TWO

Who's Who in Heaven

REVELATION'S CAST
OF THOUSANDS

EXCEPT FOR A PLAGUE of antichrist flicks in the 1970s, Hollywood hasn't even tried to screen an Apocalypse, as it has the Gospels and the Book of Exodus. Perhaps some things are just too strange, bloody, violent, and extravagant, even for Hollywood.

Or maybe directors are put off by the casting that Revelation would demand (not to mention the cost of special effects!). Cecil B. DeMille could content himself with a cast of thousands in The Ten Commandments. Revelation, though, would require literally hundreds of thousands. It is perhaps the most populous book of the Bible.

Who are these characters that fill the landscapes and heavenscapes of John? In this chapter, we'll try to get to know them a little better.

But first, a confession: I fear to tread here. Perhaps no subject more fascinates or obsesses Revelation scholars, preachers, and hobbyists than the identification of the book's beasts, critters, angels, and people.

A reader's identification of these characters depends largely on his scheme of interpretation. The futurist scheme has inspired interpreters to identify the beasts, in turn, with Napoleon, Bismarck, Hitler, and Stalin, among others. The “preterist” view—which emphasizes a first-century fulfillment of Revelation's prophecies—tends to identify the beasts, for example, with one or another Roman Emperor, or with Rome itself, or with Jerusalem. A third perspective, sometimes called the “idealist,” sees Revelation as an allegory of the spiritual warfare that every believer must fight. Yet another view, the “historicist,” holds that the Apocalypse lays out God's master plan for history, from beginning to end.

Which view do I follow? Well, all of them. There's no reason they can't all be true simultaneously. Scripture's riches are boundless. The earliest Christians taught that the sacred text operates on four levels, and all of those levels, all at once, teach God's one truth—like a symphony. If I favor one perspective over the others, it is the preterist. Yet, again, I won't discount the others. What binds them all together is what binds us all to Christ: the New Covenant, sealed and renewed by the Eucharistic liturgy.

For within the Apocalypse emerges a pattern—of covenant, fall, judgment, and redemption—and this pattern does describe a particular period of history, but it also describes every period of history, and all of history, as well as the course of life for each and every one of us.

“I, JOHN”

I mentioned earlier that there is much controversy over John's authorship of the Book of Revelation. That debate, while fascinating, is only incidental to our study of the Mass and the Apocalypse.

One thing, however, is clear: the text explicitly associates itself with John (Rev 1:4, 9; 22:8). And “John” in the New Testament (and in the minds of the early Church Fathers) means John the Apostle.

Indeed, the books themselves indicate that, if they do not share a common author, they at least flow from the same school of thought. For Revelation and the Fourth Gospel share many theological concerns. Both books reveal a rather precise knowledge of the Jerusalem Temple and its rituals; both seem preoccupied with presenting Jesus as the “Lamb,” the sacrifice of the new Passover (see Jn 1:29, 36; Rev 5:6). Moreover, John's Gospel and the Apocalypse share some terminology that, within the New Testament, is peculiar only to them. For example, only the Fourth Gospel and the Apocalypse refer to Jesus as “the Word of God” (Jn 1:1; Rev 19:13); and only these two books refer to New Covenant worship as “in the Spirit” (Jn 4:23; Rev 1:10). Also, only these two books speak of salvation in terms of “living water” (Jn 4:13; Rev 21:6). There are many other parallels as well.

Still, this identification of the author John with the Apostle John is important only because of the insight it gives us into the power of Revelation's vision. In the Gospel, for example, John is identified as the “Beloved Disciple” of Jesus (see Jn 13:23; 21:20, 24). John was the Apostle on most intimate terms with the Lord, the disciple who was literally closest to His heart. John reclined on Jesus' breast at the Last Supper. Yet, in the Apocalypse, when he saw Jesus in His power and glory, with universal dominion and divine sovereignty, John fell on his face (see Rev 1:17). These are important details for us, who want to be “beloved disciples” today. While we must strive for an increasingly intimate relationship with Jesus, we can hardly begin the conversation until we see Jesus for Who He is, in His all-surpassing holiness.

John's identity is important also in relation to Revelation's earthly concerns. Tradition identifies the Apostle John as bishop of Ephesus, one of the seven churches addressed in Revelation. The churches are identified with cities, all seven of which were located within a fifty-mile radius in Asia Minor, probably marking off the sphere of John's authority. We can see why John, as bishop, would be chosen to deliver such a pastoral message as we find in Revelation, especially in the letters to the seven churches (Rev 2, 3).

“THE LAMB”

This is Revelation's favored title and image for Jesus Christ. Yes, He is ruler (1:5); He stands amid the Menorah robed as high priest (1:13); He is “the first and the last” (1:17), “the holy one” (3:7), “Lord of lords and King of kings” (17:14)—but, overwhelmingly, Jesus is the Lamb.

The Lamb, according to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is “Christ crucified and risen, the one high priest of the true sanctuary, the same one “Who offers and is offered, Who gives and is given' ” (no. 1137).

When John first sees the Lamb, he's actually looking for a lion. No one is able to open the seals of the scroll and reveal its contents, and John begins to weep. Then an elder reassures him, “Weep not; lo, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that He can open the scroll and its seven seals” (Rev 5:5).

John looks around for the Lion of Judah, but instead sees—a Lamb. Lambs are not very mighty to begin with, and this one is standing “as though it had been slain” (Rev 5:6). We don't need to revisit here all that we discussed in chapter 2. What should be clear is that Jesus, here, is a sacrificial lamb, like the Passover lamb.

The elders (presbyteroi, priests) then sing that Christ's sacrifice has enabled Him to break the seals of the scroll, the Old Testament. “Worthy are You to take the scroll and to open its seals, for You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed men for God” (5:9). Heaven and earth then give glory to Jesus as to God: “To Him Who sits upon the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might for ever and ever! .         .         . and the elders fell down and worshiped” (5:13–14).

The Lamb is Jesus. The Lamb is also a “son of man,” robed as a high priest (1:13); the Lamb is sacrificial victim; the Lamb is God.

“A WOMAN CLOTHED WITH THE SUN”

Revelation 12, John's vision of the woman clothed with the sun, captures the essence of the Book of Revelation. With many layers of meaning, it shows a past event prefiguring an event far off in the future. It recaps the Old Testament as it completes the New. It reveals heaven, but in images of earth.

John's vision begins with the opening of God's temple in heaven, “and the ark of His covenant was seen within the temple” (Rev 11:19). Perhaps we can't fully appreciate the shock value of that line. The Ark of the Covenant had not been seen for five centuries. At the time of the Babylonian captivity, the prophet Jeremiah had hidden the ark in a place that “shall be unknown until God gathers His people together again” (2 Mac 2:7).

That promise is fulfilled in John's vision. The Temple appeared, “and there were flashes of lightning, loud noises, peals of thunder, an earthquake, and heavy hail.” And then: “A great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars; she was with child” (Rev 12:1–2).

John would not have introduced the ark, just to drop it immediately. I believe (with the Fathers of the Church) that when John describes the woman, he is describing the ark—of the New Covenant. And who is the woman? She is the one who gives birth to the male child Who will rule the nations. The child is Jesus; His mother is Mary.

What made the original ark so holy? Not the gold that coated the outside, but the Ten Commandments inside—the Law that had been inscribed by the finger of God on tablets of stone. What else was inside? Manna, the miracle bread that fed the people in their pilgrimage through the wasteland; Aaron's rod that blossomed as a sign of his office as high priest (see Nm 17).

What makes the new ark holy? The old ark contained the word of God written in stone; Mary contained in her womb the Word of God Who became man and dwelt among us. The ark contained manna; Mary contained the living bread come down from heaven. The ark contained the rod of the high priest Aaron; Mary's womb contained the eternal high priest, Jesus Christ. In the heavenly temple, the Word of God is Jesus, and the ark in whom he resides is Mary, His mother.

If the male child is Jesus, then the woman is Mary. This interpretation was upheld by the most sober-minded of the Church Fathers, St. Athanasius, St. Epiphanius, and many others. Yet “the woman” also stands for more. She is “daughter Zion,” which brought forth Israel's Messiah. She is also the Church, besieged by Satan, yet preserved in safety. As I said before, Scripture's riches are boundless.

Other scholars argue that the woman cannot be Mary, since, according to Catholic tradition, Mary suffered no labor pain. The pangs of the woman, however, need not have been physical pain. St. Paul, for example, used birth pangs to describe his own agony until Christ be formed in his disciples (see Gal 4:19). Thus, the suffering of the woman could describe the suffering of a soul—the suffering that Mary knew, at the foot of the cross, as she became the mother of all “beloved disciples” (see Jn 19:25–27).

Others object that the woman cannot be Mary because the woman in Revelation has other offspring, and the Church teaches that Mary was perpetually virgin. But Scripture often uses the term “offspring” (in Greek, sperma) to describe one's spiritual descendants. The children of Mary, her spiritual offspring, are those “who keep the commandments of God and bear testimony to Jesus” (Rev 12:17). We are the other offspring of the woman. We are the children of Mary.

Thus, Revelation also portrays Mary as the “New Eve,” mother of all the living. In the Garden of Eden, God promised to “put enmity” between Satan, the ancient serpent, and Eve—and between Satan's “seed and her seed” (Gen 3:15). Now, in the Apocalypse, we see the climax of this enmity. The seed of the new woman, Mary, is the male son, Jesus Christ, Who comes to defeat the serpent (in Hebrew, the same word, nahash, can apply to both dragon and serpent).

This is the overwhelming teaching of the Fathers, Doctors, saints, and popes of the Church, both ancient and modern. It is the teaching of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (see no. 1138). I must point out, however, that it is not held by many biblical scholars today. Yet those who disagree must bear the burden of proof. Pope St. Pius X spoke eloquently for the Tradition in his encyclical letter Ad Diem Illum Laetissimum:

Everyone knows that this woman signified the Virgin Mary. .         .         . John therefore saw the Most Holy Mother of God already in eternal happiness, yet travailing in a mysterious childbirth. What birth was it? Surely it was the birth of us who, still in exile, are yet to be generated to the perfect charity of God, and to eternal happiness.

THE FIRST BEAST

Unsuccessful in his assaults on the woman and her son, the dragon turns to attack her offspring, on those who keep the commandments of God and bear testimony to Jesus. The dragon summons his own seed, two dreadful beasts. Oddly enough, amid all the hopeful and awe-inspiring images of the Apocalypse, these hideous monsters seem to spark the most interest. Moviemakers and televangelists dwell longer, by far, on 666 than on the glassy sea or the Lion of Judah.

I feel an urgency to impress upon you the reality of the beasts. They are symbols, but they're not just symbols. They are real spiritual beings, members of the satanic “lowerarchy,” demonic persons who have controlled and corrupted the political destiny of nations. John describes two ugly beasts. But I believe the beasts he saw were much more horrible than his description.

In much of Revelation—but especially chapters 4 and 5—John describes the realities behind the Mass. Now, he does the same with sin and evil. Just as our actions in the liturgy are united with unseen heavenly things, so are our sinful deeds attached to infernal wickedness. In the Mass, what does God want to make us? A kingdom of priests who reign through their sacrificial offerings. On the other hand, what does Satan want to accomplish through the beasts? He wants to subvert God's plan by corrupting both kingdom and priesthood. Thus, John shows us, first, the demon that corrupts government authority, the state. Next, he reveals the demon of corrupt religious authority.

First beasts first: from the sea arises a hideous seven-headed, ten-horned monster, a terrifying combination of leopard, lion, and bear. The horns symbolize power; the diadems (or crowns), kingship. Both its power and its kingship it receives from the dragon. We would err, however, if we identified this beast with monarchy in general. No, the beast represents corrupt political authority of any sort.

It's tempting, too, to identify the beast exclusively with Rome, or with the Herodian dynasty that Rome maintained in the Holy Land. Certainly the Rome of John's day typified the sort of government represented by the beast. But the beast itself does not allow for such a simple identification. It's actually a combination of all four of the beasts from a vision of the Old Testament prophet Daniel (see Dan 7). I follow the Church Fathers, who saw Daniel's beasts pointing to four gentile empires: Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome—all of whom persecuted God's people before the Messiah's coming.

Revelation's seven-headed beast, then, stands for all corrupted political power. For it's a human impulse to look upon the power of the state as the greatest power on earth and say, like the people in the Apocalypse, “Who can fight against it?” Out of fear for this power—or desire for a piece of the action—people constantly compromise themselves and worship the dragon and the beast. History's most blatant example of a human institution usurping God's prerogatives is Rome and its Caesars. They literally demanded the worship that belongs to God alone. And they made war on the saints, instigating bloody persecutions of those who would not worship the emperor.

Again, however, I must emphasize that the beast is not only Rome, or only Rome's puppet, the Herodians. The beast refers also to any corrupt government, any state that puts itself above God's covenant order. More than that, the beast represents the corrupting spiritual force behind these institutions.

THE SECOND BEAST

This beast comes from the earth and has horns like a lamb. The lamb imagery is jarring, as we've come by now to associate it with sacred things. John's use of it, I believe, is intentional, for I believe that this beast is meant to suggest the corrupted priesthood in first-century Jerusalem.

The initial clue is that this beast comes out of “the earth,” which in the original Greek could also mean “the land” or “the country,” as opposed to “the sea,” which brings forth the gentile beasts (see Dan 7). Further, John was likely bearing witness to the ultimate compromise of priestly authority, which had occurred only a few years before. In a dramatic historical moment, religious authority had given its allegiance to corrupt government authority instead of God. Jesus, the Lamb of God, High King and High Priest, stood before Pontius Pilate and the chief priests of the Jews. Pilate said to the Jews, “Here is your king!” They cried out, “Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him!” Pilate replied, “Shall I crucify your king?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but Caesar” (see Jn 19:15). Indeed it was the high priest himself, Caiaphas, who first spoke of Jesus' sacrifice as politically “expedient” for the people (see Jn 11:47–52).

So they rejected Christ and elevated Caesar. They rejected the Lamb and worshiped the beast. Certainly Caesar was the government's ruler and as such deserved respect (see Lk 20:21–25). But Caesar wanted more than respect. He demanded sacrificial worship, which the chief priests gave him when they handed over the Lamb of God.

The beast resembles a lamb in some superficial features. We see that everything he does is in mimicry and mockery of the Lamb's saving work. The Lamb stands as though it had been slain; the beast receives a mortal wound, but recovers. God enthrones the Lamb; the dragon enthrones the beast. Those who worship the Lamb receive His sign on their foreheads (Rev 7:2–4); those who worship the beast wear the mark of the beast.

Which brings us to the difficult question: What is the mark of the beast? John tells us that it is the name of the beast, or the number of its name. What is that? John answers in a riddle: “This calls for wisdom: let him who has understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number, its number is six hundred and sixty-six” (Rev 13:18).

On one level, the number may represent the Roman emperor Nero, whose name transliterated into Hebrew indeed has the value 666. Yet there are many other, or additional, possibilities. Consider that 666 was the number of gold talents King Solomon required from the nations yearly (see 1 Kgs 10). Consider also that Solomon was the first priest-king since Melchizedek (see Ps 110). Moreover, John says that discerning the identity of the beast “calls for wisdom,” which some interpreters have seen as another reference to Solomon, who was renowned for his wisdom.

Finally, 666 can be interpreted as a degradation of the number seven, which, in Israel's tradition, represented perfection, holiness, and the covenant. The seventh day, for example, was declared holy by God and set aside for rest and worship. Work was done in six days; it was sanctified, however, in the sacrificial worship represented by the seventh day. The number “666,” then, represents a man stalled in the sixth day, serving the beast who concerns himself with buying and selling (see Rev 13:17) without rest for worship. Though work is holy, it becomes evil when man refuses to offer it to God.

Yet we must be clear about something. This interpretation should not lead any Christian to justify anti-Semitism. The Book of Revelation overwhelmingly demonstrates the dignity of Israel—its Temple, its prophets, its covenants. The Apocalypse should rather lead us to a greater appreciation for our heritage in Israel—and to a sober consideration of our own accountability before God. How well are we living according to our covenant with God? How faithful are we to our priesthood? The book stands as a warning to all of us.

The beastly message is this: we are fighting spiritual forces: immense, depraved, malevolent forces. If we had to fight them alone, we'd be trounced. But here's good news: there is a way we can hope to overcome. The solution has to match the problem, spiritual force for spiritual force, immense beauty for immense ugliness, holiness for depravity, love for malevolence. The solution is the Mass, when heaven touches down to save an earth under siege.

ANGELS

In battle, we do not fight alone. In Revelation 12, we read of “Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon” (12:7).

When God created the angels, He made them free, and so they had to undergo some sort of test—just as our life on earth is a test. No one knows what this test was, but some theologians speculate that the angels were given a vision of the Incarnation, and they were told they would have to serve the incarnate deity, Jesus, and His mother. Satan's pride revolted against the scandal of Spirit taking on the bonds of matter, and he said, “I will not serve!” According to the Church Fathers, he led one third of the angels in this rebellion (see Rev 12:4). Michael and his angels cast them out of heaven (see v. 8).

Throughout the Apocalypse, we see that the angels populate heaven rather densely. They worship God without ceasing (Rev 4:8). And they watch over us. Chapters 2 and 3 make clear that each particular church has a guardian angel. This should reassure us, who belong to particular churches, and who can call for help from our particular church's angel.

The “four living creatures” mentioned in chapter 4 are usually understood to be angels, though they appear to human eyes in animal form. These creatures may correspond as well to the creatures embroidered on the screen before the Holy of Holies in Jerusalem's Temple.

Though heaven's angels present themselves to human eyes in physical form, angels do not actually have bodies. Their name means “messenger,” and the physical attributes usually symbolize some aspect of their nature or mission. Wings indicate their swiftness in moving between heaven and earth. Multiple eyes signify their knowledge and watchfulness. Many-eyed, six-winged angels might sound scary at first, but if we think of them in terms of their swiftness and vigilance, we'll be reassured. These are beings we can count on, when the dragon threatens our peace.

In Revelation, the angels also appear as horsemen (ch. 6) who visit God's judgment upon unfaithful people (see also Zec 1:7–17). Much of the action in these chapters may be connected to the events surrounding the fall of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. But the passage has applications beyond the first century, as long as the earth stands in need of judgment.

Revelation's angels control the elements, the wind and sea, to do God's will (ch. 7). Chapters 7–9 make it clear that angels are mighty warriors, and that they battle constantly on the side of God—which, if we're faithful, is our side, too.

MARTYRS, VIRGINS, AND OTHER FOLKS

But there's more to the Apocalypse than wicked beasts and awesome angels. In fact, most of the characters are just plain folks—hundreds of thousands, and even millions, are ordinary Christian men and women. First, we see the 144,000 from the twelve tribes of Israel (12,000 from each tribe), the remnant who received God's protection (His “sign”), fleeing to the mountains during Jerusalem's destruction. Then, John describes myriads of myriads “from every nation” (Rev 7:9). After two millennia of inclusive religion, we cannot today appreciate the seismic impact of this vision of Israelites worshiping together with gentiles, and humans with angels. To the minds of John's first readers, these were mutually exclusive categories. Moreover, in heaven, all these multitudes worship within the Holy of Holies, where none but the High Priest had previously been admitted. The New Covenant people can worship God face to face.

Who else is there? In chapter 6, we encounter the martyrs, those who had been slain for the witness of their faith. “I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne” (Rev 6:9). Why are they under the altar? What was usually under the altar of the earthly Temple? When Old Testament priests offered animal sacrifices, the victims' blood gathered under the altar. As priestly people, they (and we) offer up our lives upon the earth, the true altar, as a sacrifice to God. The true sacrifice then is not an animal; it is every saint who gives testimony (in Greek, martyria) to God's faithfulness. Our offering—the martyrs' blood—calls out to God for vindication. How revealing that, from the earliest days, the Church has placed the relics of the martyrs, their bones and ashes, within its altars. Earlier, we mentioned the elders (presbyteroi) enthroned at God's court. Indeed, in Revelation's heaven, these men appear vested exactly as Israel's priests dressed for service in Jerusalem's Temple.

In Revelation (14:4), we also encounter a large number of men consecrated to virginity. This is another anomaly in the ancient world, found rarely in Israel or gentile cultures, as it has been unusual in the Christian West ever since the Protestant Reformation. Yet John mentions these celibates as a veritable army, which is more probably what God intends (see 1 Cor 6–7).

ON EARTH AS IN HEAVEN

We don't have to go very far afield in order to identify the cast of characters in the Apocalypse. In fact, the meaning God wishes us to see is often plainly told in the text, or plainly wanting in our hearts. As I look back on my own years of studying Revelation as a Protestant, I marvel that my brethren and I could sometimes see, very clearly, Soviet helicopters portrayed in the plague of mutant locusts—yet we were vehement in denying that Mary could be the woman clothed with the sun, who gave birth to the male child Who saved the world. Reading the Apocalypse, we must always fight the temptation to strain for the extravagant while denying the obvious.

I'll say it again: Often the deepest meaning in Scripture is very near to the heart of each of us, and the widest application is very close to home.

Now, where on earth can we find a universal Church that worships in a manner that is true to John's vision? Where can we find priests in vestments standing before an altar? Where do we encounter men consecrated to celibacy? Where do we hear the angels invoked? Where do we find a Church that keeps the relics of the saints within its altars? Where does art extol the woman crowned with the stars, with the moon at her feet, who crushes the head of the serpent? Where do the faithful pray for the protection of St. Michael the archangel?

Where else but in the Catholic Church, and most particularly in the Mass?