The Vesuvian towns (and Pompeii in particular) have provided historians with unprecedented access to daily life in a Roman city with all its complexities and vagaries. The rhythm of daily routines suddenly came within reach, and the city’s regular thrum became almost audible. While literary sources had given us many of the pieces of the Greco-Roman world, in the Vesuvian towns those pieces lay like a puzzle nearly assembled. Indeed, as the covering layers were removed from Pompeii, they yielded not only election notices, tools, restaurants, paintings, and all the other various objects that facilitate daily life, but also a staggering amount of material remains illustrating the domestic and urban religion of first-century Romans. For scholars of early Christianity in particular, Pompeii provides a great opportunity for understanding the expansion of Christianity in the Greco-Roman world, an opportunity perhaps undervalued in scholarly literature so far.
That these data are invaluable for understanding the background of some of the gentiles who came to embrace the Christian religion in its earliest forms is obvious. More controversial, perhaps, is the notion that these data can shed light on what the gentiles themselves brought to the table, potentially pointing historians to places where gentiles have left their mark on the development of Christian theology. The aim of this essay is to use insights from Pompeii to provide a firmer purchase on a slippery interpretive issue in Revelation—namely, what is the nature of “the angels [ἄγγελοι] of the churches” in Revelation 1–3. In addressing that issue, this essay will marry (1) an argument that surveys the trajectory of Jewish thought as it relates to protective guardian angels and guiding tutelary angels, with (2) an argument that considers the Greco-Roman view of the superhuman realm. In other words, it will consider the Jewish trajectory while taking seriously the way the influx of gentiles could have influenced or contributed to that trajectory in the aftermath of their allegiance to Jesus Christ.
Because the exact nature and function of the angels of the churches in Revelation 1–3 has been the subject of a great deal of scholarly reflection, it is necessary to begin by briefly surveying the interpretive options already in the literature.
Everett Ferguson has recently condensed the main interpretations of the identity of the seven ἄγγελοι of the churches.[1] These are variously interpreted as:
1. Supernatural beings
a. Guardian angels of each congregation
b. Personified heavenly counterparts of earthly Christian communities
c. Visionary counterparts of community prophets
2. Human beings
a. Human messengers or emissaries
b. Prophets
c. Bishops or community leaders with title unspecified
3. Heavenly bodies (e.g., planets)
Early patristic sources greatly preferred the guardian angel reading—a view that continues to have many advocates.[2] This reading makes good sense of the text, but it suffers from some potential weaknesses. First, there is no exact ancient parallel to guardian angels of churches. Advocates of the guardian angel hypothesis frequently point to the existence of national patron angels and personal guardian angels as a basis for this view, and this material is surveyed below. Second, this reading might seem to involve a convoluted message delivery system wherein an angel/Jesus is sent/revealed to John of Patmos (presumably on earth but “in the spirit”) who then writes a letter to an angel (possibly in heaven) who then relays that communication in some way to the church on earth.[3] Third, the angels addressed in these letters are both praised and rebuked using singular pronouns. To what extent can a guardian angel be chastised on the basis of the actions of the angel’s charge? These difficulties have led to the modified angel hypotheses in 1b and 1c.[4]
Another option is to take ἄγγελος as a purely human entity. Usually this is understood to be a literal messenger of some sort, a prophet, or an authority figure.[5] Perhaps the strongest argument against this interpretation is the way the word ἄγγελος is used in Revelation. In each of the sixty-nine other times that the word is used outside of Rev 1:20–3:22, it is clearly and unambiguously a reference to an angel and not a human messenger.[6] Moreover, the presumption that a bishop or other solitary authority figure could be in view poses its own problems. No one before Ignatius endorses or assumes the monepiscopacy, and it is impossible to say whether his arguments are prescriptive or descriptive. If Revelation is read consistently, the angels of the churches are made (by means of singular pronouns) to bear responsibility for the shortcomings of their churches—perhaps somewhat understandable with a monepiscopacy, but less so with other, more weakly delineated offices.
The result of the scholarly discussion has been something of an impasse. The interpreter must weigh the relative probability of a novel and convoluted angelology on the one hand against the likelihood of terminological inconsistency on the other. In other words, both angelic and human readings have strengths and weaknesses that are solved by the other reading. New data (or at least, newly considered data) are necessary if there is to be any hope of moving forward.
Since our concern here is chiefly with the distinctly Jewish line of thinking that emerges from the Hebrew Bible and develops in the Second Temple period, it is necessary to discuss the conceptual situation in which the ideas about angels in ancient Israelite thought likely arose.[7] There are two relevant points to consider. First, there was a widely attested belief in ancient Mesopotamia that every individual had a personal god.[8] These personal gods were closely connected to the prosperity and fortunes of the individual,[9] and they could be identified with a particular god of the pantheon.[10] The personal god was expected to chastise the individual when necessary, protect the individual from harm, and advocate for the individual in the council of gods.[11] Thus, these personal gods take on both tutelary and guardian functions.
Second, there was a vast pantheon of lesser deities that often took on the function of guardians.[12] Many complex rituals survive with a clear apotropaic function meant to leverage the aid of these demons.[13] Interestingly, many of these demons available for apotropaic exploitation were originally part of the armies of Tiamat. The Enuma Elish records the victory of Marduk over Tiamat and explains the dissolution of her army by Marduk’s transformation of these demons into protective spirits, thus completing the victory of order over chaos. In any case, it is clear that, throughout ancient Mesopotamia, there was a defined class of lesser divinities who were understood as protective spirits, but whose connection to the individual was rather transient in comparison to the personal god.[14]
There are two types of beings in the Hebrew Bible that bear a close resemblance to the guardian divinities mentioned above: cherubim and seraphim. The descriptions of these entities, while not always consistent, clearly indicate that these are hybrid creatures that combine parts from animals and humans.[15] The guardian “demons” mentioned above also frequently take on such hybrid appearance, and there were likewise Babylonian spirits called kuribi that were tasked with guarding doorways and gates.[16] The Akkadian root that probably underlies the Hebrew has the meaning of “to pray” or “to intercede,” which “highlights the apotropaic qualities of the cherubim.”[17]
Artistic representations demonstrating the functions of these hybrid creatures survive in Palestine, Mesopotamia, and Egypt (the sphinx is a prominent example),[18] including Meggido, Samaria, Hazor, Jerusalem, Byblos and elsewhere in Lebanon, and many more locations. These images vary greatly, but commonly associate these beings with thrones and with guarding the holy tree.[19] These functions are entirely consistent with the biblical presentation of the cherubim, who guard the garden of Eden (and the tree of life) in Gen 3:24 and Ezek 28:14–16, and who are associated with God’s throne in 1 Sam 4:4, 2 Sam 6:2, Ps 80:1, and several others passages.[20] There are also numerous biblical references to cherubim acting in accordance with the apotropaic functions listed above. Cherubim are guardians above doorways (Ezek 41:18), but also guard sacred spaces, such as:
Altogether, the biblical function of cherubim as guardians of sacred spaces is very much in line with the archaeological evidence discussed above. The transition from lesser deities to angels matches the move in ancient Israel from henotheism to monotheism, as well as the transformation from belief in a council of the gods to a circle of lesser attendants.[22] The incorporation of the cherubim into the class of angels may also explain why their physiology appears to shift over the course of time, becoming less like the creatures in archaeological evidence.[23] In any case, it is clear that belief in the apotropaic function of angels stretches back to very early conceptions of angels in ancient Israel.
It is fitting at this point to mention another phenomenon associated with the cluster of variant readings in Deuteronomy. The Septuagint suggests that Yahweh divided the nations “according to the number of the angels of God,” which is widely understood to mean that each nation had a patron or guardian angel.[24] As we will see, this is certainly the interpretation in the later extracanonical material, and the targumim even link these angels to the nations and languages arising from the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11.[25] Two further points from the book of Deuteronomy are pertinent. First, in Deut 29:25–26, Yahweh instructs Israel not to worship other gods because Yahweh had “not allotted” Israel to them, implying that “Yahweh could have allotted Israel to other, lesser deities as he had the gentile nations.”[26] Second, this language of allotment also appears in Deut 4:19–20 where Yahweh forbids the worship of the heavenly bodies because they had been allotted to all the gentiles.[27]
This motif of a national guardian angel finds its clearest expression in relation to Israel. On a few occasions in the Hebrew Bible, warrior angels are sent to protect Israel from foreign armies. The Song of Deborah mentions that the stars, frequently a metaphorical term for angels, fought against Sisera on behalf of Israel (Judg 5:20).[28] More interesting, and probably more related to the specific concept of a national patron angel, is the “prince of the host of Yahweh” that leads an army of angels to aid Joshua (Josh 5:13–15).[29] This concept seems to be behind the presentation of the archangel Michael as “one of the chief princes” in Dan 10:13 and more specifically as “your prince” in Dan 10:21. This is made slightly more explicit in Dan 12:1, which again calls Michael a prince but emphasizes that he is standing over Israel.[30] While this concept becomes much more important in the post-biblical literature, it is evident that the concept of a national patron was present, at least in an incipient form, from early on (e.g., Exod 23:20–23).[31]
While the tutelary function of angels in relation to individuals has long been clear (as, for example, in the interpreting angel motif), the guardian relationship is murkier as it relates to individuals.[32] The evidence for a personal guardian angel is rather scarce, although the mediator (מוכיח) in Job 9:33, 16:19–21, and 19:25 may be one example of it.[33] This figure testifies on behalf of Job and advocates for him in heaven. As we will see, there are numerous examples from Second Temple texts that envision angels taking on exactly this sort of role, so it may be that Job is merely an earlier witness to this tradition.
Taken together, the evidence from the Old Testament indicates a widespread belief in guardian and tutelary angels with a variety of functions. They guard the entrances to the temple, the doors within, the mercy seat, the curtains of the tabernacle, and the throne of Yahweh itself. They guard the nation of Israel as a whole, the camp of Jacob, and perhaps individuals. When necessary, they go to war on behalf of Israel. Thus, the apotropaic and guardian functions of angels permeate all spheres. The evidence from Second Temple Judaism builds upon and expands these early trends in several interesting ways. This evidence serves both to make clear some of the ambiguities in these examples from the Hebrew Bible and to demonstrate the explosion of interest in angelology in this period.
The clearest case of an angel functioning as a tutelary or guardian angel to an individual in the Second Temple period is in the book of Tobit (early second century bce), in which the angel Raphael, in the guise of a human, guards Tobiah as he journeys on behalf of his father.[34] Along the way, Raphael teaches Tobiah how to cure Tobit’s blindness and how to cast the demon Asmodeus from his bride-to-be (Tobit 6). His tutelary and protective function would be clear from this alone, but later in the narrative he reveals that he is an angel of the presence who took their prayers before the Lord and reported their good deeds, implying that he was observing them (12:12–15). Thus, he shows both his moral-tutelary and guardian function. Moreover, the narrative portrays Tobit as unconcerned about the fate of his son on the journey because Tobit is sure an angel will protect him (5:22).[35] This might imply that belief in guardian angels of individuals was prevalent at the time of the composition of Tobit.
Raphael’s comments, however, about taking their prayer before God should not be overlooked. This idea is later connected more closely to the concept of guardian angels in 3 Baruch.[36] A heavenly journey apocalypse composed after the destruction of the temple and the failure of the Bar Kokhba revolt, 3 Baruch is particularly concerned with uranology and angelology.[37] Baruch’s tour of the seven heavens, led by a class of angel set aside for the interpretation of visions, uncharacteristically ends at the gate separating the fifth heaven from that which is higher.[38] It is here that we see Michael descend from the higher places through the gate with a massive bowl to collect the prayers and good deeds (the same pairing as in Tobit) from three classes of angels (3 Baruch 11–13). The three classes of angels have their own smaller bowls with collected prayers and good deeds from the virtuous, the semivirtuous, and the unvirtuous respectively.[39]
There are two striking things about this passage. First, the angels display emotions in relation to the virtue of their charges, and they appear to be assigned to individual human beings. Those assigned to the unvirtuous even beg to be released from their service. After Michael brings the prayers and deeds before God, he returns with instructions for the angels that specify blessings for the virtuous and punishment for the unvirtuous (chapter 15). Second, Michael has morphed in 3 Baruch beyond his role of patron angel of Israel to become chief of all angels, commander of angels, and high priest for all humanity.[40] This last development, while not relevant for the trajectory of angelology leading up to Revelation, does at least show how fluid angelology becomes in the first and second centuries.[41]
Jumping back in time, Jubilees (second century bce) is an important witness to many of these developing traditions. It uses both the concept of personal guardian angels and the concept of the national patron angel—although it does so in a form that reflects a harsh attitude toward gentiles and that even excludes Israel itself from the benefits of such angels. Concerning guardian angels of individuals, Jubilees expands upon the conflict between Jacob and Esau, narrating Isaac’s confidence in the face of Rebecca’s fears that Jacob will not survive his coming encounter with Esau (35:16-17).[42] Isaac proclaims Jacob’s inevitable survival by claiming that Jacob’s “guardian” is greater than Esau’s.[43] James Kugel has interpreted this as a reference to Jacob’s guardian being God while Esau’s is just an angel, but given the propensity of Jubilees to replace biblical theophanies with angelic mediators, there is no reason to take the text that way.[44] This, then, would be the second clearest example in the Second Temple period of personal guardian angels.
Additionally, Jubilees 4:6 indicates that the angels report all the sins that occur on earth and in heaven. This is similar to what was described above in Tobit and 3 Baruch, but the text is too general to assume anything but a vague tutelary function over all humanity. When it comes to angels as guardians of nations, Jubilees is very much opposed to this concept.[45] Nevertheless, Jubilees does witness to the angelic patron tradition through a significant inversion. God has indeed set angels over all the nations of the earth (except Israel), but their function is to corrupt the nations rather than aid them (Jubilees 15:30–32). Given that this closely follows a passage about circumcision that contains rules so strict as to make gentile conversion impossible (15:25–29), this inversion is probably a result of the intense holy seed theology in Jubilees.
Temporally speaking, the evidence from Daniel belongs here, and there are many texts from this period that similarly assert the existence of patron angels and the war between Israel’s angel and those of the nations. One of the closest parallels to Daniel is the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch, which nicely blends the angelic national patron concept with the rebelling angels motif. According to the AnimalApocalypse, God handed the nations over to seventy shepherds who were to chastise humanity as God directed. These shepherds eventually overstep their bounds and begin to destroy without God’s permission, leading to the oppression of Israel (89:59–90:19). The scholarly consensus is nearly unanimous that these shepherds were angelic patrons, thus this permutation of the belief functions as a sort of theodicy.[46] This part of the Animal Apocalypse covers the history of Israel from the Divided Kingdom to the Maccabean period, and largely serves to explain how Israel ended up in such a sorry state and how God is going to fix it.[47]
Accordingly, Israel’s patron angel comes on the scene. God is not unaware of the potential for mayhem that these seventy angels possess.[48] Accordingly, he sets a special angel, a watcher of the watchers one might say, to record the deeds of these patron angels and report them to heaven (1 Enoch 89:61–64). This special angel opens the book of destruction, which prompts the “owner of the sheep” to smash the powers arrayed against them (90:13–19). Many have identified the victory mentioned in that passage with a similar event recorded in 2 Maccabees 11:6–12, which likewise records the victory of Israel after the appearance of a warrior angel, though with some important differences.[49] The similarities between Daniel, the Animal Apocalypse, and 2 Maccabees have led many scholars to conclude that the patron angel in these latter two stories is indeed Michael.[50]
Michael as the patron angel of Israel is elsewhere attested in the Book of the Watchers of 1 Enoch. There, Michael is described as the angel who was appointed over “the good people” (1 Enoch 20:5), which clearly means Israel.[51] Since the author of the Animal Apocalypse seems to demonstrate knowledge of the Book of the Watchers, the identification of the unnamed angel as Michael is likely.[52] The same is likely to be true in three other texts: the Assumption of Moses, which speaks of an angel that will avenge Israel; the Testament of Levi 5:1–6, which envisions an angel giving Levi a sword to destroy the enemies of Israel like 1 Enoch 90:19; and the Testament of Dan 6:2–7, which talks of an angel of peace who will strengthen Israel and rescue her from her enemies.[53]
Before moving to the evidence from early Christianity, a few brief observations on the development of angelology are worth mentioning. First, the concept of angels as mediators who relate the prayers and deeds of the people is ubiquitous in this period. Second, there is a great interest in and expansion of both uranology and angelology. The heavens are divided into seven sections, each with their own gate, and the remoteness of God is more and more emphasized. There is, likewise, a great multiplication in the type and functions of angels.[54] Third, texts from Qumran, such as the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, begin to emphasize the communion between humans and angels in the worship of God. Angels take on priestly roles and participate in the worship of the earthly community.[55] This all points in the direction of a growing interest in the interplay between angels and human beings within Jewish traditions.[56]
There are two passages in the New Testament commonly cited in connection with the idea of guardian angels: Matt 18:10 and Acts 12:15.[57] Matthew 18:10 reads: “Watch out that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I say to you, their angels in heaven always see the face of my father in heaven.” Most scholars understand this to be a reference to some sort of guardian angel, though two matters are disputed: What is meant by “little ones,” and where are the heavenly angels?[58] While some have attempted to read “little ones” in the sense of “the common people” (i.e., those lacking money, power, education, etc.), Luz argues convincingly that the way “little ones” in 18:10 and 18:14 brackets the Parable of the Lost Sheep indicates that “little ones” refers not to children but to believers.[59] Luz notes the oddity of the angels being guardians while also being in heaven before the face of God, pointing to the distinction in some Second Temple sources between angels on earth and angels of the presence.[60] There is no reason to conclude, as Luz does, that this is a special Christian permutation, because, as we have seen, the picture is quite muddled and varies from source to source.[61]
The Acts of the Apostles evidence is slightly more controversial. Acts 12 records Peter’s escape from prison through angelic intervention. When he arrives at the home of his companions, they are not expecting him. Rhoda, hearing his voice, is overcome with joy and runs to tell the others. They do not believe her, insisting, “it is his angel” (Acts 12:15). The vast majority of commentators accept that this is a reference to guardian angels.
There have been notable challenges to this view, however, building upon Acts 23:8: “The Sadducees say that there is no ἀνάστασιν μήτε ἄγγελον μήτε πνεῦμα; but the Pharisees acknowledge τὰ ἀμφότερα.”[62] Prior to a critical note by Daube, commentators nearly unanimously translated 23:8a as a sequence of three things the Sadducees denied: resurrection, angels, and spirits. However, since the Sadducees accept the authority of the Pentateuch, which is rife with angels, it would make no sense for them to deny the existence of angels. Dissatisfied with ignoring the contradiction or claiming that Luke was simply ignorant, Daube suggested that angel and spirit should be treated like synonyms. Thus, the Sadducees deny the resurrection and the survival of the intermediate angel/spirit. This makes better sense of τὰ ἀμφότεροι in 23:8b.[63] Read in this light, Acts 12:15 may assume a belief that Peter, having already died, was in the intermediate state. Accordingly, Peter’s ἄγγελον in Acts 12:15 references his spirit, not his guardian angel.
Daube’s conclusions were quickly challenged by Viviano and Taylor.[64] They accepted Daube’s argument in two respects: the Sadducees must have believed in angels, and ἀμφότεροι ought to be translated as “both.” However, instead of viewing “spirit” as appositional to “angel,” they argue that both are appositional to “resurrection.” This yields the idea that the Sadducees deny the resurrection either in the form of an angel or in the form of a spirit.[65] Viviano and Taylor suggest that this is a way to say that the Sadducees deny the afterlife in both the monistic and dualistic varieties, views that are attested in the Second Temple sources (Dan 12:2–3 and Wis 3:1–3 respectively). Moreover, they point out that this accords with the portrait that Josephus paints in Jewish Antiquities 18.14 and Jewish War 2.163, where the Sadducees seem to believe in both. This seems a more likely reading than that of Daube.[66]
Outside of the New Testament, Shepherd of Hermas gives us the most likely examples of a belief in guardian angels. Vision 5 relates Hermas’s encounter with “the angel of conversion” (5.7), who has been sent by the great angel “in order that I might live with you [Hermas] the remaining days of your life” (5.2). If this great angel is Michael (as Carolyn Osiek suggests), then we have something very similar to the passage from 3 Baruch discussed above.[67] In any case, the opinion that this is indeed an example of a guardian angel is virtually unanimous.[68] In a less clear example from the Mandates, the Shepherd instructs Hermas that there are two angels in his heart, one good and one bad, and that he should listen to the good angel (Herm. Mand. 6.2).[69] This motif also appears in the Testament of Judah (20:1–2) and in Philo.[70] Further attestation to the general belief in guardian angels occurs in Hippolytus, Clement of Alexandria, and Origen.[71]
At a minimum, these examples demonstrate an enduring interest in the concept of angels as guardian and tutelary entities in early Christianity. The example from Hermas further shows the ways that traditions about angels are constantly mutating and resurfacing. There we see the familiar motif of the interpreting angel virtually combined with the motif of the guardian angel. Against this backdrop, it will be helpful to turn to the Greco-Roman evidence to allow us to conceive of how Jewish Christian angelology might be received by gentile converts. In this, we will depend most heavily on the material evidence from Pompeii about guardian and tutelary entities.
The importance of guardian and tutelary divinities in the religious life of the Greco-Roman world cannot be overstated. The depth and quality of the finds in the Vesuvian towns and Pompeii in particular have done much to round out the scholarly understanding of these gods. Domestic religion in particular was concerned almost exclusively with the appeasement and enticement to protection and benefaction of household gods or greater gods acting as such. What follows is an attempt to discuss briefly the many deities that functioned in this matter. Attention will duly be focused on the domestic cult. Moreover, it should be remembered that the boundaries between these many entities seem to be less clear than this categorization might imply.
The exact origin of the lares is a matter of dispute. The material remains of Pompeii make clear, however, that the two most important varieties of lares, the lares familiares and the lares compitales, were clearly associated with space/place. The two prevailing theories about their origins are that the lares began either as agricultural gods of the field or as the spirits of deceased ancestors.[72] Those who support the ancestor theory mostly appeal to a ceremony conducted by the Arval Brethren in the late second century ce, which appeals to the “Mother of the Lares” and appears to treat this mother as an underworld figure.[73] There are also some references to the festival of Compitalia, which celebrates the lares compitales, involving the hanging of objects interpreted to be effigies.[74]
Given that lares are generally associated with spatial guardianship, that the nonspatial lares that do exist have nothing to do with ancestors, and that there is no record anywhere of lares receiving nocturnal sacrifice like other underworld deities, many scholars now accept the agricultural hypothesis.[75] As Dumézil puts it, “in public or private religion, we find a lar or lares . . . on every piece of land which is used continuously, regularly, or significantly by a man, by a group of men, or by society as a whole.”[76] The importance of space is further evidenced by the fact that the wild places all had corresponding deities, which appear in many respects to be very similar to lares.[77]
The duties of the lares familiares and lares compitales are fairly clear. The lares familiares are tasked with the protection and benefaction of the entire household and of the house itself.[78] Interestingly, this would undoubtedly include slaves and other nonfamily members that were part of the household.[79] In addition to regular prayers, the lares familiares would receive the first portion of every meal—small offerings on calends, nonnes, and ides, larger offerings during coming of age ceremonies, at weddings, and after births.[80] They would also receive offerings during festivals.[81]
The lares compitales began as rural agricultural deities that marked both crossroads and the borders of the farmers’ lands.[82] In the rural context, the celebration of the lares compitales would bring owners of adjoining lands together, especially where four corners met, allowing each farmer to do obeisance from his own property.[83] At some point, this concern with boundaries was presumably transferred from rural to urban contexts. Lares compitales were celebrated with an annual festival, Compitalia, and could also be joined to the lares familiares with a wedding ceremony.[84] Lares compitales also existed in the public context as guardians of crossroads and the lares of neighborhoods are hardly different. It is in this way that lares Augusti become associated with the lares compitales once devotion to Augustus was instituted in all the vicinities of Rome.[85]
Three additional factors, beyond the elaborate devotion given to these household gods, speak to the incredible importance of these figures. First, the proper care and devotion of household gods is strongly associated with Roman identity by Cicero and others.[86] Second, skeletons have been found in the Vesuvian towns with lares nearby, suggesting that they were being held at the time of death.[87] Third, some ancient sources express a desire for their lares, associated so strongly with the house, to dislodge themselves from that place and accompany them to war. Scholars have speculated that the lares militares may in fact be the household gods accompanying the soldier to war.[88] In any case, there can be no doubt about their importance.
Closely associated with the lares are genii. Domestic religion would usually focus on the genius of the paterfamilias, but it might also include devotion to the iuno of the materfamilias. The connection between lares and genii is demonstrated both by the imperial cult, which worshipped the lares and genius of Augustus together, and by the coming of age ceremony whereby a youth gives his bulla to the lares.[89] Some have also argued for a division of labor wherein the lares familiares guard the whole household and the genius of the paterfamilias guards the family in the more limited sense, which would naturally bring both forms of spiritual power into close cooperation.[90] Generally speaking, the genius preserved the fertility and procreative power of the paterfamilias and served to ensure the survival of the nomen and gens.[91] Worship of the genius, in addition to prayers, would occur on the birthday of the paterfamilias and on the occasion of marriage, and it involved a sacrifice much more extensive than those regularly given to the lares.
The penates are perhaps the most difficult object of domestic devotion to pin down. Their origins are obscure, but they are usually taken (based on which etymology you prefer) to be guardians of the storeroom or guardians of the power (assumed to be the potestas of the paterfamilias).[92] They are commonly thought to have originally been the household gods of Aeneas, brought to Italy from Troy, and they were worshipped in Rome as a pair of youths.[93] Some attribute to the penates the role given to the genius above, that of protector of the master of the house and his kin.[94] At Pompeii at least, the distinction between these penates and other household gods did not exist; the domestic pantheon worshipped alongside the lares, genius, and penates could include virtually any god.[95] There are hints of this blurring of lines even outside of the domestic cult. For example, a neighborhood altar in Rome for devotion to the lares Augusti depicts the sacrifice Aeneas made to the penates upon his arrival in Italy.[96]
Initially, domestic worship was centered on the hearth, whose domain was the goddess Vesta. Over time, domestic worship shifted from the hearth to the lararia, but Vesta remained an important guardian of the home. Lararia are usually found in the atrium or kitchen and, based on evidence largely from Pompeii, appear to have three main varieties.[97] First, there is the simple niche carved into the wall, which would sometimes be painted depending on the resources of the family. Second, wealthier homes had aediculae, which were small shrines or miniature temples and often richly adorned. Third, the lararium could simply be painted on the wall to “give the illusion of an aedicula.”[98] In the first two cases, we would expect to find statues of lares (usually holding a rhyton and platter and usually in a pair), as well as statues of the greater deities worshipped in the home.[99] The third would have an altar on which to place the statues.[100]
The lararia are usually painted with fairly regular features. The painted lararium from the House of the Menander, for example, displays all the typical elements. There are two lares flanking a toga-wearing representation of the genius of the paterfamilias with a snake painted below. The exact meaning of the snake is unclear.[101] It has been variously identified as a genius loci, the genius of the paterfamilias, and as a generic fertility symbol meant to harken to the prosperity of the household.[102]
Altogether, the evidence of domestic religion shows a very strong concern for the protection of the home and family. The household gods represent potent and overlapping apotropaic and beneficent forces. The sheer number of them—lares, genii, penates, Vesta, the gods worshipped in the private pantheon—and their supplementation with amulets and apotropaic wall paintings demonstrate a very real fear of malignant forces.
The extensive evidence that survives from Pompeii helps illustrate the importance of domestic and urban religion. Over three hundred lararia have been found in Pompeii, used for service in either the home or the neighborhood, along with many household gods occupying bedrooms, cupboards, or lararia.[103] The worship of the lares compitales in each vicus provided not only protection through satisfying the lares but also social cohesion through communal celebrations of the lares and the election of magistri to service them.[104] Moreover, inscriptional evidence shows that even associations with no particular religious context, like funerary societies, had patron deities. Even the city as a whole had its protector through Pompeii’s special relationship with Venus, who was worshipped in localized form as Venus Pompeiana.[105] Beyond Pompeii, the nation was protected by personifications (e.g., Roma) and patron deities, and all the world was overseen by the pantheon of the great gods. Like concentric circles, divine guardians stood watch over every aspect of the Pompeian’s life, guiding and protecting.
It is now, at last, possible to return to the question at hand—that is, the identity of “the angels of the churches” in Revelation 1–3. Here we focus in particular on the guardian angel hypothesis (as discussed in the introduction of this essay).
Detractors of the guardian angel hypothesis claim that this interpretation suffers from the fact that there is no parallel text positing a guardian of an individual church. Nonetheless, it is possible that Revelation is a witness to (or even the originator of) a new development in angelology that, therefore, has no textual precursor. Considering Revelation in light of the broad trajectories of Jewish and Christian angelology, we see a number of possible avenues toward a development along these lines.
First, Jewish angelology in general underwent something of an explosion of growth in the Second Temple period. Not only did the traditions about evil angels or watchers develop in this period, but our survey indicated a growing concern for the governance of the heavenly realms and the relationship of angels to human beings. Moreover, we see a growing desire to schematize the angels into classes, starting in the biblical period with malakim, cherubim, and seraphim and expanding with new kinds of angels like ophanim (the “wheels” of Ezek 1:16-21 being explicitly identified as an angel in 4Q405) and with classes or orders of angels. The development and expansion of the archangel concepts also occur in this period. At the same time that more and more classes of angels were developing, the roles that angels took on in relationship to human beings were becoming less and less specialized, with no firm boundary between the notions of protector and pedagogue or messenger and interpreter.
Early Christian and post–Second Temple Jewish sources give no indication that this process of expansion and reification slowed down.[106] In fact, angels took on an increasingly important role in the theology of early Christianity.[107] Moreover, there are a number of concepts present in these texts that could easily develop into the notion of guardian angels of congregations. The most obvious of which is the development of the national patron angel idea from a more generic concept to focusing on Michael as a special protector. While the early texts might lead one to think of nations in terms of borders, it is clear that the later texts portray these angels more as patrons of peoples, with Israel being depicted as God’s people in particular. These texts would join others that speak more generically about angels protecting God’s people.
Would it really be astonishing if an early church (which so readily appropriated the promises and protections offered by God to Israel) developed its own notion of angelic protectors of God’s people, extending to its own congregations the status previously afforded to Israel as a whole? The archangel Michael, at least, becomes the protector of the church by implication in Rev 12:7, a role that is stated clearly in Shepherd of Hermas, Similitudes 8.3.3. The same kind of development might have characterized the other traditions mentioned above, which bring humans and angels into close proximity. Even ignoring the increasingly important role that guardian angels play, the concept from Qumran of angels and humans united in worship (a concept perhaps shared by Paul in 1 Cor 11:10), or the more general development of priestly angels, could easily morph into a guardian or patron angel of the church. There is no sense in which Revelation, even if it is the first witness to this particular phenomenon, has dramatically departed from the company of its fellows.
This proposed development, then, fits firmly within the trajectory outlined above. Moreover, we see other indications in the early Christian literature that something of this kind is happening. In the Christian portion of the Ascension of Isaiah, there is a reference in 3:15 to an “angel of the church” being summoned to earth from heaven in the last days. Though this is not an exact parallel to the angels of Revelation 1–3, it does show the close association of angel and church.[108] Loren Stuckenbruck has also pointed to Shepherd of Hermas, Similitudes 5.5–6, itself an interpretation of a vision. In that text, angels are portrayed as the stakes of the vineyard of the church, holding everything together and watching over the church.[109] Similarly, Shepherd of Hermas, Vision 2 associates the church (personified as an old lady) with an assortment of angels (depicted as attractive and youthful attendants).[110] These attendants/angels are also the ones who built the tower that symbolizes the church in Shepherd of Hermas, Vision 3.[111] While these texts are not exact parallels, they help normalize the move evidently made in Revelation.
Second, we must consider the potential factors that might have pushed the church to new angelological developments. If we consider Revelation in light of the influx of gentiles into Christianity, it could provide an additional impetus for the embrace of new angelological concepts (though, given the evidence above, an additional one is not strictly necessary). Using evidence from Pompeii in particular, we have outlined the way that the home in Greco-Roman domestic religion was protected by multiple overlapping guardian powers, powers that extended their protection to larger and larger entities. Material evidence from Pompeii testifies to an overwhelming interest in both the divine protection that occurs in all spheres of life and the apotropaic protection of artwork, amulets, and the like. Most Pompeians seem to have imagined that their lives were beset on all sides and in all places by supernatural forces. It is clear that the surviving evidence of proto-orthodox early Christian communities points to the total exclusion (in word, if not in practice) of all idols. Revelation itself testifies to the early Christian revulsion of idolatry. It, unlike Paul, forbids even the eating of meat sacrificed to idols (Rev 2:20).
It is probable that these commands to put off idolatry were obeyed to different degrees. Nonetheless, the fact that issues like meat sacrificed to idols becomes a point of contention in multiple early Christian traditions (Acts 15, 1 Corinthians 8, and Revelation 2) suggests that some early Christians took the prohibition of idolatry seriously. For a first-century Greco-Roman urbanite who joined the proto-orthodox Jesus-movement, what might it have been like to sweep clean the lararium and to discard the family gods? It seems no stretch of the imagination to suppose that this step might have caused incredible trepidation. There would be, in a sense, a considerable apotropaic vacuum. Moreover, in the case of the slave, there must have been considerable fear in turning against the lares tasked with your protection.[112] What could fill the void of these things in a staunchly monotheistic religion? As supernatural entities who are imbued with power by God, angels would be a natural substitute. That the Jewish-Christian concept of angels would appeal to pagan gentiles ought to be beyond dispute, since there is evidence that pagans adopted parts of the angel tradition without embracing Judaism or Christianity.[113]
Returning again to the objections against the guardian angel interpretation, two problems remain. First, the convoluted message delivery problem. In regard to this issue, Loren Stuckenbruck notes something of a precedent in the Book of Giants, which features God giving a message to Enoch to give to fallen angels.[114] This is obviously not a totally analogous situation, but it is close enough to show that convoluted message delivery was not necessarily considered a problem. A simpler solution may be to see Revelation as awkwardly combining the prophetic and seer traditions. In any case, 3 Baruch saw no concern with having humans convey prayers to guardian angels who then brought those prayers to Michael at the gate separating the fifth and sixth heavens, who then took those prayers into the presence of God. While it is perhaps awkward or bizarre to us, it is certainly not grounds for the dismissal of the hypothesis.
Second, there is the issue of the apparent chastisement of angels. While the watcher tradition could provide a background for judgment against angelic protectors, a simpler solution is to acknowledge that the message is clearly intended for the church itself.[115] Thus, even though the text uses singular pronouns and directs the ire at the angel, the angel is in this case a conduit. Given the repeatedly mentioned erosion of angelic boundaries in terms of human-related duties, we should not be surprised if guardian or patron angels also sometimes functioned more closely to their etymological roots as genuine messengers. Since both ways of understanding this issue accord with earlier traditions, it cannot really be considered problematic. There is, thus, no longer any need to take ἄγγελος as anything other than angel, nor is there any need to posit some different sort of heavenly angel than the guardian or patron angel.[116]
This essay has shown the inherent plausibility of the guardian angel reading of Revelation 1–3 when the text is placed into a first-century context. Even a unique contribution to angelology on the part of Revelation could, with great ease, be placed into the angelological trajectory that was already developing before, during, and after the New Testament. Furthermore, we have a plausible reason to suspect that the influx of gentiles (like those whose domestic and urban religion was exposed at Pompeii) into Christianity might function as an additional catalyst for innovation in angelology. Thus, there can be little doubt that the guardian angel reading is terminologically, conceptually, and historically consistent.