Committed Critic

Last week I went with a group of teens and adults from two NJ churches to muck houses for four days in Chalmette, LA.

I’m trying to think how to describe my visit.

I’ll try this: imagine driving through the town you live in, and seeing all its restaurants and shops. Then imagine that nearly all of them are empty. Windows are busted out, signs are crumbling, and nailed to every telephone pole are a dozen advertisements for house-gutting or mold treatment or remodeling. Walgreens and Home Depot run a steady trade, but everything else is shut down, waiting for the populace to return before attempting to open again for business. There’s a rumor that McDonald’s and Wendy’s will reopen this fall.

On residential roads, a few people live in trailers on their front lawns, while the rest of the houses are abandoned or for sale “as is.” Some haven’t been touched since the storm. A random 20-foot boat sits where it came to rest on someone’s front lawn. One guy has spray-painted in large letters on his garage door, “You loot, I shoot.” Presumably this is left over from right after the storm, but if not for the fact that everything in all these houses was ruined, you might wonder if he’s still in there with his 20-guage.

It’s been an entire year now, and that’s what it still looks like.

It may sound odd that houses remain untouched after an entire year, but life sometimes gets complicated. Having even a small house gutted by a contractor (leaving only the frame, walls, roof, and plumbing) might cost $2000, and many of those still in need of help are elderly and working-class. Both of the families we worked for had multiple homes belonging to multiple generations that were destroyed in the storm. I don’t even know how poorer families are managing.

Even after the homes are mucked out, they still have to be treated for mold. And then an inspector will visit and tell each family whether their house may be restored or whether they must demolish completely and rebuild.

Feel free to comment with stories or facts about the storm; I’m sure there are plenty in the news this week for the anniversary. I’ll post more on this soon.

I’ve read Revelation a lot lately, so I thought I’d probe it theologically a bit and see what I find. For this post, I want to highlight the central conflict of the book using three key passages. Later, I’ll tease out some of the implications of the book for a more general understanding of the Gospel.

Three quick notes:

• Revelation was written by someone named John (1:1), but it is not at all clear whether this is the apostle or some other John.
• Because of the book’s extensive imagery and symbolism, I take it not as a description of specific future events, but rather as a set of images reassuring believers that God would be faithful to them in their need and their suffering.
• See Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. It’s stinking funny, which is rare for a comedy these days.

Now to the book, beginning with some lengthy excerpts. John wrote to Christians persecuted by Rome, and Revelation portrays the struggle as two beasts lined up against a lamb:

I saw another beast that rose out of the earth; it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. It exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast … it deceives the inhabitants of earth, telling them to make an image for the beast … and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image of the beast could even speak and cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is 666. (Rev 13:11-18, NRSV)

Note two common misconceptions here. First, 666 is not the number of Satan, but the number of a person, perhaps a code referring to the maniacal Roman emperor Nero. So the dragon (= Satan) gives his power to the first beast (Rome?), whose authority is exercised by the second beast (the emperor?). Second, the “mark of the beast” is not some creepy satanic ritual practiced by a few devotees, but a widespread sign of loyalty which almost everyone accepts towards the reigning power of the world. In John’s context, this probably meant participation in the widespread civic worship of the Roman deities.

But Christians participate in worship of only one God:

Then I looked, and there was the Lamb, standing on Mount Zion! And with him were 144,000 who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven like the sound of many waters and like the sound of loud thunder; the voice I heard was like the sound of harpists playing on their harps, and they sing a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and before the elders. No one could learn that song except the 144,000 who have been redeemed from the earth. It is these who have not defiled themselves with women, for they are virgins; these follow the Lamb wherever he goes. They have been redeemed from humankind as first fruits for God and the Lamb, and in their mouth no lie was found; they are blameless. (Rev 14:1-5, NRSV)

Parts of the passage are obscure; presumably virginity isn’t an actual prerequisite for following Christ, though it seems clear that purity is. But the key here is the mark: in contrast to the world, whose devotees receive the mark of the beast so they can carry on in society, followers of Christ receive on their foreheads only the mark of the Lamb.

With the sides defined, conflict is inevitable:

Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems; and he has a name inscribed that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, wearing fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron; he will tread the wine press of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name inscribed, “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

Then I saw an angel standing in the sun, and with a loud voice he called to all the birds that fly in midheaven, “Come, gather for the great supper of God, to eat the flesh of kings, the flesh of captains, the flesh of the mighty, the flesh of horses and their riders––flesh of all, both free and slave, both small and great.” Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth with their armies gathered to make war against the rider on the horse and against his army. And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet [the second beast] who had performed in its presence the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur. And the rest were killed by the sword of the rider on the horse, the sword that came from his mouth; and all the birds were gorged with their flesh. (Rev 19:11-21, NRSV)

The passage is violent, but note that Christians are never called to harm anyone; it is the rider on the horse –– Christ himself –– who is described as vanquishing his enemies. The violence is in response to the persecution and murder of Christians by the most powerful civilization in the history of the world. Believers longed for vindication (6:10), and Revelation reassured them that their martyrdom was not in vain. No matter how powerful Rome may appear, John’s vision says, God ultimately will triumph.

However, humans first must choose sides, and it is here that we must take care interpreting the book. Are Christians meant to find ourselves in the book, as many these days suggest, by aligning ourselves essentially with America’s Republican party over against gays, feminists, abortion doctors, Muslims, and Communists?

I prefer to push in a different direction, which challenges us all rather than allowing us to set ourselves up too easily against those who may offend us, even if some of them indeed oppose God. I believe the mark of the beast represents, at its core, worldliness. The countless people of Rome received the mark of the beast not because they set out to do something evil, but because they wanted to fit in and enjoy all society had to offer. They wanted to be respected by their neighbors, and to participate in the marketplace with everyone else (13:17).

And it seems to me that nothing about American society is quite so worldly as our primary obsession: Wealth.

As powerrful as Rome was, Revelation’s chapter (18) of laments for the city focuses not so much on its power as on its wealth. The lament describes the USA as aptly as it does ancient Rome. We might not recognize our obsession with wealth as worship on par with what the Romans demanded of first-century Christians, but Scripture equates greed with idolatry, and Jesus called Mammon a master who could be served. And our society (from ad execs to politicians) sells us nothing quite so effectively as the pursuit of wealth.

Already we hardly find room in our heads for Christ amidst thoughts of what we wish to purchase. Perhaps it’s melodramatic to suggest, but what if each newer car, each faster computer, each bigger house serves only to etch the mark of the beast deeper and deeper into our foreheads?

For 21st-century Americans, the primary message of this confusing apocalypse may come down to the simple question which Jesus himself raised without talk of beasts or dragons:

Who do you serve? God or Money?