Abstract
This article explores a missional reading of Revelation 17 and 18, focusing on the significance of “Babylon” for John’s audience in Roman Asia and for Christian communities today. John uses the symbol of Babylon to shape missional communities, inviting them to reimagine their world. In John’s 1st-century context, Revelation 17 and 18 expose the idolatry, economic exploitation, and dehumanization of the empire. The symbol of Babylon, however, does not lie frozen in a 1st-century past; it continues to speak loudly into contemporary political and economic realities. The contextual reading in this article particularly describes Babylon’s presence within the civil religion, economic practices, arrogance, and violence of the current North American context. The article then asks, What does it mean to “come out” of Babylon (Rev 18:4), both for Christians in John’s world and today? Finally, the article reflects on nine implications that emerge from John’s treatment of Babylon in Revelation 17 and 18 for the ongoing task of missional hermeneutics.
Keywords
Introduction
The symbol of Babylon in Revelation 17 and 18 represents one of the most evocative and provocative images in the Apocalypse. Throughout its reception history, interpreters have identified Babylon with everything from imperial Rome (Irenaeus, Tertullian) to the Roman Catholic papacy (Dante, Luther) to the power of sin throughout human society (Augustine, Primasius, Tyconius), to a global ecumenical religious system, along with a one-world government (Lindsey, LaHaye) (see Koester, 2014: 637–641; Kovacs and Rowland, 2004: 178–189). As problematic as Revelation 17 and 18 might seem, these chapters are crucial for understanding both how the gospel encountered John’s world, and how it might do so today, especially in view of current religious, economic, and political realities.
What follows is an exploration in missional hermeneutics. Fundamentally, missional interpretation involves consciously reading Scripture in light of the comprehensive mission of God, as communities that are engaged in the divine mission. More specifically, reading the Bible missionally embraces such issues as: (1) how Scripture bears witness to the sweeping mission of God; (2) how Scripture energizes and equips God’s people to participate in the missio Dei; and (3) how Christian communities read Scripture out of concrete circumstances and allow the gospel to critically engage their various human contexts. 1
This reading of Revelation 17 and 18 seeks to address each of these concerns. It is by design a contextual reading, which wrestles with the significance of “Babylon” within the current social and political context of North America. At the same time, Revelation engages issues that burst out of any given social location. Furthermore, John’s portrait of “Babylon” has much to teach us about the process of reading Scripture missionally.
This article, then, explores three basic questions: First, where is Babylon located, both then and now? Second, what does it mean to “come out” of Babylon, for Christians in John’s world and our own? Finally, what implications do Revelation 17 and 18 carry for the ongoing task of missional hermeneutics?
Where is Babylon?
The aim of John’s symbols
Although the image of Babylon makes cameo appearances earlier in the Apocalypse (14:8; 16:18–19), it dominates the landscape in Revelation 17 and 18. These chapters form an interlude between the seven bowls of judgment (16:1–21) and the final vision of celebration in 19:1–10. Why, however, does John devote the lion’s share of two chapters to unpacking this symbol?
To answer that question, we must consider John’s overall aims. Revelation, in the first place, seeks not to predict future events, but to shape faithful missional communities (see Flemming, 2012: 170; Gorman, 2011: 176). John addresses seven real churches in 1st-century Asia Minor. His Christian readers walk the dusty streets of a world dominated by a Roman Empire that demands ultimate and unquestioned loyalty. These congregations face two related threats (see Rev 2 and 3). For some (Smyrna and Philadelphia), the present danger takes the form of local hostility and persecution. But for the majority of churches, the greater peril involves accommodating to the ideology and practices of the empire, perhaps as a means of avoiding persecution (see Howard-Brook and Gwyther, 2001: 101–118). The Seer sees that when the churches compromise with Rome’s ways of thinking and acting, they are sucked into a vortex of imperial religious, political, and economic power (Flemming 2015: 117).
John’s Apocalypse, then, holds a dual aim. Negatively, it seeks to distance John’s hearers from the allures of the idolatrous empire and its ways. Positively, it calls the churches in Asia to an uncompromising worship of the one God and the slain Lamb. Further, it beckons them to proclaim and embody a faithful and costly witness to God and his purposes in the world. To fulfill this community-forming purpose, John asks his readers to reimagine their world. Drawing from the symbolic well of apocalyptic and prophetic literature, John offers the seven churches an alternative vision of the world in which they live. Richard Bauckham (1993: 7) expresses it well:
John (and thereby his readers with him) is taken up into heaven in order to see the world from the heavenly perspective. . . . He is also transported in vision into the final future of the world, so that he can see the present from the perspective of what its final outcome must be, in God’s ultimate purpose for human history.
Revelation, then, is less about unveiling the future than unmasking the present (Maier, 2005: 78). John offers his audience a counter-imagination that must shape their identity and mission.
Babylon the prostitute: Revelation 17
The symbol of Babylon plays a critical part in Revelation’s re-visioning purpose. This striking image underscores the difference between followers of the Lamb and the idolatrous empire. John makes no secret about the identity of Babylon for the churches in Asia. Far from a code to be cracked by 21st-century bloggers, John’s portrayal of the harlot Babylon in chapter 17 fits Rome like a tailored suit. The empire was famous for its command of the seas (“many waters” 17:1), its worship of emperors and the gods that stood behind them (“blasphemous names” 17:3), and for flaunting its wealth and luxury (17:4). The harlot sits on “seven mountains” (17:9)—a clear allusion to Rome, traditionally the city set on seven hills. Moreover, “the great city that rules over the kings of the earth” (17:18) points directly to the sole superpower in John’s world.
John’s picture of the prostitute demands an “imagination switch” from John’s audience. Rome is portrayed as a woman. But she is not the goddess Roma, the mother figure who represented Rome’s might and dignity, who was worshiped in the temples of Asia, and whose image graced Roman coins. Creating a stinging parody of “mother Rome,” John unmasks her as “the mother of whores” (17:5). She reeks of abominations from the immorality of her idolatrous worship; she is besotted with the blood of the saints (17:4, 6). John announces, in effect, “Here is the true picture of the great empire; it is none other than a debauched whore, a cruel and violent murderer.” The image is utterly disgusting, and that is precisely John’s strategy. By co-opting and reworking a familiar symbol from his world, John asks his readers to reimagine their world from an end-time perspective (Koester, 2009: 17).
At the same time, John shapes his readers’ imaginations by providing alternate feminine symbols. 2 Babylon “the great whore” (17:1, 4), decked out in her seductive luxury, stands in bold contrast both to the woman radiantly clothed with the sun (12:1–6) and the church as the chaste bride of the Lamb, adorned with righteous deeds (19:8; 21:2, 9).
Babylon the economic exploiter: Revelation 18
In chapter 18, Babylon particularly represents Rome’s economic prosperity, gained by exploiting the empire. Rome dominated “the kings of the earth” (17:18), not just politically, but also economically. Chapter 18 unveils economic networks that advance the elite. The “kings” and “merchants of the earth” (18:9, 11) lament their loss of profits due to Babylon’s dramatic fall. John’s scalding critique of Babylon exposes Rome’s unquenchable thirst for luxury and obscene consumption, slaked at the expense of others (18:3, 7). The long list of cargo in 18:11–13 reflects actual Roman imports, most of them aimed at satisfying the expensive palates of the rich (see Koester, 2014: 702–705). The last and least valuable item on the list is “slaves—and human lives” (literally, “bodies and human souls”). Rome, John insists, gets rich by enslaving human souls, by treating persons as mere commodities. Babylon’s judgment demonstrates that God will not turn a blind eye to economic oppression and injustice.
John’s language in chapter 18 draws heavily from the Old Testament prophets, particularly their critiques of Tyre, the maritime power (Is 23; Ezek 27, 28), and ancient Babylon itself (Jer 52:24–58; Hab 2:4–13). Echoing Isaiah 47:7–9, John lambasts Rome’s arrogance: “In her heart she says, ‘I rule as a queen; I am no widow, and I will never see grief’” (Rev 18:7).
John also apparently counters popular imperial myths. Notably, the Pax Romana exalted Rome as the gracious benefactor of peace, security, and order for the empire. From John’s perspective, however, those who consort with the harlot pay a steep price for the privilege. Rome delivers Pax at the cost of tyranny and violence. John unveils Babylon as a bloodthirsty murderer: “And in you was found the blood of prophets and of saints, and of all who have been slaughtered on earth” (18:24; cf. 17:6). Another popular myth touted Rome as the eternal city, whose rule would never end. But in Revelation’s transformed imagination, Babylon is reduced to a heap of burning rubble in a single day (18:8, 9; 19:3).
John, therefore, draws on a quiver-full of cultural and traditional resources—popular symbols, contrasting images, myths, Scripture, and parody, among them—to give his audience an alternative vision of the world. He co-opts the language and popular ideals of Rome precisely to subvert them. Readers must choose between the “gospel” of Caesar and the good news of Jesus the slaughtered Lamb.
Babylon today
Although Babylon represented Rome and its corrupting influence on the empire for Christians in Asia, the symbol’s meaning cannot stay frozen in a 1st-century past. John’s portrait of Babylon evokes Old Testament forerunners, cities like Babel, Sodom, Nineveh, Tyre, and, not least, ancient Babylon itself. For John, Rome may be the current embodiment of Babylon, but it is by no means the first or the last. Babylon and its sins address ultimate issues, which transcend ancient Rome. As Bauckham (1993: 156) tersely notes, “Any society whom Babylon’s cap fits must wear it.”
A missional reading of Revelation, therefore, not only asks how a symbol like Babylon sought to reshape the imagination and practice of churches then but also how it might continue to do so in the present. Specific to the concern of this article, what does the symbol of Babylon mean for Western Christians, particularly those living in the United States, on the cusp of the third decade of the 21st century?
On the one hand, we must not launch too quickly into drawing parallels between John’s world and today’s postcolonial context. 3 For example, Revelation does not entertain the possibility of transformation taking place through established political structures, as happened, say, in the legislative changes resulting from the costly actions of American civil rights marchers in the 1960s. On the other hand, we must follow John’s lead in discerning the presence and power of Babylon in our midst. As Onesimus Ngundu (2006: 1572) insists, “Babylon exists wherever there is idolatry, prostitution, self-glorification, self-sufficiency, pride and complacency, reliance on luxury and wealth, and violence against life.”
Much could be said here, but I will simply note five areas in which “Babylon’s cap fits” the current American political and cultural setting.
Civil religion. John closely identifies Babylon with the idolatry of the empire. The prostitute straddles a beast filled with blasphemous names (17:3) recalling the deifying of emperors in the imperial cult, as well as the universal worship of the beast in Revelation 13. What is more, the harlot’s practice of sexual immorality (17:2, 4) picks up a common biblical metaphor for idolatry (cf. 2:14). In John’s world, politics and religion were intertwined in the form of the emperor cult and the worship of local gods, which sustained the empire.
A syncretistic “God and country” ideology is also alive and well in 21st-century America, not least in many American churches. 4 Civil religion involves “The attribution of sacred status to secular power (normally the state and/or its head) as the source of divine blessing, requiring devotion and allegiance of heart, mind, and body to the sacred-secular power and its values” (Gorman, 2011: 46). A complex of myths, narratives, rituals, and media serve to reinforce such values. American Christians regularly embrace such myths (“America as a Christian nation”) and practice such rituals. Patriotism becomes synonymous with godliness. I recall attending a worship service on an American Independence Day weekend in which, as the congregation lifted a patriotic song, a massive digital image of the American flag was superimposed over a standing cross. J. Nelson Kraybill (2010: 15) hits the nail on the head when he observes that although “no Western nation has outright ruler worship today, we do have political, military, and economic powers to which millions give unquestioned allegiance.”
2. Economic exploitation. If Babylon symbolizes Rome’s lust for luxury and her exploitive economic practices for John’s first audience, it is not hard to find Babylon in the world’s most developed economies today. The pursuit of wealth, luxury, and dominance in the world marketplace leads to policies and practices that help create a world of “haves” and “have-nots,” in which wealthy nations enjoy a standard of living vastly larger than the majority of the human population and consume most of the world’s resources.
But at what price? Mitchell Reddish (2001: 351) notes that multinational corporations, the new “merchants” and “magnates of the earth” (Rev 18:23), are often driven to boost profits by building factories in majority world countries, employing cheap labor, accepting inadequate health and safety standards, and wreaking havoc on the environment. “Too often,” he observes, “the controlling criterion in world economic matters is not what is best for all the people of the world, and certainly not what is best for the poor and disenfranchised, but what is best for the few who already possess and control the most.” When this happens, unrestrained global capitalism and a consumer culture join forces as an idolatrous power. John leaves no doubt that Babylon’s consumer excesses will be consumed by God’s judgment fire in the end (18:8–10).
3. Arrogance. Repeatedly, Revelation refers to Babylon as the “great city” (16.19; 17.18; 18.10, 16, 18, 19, 21), “the great Babylon” (16:19), or “Babylon the Great” (17:5). Such language plays on Rome/Babylon’s vaunted self-image (18:7–8). Popular myths extolled the imperial period as the long-awaited golden age, the fulfillment of humanity’s hopes, eternal in its reign (Gorman, 2011: 42). The United States is no stranger to inflated visions of its own importance, as the “greatest nation on earth,” or a “light to the nations,” which spring from myths of American exceptionalism and divine election. In the current political climate, promises of a return to “America the Great” abound. “Greatness” is often defined in terms of political might, military supremacy, economic prosperity, personal freedom, and nostalgia for a time when white, church-going Americans held the keys to power. Sadly, multitudes of American Christians seem to have embraced that longing (“Let’s take America back for God”).
Rome’s greatness was communicated to the masses through a variety of media, including coins, public inscriptions, monuments, statues, hymns and poetry, processions, and standards carried by soldiers (Gorman, 2011: 42). Modern forms of media, including cable news stations, partisan podcasts, and Twitter feeds, fulfill a comparable role.
4. Violence. Ironically, Rome maintained the Pax Romana through a pattern of sacred violence, which was supported by the gods. This “pacification” involved military conquest, public executions, and other forms of violence or the threat of violence (see 17:6; 18:24). The road is not long from Pax Romana to Pax Americana. “Divinely approved” violence has long undergirded America’s “mission” of expansion or of promoting democracy and freedom (slaughtering native Americans, wars, invasions of other countries, support of repressive regimes that benefit national self-interests), and continues into the present (see Gorman, 2011: 50; Leithart, 2012).
On a local level, Christian congregations might participate in an ideology of sacred violence through practices such as singing hymns with militaristic language (e.g., “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” whose images derive largely from Revelation 19) or by publicly extolling military service, particularly that done at wartime, as a sacred, Christian endeavor. Indeed, American Christians too often find in Revelation a God who metes out a coercive brand of divine justice on his (and their) enemies. But Richard B. Hays (1996: 175) rightly insists that such a reading misses the whole symbolic logic of Revelation: “A work that places the Lamb that was slaughtered at the center of its praise and worship can hardly be used to validate violence and coercion.”
Violence and intimidation abound in personal relationships, as well, whether in the form of sexual harassment at the workplace, domestic abuse in the home, or cyberbullying on social media. Tragically, the people of the slaughtered Lamb are not immune from such behavior, epitomized by the appalling history of sexual abuse and coverup of that abuse within the Roman Catholic communion.
5. Dehumanization. The haunting demotion of “slaves” and “human souls” to the very bottom of the list of imported goods (18:13) spotlights Babylon’s dehumanizing character. In striking contrast, Christ purchases humanity with his blood and dignifies it with a calling to reign with Christ (5:9–10) (Thomas and Macchia, 2016: 445). Clarice J. Martin (2005: 82–109) sees parallels between Babylon and the American experience, whether the commodification of African American slaves or more recent treatment of refugees, immigrants, and people of color. The very label “illegals,” which features prominently in current public discourse regarding immigration in North America, triggers an imagination shift from persons to a mere category.
A missional reading of Revelation invites faith communities to perceive what they do not see; to prayerfully and humbly ask, “Where does Babylon ride the beast in our world?”
Leaving Babylon behind
John is not content simply to bring the portrait of Babylon into sharp focus for his audience. He calls God’s people to “come out of her” (18:4). What would that mean for Christians living in the midst of Babylon/Rome? This is not an appeal to physically forsake Babylon, but rather an invitation to leave behind Babylon’s ways of thinking and living. John’s prophetic exposé not only unveils how Babylon is embodied in the power structures of Rome. It also boomerangs against his audience. For them, exiting Babylon would involve forsaking ordinary cultural practices, such as eating food sacrificed to idols (2:14–15, 20–21), with its connections to the imperial cult. Coming out of Babylon also would entail abandoning unjust economic practices, as well as the kind of materialism and arrogance that boasts, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing” (3:17) (Flemming, 2015: 119–20).
A missional reading of Revelation 17 and 18, then, compels Christian communities not only to reimagine their world in view of God’s loving and just purposes for creation, but also to respond to that transformed vision in concrete practices, as they embody the missio Dei within their circumstances. John does not prescribe in detail what coming out of Babylon means for his audience, and neither can we. Churches in every generation, culture, socioeconomic situation, and missional context must wrestle with what it means to leave the city. But let me suggest several areas in which this task seems especially compelling in North America today.
The flag and the cross
Exiting Babylon will require American churches to “break up” with the god of nationalism and to forsake the idolatry of civil religion. How this plays out today will look different than it did for the churches in 1st-century Asia. As Gorman (2011: 54) observes, for Christians then, civil religion involved a syncretistic mix of Roman ideology and pagan religiosity. Today in the United States, civil religion combines American ideology with a form of Christian spirituality. This makes the prostitute’s allures all the more seductive and Babylon’s web even more difficult to disentangle from.
In recent years, nationalism, in its various forms, undoubtedly has ascended in its profile, both in the United States and elsewhere. It will likely prove to be increasingly costly to swim against the stream of civil religion, not only in relation to society at large but also the church itself. Local congregations must courageously discover paths out of Babylon. For example, one lead pastor told me that his congregational leadership engaged in a thoughtful conversation about whether to keep the American flag at the front of their sanctuary, right next to the cross, where it had stood for decades. In the end, they decided to remove the flag from regular display and reserve it for special occasions. They wanted to send a clear message to the gathered community: There can be no conflict in allegiances between a national symbol and the slaughtered and risen Lamb. 5
The idol of greed
Exiting Babylon’s greed and economic exploitation carries both a prophetic and a lifestyle dimension. Revelation surely encourages the church to “go public” in challenging governments that use economic coercion as a tool for self-seeking policies or that redirect funds from aiding the sick and oppressed in our world to build up military power. Will leaving Babylon behind allow us to remain silent when corporations use sweatshops to produce our cheap sneakers or exploit natural resources and poor local workers to satisfy our demand for high-end jewelry and technology? 6
At the same time, forsaking Babylon profoundly shapes everyday lifestyles and practices, as persons and as Christian communities. Christians in many global contexts confront daily choices about whether to participate in a system of bribery and corruption that benefits the rich and the powerful. In the West, Christian communities hear the siren call of the materialistic “good life.” Reddish (2001: 354) reflects that Christians “come out of the city” when they resist the driving impulse to consume goods and experiences, practice radical generosity with their time and money, and adopt a simpler lifestyle that does not devour a disproportionate measure of the world’s resources. Might leaving Babylon require Western Christians to confess that they have been seduced by the charms of a consumeristic whore?
Re-humanizing the outsider
How might Christians “come out of Babylon” in a political and social context in which the most vulnerable of our world are regularly dehumanized and demonized; in which migrants as a whole are labeled as violent gang members or criminals; and where young children are separated from their asylum-seeking parents at the border? Whatever our context, we must begin by humbly confessing our own participation in any form of sexism, discrimination, racism, ethnocentrism, and apathy toward victims of violence and oppression, hunger and homelessness. Second, Christian communities must seek ways to extend love and concrete service on behalf of marginalized and exploited people, whether victims of poverty, trafficking, abuse, persecution, or violence.
This is not an easy path, given the extent to which large segments of the American church remain entangled with Babylon. According to a 2018 Pew Research Center study, only one in four white evangelical Protestants thinks the United States has a responsibility to accept refugees, the lowest percentage of any group identified in the survey, and significantly less than nonreligious persons. 7 A loving, missional response to frequently dehumanized groups like refugees may come with a cost.
Implications for missional hermeneutics
What are the wider implications of Revelation 17 and 18 for the practice of missional hermeneutics? What might John’s portrait of Babylon and his call to “come out” of the city teach us about reading Scripture missionally, especially in light of contemporary political and cultural realities? 8
First, John’s use of the symbol Babylon remains part of a much larger story. Revelation tells the story of a sovereign, creator God, whose loving purpose is embodied in the mission of Jesus, the slaughtered Lamb, on behalf of people of every tribe and nation. This narrative reaches its goal in the new creation, in which God makes “everything new” (21:5). God’s judgment on Babylon and the beastly powers plays a crucial role in that story. For new creation to arrive, Babylon must fall. God’s unstoppable faithfulness to creation requires a divine war against the powers that seek to destroy the earth (11:18). Nothing will be allowed to derail God’s missional purpose to liberate, redeem, and restore the world. The story of Babylon is, therefore, part of a cosmic struggle, which transcends the realities of the Roman Empire, or any empire that follows. Revelation trumpets the cosmic victory of the Lamb (17:14) and his followers (17:6, 8, 14; cf. 19:1–8). God’s judgment on all evil powers becomes a necessary means to that end. An adequate missional hermeneutic will view an image like Babylon within the sweeping story of God’s loving mission in the world.
Second, missional hermeneutics must follow John’s lead in offering an alternative vision of the world. Symbols like Babylon help to shape, correct, and equip missional communities, enabling them to reimagine their concrete world. Revelation’s transformed theological imagination gives us the vantage point to expose and resist the political, social, and economic idols that challenge the sovereignty of God and the Lamb. It performs the needed eye surgery that enables us to see how our own societies sacralize secular powers or exploit the weak to inflate the strong.
Third, Revelation 17 and 18 model a hermeneutic that is context-specific, but not context-bound. It is clear that John fixes his crosshairs squarely on Rome. Babylon the whore wears Roman garments and drinks from a Roman cup. Yet John’s targeted prophetic critique draws from scriptural texts and biblical theological themes that reach beyond the cities of Roman Asia. In short, John has contextualized the one Gospel story of the slaughtered Lamb’s triumph over evil and God’s righteous judgments in light of the political and religious realities of his world.
Christian communities today can do no less. Recently, while reading Revelation with African doctoral students, I was struck by how perceptively they spotted Babylon’s presence, not only in foreign heavyweight powers, but in their own political contexts of Kenya, Ethiopia, South Africa, and the like. The current political environment in the United States demands a revisiting and recontextualizing of Revelation’s portrait of Babylon. We dare not sanitize such texts, either by turning them into 1st-century museum artifacts or by neutralizing them with a bland, “Well, after all, Babylon is everywhere.” Granted. But Babylon is also here. And the here must profoundly shape our reading of these texts.
Fourth, we can learn from Revelation that missional readings of Scripture must challenge the church, as well as the world. John’s portraits of the prostitute and the fallen city were not merely about “those bad Roman rulers and systems of power out there.” Christians who share Babylon’s perspective or that of its collaborators must recognize that they, too, stand in danger of sharing Babylon’s judgment. Churches continue to submit to the harlot’s seductions today. In the American political and commercial environment, distinctions between the kingdom of Christ and the empire of Babylon often blur beyond recognition. Modern-day Laodicean churches still build empires, based on models of success, power, and influence derived from the dominant culture. Currently, some American Christians seem ready to strike a pragmatic bargain with Babylon, rationalizing elected officials’ immorality, falsehoods, and exploitation of the weak, let alone creation itself, in exchange for the promise of prosperity and political success.
At the same time, the symbol of Babylon and the wider visions of Revelation speak in different ways to different churches. In North America, a congregation largely made up of Central American migrants in urban Los Angeles will hear these texts differently than one embedded in an upscale suburb of Vancouver. Each community of Lamb-followers must discover what it means to participate in the mission of the thrice-holy God within their life circumstances, and, if necessary, repent of their collusion with Babylon.
Fifth, John draws from the symbols, language, and myths of his world to challenge that world to be transformed. This includes recontextualizing scripture and symbols, as well as co-opting pagan images and myths from his political environment. John appropriates the noble goddess Roma, not so much to build bridges to his audience as to unveil her, shockingly, as a bloodthirsty prostitute. Today, our missional readings might also utilize the literary and cultural resources at hand, whether Scripture and church tradition or popular symbols and myths. If John were writing today, instead of parodying mother Roma, might he imagine Uncle Sam dressed up in loud colors, flashing a gold dollar-sign necklace, flaunting his consumer wealth, gained, at least in part, at the expense of poorer nations and a threatened earth?
What’s more, Revelation reminds us of the power of images and symbols to express theological truth. Today, people in the West are shaped largely by media, images, music, and sensory experiences. The fantasy genre enjoys wild popularity. Might John’s imaginative, visceral approach to doing theology provide a pattern for enabling our neighbors and fellow Christians to reshape their perceptions of what God is up to in the world?
Sixth, missional readings must speak prophetically. Revelation claims to stand in the tradition of Old Testament prophecy (1:3; 22:7, 10, 18–19). As such, it announces God’s word to God’s people in a specific context, calling for a faithful response. A missional reading of Revelation 17 and 18 cannot help but prophetically challenge the idolatry, injustice, immorality, and violence in our societies. Scripture is not partisan, but it is profoundly political. God’s people must spot and name sins like racism, nationalism, militarism, and consumerism, which are part and parcel of our systems of political and economic power. Many Western Christians have too long hidden behind a fig leaf of privatized piety, quoting prooftexts like “Render unto Caesar . . .” (Matt 22:21) and Romans 13 to exonerate them from resisting the ideologies and powers that challenge God’s rule. Whatever our context, we cannot simply point fingers. Revelation 17 and 18 force us to confess where we have participated in the myths and practices of Babylon.
Seventh, to read Revelation missionally, we must read it “from below,” in solidarity with the weak and the powerless. The victims of Babylon’s violence include not only persecuted Christians, but “all who have been slaughtered on earth” (18:24). Writers such as Allan Boesak (1987: esp. 118–122), Pablo Richard (2005: 146–164), and Juan Toscano (2017: 63–81) insist that Revelation’s prophetic critique of Babylon calls the church to liberating practices on behalf of oppressed people. Reading from this perspective does not demand that we personally feel the sting of Babylon’s exploitation and injustice. John’s audience included the Laodiceans, who famously boasted they were rich and self-sufficient (3:17). Further, Babylon bewitched not only power brokers, but also ordinary crew—“seafarers and sailors” (18:17)—who benefitted from the city’s wealth and security. In similar ways, the poor, as well as the prosperous, can buy into American religious nationalism or a promise of security and comfort that dehumanizes others. Bauckham (1993: 161) wisely insists that a perspective from below “is the result of standing for God and his kingdom against the idolatries of the powerful.” Consequently, Revelation’s message of countercultural resistance addresses the affluent as well as the oppressed.
Eighth, it follows that to read these texts missionally, we must not only read them out of our own social location but also carefully listen to others, particularly those from different cultural and social/economic circumstances. James Brownson (2009) argues that missional hermeneutics intrinsically invites difference and cross-cultural encounter; otherwise, we are all too susceptible to culturally dominant interpretations. Isolated from others, we struggle to recognize Babylon’s very presence among us, let alone leave it behind. J. Nelson Kraybill (1996: 10) is surely right that for churches in relatively powerful and secure societies like the United States, “it may be difficult to hear or accept John’s radical critique of imperial power, a critique that seems logical to many people in the two-thirds world.”
My own perspective has been profoundly shaped by hermeneutical encounters with students and colleagues from cultures other than my own. I gained a deeper insight into the beastly nature of religious nationalism from students in Western Europe, whose societies have suffered its devastating effects. I learned to empathize more fully with the victims of Babylon’s dehumanization through interacting with students in the Philippines and Africa who bear its wounds. My understanding of Babylon’s persecution of God’s faithful was transformed through teaching Middle Eastern students, for whom that was a common life experience. These were, and, continue to be, humbling encounters, enabling me to see what I could not otherwise see. Missional hermeneutics is not about splintering our reading of Scripture into a myriad of self-contained contextual interpretations. Done well, reading Scripture missionally enables each local or national church to hear how its own voice contributes to the multinational chorus in God’s coming kingdom (7:9).
Ninth, a missional hermeneutic cannot accept every reading as equally valid. Revelation makes clear that our theological and hermeneutical response to the sovereign God and the slaughtered Lamb must bear witness to God’s truth (Rev 20:4; 21:5; 22:6). Dispensationalist readings, for example, that view Revelation 17 and 18 as simply part of an unfolding script for future events, which has little to do with the church in the present, represent an escape from God’s mission. They have as much in common with the sweeping biblical narrative as kale does with cotton candy. Such interpretations too often have blinded Christians to the power and presence of Babylon in their midst and have promoted a profoundly individualistic and apolitical reading of these texts.
At the same time, interpreters who think John’s eschatological visions are about resisting empire and the hope of sociopolitical transformation in present history alone fail to recognize John’s prophetic already/not yet perspective. (see Richard, 1994: 3–5; Howard-Brook and Gwyther, 2001: 158–159). Ultimately, a faithful missional reading of Revelation, however contextually relevant, must be anchored in “a vision of a God who reigns over history and the story of a victorious Lamb who has redeemed a people of all nations through his sacrificial death and will return bearing both judgment and salvation” (Flemming, 2005: 293). John’s contextual theologizing in Revelation flows out of this defining vision, and today’s readings of Revelation must, as well. Particularly in contexts in which truth is a chameleon that changes color to fit personal or political agendas, interpretations of Scripture, however imperfect, must seek to conform to the bedrock truth about God and Christ.
Conclusion
John uses the symbol of Babylon in Revelation 17 and 18 to shape faithful, missional communities of Lamb-followers and to offer them an alternative way of imagining their world. He calls Christians to “come out” of Babylon, not in some generic sense that is as shapeless as a jellyfish, but within the churning political, economic, and religious realities of Roman Asia. Yet Babylon and its corruptive effects transcend any single context. Babylon is alive and well today—both in the world and the church. A missional reading of these texts calls readers in the United States and elsewhere to prophetically unmask Babylon in their concrete settings. It invites God’s people to reimagine their world, even as they embody the mission of the slaughtered Lamb and the new creation to come. What’s more, God’s people can learn from John’s targeted theological response to his context as they seek, guided by the Spirit, to recontextualize the significance of Babylon for their own moment in history.
Footnotes
Authors’ Note
revised from a paper given at the Forum on Missional Hermeneutics at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, Denver, Colorado, in November, 2018.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
