‘There was silence in heaven for about half an
hour’ (Revelation 8:1): Lectio Divina on the Book of Apocalypse
The last book of the Bible is an unusual choice
for contemplative reading; however, the times we are in prompted my choice this
Lent. One thing one can never say about this book is that it is boring! It is
probably one of those books of the Bible that St Benedict in his Rule would
have advised not to read in the late
evening as it would kindle the imagination and ‘fears of the night’. ‘Such
books,’ however, ‘should be read at
other times’ he says (Rule 42:3-4).
Still, I went at it with a study guide because,
especially with a book like this with a kaleidoscope of imagery, it is easy for
it to be mis-read and for us to look for fulfilment of prophesies when we
hardly know what they are referring to. So, before Lectio I had to do some
background reading. To what time of history is this book relevant?
The consensus of biblical scholarship nowadays shows
that there are three strands woven together in the Book of Revelation: the
pastoral, liturgical and the historio-prophetic. These themes or motifs cross
over at many times in the text. The pastoral is central in the ‘letters to the
Churches’ in the opening chapters. The author John of Patmos is an elder of
those communities but he is in exile, imprisoned on the isle of Patmos. He is
not to be mistaken for the disciple John, author of the Gospel, however, like the
more famous John, this elder is also a contemplative and a mystic. The book
starts by saying he was ‘in the spirit on the Lord’s day’ (1:10). Later, he is
invited into heaven and is again ‘in the spirit’ (4:2). There he participates
in a heavenly liturgy. This is the second major theme of the book. It is a book
which has more liturgical refrains than any other in the Bible. It has been seen
as a window into the early Christian liturgy. Throughout the Book of Revelation
adoration and contemplation is woven between the historio-prophetic drama. This
is the third major theme. The historical setting for the book is the
persecution of Christians by the Roman Emperor Domitianus in the mid-90s of the
first century. This is when the book was written. The book’s main object is to
strengthen the faith of those who were being persecuted or going through hard
times in any way. It says, don’t lose faith or lose heart if things seem to go
wrong.
The Greek word apokalupsis means ‘unveiling’
and the author seems to feel that what he sees is relevant for all times. The
book both makes clear what has recently happened, and unveils the future. There
are allusions to the major persecution by Nero twenty-five years before. The infamous
‘number of the beast’ is a Jewish numerical code for ‘Nero Caesar’. The book
also takes history forward, foretelling the destruction of the Roman Empire. Babylon
is the code for Rome – the former being the ancient enemy of Israel. So the
prophesies are tied into what had
happened in the Old Testament. The seven heads of the dragon and of the beast
are the seven hills on which Rome was built. John of Patmos disguises the
criticism of the Empire so as not to aggravate the persecution - otherwise communities
found with copies would suffer more.
These three themes have to be somewhere at the
back of our mind if we use this complex book for Lectio. If we read the book
slowly and prayerfully for ourselves, we may see (like I did) that the fruits also
came in three forms. First, the book carries both a challenge and a consolation.
This is the pastoral side. The challenge
is to refocus our attention on Christ as the Lord of history. Even in times of
crisis when the future seems fearful or unknown, what is unveiled in crisis is within
God’s providence. What lies hidden behind events is not so much conspiracy theories
of some malevolent intent, but God’s sovereign care. The challenge is to give
more attention to the good that comes out of evil and to recognise that that
goodness is greater than any evil. Sometimes, when all seems awry, the inherent
goodness of people comes to the fore. The unveiling that the Book of Apocalypse
shows is that, despite all suffering and appearances of disorder goodness is always
stronger.
I was drawn in my Lectio to meditate on the
number seven in the Book. The monsters that have seven heads (as we have seen,
a coded reference to the centre of the persecuting Empire). However, more often
seven is used to express completeness. Six is symbol of falling short of the
mark and of worldliness. Symbolically, the world was created in seven days. To
miss the Sabbath, the day of rest, was to stay within secular time, to refer to
things only in terms of this world.
Seven opens us to sacred time. The trials recorded in Revelation are of seven
seals, seven trumpets and then seven vials. These trials symbolise the
un-making of things, the ‘undoing’ of the seven days of creation. The lights of
heaven are extinguished, the seas roll back, animals and humans are purged. The
accounts are frightening. It depicts creation in reverse, the unravelling of
order. However, the message of consolation is that this destruction paves the
way for a greater goodness. It made me look in hope for what may come out of
crisis.
The seventh of each of these trials represents
the recapitulation, where, like in Genesis, God stops the show, to show all is
well. In Revelation, unlike Genesis, however, it is not the making but the
breaking apart of things that is happening. Yet destruction is also part of
God’s creativity, for it allows new birth. ‘Behold,’ the book concludes, ‘I
make all things new!’ (21:5). The breaking of the seventh seal particularly drew
my attention. It shows that the final response to any crisis is silence. ‘There
was silence in heaven for about half an hour’ (8:1). It reminded me of my
meditation practice, and of something John Main OSB once wrote:
‘As we are unformed Christ
is formed in us. As we enter the silence within us we are entering a void in
which we are unmade. We cannot remain the person we were or thought we were.
But we are in fact not being destroyed but awakened to the eternally fresh
source of our being. We become aware that we are being created. We are springing
from the Creator’s hand and returning to him in love.’
The curious thing is the exactness about the
time of silence in the last unveiling. This is a breaking in of sacred time, of
Kairos, into history which is measured chronologically. This time ‘of about
half an hour’ comes as a conclusion to an account of the heavenly liturgy in chapter
7. This may reflect how the early Christian community had a period of silence (‘of
about half an hour’) at the end of their liturgy which, unlike its heavenly
prototype, was performed within the confines of time, a period of silence that
brought home to those participating the completion of God’s action, a taste of
God’s Sabbath rest. In the Book of Revelation history, liturgy and spiritual injunction
are woven together. What happens in time shares in what it eternal.
The message I seemed to get from reading the
book slowly during the time of lockdown was, ‘Do not fear’. Before the opening
of the seventh seal it is announced that it will be on earth as it is in
heaven:
‘The lamb at the centre
of the heavenly throne will be the shepherd, and he will bring us to springs of
the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from our eyes’ (7:17).
The silence ‘for about half an hour’ that comes
after is a response, the realization that God even here is in control. What
seems like destruction is part of creation. We will be shown ‘a new heaven and
a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth has passed away’ (21:1).
The unmaking of the old and worn world order leads to something better: ‘Death
will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first
things have passed away’ (12:4).
At this time of pandemic I was, therefore,
curiously reassured by meditating on the Book of Apocalypse. That, i) nothing happens without God’s
providence; ii) despite all appearances the powers of evil in the world never
have the upper hand; iii) what seems like destruction is a breaking open so
that something new may be born; iv) the ragged events of time are tearings in
the veil that shrouds the mystery of God’s plan. What is revealed, in glimpses,
is love. The tree of life and the holy city are seen by John of Patmos ‘coming
down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband’
(21:2). At this time of pandemic it is the healing of love that we are waiting
for. Revelation ends with an invitation to ‘the Tree of Life, whose leaves are
for the healing of the nations’ (22:2).
A time of silence ‘for about half an hour’ during
the day, preferably morning and evening, helps us dip into the completion of
God’s plan. Liturgy - in the opening of the last seal - finds its fulfilment in
silence. A seal is not broken as an end in itself but to open a scroll. The breaking
described in Book of Revelation announces a story of new life. John of Patmos
begins his Revelation by being ‘in the spirit’. That is what we do in
meditation. We find our own spirit, ‘our lifeline to the Spirit of God’ as John
Main puts it. ‘The Spirit bears witness to our spirit’, St Paul writes (Rom
8:16). John of Patmos says that the prayer of the Spirit and the liturgy of
heaven is but one word: ‘The Spirit and the bride say, “Come”.’ A prayer-word
echoed in every prayer here on earth that what is in heaven may be here below. ‘Let
everyone who hears say, “Come”.’ The lamb who is on the heavenly throne and yet
is shepherd here below reassures us, at the very end of the book, ‘Surely I am
coming soon. Amen, Maranatha!’
(20:20).
p.s. Is there a coincidence this pandemic took
hold in 2020?
***
This
is the latest Lockdown Blog article by one of Darton, Longman and Todd’s
amazing authors, offering a personal reflection on our current situation in
life. These blogs post are written sometimes in reference to one of the
writer’s books, and sometimes about how they are living in response to the
coronavirus and our current world situation. We hope it will give you a taste
of the depth and diversity of DLT’s list – books for heart, mind and soul that
aim to meet the needs and interests of all.
Today’s
post is by Stefan Reynolds, author of the recently-published memoir Living
with the Mind of Christ: Mindfulness and Spirituality, which you can
buy here.
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