Seeing Christ through Hearing the Apocalypse: An Exploration of John’s Use of Ekphrasis in Revelation 1 and 19

Rhetorical Species, Genre and Rhetorical Aims

There has been significant debate regarding which of Aristotle’s three species of rhetoric (deliberative, forensic or epideictic; cf. Rhet. 1.3.1) most accurately fits Revelation. Those who argue for forensic as the dominant category point to Revelation’s concerns with justice, judgment and vindication as appeals to accusation and defense (Aristotle, Rhet. 1.3.3; cf. Schüssler Fiorenza 1991: 26, 117; Witherington 2003: 15). While these are present, Revelation does not seem to be asking its audience to make a decision regarding God’s justice or judgment, as if such a matter is under question and the hearers, as if a jury (Aristotle, Rhet. 1.3.2), must be persuaded. Moreover, it presents future judgment in a way that motivates hearers to a particular course of action, incorporating forensic topics within the scope of deliberative rhetoric (cf. deSilva 2008: 260-61). Likewise, although there are epideictic topics, such as praise and blame, ⁴ these too function in a way that serves Revelation’s overall deliberative aim (cf. deSilva 2008: 259). ⁵ Two things should be kept in view when answering this issue: (1) All three species of rhetoric can be helpful for analyzing specific passages in Revelation, some of which may be construed more closely to forensic or epideictic categories, even if the overall aim of Revelation is seen as deliberative; and (2) Aristotle’s categories, even though they are transferable, were developed within the specific social context of ancient Greece (civic oratory; cf. Kennedy 1984: 19), thereby making it difficult to fit Revelation neatly into one category at the exclusion of others (which is complicated further by Revelation’s apocalyptic character; see below).

In view of these important caveats, I maintain that Revelation is better seen as possessing an overall deliberative character because it aims to alter the future course of action of its hearers through a variety of means, some of which involve the employment of features of other species of forensic and epideictic rhetoric as well. ⁶ The deliberative nature of Revelation is not always explicit in the text, as there are few instances of direct paraenesis (mainly Rev. 2–3), but the overall thrust of the text is that the hearer would align his or her beliefs and actions with the message of Revelation.

As an apocalyptic form of discourse, Revelation primarily uses images to convey its message (Schüssler Fiorenza 1991: 120; Wilder 1971: 449), and this shapes the way in which it is implicitly deliberative. Moreover, John’s choice to express his message through the apocalyptic genre means that searching for any traces of classical rhetorical arrangement is futile (cf. deSilva 2009: 11-14). The genre ‘apocalypse’ should instead be seen as a rhetorical practice itself (Schüssler Fiorenza 1991: 24) and the combination of aspects of two cultural worlds (Jewish apocalyptic and Greco-Roman rhetoric) that are not mutually exclusive (Whitaker 2015a: 25). This functional aspect of the definition of apocalyptic is stated well by A.Yarbro Collins: an apocalypse intends ‘to influence both the understanding and the behavior of the audience by means of divine authority’ (1986: 7). ⁷ One qualification is needed here, however: while divine authority may function as one means of proof (ethos), Revelation also appeals to pathos to influence its hearers. Revelation thus uses images rhetorically to appeal to ethos and pathos to motivate hearers to adopt its outlook on the world. ⁸

What are Revelation’s rhetorical aims? Although the traditional view of Revelation’s historical situation was that the audience was experiencing persecution, ⁹ the problem that John wishes to address in his hearers has more to do with compromise (e.g., Rev. 2.4, 14, 20; 3.1-2, 15-17). ¹⁰ A. Yarbro Collins has argued that evidence of oppression in Revelation is only relative and that John’s motivation to write was ‘due to the conflict between the Christian faith itself, as John understood it, and the social situation as he perceived it’ (1984: 84-111, 141-44, here 106). ¹¹ John writes, then, in order to persuade his hearers to stop compromising out of complacency. This analysis, however, does not take into account the situations of the churches in Smyrna and Philadelphia, who are in danger of future compromise because they are vulnerable to hostility headed their way (e.g., 2.10; 3.10-11), even though they have thus far been faithful and loyal in their commitment. ¹² In response to both situations among his hearers, both complacency and vulnerability, John presents his own understanding of the world that is at odds with the Roman imperial ideology with which his hearers have presumably either begun to compromise or are in danger of compromising, attempting to persuade his hearers to adopt his view.

DeSilva points out three aspects of what he calls ‘Roman imperial ideology’ (the term I have adopted here): (1) the seductive pull of wealth that involves one in economic injustice; (2) the corresponding involvement in political injustice, especially through violence; and (3) the blasphemous imperial cult that pervades Roman culture (2009: 37-48). John seeks to persuade his hearers to embrace a ‘critical distance’ (deSilva’s term) from such Roman imperial ideology and not compromise their commitment to Christ. ¹³ Since ‘Revelation’s revelation is that Jesus Christ is Lord’ (Blount 2009: 13), John’s ultimate aim is to persuade the hearers to commit to the confession that its central character Jesus is Lord over against the deceitful powers of empire; it has to do with proper allegiance (cf. Yarbro Collins 1984: 144; Johns 1998: 762). Through his visionary, apocalyptic rhetoric, John presents Christ and the benefits that come from being on his side in view of God’s judgment as superior to Roman imperial ideology: justice is better than wealth at the price of economic injustice, non-violent resistance is better than violence, and Christ, who in Revelation is a conquering hero, is a better recipient of worship than the conquering heroes of imperial Rome.

Revelation, Ethos and Pathos

While Revelation employs all three of Aristotle’s rhetorical proofs, ¹⁴ ethos and pathos will be my focus for two reasons: (1) the scope of this article is ekphrasis in two passages that mainly appeal to ethos and pathos (Rev. 1.12-18; 19.11-16); and (2) Revelation as a whole emphasizes ethos and pathos in its source for authority (God and Christ) and its means of communication (emotive visions). Thus, rhetorical criticism of Revelation has focused primarily on ethos and pathos.

The first matter to be established in a hearer’s mind is the character (ethos) of the speaker: does the speech ‘render him worthy of confidence?’ (Aristotle, Rhet. 1.2.4 [Freese, LCL]). Revelation appeals to divine authority, and the hearer can have confidence in John because he has received the message from ‘Jesus Christ’, who himself received it from God (Rev. 1.1). ¹⁵ While Rev. 1.1 is an explicit appeal to ethos, Rev. 1.9-20 is an example of an implicit development of ethos through a vision in which John encounters Jesus Christ, who has an authoritative message for the churches. The way in which John appeals to ethos is not as much through the description of Christ (ekphrasis, discussed below), but more that John appeals to Christ. Here John’s own voice recedes and the voice of Christ emerges, which is the technique of ‘making another speak in our place’ to avoid a lack of confidence in the speaker (Aristotle, Rhet. 3.17.16 [Freese, LCL]; cf. deSilva 2009: 126). These initial appeals to divine authority for John’s visions presumably shape the way in which the hearers would receive the message. ¹⁶

John’s appeals to pathos have not received as much detailed study. ¹⁷ Several of the ancient authors on rhetoric addressed the role of pathos in persuasion. We begin with Aristotle’s classic definition: ‘The orator persuades by means of his hearers, when they are roused to emotion by his speech; for the judgments we deliver are not the same when we are influenced by joy or sorrow, love or hate’ (Rhet. 1.2.5 [Freese, LCL]; also 2.1.1-9). The last part of this phrase suggests that speakers/authors ought to take into consideration that hearers’ emotions can at times determine their response, even more than other factors. Cicero says as much: ‘For men decide far more problems by hate, or love, or lust, or rage, or sorrow, or joy, or hope, or fear, or illusion, or some other inward emotion, than by reality, or authority, or any legal standard, or judicial precedent, or statute’ (De or. 2.42.178 [Sutton and Rackham, LCL]; also 2.44.185; 2.50.206). Quintilian makes similar remarks: ‘unless we can entice them with delights, drag them along by the strength of our pleading, and sometimes disturb them by emotional appeals, we cannot make even a just and true cause prevail’ (Inst. orat. 5.14.29 [Russell, LCL]). ¹⁸

The success of the argument, then, depends on the ability of the speaker to rouse the emotions in such a way that the hearer is guided by emotion to the point of view and/or course of action that the speaker desires (Carey 2008: 167; deSilva 2009: 178; Knight 1997: 478). The images in Revelation function in exactly this manner, as ‘symbolic language compelling imaginative participation’ (Schüssler Fiorenza 1991: 31) in creating mental pictures that evoke powerful positive and negative emotions (Koester 2014: 135). Humphrey raises the possibility that a Hebraic conception of rhetoric lies behind Revelation’s appeal to imagination over cognition, since it speaks more to the heart than to the mind (2007: 22). Such emotive images are most powerful when they intersect with the actual lives of the hearers and are felt to be imminent (see Aristotle, Rhet. 2.5.1; cf. Thompson 2000: 132; Whitaker 2015a: 97-100), which happens in Revelation as the message of the visions addresses directly the pull between Roman imperial ideology and the confession of Jesus as Lord. Appeals to pathos, then, form a major component of the rhetorical strategy of Revelation.

Revelation and Poetics

Appeals to emotion can also be viewed from the standpoint of poetics, and many have noted the poetic quality of Revelation, calling it ‘poetic rhetorical’ (Schüssler Fiorenza 1998: 187) and describing it as a ‘poetic dimension of apocalyptic discourse’ (Carey 2008: 165). Richard Thompson (2000: 118-23) offers three characteristics of poetry, according to Aristotle: (1) poetry attempts μιμήσεις, the ‘representation of life’ (Poetics 1.2); (2) poetry is concerned with τὰ καθόλου, ‘the universal’ (Poetics 9.1-3), which is to say, reality beyond the particulars; and (3) poetry has a social function, a ‘concern for evoking a response from the audience’ and emotions (Poetics 6.2; see also Longinus, Subl. 15). When we look at certain visionary sections of Revelation through the lens of poetics, such as the two visions of Christ in 1.12-18 and 19.11-16, we are able to see firsthand that poetics can be used in the service of rhetoric, as Thompson suggests (2000: 117). For example, the poetic language of Revelation opens up the rhetoric rather than limiting it, as ‘the poem is not an end in itself, but demands completion in the experience of its presentation to the audience’ (Thompson 2000: 126). Thus, as a text meant to be heard (Rev. 1.3) and, as I will show below, seen through ekphrasis, the visions are meant to be poetic-rhetorical acts, or mimesis: representations of life that point toward reality beyond the particulars, intended to evoke an emotional response that moves the audience to embrace John’s rhetorical aims.

Viewing Revelation from the standpoint of poetics and not exclusively rhetoric opens another angle on understanding ekphrasis in Revelation. In the next section, I intend to show that ekphrasis functions in two ways: to mediate the presence of what is verbally described to the hearer (coming at ekphrasis from the angle of mimesis and poetics) and to evoke emotions in the hearer that serve the larger rhetorical aims of the speaker/text (coming at ekphrasis from the angle of pathos and rhetoric). ¹⁹

The Rhetoric and Poetics of Ekphrasis

The rhetorical technique ekphrasis is discussed in the Progymnasmata, a group of four preliminary rhetorical exercises that date from the first to fifth centuries ce (Kennedy 2003). In the earliest of these, which has recently been dated to the first century ce (Kennedy 2003: 1), Aelius Theon defines ekphrasis as ‘descriptive language, bringing what is portrayed clearly before the sight’ (Prog. 118.7-8). ²⁰ All four of the Progymnasmata define ekphrasis in essentially the same way (cf. Pseudo-Hermogenes, Prog. 22-23; Apthonius, Prog. XII.1; Nicolaus, Prog. 68). Almost anything is an appropriate subject for ekphrasis, with ‘persons’ at the head of most lists, ²¹ indicating that ekphrasis is a rhetorical technique that can be used to characterize (cf. Downey 1959: IV, 923). In all four Progymnasmata, the emphasis is on simulating the experience of vivid sight for the reader as the essential characteristic (Bartsch 1989: 9): ‘clarity and a vivid impression of all-but-seeing what is described’ (Theon, Prog. 119.31-32), ‘the expression should almost create seeing through the hearing’ (Pseudo-Hermogenes, Prog. 23), ‘one should … create an imitation (ἀπομιμεῖσθαι) of the things being described’ (Aphthonius, Prog. XII.2.3), and ekphrasis ‘tries to make the hearers into spectators’ (Nicolaus, Prog. 68). As a descriptive technique, ekphrasis bridges the gap between what a speaker sees, what he or she says, and what hearers see in their own mind’s eye. A successful ekphrasis causes hearers to see for themselves what is being described and bridges the distance between the verbal and the visual. In ekphrasis, ‘the author makes their ears act as eyes’ (Yarbro Collins 1999: 457).

When one turns to discussion of descriptive language outside of the Progymnasmata, this feature of ekphrasis is emphasized. Longinus uses the word ‘visualizations’ (ϕαντασία) to describe the act of bringing something ‘vividly before the eyes of your audience’ (On the Sublime, 15.1-2 [Fyfe, LCL]). Quintilian observes, ‘The result will be ἐνάργεια, what Cicero calls illustratio and evidentia, a quality which makes us seem not so much to be talking about something as exhibiting it. Emotions will ensue just as if we were present at the event itself’ (Inst. orat. 6.2.32 [Russell, LCL]). ²² Three things are interesting in Quintilian’s statement: (1) the use of ἐνάργεια (‘vividness’), the same term in the Progymnasmata for ekphrasis, (2) how vivid words create the simulation of presence at the event, and (3) the linking of simulated presence with emotions.

Andrew Becker, in his classic work on the original ekphrasis of Achilles’ Shield in Homer (Iliad 18.478-607), suggests that ekphrasis creates a window with language, through which the audience sees some phenomenon and is to ‘accept the illusion that it is actually seeing what is described … unmediated access to visible phenomena’ (1995: 25). While I take Becker’s statement ‘unmediated access’ to be an overstatement, instead preferring to talk about how it mediates the presence of what is described, Becker’s definition does highlight the movement of what is described from the sight/mind of the speaker to the sight/mind of the hearer through words (cf. also Whitaker 2015a: 58). It is not the words themselves that one experiences, but what is described, although there is still an acknowledgment of the importance of words. ²³

While the first function of ekphrasis is to mediate the presence of what is described, the second function is to evoke emotions. Among the Progymnasmata, only Nicolaus (Prog. 78) states that ekphrasis provokes emotion, but many others also point this out, as, e.g., Longinus: descriptions ‘aim at the emotional and excited’ (Subl. 15.2 [Fyfe, LCL]). ²⁴ One fine example of the emotional response intended by an ekphrasis is Clitophon’s response to the description of Leucippe in the novel Leucippe and Clitophon: ‘As soon as I had seen her, I was lost … It is through the eye that love’s wound passes, and I now became a prey to a host of emotions: admiration, amazement, trembling, shame, shamelessness’ (Achilles Tatius, Leuc. Clit. 1.4.5). ²⁵ The emotional response of Clitophon to the ekphrasis of Leucippe is meant to provoke the reader to such a response as well, as frequently in an ekphrasis the response of the speaker/author is included to guide the reader/hearer to an appropriate response (Becker 1995: 28).

In light of the observation that poetry calls for an emotive response from the audience and that it seeks to create mimesis, we can see that ekphrasis, although a rhetorical technique, has a strong poetic component as well. I suggest that ekphrasis is a fusion of poetics and rhetoric: it mediates the presence of what is described/characterized to the audience so that they experience the pathos of such an encounter firsthand. In the final section, I will draw on this background to consider how ekphrasis in Rev. 1.12-18 and 19.11-16 mediates the presence of Christ and appeals to pathos to persuade the hearers to embrace John’s message.

Characterizing Christ through Ekphrasis

The use of traditional material in both Rev. 1.12-18 and 19.11-16 corresponds to the expectation that an ekphrasis would use words suitable to what is being described. ²⁷ This utilization of traditional language from the Jewish scriptures functions within the ekphrasis as a means by which Christ is characterized, and scriptural allusions can be found in both passages: ‘one like a Son of Man’ (Dan. 7.13; Rev. 1.13), ‘white hair’ (Dan. 7.9; Rev. 1.14), ‘many waters’ (Ezek. 1.24; 43.2; Ps. 93.4; Rev. 1.15), ‘robe dipped in blood’ and ‘treads the winepress …’ (Isa. 63.1-6; Rev. 19.13, 15), and ‘ruled with a rod of iron’ (Ps. 2.9; Rev. 19.15). ²⁸ Taken together these allusions point to the messianic and possibly divine character of the figure who confronts the hearers visually in both visions. Not only do these descriptions give the figure authority (an appeal to ethos) as scriptural allusions, but each detail contributes to the rhetorical power of the whole ekphrasis.

John uses numerous specific images to create this rhetorical effect, and we will briefly look at each detail and the ideas potentially evoked in the hearer’s ‘mind’s eye’, beginning with 1.12-18. Here John’s use of simile stands out, as he uses ὅμοιος once and ὡς seven times in 1.12-18 (compared to ὡς once in 19.11-16), and this feature of the passage strengthens the idea that the figure they encounter is beyond anyone they have encountered before. John describes the one ‘like the Son of Man’, which likely calls to the hearers’ attention the eschatological character of this figure, thus heightening the seriousness of the vision from the beginning. This figure wears a long robe and golden sash, priestly and royal clothing respectively (Blount 2009: 44), which characterize this figure as one to whom respect ought to be paid for his status. John directs the view from the whole figure to his head, describing the quality of the whiteness of his head and hair as ‘like white wool’ and ‘like snow’, both of which similes point to the idea of purity. Describing his eyes as ‘like a flame of fire’ can be an indication of divine power (Suetonius, Aug. 79.2; cf. Koester 2014: 246), while comparing his feet to ‘burnished bronze’ likely refers to his strength. The reference to a ‘voice like the sound of many waters’ returns to the ‘voice’ that was speaking to John (1.12), and describing its powerful sound would likely create a feeling of awe and even smallness in the hearers. This feeling of awe and smallness may have been sustained through the description that he holds seven stars in his hand and that his face shines like the sun, both of which move this figure out of earthly comparisons and place this figure in relation with the heavens, suggesting he transcends the earth and thus also the hearers. The cumulative effect of these descriptions offers a powerful description of a possibly divine figure who addresses both John and his audience. Additionally, while Aphthonius states that in an ekphrasis of persons ‘one should go from first things to last, that is, from head to feet’ (Prog. XII.1), John does not follow this procedure in 1.12-18 (cf. Aune 2003: 144). J.L. Resseguie suggests that the description moves from periphery to center because ‘John frequently places that which is theologically most important at the visual center’. Here the countenance and the sword coming from his mouth indicate that he conquers by his word of testimony (2009: 74-75), a point that will be underscored again in 19.15.

Moving now to the specific descriptions of the figure in 19.11-16, what strikes one immediately are the linguistic similarities between the two passages, especially if one takes into account the sequential manner in which a hearer might encounter the two visions. For example, certain features of Christ’s presentation in 1.12-18 are echoed in 19.11-16: clothing (‘clothed’ 1.13, ‘wearing a garment’ 19.13), head (‘his head’ 1.14; 19.12), eyes (‘his eyes like flaming fire’ 1.14; 19.12), and mouth (‘from his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword’ 1.16; 19.15). The references to eyes and mouth play an important role here as the lexical connections between the passages are strongest (14 out of the 17 words in common), ²⁹ yet the order of the phrases is different between 1.12-18 and 19.11-16. This variation is likely intentional, due to the fact that these two links bracket the ekphrasis in 19.11-16. The intratextual connections likely play a key role in identifying the figure in 19.11-16 as the same figure from 1.12-18.

Other features are present but altered between the two passages. In each vision, the figure of Christ does not appear alone but is accompanied by others, whether earthly followers, referred to by the seven lampstands (1.13) and by the phrase ‘at his right hand seven stars’ (1.16), or heavenly followers, referred to by ‘the armies of heaven’ (19.14). This feature of the ekphraseis points to the relationships the figure has, in the first case to the hearers themselves considered as the complete and perfect church (note the use of the number seven), and in the second case to the armies of heaven who are engaged in a cosmic war. The second passage calls for the readers to picture a military and political leader at the head of an army, a fearful sight. Moreover, there is a focus on the stance of the figure in each vision: in 1.12-18 he is standing and attention is given to his feet (1.15), while in 19.11-16 he sits upon a horse (19.11). Finally, both passages use the color white (1.14; 19.11, 14), but in 1.14 the figure’s hair is white, while in 19.11 the figure’s horse is white, and in 19.14 the followers wear white garments. The change shifts the focus from the purity and ancientness of the figure to the purity of his cause (riding the white horse) and the purity of his followers (pure, καθαρόν, is mentioned explicitly here). The hearers would perhaps see this as an extension of the purity of the leader to his mission and those who accompany him in it, as well as see the white horse as a symbol of the victory of its rider. While 19.11-16 diverges from 1.12-18, the differences are just that: divergences from shared motifs. The passages possess a unity in purpose that lies beneath the divergences in details.

At the same time, certain aspects of the characterization of the figure in 19.11-16 differ in both form and in emphasis from the first ekphrasis. With regard to form, 19.11-16 utilizes titles and explicit character attributes in its description rather than relying mainly on images as 1.12-18. In 19.11-16 Christ is ‘faithful’, ‘true’, ‘righteous’, ‘Word of God’, and ‘King of kings and Lord of lords’. The accumulation of these presents Christ as sovereign and as wielding his power as a warrior appropriately, and the use of titles and attributes makes this characterization much more explicit than the earlier passage. Many have drawn attention to how the form of the characterization of Christ here directly counters the imagery of the Roman triumph (e.g., Aune 1998: 1050-51), and through this contrast John characterizes a different figure for his audience to revere.

Not only does the characterization differ in form, but also in emphasis, as Christ, although the same figure as 1.12-18, now appears instead as a divine warrior (Yarbro Collins 1984: 149; Aune 1998: 1048). Certainly, fear is again evoked in the hearers, after statements such as ‘he judges and makes war’ (19.11), ‘clothed in a robe dipped in blood’ (19.13), ‘a sword so that he can strike down the nations’ (19.15) and ‘he will tread the wine press of the fury of the wrath of God’ (19.15). But this fear is stoked by violent imagery that has been troubling to some: does John present Christ as conquering his enemies through violence, and so the blood on his robe is that of his enemies (so Blount 2009: 353; Prigent 2001: 544)? Or does Christ conquer through non-violence, and so the blood is his own and thus he conquers by means of his death as Rev. 5.9 suggests (so Koester 2014: 755-56)? ³⁰ The imagery alludes to Isa. 63.1-6, where Yahweh is pictured drenched with blood after violently conquering his enemy Edom (for discussion, see esp. Aune 1998: 1057), and if 19.11-16 is interpreted strictly within this divine warrior tradition, then Christ is pictured as a violent conqueror. Details such as Christ’s striking down the nations and his treading the wine press of wrath stand in support of this interpretation. Yet such a portrayal stands at odds with the development of Christ’s character as a slaughtered lamb (Rev. 5.6, 9) and with his followers as those who triumph non-violently through their non-violent conqueror and his blood (Rev. 7.14; 12.11). For that reason, it seems that John reverses this divine warrior imagery from its earlier literary precedents (so Aune 1998: 1057), in line with one of his larger themes of God’s victory over the violent world powers through non-violence. Still, the ambiguity would likely remain for ancient hearers (as it does for us): should they feel fear of being on the wrong side of this warrior, relief or even indignation at the judgment of their enemies, hope that non-violence will conquer violence through the slaughtered lamb, or a mix of these? I suggest the ambiguity may have a strong effect on the hearers as they attempt to resolve what the imagery means and where they stand in relation to the figure whose presence is being mediated to them so powerfully.

The sword imagery deserves additional comment. The two-edged sword image in 1.16 likely points to the figure’s authority to speak a word of prophecy (which follows in the development of Revelation), but is further interpreted as the means by which the figure will strike down and rule the nations (19.15). This image in particular would add to the sense of this figure’s power and the corresponding fear in the hearers, although if the hearers perceive themselves as on the side of this figure, then that fear may turn to relief that the sword of judgment is directed at the enemies and not at their own community. As a metaphor for the ‘word’ of this powerful figure, the sword is not a symbol of violence but of non-violent testimony by which the lamb and his followers conquer (cf. Rev. 12.11; Blount 2009: 45). Thus, these two visions are intentionally shaped and placed so as to signify the importance of this figure, whom the hearers easily identify as the exalted Christ. The figure’s speech in 1.17 (‘I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever’) can only mean one person, and what follows in Revelation makes this clear.

The Function of Ekphrasis in Revelation 1.12-18

How, then, does 1.12-18 function as ekphrasis? Whitaker has argued that this opening vision of Christ functions as testimony (μαρτυρία) or proof designed to appeal to ethos that grounds the visions that follow not just in John’s authority as a prophet but in Jesus’ authority (Whitaker 2015a: 75-79). While she emphasizes the forensic rhetorical nature of this vision, such a forensic quality is set within the larger scope of John’s deliberative aim to motivate the reader to a particular decision in light of this vision. Certainly, the descriptions ‘clothed with a long robe’ (priestly connotations), ‘a golden sash’ (royal connotations), the white hair (evoking the authority of the ‘Ancient of Days’ from Dan. 7.9) and his authoritative posture as standing all enhance the ethos of the figure as one whom the hearers would encounter as possessing great authority and power.

The vision also appeals to pathos by creating an emotional effect, as the text itself gives us a clue as to how it intends itself to be experienced: John falls to the ground ‘as though dead’ (1.17), indicating a response of fear. Ekphraseis frequently include the response of the speaker to guide the hearer in how to respond also (cf. Becker 1995: 28; Whitaker 2015b: 235), and if the ekphrasis is successful, the hearer will experience what is described firsthand and have the same emotional response. ³¹ Here, the hearer is intended to respond with the same fear to Christ (so Whitaker 2015a: 97-100). Yet this is not the entire emotional response intended, as Christ also places his hand on John and says, ‘Do not fear’ (1.17). This part of the ekphrasis is intended not only to confirm that John’s response is fear and not worship (pace Whitaker), but even more to evoke a feeling of confidence, as Christ assures John that no matter what suffering he experiences in the future (as the ensuing visions will describe), Christ has overcome ‘Death and Hades’ (1.17). The hearer also would experience hope at hearing the message that Christ speaks, even if it is from an overwhelmingly awe-inspiring figure. As Blount observes, ‘Rome’s greatest power is its ability to consign Christ-believers to death. John mitigates that power with his declaration, made in the vision by Christ himself, that Christ has the keys that will release persons from death into life’ (2009: 46). The hearer’s experience of such a confidence and hope comes first of all through experiencing Christ’s mediated presence themselves through ekphrasis, and secondly through the realization that the lampstands signify the churches addressed here (1.20), of which they are a part, and Christ is present in the midst of them (cf. Blount 2009: 44; Caird 1966: 25; Resseguie 2009: 75). In fact, the only aspects of this vision that receive an interpretation are the lampstands and the stars, thereby highlighting their importance for encountering this ‘one like a Son of Man’ (Whitaker 2015a: 88-92). These are both interpreted in reference to the divine figure, the lampstands as the communities in whose midst Christ is and the stars as the ‘angels’ of these congregations. Such imminence of the divine figure in the communities that John addresses (Rev. 2–3) does not only evoke the feeling of fear, but also feelings of confidence and hope that this powerful, awe-inspiring figure will stand with the community through the anticipated tribulations to come. Such mixed positive and negative emotions may correspond to the range of situations among the intended recipients, as seen in Rev. 2–3, to which Christ has different messages, although all are intended to motivate a response of greater commitment to Christ as Lord in Revelation’s larger rhetorical aim.

Finally, experiencing Christ visually through words here (his mediated presence) prompts a feeling of awe in his presence, which is used both to authorize (ethos) the letters and visions that follow and to motivate (pathos) the reader to reject previous loyalties to Roman imperial ideology and embrace commitment to God’s agent, Christ. The repeated word ‘voice’ in 1.12, 15 emphasizes the authority of the figure to reveal the visions that follow. John not only recounts what he has seen, but he responds to what he has seen and heard, leading his hearers also to hear what Christ says. By not only seeing Christ, but also hearing his message (‘I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades’), John’s hearers would likely feel hope as those whose fates rest securely in Christ’s hands, not just their lives but also their experience of death.

The Function of Ekphrasis in Revelation 19.11-16

Turning now to the question of how 19.11-16 functions as ekphrasis, the differences between the two passages become important to consider, as the same figure is presented with a different emphasis. In the second ekphrasis the figure arrives as a divine warrior, drawing on scriptural allusions and concepts that portray God as victorious over his enemies. This warrior Christ is even more intimidating than 1.12-18, and appeals to specific titles and attributes (‘Faithful’, ‘True’, etc.) bolster his authority to engage in acts of war on behalf of God.

As this figure is mediated through ekphrasis and becomes present to the hearers, where are the hearers positioned in relation to him and what is their emotional response? Hearkening back to our earlier discussion of the situation of the hearers, those who were in a position of complacency would be more likely to experience this presentation of Christ the warrior as threatening. These may see themselves in the place of his enemies and would experience feelings of fear and dread, both of the mediated warrior Christ and fear of being on the other side of his judgment, which may further motivate them to commitment to him as Lord rather than to compromise. On the other hand, those who were in a position of vulnerability but still remained loyal and faithful to Christ may experience Christ the warrior as the one who brings hope. These hearers of Revelation would by this point, if John’s rhetoric had been successful, understand themselves to be on God’s side. These hearers may also experience a sense of relief when they encounter Christ in this scene because they realize that they are not the recipients of divine judgment.

Thus, such a vision of God’s agent declaring war on God’s enemies would likely produce an emotional catharsis, both for those of the latter group and for those in the former who had through the experience of Revelation’s rhetoric moved toward further commitment to God and Christ. A.Yarbro Collins suggests that in this emotional catharsis, ‘feelings of fear and resentment are released by the book’s repeated presentations of the destruction of the hearers’ enemies’ (1984: 154). Such an emotional catharsis would likely also release feelings of indignation at the display of God’s righteous judgment (Koester 2014: 135; deSilva 2009: 211, 228). The emotional catharsis could also come through feelings of hope, if the hearers were to identify the blood as Christ’s own suffering, i.e., his non-violence through which they too conquer evil non-violently. As discussed above, particularly in reference to the violent imagery and the question of whose blood is on Christ’s robes, the ambiguity of the portrayal of the warrior Christ would leave the hearer to sort out their relation to this figure, thus serving John’s deliberative rhetorical aims of choosing a proper course of behavior, in this case a proper relation to the figure mediated so powerfully through ekphrasis. In contrast with Roman imperial ideology, this divine warrior judges and fights ‘in righteousness’ (19.11), and therefore this vision and experience of Christ’s presence, his arrival in the world at last, ³² would even evoke feelings of hope, longing, and admiration in those who have embraced John’s aims and committed themselves to the confession of Jesus as Lord.

Ekphrasis in Revelation’s Rhetoric

How such appeals to pathos fit within the larger rhetorical aims of Revelation is not difficult to see. Emotions such as fear, awe, confidence, indignation, hope, relief, admiration and longing all work to move the hearer to embrace a commitment to the figure who inspires such emotions. The goal of presenting Christ in such a way that evokes emotions through the hearers’ experience of him is for the hearers to adopt the correct future course of action: to embrace both a critical distance from Roman imperial ideology and a commitment to Jesus as Lord over against the deceitful powers of empire. Recalling that ekphrasis is as much a poetic technique as it is rhetorical, it finds its completion in the emotional response of the audience: its power depends upon the hearer experiencing what is described. By encountering Christ’s mediated presence through ekphrasis, the audience sees him in terms of his power and sovereignty over against the power and sovereignty of Rome, discovering that he is more worthy of their commitment than violent, oppressive, unjust and idolatrous Rome. By experiencing this intense emotional response to Christ in Rev. 1.12-18 and 19.11-16, the hearers become open to embracing John’s rhetorical aims.