Neglected Passages #2: Revelation 5:1-13

If we're gonna talk about neglected passages, pretty much anything in Revelation would do, apart from 666 and Armageddon. Revelation 5:1-13 offers one of the most captivating image plays in all of the Bible, and it's often -- and unfortunately overlooked. This passage is key to understanding Revelation as a whole.

The setup is this. John has ascended into heaven, where "the one seated upon the throne" -- that's God in apocalyptic literature -- holds a sealed scroll. As we'll soon find out, the scroll will relate the unfolding of human history; its contents pretty much amount to the rest of the book of Revelation. John "weeps bitterly" because no one is able -- or worthy -- to unseal the scroll.

Then one of the heavenly elders speaks up: the Lion of Judah has conquered, qualifying him to open the seals. Good news! A fierce lion to take up the cause! Up to this point Revelation has been all about conquest, enduring the forces of evil despite the churches' evident weakness, despite persecution. What these vulnerable little communities of Jesus followers need is a lion. The Lion is worthy....

So John looks for the Lion, and you know what? There ain't no Lion. No Lion ever appears in Revelation. In its place stands a Lamb "standing as if it had been slaughtered." The Lamb is worthy to unseal the scrolls because the through its death it has redeemed a people. Through its faithful witness (1:5), the Lamb has demonstrated its worth.

Throughout the rest of Revelation, we'll see the Lamb. No Lion, but the Lamb. The point? In the face of overwhelming imperial pressure ("Who is like the Beast, and who can fight against it?" 13:4), in the face of ostracism and persecution, God rules not by Lion Power but by Lamb Power. Faithful witness, endurance, boundless love. Those win the day. Lamb Power, not Lion Power.

How I wish communities of faith would soak this in.

David deSilva on Revelation

I've been teaching a (very rewarding) week-long course, "Preaching Paul," for Lancaster Seminary's summer academy. Have to admit, I'm behind on the Overlooked Passages series. Over the weekend, I hope.

In the meantime, I just got my hard copy of David A. deSilva's major study of Seeing Things God's Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation (Westminster John Knox). I've been looking forward to this. We're doing a panel review of this book in the SBL's Rhetoric and the New Testament Section this fall in New Orleans. I'd already worked through the book as one of those invited to compose blurb's for the book's promotion.

Since this book often levels substantial criticisms of my own work, I won't use this space for rebuttal. I will, however, promote the book. It's by far the most thorough rhetorical study of Revelation to date. That means, David's aim is to show how John, Revelation's author, sought to move his audience to see the world -- and live in it -- in a new way. Accessibly written, though thoroughly engaged with scholarship, this book represents a major contribution to the study of Revelation. Highly insightful, highly recommended.

Cultural Criticism of the Bible

I've just submitted a review of a fascinating recent book by David A. Sánchez, From Patmos to the Barrio: Subverting Imperial Myths (Fortress 2008). The review will appear in Biblical Interpretation.

Sánchez provides an excellent case of an emerging movement in biblical studies, cultural criticism. He begins by interpreting the Woman Clothed with the Sun (Revelation 12) as an appropriation of a familiar Roman imperial myth. The basic argument is that oppressed peoples appropriate the imperial myths of their oppressors and turn them to their own ends; that's what happens in Revelation 12. (To some degree, this isn't news among interpreters of Revelation.)

What distinguishes Sánchez's approach, however, is that he identifies cultural appropriations of Revelation's Woman in two subsequent counter-imperial movements, devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe in seventeenth century Mexico and in twentieth century Los Angeles. Imagery of the Virgin is heavily patterned after the figure in Revelation 12, and it was adopted by Spanish colonizers.

Sánchez's book makes for interesting reading in its own right. For the moment, I'm more interested in what the work implies for cultural studies. Traditional approaches to the New Testament largely restrict themselves to explicating the text's ancient meaning. Over the past forty years or so, that model has been repeatedly challenged in a variety of ways, but it still holds for most interpretations. Cultural studies approaches change the conversation by seeing the Bible as a cultural phenomenon throughout history. Thus, asking how Matthew might play out in African missionary contexts (Musa Dube), or how Luke is interpreted in European art (Mikeal Parsons), stretches the range of biblical scholarship. It's not totally new, but interest in cultural studies, particularly studies informed by a liberationist perspective, is growing.

In response to Sánchez, I'd like to ask two questions.

1. Will cultural studies require collaboration? From Patmos to the Barrio often relies on select secondary sources. This suggests to me that no individual scholar, including Sánchez, is likely to be expert in ancient Mediterranean discourse, seventeenth century Mexican cultural history, and contemporary Chicano/a movements.
2. How will cultural studies approaches do history? Though his approach challenges traditional historical critical scholarship, Sánchez often makes direct, "objectivist" historical claims. What is the role of historiography for cultural studies?

I'm grateful for this book, from which I learned a great deal. At the same time, the book intimidates me by suggesting that I'll never learn as much as I need to.