Getting Jesus off the altar: Undoing atonement readings in Revelation

Introduction

In a journal issue that seeks to re-imagine the cross, an exposition of Revelation might not seem an obvious choice. The book never directly references the cross; images of Jesus’s crucifixion are few and fleeting, and, unlike other New Testament texts, Revelation seems rather unconcerned with explicating a theological treatise on the Passion. So, why Revelation? What is its relevance to an issue focused on reframing theories of atonement? The answer is simple: an interpretive infatuation with Jesus as the sacrificial, slaughtered Lamb of God.

Images of Jesus as a sacrificial lamb laid upon an altar abound in the interpretive history of Revelation. In the central panel of the famous Ghent Altarpiece, for example, Jesus is pictured as a lamb standing atop an altar table. Blood flows from a wound on the breast of the lamb into a golden chalice, and, off to the side, an angel holds a wooden cross and a crown of thorns linking the scene to Jesus’s crucifixion. “Standing as if it had been slaughtered,” the lamb in the painting evokes John’s initial introduction of the Lamb in Rev 5:6–10. ¹ Hymns similarly use the image of John’s Lamb to put forward images of Jesus as the ultimate sacrifice. ² Lyrics revere the blood of the Lamb for its “soul-cleansing” power and offer unending exultations to the “Lamb for sinners slain.” ³

The following article seeks to remove Jesus from atop an artificial altar and unravel popular theories of atonement constructed from images of Jesus in Revelation. I begin with a brief review of scholarship to demonstrate scholars’ obsession with substitutionary atonement. Even for scholars who claim its absence, the temptation is too strong, and interpreters fall back into old habits. I identify significant omissions in John’s rhetoric with regard to language about sacrifice and redemption and conclude that all the classic atonement images are missing in Revelation, such as the word “sacrifice,” the slaughter of a sacrificial animal, blood, and a sacrificial altar. I argue instead that these images in John’s rhetoric point to the depth and breadth of violence in the Roman Empire. In conclusion, John’s image of the lamb in Revelation is not meant to guilt his contemporaries into gratitude for a transactional redemption, but to drive home the violence of Rome’s empire in contrast to the life-sustaining images of God’s empire. A theory of atonement is missing in Revelation; death feeds questions about power and violence, not the self-sacrificial obsessions of contemporary Christian theologies.

Review of scholarship

Early interpretations of Jesus in Revelation are saturated with theories of substitutionary atonement. Shirley Jackson Case claims,

It was a normal procedure those days when animal sacrifice was common, and when martyrdom seemed imminent for Christians, to view Jesus’ death as an especial proof of his love and to represent him as the sacrificial lamb whose blood washed away the sins of believers. ⁴

In a similar vein, Richard Bauckham asserts with great confidence that Jesus was the paschal lamb who sacrificed himself to ransom the people of all nations to God, ⁵ and Wilfrid J. Harrington says the Lamb “has liberated us from the evil deeds of our past.” ⁶ For many interpreters, Jesus is the ultimate, self-sacrificial lamb who offers himself as a reparation for the sins of humanity. Through Jesus’s death on the cross, humans are offered forgiveness and the promise of salvation.

Recognizing the problems with theories of atonement, some more recent commentaries head in a new direction, many directly specifying that John is not interested in atonement. Brian K. Blount, for example, identifies liberation over atonement in John’s description of Jesus as the one who “freed us from our sins by his blood” in Rev 1:5, and Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther interpret the Lamb’s redeeming acts in 5:9 as purely economic. ⁷ Most recently, Craig R. Koester has argued that atonement is an unlikely theme in Revelation and, at best, a subtheme. His premise is that John’s lamb would not likely evoke redemptive language for John’s contemporaries, suggesting, “Lambs were most commonly offered in the temple each morning and evening, and in other contexts they were not clearly linked to atonement.” ⁸

Although Koester and others deny substitutionary atonement in John’s writings, the allure of atonement is strong, and scholars often slip back into the redemptive language they pushed against previously. Shortly following his stance against substitutionary atonement, Koester, for example, refers to Jesus as a “sacrificial victim” whose death was the sacrifice that redeemed humanity. ⁹ This slippage demonstrates the propensity of even quality scholarship to buckle under the weight of decades of atonement readings. Breaking free of these readings will require more than denouncing atonement as a central theme in Revelation. It will require a systematic unraveling of the popular passages that produce it.

An important chapter in The Book of Revelation: Justice and Judgment provides a helpful alternative for thinking about redemption in Revelation. In this chapter, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza argues that John perceives of redemption and salvation “in political terms and in socio-economic categories.” ¹⁰ Schüssler Fiorenza first argues that John cites a traditional baptismal formula in Rev 1:5–6 and demonstrates how he reacts to and ultimately redacts this traditional formula in the “new song” of Rev 5:9–10. She illustrates how redemption for John was political and required choosing allegiance to the right kingdom, to the kingdom of God over the kingdom of Rome. As she explains, “This antagonistic concept of Christian existence does not allow for a realized understanding of redemption and salvation, but demands an eschatological one.” ¹¹ Redemption and salvation are not already accomplished in the death of Christ but are made possible through his death. Christians are forced to decide and “only those who stand by this decision until death” are offered the promise of eternal salvation. ¹² The blood of Jesus, for Schüssler Fiorenza’s John, did not set in motion the transactional redemption of humanity but established an alternative kingdom for humanity to choose. Salvation is in the hands of the church; followers of Jesus must choose their allegiance.

This article seeks to build on Schüssler Fiorenza’s push against atonement readings by systematically undoing popular atonement images in Revelation. To replace with a new reading the dominant theories of redemption that have plagued scholarship for decades is not enough. Given these theories’ propensity to sneak easily back into modern interpretations of Revelation, breaking free from their grasp will require a more thorough and strategic unbinding. To this task I now turn.

The missing sacrifice

The cross is a noticeable omission in Revelation. Unlike other New Testament writings, the cross is not heavily featured. The physical cross (σταυρός, stauros) is never mentioned; Jesus’s death on a cross (σταυρόω, stauroō) is specified only once (11:8), and other allusions only vaguely recall the specifics of the Passion narrative. For example, while the hymn in the opening chapter of Revelation brings to mind the piercings of Jesus’s crucifixion (1:7), whether these piercings refer to the crucifixion itself or to the soldiers who pierced his side following his death (John 19:34) is unclear. John seemingly is not too concerned with the mode or details of Jesus’s death. The cross itself disappears in Revelation, lost behind John’s visions of heavenly throne rooms, cosmic battles, and New Jerusalem.

Key words that traditionally denote a sacrifice are also missing from John’s rhetoric. Direct references to sacrifices are not present in the text, such as θυσία (thysia) and ἱλασμός (hilasmos), and even “gift” (δῶρον, dōron), another word commonly used in reference to sacrificial offerings, is not used in a sacrificial context in Revelation. The only use of δῶρον occurs as a reference to the frivolity and indifference to violence of imperial culture, as the inhabitants of the earth revel in the death of the two witnesses, celebrating and exchanging gifts (11:10). Koester notes the gift exchange as reminiscent of the Roman Saturnalia, a festival in honor of the Roman god Saturn. ¹³ While this festival began with a communal sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, a week-long festival followed with banquets, games, and private gift-giving. If John is indeed alluding to this festival or another similar in nature, it is significant that the initial sacrifice goes unmentioned. For a writer who elsewhere seems hell-bent on denouncing idolatry (2:14, 20; 9:20; 13:14; 14:9; 20:4), his lack of reference to it here underscores an emphasis on materiality rather than sacrifice.

A Roman massacre

As previously mentioned, many interpreters read atonement into John’s image of the Lamb. Using the story of Passover as the primary source for John’s repeated phrase, “the blood of the lamb,” interpreters hear in John’s language a reference to the blood of the paschal lamb spread on the door posts of the Hebrews in Egypt to spare them from the 10th plague (Exod 12:1–13). Given this interpretive context, interpreters posit Jesus as the sacrificial lamb who shed his blood as a sacrifice for the sins of humanity. But the question remains: is this the image John intends to conjure?

Jesus is referred to as the “lamb” more than two dozen times in the book of Revelation. ¹⁴ In four of these instances, he is specifically referred to as the lamb who was slain (σφάζω, sphazō; 5:6, 9, 12; 13:8), but in none of them is he called the “sacrificial lamb.” The third significant omission in Revelation builds on the second. The omission of “sacrifice” means the popular designation for Jesus is found nowhere in Revelation. There is no “sacrificial lamb.” ¹⁵

If John’s description of the lamb as “slain” does not denote sacrifice, it is yet to determine what “slain” does denote. A closer look at John’s use of σφάζω will help. Aside from the four references to the lamb, the verb appears four more times in Revelation and in each instance, it recalls the violence of Rome. Following John’s initial use of σφάζω to describe the lamb (5:6, 9, 12), the verb appears in the opening of the second and fifth seals. The second seal evokes the violence of Rome’s military conquests as it sought to expand its borders in the guise of peace (6:3–4). A bright red horse, the color of bloodshed, rides out with a sword and is “permitted to take peace from the earth, so that people would slaughter (σφάξουσιν, sphaxousin) one another (6:4).” Violence perpetuates violence as John’s image of Rome seeks to dismantle the illusion of the Pax Romana.

The fifth seal requires a bit more explanation. John says that, when he opened the fifth seal, he saw under the altar “the souls of those who had been slaughtered (ἐσφαγμένων, esphagmenōn) for the word of God and for the testimony (μαρτυρίαν, marturian) they had given” (6:9). Scholars originally read this verse as proof for early Christian persecution at the hands of the Roman Empire. ¹⁶ More recently, however, scholars have begun to acknowledge that no evidence to support empire-wide persecution of Christians exists in the first century. And many have challenged traditional readings of the classic “persecution” passages in Revelation. ¹⁷ As Warren Carter remarks on this scene from the fifth seal, “We must remember it is a vision, not a report or prediction.” ¹⁸ So, if not a report of early persecution, how does one understand this passage?

One way to interpret the passage is to read it in relationship to the opening of the other six seals. As noted previously, the second seal highlights the violence of Roman expansion. A quick review of the other seals suggests a similar theme: violence at the hand of Rome. The opening of the first seal turns loose a crowned rider atop a white horse released for the purpose of conquering (νικάω, nikaō, repeated for emphasis; 6:2). With an allusion to a black horse, a pair of scales, and staple food products, the third seal emphasizes the economic injustices of Rome’s rule and the death that accompanies food shortages and famine (6:3–4) as a result of war. The fourth seal similarly references the death, wars, famines, and diseases that plague the earth under Roman rule (6:7–8), before the sixth seal announces Rome’s impending judgment (6:12–17) and the seventh opens the subsequent cycle of judgments on Rome: the seven trumpets (8:1–5). The task of the interpreter in the fifth seal, then, is not to extrapolate from John’s vision accounts of mass Christian persecution, but to hear in John’s words another vision of violence. This seal joins the first four in emphasizing Rome’s destructive behavior. John is carefully building his list, gathering evidence against Rome for its impending judgment. ¹⁹

The third use of σφάζω, outside of its description of the lamb, also serves to underscore the violence of Rome, this time through contrast with the lamb. John sees a beast rising out of the sea with seven heads, one of which “seemed [to him] to have received a deathblow” (καὶ μίαν ἐκ τῶν κεφαλῶν αὐτοῦ ὡς ἐσφαγμένην εἰς θάνατον; 13:3). The use of the verb σφάζω, in addition to the image of the beast as slain yet living, rhetorically links the beast to John’s image of the slain lamb that follows in verse 8. The two are posed as opposites. The beast, however, is not just any beast. John describes the beast as having the frame of a leopard, the feet of a bear, and the mouth of a lion (13:2). Koester notes, “Revelation’s beast from the sea also has the traits of the most ferocious animals on land.” ²⁰ This ferocious beast-of-all-beasts stands in stark contrast to a gentle and harmless lamb.

In addition to the physical description, another subtle difference exists between the beast and the lamb. The beast utters blasphemies against God and sets out to make war and conquer the saints of God. The lamb, however, is described in relation to the book of life, namely “in the book of life of the lamb which had been slaughtered” (ἐν τῷ βιβλίῳ τῆς ζωῆς τοῦ ἀρνίου τοῦ ἐσφαγμένου; 13:8). While what is precisely meant by the beast’s war on the saints and the lamb’s book of life is unclear, the contrast between a death-dealing beast and a book-of-life carrying lamb is clear. John’s emphasis on the bloodthirsty Romans continues.

John’s last use of σφάζω comes in his description of the fallen Babylon, his name for Rome, and is another nod to the violence of its empire. John weaves Rome’s numerous iniquities into his celebration of the empire’s defeat—greed, materialism, idolatry, deception, and, of course, violence. As one now expects from John’s visions, Rome’s violence is emphasized, this time hoarding “the blood of prophets and of saints, and of all who have been slaughtered (σφάζω) on earth” (18:24).

Given that every instance of slaughter (σφάζω), outside of its use to describe the lamb, is a nod to the violence of Rome, it is most fitting to hear in John’s image of the slain lamb another account of Rome’s death-dealing nature. In other words, slaughter in a sacrificial context is another omission in Revelation. ²¹ John’s image of a slain yet standing lamb does not recall the preparation of a sacrificial animal, but the lamb who even Rome’s extreme violence (σφάζω) could not defeat.

A Roman bloodbath

In addition to John’s image of the slain lamb, atonement readings often appeal to the blood of the lamb as an echo of the paschal lamb that spared the Israelites from the final plague and ultimately freed them from slavery in Egypt. But a review of blood in Revelation reveals yet another significant omission: blood in a sacrificial context is absent in John’s rhetoric.

Blood (αἷμα, haima) appears 19 times in Revelation, and only four are in relation to Jesus or the Lamb. Two of these four occurrences use the beloved phrase the “blood of the lamb” (7:14 and 12:11), while the other two suggest an action taken on account of the blood of Jesus (1:5) and the slain lamb (5:9). While space here is not sufficient to address in detail each additional instance of “blood” in Revelation, I will summarize its use in John’s rhetoric by identifying two themes that run throughout.

Setting aside for a moment the four instances of blood that refer to Jesus or the lamb, the other 15 occurrences are either in reference to the violence of Rome or to its coming judgment. Just as use of the verb “slain” sought to emphasize Rome’s brutality, so too does John’s use of “blood.” John repeatedly lays the blood of faithful saints, prophets, witnesses, and servants at the feet of the empire (6:10; 16:6; 17:6; 18:24; 19:2). Rome’s hands are covered in the blood of God’s faithful. By repeatedly coming back to the image of blood shed at the hands of the Romans, John rhetorically paints Rome as bloodthirsty and sadistic.

John also uses the image of blood to detail Rome’s impending doom. Rome’s violence comes at a cost, and John assures the churches in Asia Minor that Rome will stand trial and be held accountable for its sins. Drawing on images of blood, John envisions Rome’s dreadful fate, and it is just as bloody as its iniquities. A full moon in the color of blood (6:10), blood raining down from the heavens (8:7), seas and rivers flowing with blood (8:8; 11:6; 16:3–6), and wine vats full of blood (14:20) all await Rome, if Rome does not repent and turn from its wicked ways. Blood for blood. John demonstrates the empire will reap what it has sown (18:6).

Within this context of the violence of Rome and its forthcoming judgment, the images of the blood of the lamb must be understood. Nothing in the text sets Jesus’s blood apart from the blood of the faithful saints, prophets, witnesses, and servants of God. In fact, John’s rhetoric seems to link them as he identifies both Jesus and the faithful as “witnesses” (μάρτυς, martys; 1:5; 12:11; 17:6). A reading of Revelation that identifies Jesus’s blood as an atoning sacrifice does not account for this link John’s rhetoric conveys between Jesus and the faithful. I argue, therefore, the reader should understand the blood of the lamb as another account of Rome’s violence and that, as a result, blood in a sacrificial setting is yet another noticeable omission in John’s revelations to the seven churches.

A sacrifice-less altar

A final omission from John’s visions in Revelation, if one is to entertain a theory of atonement in John’s rhetoric, is the absence of a sacrificial altar. An altar scene appears six times in Revelation, and each instance is a reference to a heavenly altar. While some scholars see in this image a place for prayer and sacrifice, I argue sacrifice is missing from God’s altar in Revelation. ²² A review of its altar scenes supports this thesis.

The heavenly altar is first found in the opening of the fifth seal. With the opening of this seal, John sees the souls of slaughtered martyrs under an altar (6:9), noticeably not on top! As previously mentioned, this image evokes the violence of Rome and does not suggest Rome participated in empire-wide bouts of Christian persecution. Rather, like other scenes in Revelation, this image suggests the heavenly altar is a place to which the souls of God’s faithful can bring their cries for justice. In other words, the altar is a place they can air their grievances against Rome. In contrast to the altars of the imperial world, God’s altar is a place at which the voices of the suffering are heard. God’s altar is about more than the praise of an imperial ruler. God’s altar is also a place in service to the people.

Other altar scenes reinforce the heavenly altar as a place at which the prayers of God’s people are heard. Incense is offered alongside the prayers of God’s saints in the opening of the seventh seal (8:2–5). Of particular note in this scene is the source of the incense. The incense is not offered by the saints to God but is brought by the angel to accompany the saints’ prayers. In contrast to the imperial offerings made in the cities of Asia Minor, the saints who come to God’s altar are not expected to bring an offering; they receive one from a heavenly being. In addition to a place for prayers, the heavenly altar is also an appropriate place for worshiping God (11:1–2) and the place from which God’s judgment of Rome will spring forth (9:13–19). These various depictions of the heavenly altar—as a place for the laments of the souls suffering violence at the hand of Rome, as a place for the worship of God by the faithful, and as a place where Rome will meet its judgment—hardly elicit the altar of a traditional sacrificial offering. John’s depiction of God’s heavenly altar is not interested in sacrifice or atonement. It is a place where the faithful commune with heavenly beings and are invited to join God as full participants in God’s kingdom.

Conclusion

The word “sacrifice” is never used in Revelation, and, therefore, interpretations of Jesus as the “sacrificial lamb” are solely based on other words and images from John’s visions. As I have argued, however, these images serve to visualize Rome’s penchant for violence, not classical images of atonement. John’s Jesus is not a self-sacrificing spiritual savior; John’s Jesus points to the violence of Rome. His scars bear witness to Rome as the bloodthirsty, massacre-loving, idolatrous beast-of-all-beasts, and, through an image of Jesus as the slaughtered and bloody lamb, John puts Rome’s violent kingdom alongside God’s lifesaving one. In conclusion, substitutionary atonement is outside of John’s rhetorical aims and even runs counter to his central point: withdraw from all forms of imperial participation before it is too late; your future depends on it (Rev 18:4).

One important question remains in my unraveling of atonement. If a reading of Revelation that emphasizes violence replaces one that emphasizes common images of atonement, what is the result? What does such a reading offer the twenty–first-century North American church? I offer two thoughts.

The image of the souls bearing witness to the violence of Rome at the foot of the heavenly altar begs the question, what does it mean to be a witness to violence today? It forces readers to ask who are the ones bearing witness to and bearing the scars of empire in our own cultural context. I hear in this question the testimonies to violence on the streets of US cities as protesters cry out, “No Justice! No Peace!” when another Black body is murdered at the hands of the ones pretending to protect them. I see images of naked protesters handcuffed with bags over their heads on the footsteps of a public safety building as they seek answers for unnecessary violence. I hear a man with a knee on his neck yelling, “I can’t breathe!” And I see peaceful protesters being pushed away from the “people’s house” for an opportune photo on the steps of a church. Suddenly, the prayers John hears at the heavenly altar with the opening of the fifth seal no longer seem so far from reality: “Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be?” (6:10).

But another figure in a similar scene also calls our attention: the angel with a golden censor who joined the saints in their prayers at the heavenly altar. Are our churches equipped to hear these cries of injustice at the hands of our modern empires? Do we recognize them when they are laid at our feet, bruised, battered, and broken? Are we prepared to join them as the angel did, and are we prepared to take it a step further and join the angel in serving the ones who bear witness to imperial violence? The question at the heart of John’s apocalypse rings as true today as it did back then: whose side are we on?