. In it were the apostles, whose authority ran throughout the whole Church; and there were the prophets, who were wandering preachers. The prophets were greatly respected; the Didache says (11:7) that to question the words of a true prophet was to sin against the Holy Spirit. The accepted order of service for the celebration of the Eucharist is laid down in the Didache, but at the end comes the sentence: ‘But allow the prophets to hold the Eucharist as they will’ (10:7). The prophets were regarded as uniquely coming from God; and John was a prophet.

(5) It is unlikely that he was an apostle. Otherwise, he would hardly have put such emphasis on the fact that he was a prophet. Further, he speaks of the apostles as if he was looking back on them as the great foundations of the Church. He speaks of the twelve foundations of the wall of the holy city, and then says: ‘and on them were the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb’ (21:14). He would scarcely have spoken of the apostles like that if he himself had been one of them.

This conclusion is made even more likely by the title of the book. In the Authorized and Revised Versions, it is called the Revelation of St John the Divine. In the Revised Standard Version and in James Moffatt’s and in J. B. Phillips’ translations, the Divine is omitted, because it is absent from the majority of the oldest Greek manuscripts; but it does go a long way back. The Greek is theologos, and the word is used here in the sense in which scholars speak of ‘the Puritan divines’. It means not John the saintly but John the theologian; and the very addition of that title seems to distinguish this John from the John who was the apostle.

As long ago as AD 250, Dionysius, the great scholar who was head of the Christian school at Alexandria, saw that it was well nigh impossible that the same man could have written both Revelation and the Fourth Gospel, if for no other reason than that the Greek is so different. The Greek of the Fourth Gospel is simple but correct; the Greek of Revelation is rugged and vivid, but notoriously incorrect. Further, the writer of the Fourth Gospel studiously avoids any mention of his own name; the John of Revelation repeatedly mentions his. Still further, the ideas of the two books are different. The great ideas of the Fourth Gospel – light, life, truth and grace – do not dominate Revelation. At the same time, there are enough resemblances in thought and language to make it clear that both books come from the same centre and from the same world of thought.

The Date of Revelation

We have two sources which enable us to fix the date.

(1) There is the account which tradition gives to us. The consistent tradition is that John was banished to Patmos in the time of the Roman emperor Domitian, and that he saw his visions there; at the death of Domitian, John was liberated and came back to Ephesus, and there set down the visions he had seen. Victorinus, who wrote towards the end of the third century AD, says in his commentary on Revelation: ‘John, when he saw these things, was in the island of Patmos, condemned to the mines by Domitian the emperor. There, therefore, he saw the revelation . . . When he was afterwards set free from the mines, he handed down this revelation which he had received from God.’ The biblical scholar Jerome, who wrote at the end of the fourth century and the beginning of the fifth, is even more detailed: ‘In the fourteenth year after the persecution of Nero, John was banished to the island of Patmos, and there wrote the Revelation . . . Upon the death of Domitian, and upon the repeal of his acts by the senate, because of their excessive cruelty, he returned to Ephesus, when Nerva was emperor.’ The early Church historian Eusebius says: ‘The apostle and evangelist John related these things to the churches, when he had returned from exile in the island after the death of Domitian.’ Tradition makes it certain that John saw his visions in exile in Patmos; the only thing that is doubtful – and it is not important – is whether he wrote them down during the time of his banishment or when he returned to Ephesus. On this evidence, we will not be wrong if we date Revelation about AD 95.

(2) The second line of evidence is the material in the book. There is a completely new attitude to Rome and to the Roman Empire.

In Acts, the tribunal of the Roman magistrate was often the safest refuge of the Christian missionaries against the hatred of the Jews and the fury of the mob. Paul was proud that he was a Roman citizen, and he repeatedly claimed the rights to which every Roman citizen was entitled. In Philippi, he put the local magistrates in their place by revealing his citizenship (Acts 16:36–40). In Corinth, Gallio dismissed the complaints against Paul with impartial Roman justice (Acts 18:1–17). In Ephesus, the Roman authorities protected him from the rioting mob (Acts 19:23–41). In Jerusalem, the Roman tribune rescued him from what might have become a lynching (Acts 21:30–40). When the Roman tribune in Jerusalem heard that there was to be an attempt on Paul’s life on the way to Caesarea, he took every possible step to ensure Paul’s safety (Acts 23:12–31). When Paul despaired of justice in Palestine, he exercised his right as a citizen and appealed direct to Caesar (Acts 25:10–11). When he wrote to the Romans, he urged upon them obedience to the powers that be, because they were ordained by God and were a terror only to the evil and not to the good (Romans 13:1–7). Peter’s advice is exactly the same. Governors and kings are to be obeyed, for their task is given to them by God. It is a Christian’s duty to fear God and honour the emperor (1 Peter 2:12–17). In writing to the Thessalonians, it is likely that Paul points to the power of Rome as the one thing which is controlling the threatening chaos of the world (2 Thessalonians 2:7).

In Revelation, there is nothing but blazing hatred for Rome. Rome is a Babylon, the mother of prostitutes, drunk with the blood of the saints and the martyrs (Revelation 17:5–6). John hopes for nothing but Rome’s total destruction.

The explanation of this change in attitude lies in the wide development of Caesar-worship, which, with its accompanying persecution, is the background of Revelation.

By the time of Revelation, Caesar-worship was the one religion which covered the whole Roman Empire; and it was because of their refusal to conform to its demands that Christians were persecuted and killed. Its essence was that the reigning Roman emperor, who was seen to embody the spirit of Rome, was divine. Once a year, everyone in the Empire had to appear before the magistrates to burn a pinch of incense to the godhead of Caesar and to say: ‘Caesar is Lord.’ After they had done that, people were able to go away and worship any god or goddess they liked, as long as that worship did not infringe decency and good order; but they had to go through this ceremony in which they acknowledged the emperor’s divinity.

The reason was very simple. Rome had a vast and diverse empire, stretching from one end of the known world to the other. It had in it many languages, races and traditions. The problem was how to weld this varied mass into a unity. There was no unifying force such as a common religion, and none of the national religions could conceivably have become universal. Caesar-worship could. It was the one common act and belief which turned the Empire into a unity. To refuse to burn the pinch of incense and to say: ‘Caesar is Lord’ was not an act against religion; it was an act of political disloyalty. That is why the Romans dealt with the utmost severity with anyone who would not say: ‘Caesar is Lord.’ And Christians could never give the title Lord to anyone other than Jesus Christ. This was the centre of their creed.

We must see how this Caesar-worship developed and how it was at its peak when Revelation was written.

One basic fact must be noted. Caesar-worship was not imposed on the people from above. It arose from the people; it might even be said that it arose in spite of efforts by the early emperors to stop it, or at least to curb it. And it is to be noted that, of all the people in the Empire, only the Jews were exempt from it.

Caesar-worship began as a spontaneous outburst of gratitude to Rome. The people of the provinces knew very well what they owed to Rome. Impartial Roman justice had taken the place of inconsistent and tyrannical oppression. Security had taken the place of insecurity. The great Roman roads spanned the world, and were safe from robbers; and the seas were clear of pirates. The pax Romana, the Roman peace, was the greatest thing which ever happened to the ancient world. As Virgil had it, Rome felt its destiny to be ‘to spare the fallen and to cast down the proud’. Life had a new order about it. The American biblical scholar E. J. Goodspeed writes: ‘This was the pax Romana. The provincial under Roman sway found himself in a position to conduct his business, provide for his family, send his letters, and make his journeys in security, thanks to the strong hand of Rome.’

Caesar-worship did not begin with the deification of the emperor. It began with the deification of Rome. The spirit of the Empire was deified under the name of the goddess Roma. Roma stood for all the strong and benevolent power of the Empire. The first temple to Roma was erected in Smyrna as far back as 195 BC. It was no great step to think of the spirit of Rome as being incarnated in one man, the emperor. The worship of the emperor began with the worship of Julius Caesar after his death. In 29 BC, the Emperor Augustus granted to the provinces of Asia and Bithynia permission to erect temples in Ephesus and Nicaea for the joint worship of the goddess Roma and the deified Julius Caesar. At these shrines, Roman citizens were encouraged and even exhorted to worship. Then another step was taken. To provincials who were not Roman citizens, Augustus gave permission to erect temples in Pergamum in Asia and in Nicomedia in Bithynia, for the worship of Roma and himself. At first, the worship of the reigning emperor was considered to be something permissible for provincial non-citizens, but not for those who had the dignity of the citizenship.

There was an inevitable development. It is human to worship a god who can be seen rather than a spirit. Gradually, people began more and more to worship the emperor himself instead of the goddess Roma. It still required special permission from the senate to build a temple to the living emperor; but, by the middle of the first century, that permission was more and more freely given. Caesar-worship was becoming the universal religion of the Roman Empire. A priesthood developed, and the worship was organized into groups of ministers and elders called presbyteries, whose officials were held in the highest honour.

This worship was never intended to wipe out other religions. Rome was essentially tolerant. People might worship Caesar and their own god. But, more and more, Caesar-worship became a test of political loyalty; it became, as has been said, the recognition of the dominion of Caesar over an individual’s life and soul. Let us, then, trace the development of this worship up to, and immediately beyond, the writing of Revelation.

(1) Augustus, who died in AD 14, allowed the worship of Julius Caesar, his great predecessor. He allowed non-citizens in the provinces to worship himself, but he did not permit citizens to do so; and he made no attempt to enforce this worship.

(2) Tiberius (AD 14–37) could not halt Caesar-worship. He forbade temples to be built and priests to be appointed for his own worship; and, in a letter to Gython, a Laconian city, he definitely refused divine honours for himself. So, far from enforcing Caesar-worship, he actively discouraged it.

(3) Caligula (AD 37–41), the next emperor, was an epileptic, a madman and a megalomaniac. He insisted on divine honours. He attempted to enforce Caesar-worship even on the Jews, who had always been and who always were to remain exempt from it. He planned to place his own image in the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem, a step which would certainly have provoked unyielding rebellion. Mercifully, he died before he could carry out his plans. But, in his reign, we have an episode when Caesar-worship became an imperial demand.

(4) Caligula was succeeded by Claudius (AD 41–54), who completely reversed his insane policy. He wrote to the governor of Egypt – there were 1,000,000 Jews in Alexandria – fully approving the Jewish refusal to call the emperor a god and granting them full liberty to enjoy their own worship. On his accession to the throne, he wrote to Alexandria saying: ‘I deprecate the appointment of a high priest to me and the erection of temples, for I do not wish to be offensive to my contemporaries, and I hold that sacred fanes [temples] and the like have been by all ages attributed to the immortal gods as peculiar honours.’

(5) Nero (AD 54–68) did not take his own divinity seriously and did nothing to insist on Caesar-worship. It is true that he persecuted the Christians; but this was not because they would not worship him, but because he had to find scapegoats for the great fire of Rome.

(6) On the death of Nero, there were three emperors in eighteen months – Galba, Otho and Vitellius – and in such a time of chaos the question of Caesar-worship did not arise.

(7) The next two emperors, Vespasian (AD 69–79) and Titus (AD 79–81), were wise rulers, who made no insistence on Caesar-worship.

(8) The coming of Domitian (ad 81–96) brought a complete change. He was a devil. He was the worst of all things – a cold-blooded persecutor. With the exception of Caligula, he was the first emperor to take his divinity seriously and to demand Caesar-worship. The difference was that Caligula was an insane devil; Domitian was a sane devil, which is much more terrifying. He erected a monument to ‘the deified Titus, son of the deified Vespasian’. He began a campaign of bitter persecution against all who would not worship the ancient gods – ‘the atheists’, as he called them. In particular, he launched his hatred against the Jews and the Christians. When he arrived in the theatre with his empress, the crowd were urged to rise and shout: ‘All hail to our Lord and his Lady!’ He behaved as if he himself were a god. He informed all provincial governors that government announcements and proclamations must begin: ‘Our Lord and God Domitian commands . . .’ Everyone who addressed him in speech or in writing must begin: ‘Lord and God.’

Here is the background of Revelation. All over the Empire, men and women had to call Domitian god – or die. Caesar-worship was the deliberate policy; all must say: ‘Caesar is Lord.’ There was no escape.

What were the Christians to do? What hope did they have? Not many of them were wise, and not many of them were powerful. They had no influence or status. Against them had risen the might of Rome, which no nation had ever resisted. They were confronted with the choice – Caesar or Christ. It was to encourage men and women in such times that Revelation was written. John did not shut his eyes to the terrors; he saw dreadful things, and he saw still more dreadful things on the way; but beyond them he saw glory for those who defied Caesar for the love of Christ. Revelation comes from one of the most heroic ages in all the history of the Christian Church. It is true that Domitian’s successor Nerva (AD 96–8) repealed the savage laws; but the damage was done, the Christians were outlaws, and Revelation is a clarion call to be faithful to death in order to win the crown of life.

The Book Worth Studying

We cannot shut our eyes to the difficulty of Revelation. It is the most difficult book in the Bible; but its study brings infinite rewards, for it contains the blazing faith of the Christian Church in the days when life was an agony and people expected the end of the heavens and the earth as they knew them but still believed that beyond the terror was the glory and above human raging was the power of God.