By Reverend Laurie DeMott

The book of Revelation has always been a controversial book in the history of the church primarily because its highly symbolic narrative leaves it open to a vast array of interpretations. Martin Luther was so concerned about the book that he suggested strongly that Revelation be cut out of the Protestant canon. He lost that argument, however, and it not only remained but has become a favorite of many conservative Christians who like its astonishing flexibility. Because of its obscure images, you can hold up the book of Revelation to the world and see almost anything you want reflected in it. For example, the argument that people have been making to support their view of Obama as the Antichrist is that Revelation, they say, claims that the Antichrist will be in his 40s and of Muslim descent, and will come preaching peace and hope. Leaving aside the fact, for the moment, that Barack Obama is Christian, not Muslim, the interpretation itself is still full of holes. If you do a quick search of the Book of Revelation, you will not find any specific reference to the Antichrist’s age, nor will you find the word “Muslim” because, of course, Islam wasn’t even founded until many centuries after the writing of Revelation, and in fact, it will surprise most people to discover that you won’t even find the word Antichrist in the book of Revelation. The word Antichrist is found only five times in the Bible, all in the letter of I John. So the claim that the book of Revelation says that the Antichrist will be in his 40s and of Muslim descent is based on three concepts that do not even appear in the pages of this book but must be teased out by interpreters who believe that they alone have been able to see what no one else has seen.

To read the book of Revelation in this way is to read it like a computer game in which one pours over its clues finding the hidden keys that will unlock the next level and win award points for the interpreter. I believe, however, that the book of Revelation should not be read like a computer game, but should be read like a drama and that the drama that it describes is one that ironically its own pages have encouraged, namely a playing out of a confrontation between widely opposing views that all claim to be Christian. Let’s take a closer look at the image that has incited this confrontation during the recent election.

Conservative Christian groups harmonize the antichrist of I John with the figure of the beast which we hear about it Revelation 13. This chapter describes the coming of a beast with seven heads, one of which has a mortal wound that has been healed, and this beast inspires such wonder among the people of earth that many follow it even as it blasphemes God. The beast is one of several images that the book uses to describe the powers at war against God and the faithful and all of the symbols and images in the book used to portray this struggle between good and bad, faith and unfaith, right and wrong create a sort of mirror universe. So while the faithful follow Christ who carries the scars of his wounds from the cross, the unfaithful follow the beast who carries the scars of his own wounds. Many modern readers want to use the book of Revelation to imply that there is a very clear dichotomy between faith and unfaith, but I think that in fact, the book of Revelation is suggesting the opposite: faith and unfaith, it is saying, often look very much alike. They are mirror images of one another. The war that Revelation describes is not always a war between the secular and the sacred; it is more often a battle between those who would stand on opposite sides and yet would all claim the name of Christ for themselves. This book is the story of the struggle for the soul of the church.

We don’t need then, to look to the future for the “prophecies” of the Book of Revelation to be fulfilled because they have already been fulfilled time and time again in our own church history. The Crusaders slaughtered thousands as they marched on foreign lands holding before them a banner emblazoned with the cross, while in the same years that Christians were murdering infidels claiming Christ was leading them on, the Knights of St. John were in war-torn Jerusalem founding hospitals devoted to the care of the sick also in the name of Christ. St. Francis of Assisi cared for lepers and outcasts, and founded the order of the Franciscans to live among the poor in the name of Christ. Less than ten years after St. Francis died, Pope Gregory IX conferred upon the order of St. Francis the power of inquisition: the power to execute heretics, the power to torture and kill in the name of Christ. In our own country, in the last century Quakers, following what they believed to be the call of Christ, helped to develop the Underground Railroad so that escaping slaves could find freedom and yet at the same time devoted Christians were risking their lives for the cause of abolition, white masters were taking their slaves with them to church so that those slaves could sit in their segregated pews and listen to sermons about the biblical command to be obedient to their masters.

Christ versus the beast. Christian versus Christian.

Sometimes the power of the beast, the power to delude ourselves into thinking that our worst human tendencies are god-ordained, are so horrific that we wonder if the world wouldn't be better off it we didn't have religion at all. Without religion, the sceptics say, we wouldn't have holy jihads or the burning of heretics. Certainly much oppression of women and minorities would have been weakened without the support of ecclesiastical power structures. But would the world really be better without religion? Where would you and I be if we were left to our devices with no gospel to call us to be better people, more compassionate and forgiving of others than we wanted to be? Where would we be late at night when the troubles of our lives threaten to drown us in darkness if we didn't have Christ to reach out to, to grasp and raise us above that swallowing sea? And isn't the world better off for Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr., and for Reinhold Neibuhr who gave us the prayer: "God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” That prayer alone has given hundreds of thousands of people the strength to free themselves from the bondage of alcoholism and drug addiction.

The unavoidable fact of human existence is that religion will always bring out the best in people and also the worst. So the problem confronting the faithful in every generation is to determine who is really on Christ’s side. In hind-sight, it's easy for us to point out which religious force was truly serving Christ and which had been seduced by the beast – surely the inquisitors who ripped fingernails from the hands of heretics were serving the beast – but what is easy to see in hindsight is not so easy to sort out when you are living in the midst of it. Is Christ inside the abortion clinics with the teenage girl trying to rectify a horrible mistake or is he outside with the protestors arguing for the sanctity of every life no matter how small? Abortion, homosexuality, affirmative action, the role of women, capital punishment, environmental causes, euthanasia, welfare reform, military interventions: all are issues that have divided Christians from Christians, each side claiming Christ and each side accusing the other of giving in to the beast. The book of Revelation plays out over and over again in the life of the church as we struggle with each other to figure out whose voice is truly the voice of Christ in the world.

So how do we resolve this dilemma? I think that most of us in what I would call the “mainstream churches” have concluded that the best thing we can do is practice what we call “reasonable religion”. “The real mark of the beast,” we have decided, “is its fanaticism and so if we simply avoid being fanactic then we will know that we are avoiding the Beast.” After all, the Inquisitors were fanatics. And the Internet websites equating Obama with the Antichrist are certainly examples of extreme and even rabid views.

“The mark of the beast must be fanaticism,” we decide, "and so the cure is a more reasonable religion.” We, of the reasonable church, conclude that we can best promote Christ's cause by proving to the world that Christians can be sensible people, people who can walk into the office on Monday and blend right in, people who will take reasoned stands on issues and be pretty much in step with the populace, people who read the bible but won't wave it in your face, people who worship but with quiet unassuming dignity, people who promise to keep Christ out of conversations unless we're talking with other known Christians. Of course, it may be hard to know who those other Christians are because we're all so busy trying to be reasonable about our faith that we kind of fade into the woodwork.

The problem with this stance – the problem with being reasonable Christians – is that I don’t think the man that we profess to follow would ever have been called reasonable by those who knew him. In John’s vision in Revelation, the resurrected Jesus says to the Laodicians, those paragons of reasonable Christianity, “You are neither hot nor cold so I spit you out of my mouth.” Reasonable religion may not move the world backward but it doesn’t move the world forward either. Was Mother Teresa reasonable? Was Martin Luther King, Jr. reasonable? When Quakers called for the abolition of slavery regardless of the economic consequences, was that reasonable? No, it was as radical as Christ is radical.

Harry Emerson Fosdick said, “Only religion can reform religion.” Only those unreasonably devoted to the compassion of Jesus, only those radically loyal to the call of Christ's world-tottering love, only those who will listen to no other argument but an argument based on the revolutionary inclusiveness of Christ’s embrace can overcome the fanatic forces of the beast that mistakes its own bigotry for the commands of Christ.

We dislike the arrogance of the fanatics that proclaim they have absolute ownership of the truth and so we want to protest that arrogance by reacting with reasonable religion that admits doubt and human fallibility, but our desire to remain humble in our opinions too often leads us to be afraid to take any stand at all. Consequently, the world hears a great shouting from one side and only a mumbling from other. I would propose that it is possible to be humble and not mumble! I propose to you that our stance should be this one:

“I may be wrong, and you may be right, but I still must take the stand that I understand Christ to be dictating to me. I may be wrong and you may be right, but here I stand.”

And then take that stand. Declare the compassion of Christ as you see it. Challenge loudly the evils that you believe are being visited in his name.

“I may be wrong, and you may be right, but here I stand.” Be humble but don't mumble. Say what you believe. Live with such radical compassion for others that you cannot possibly blend in. Upset people with your insistence on standing up against bigotry and narrowmindedness. Rock the boat by refusing to ignore difficult issues of poverty and social justice. As you do so, certainly read everything you can and listen to everyone you can so that you will not become so enamored with the sound of your own voice that you begin to mistake it for Christ’s but at the same time, don’t hesitate to go ahead and speak what you believe right now. The shouting of fanatics cannot be overcome by the mumblings of the reasonable.

Extreme exclusiveness can only be met by extreme inclusiveness.
Persistent bigotry can only be changed by persistent understanding.
Zealous vengefulness can only be overcome by zealous forgiveness and mercy.
Radical hatred can only be met by radical love.

Only religion can reform religion and we are called to take our stand for Christ against the voices that we believe falsely claim his name today. This is, I believe, the real gospel of the book of Revelation, and here I stand.