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Chapter 5 |
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Chapter 7
The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia
W. M. Ramsay
1904
Chapter 6: The Symbolism of the Seven Letters
In attempting to get some clear idea with regard to the symbolism involved in the Seven
Letters, it is not proposed to discuss the symbolism of the Apocalypse as a whole, still
less the religious or theological intention of its author. The purpose of this chapter is
much more modest--merely to try to determine what was the meaning which ordinary people in
the cities of Asia would gather from the symbolism: especially how would they understand
the Seven Stars, the Lamps and the Angels. That is a necessary preliminary, if we are to
appreciate the way in which Asian readers would understand the book and the letters
addressed to them.
In the Seven Letters symbolism is less obtrusive and more liable to be unnoticed than
in the visions that follow; and it will best show their point of view to take first a
simple example of the figures which march across the stage of the Apocalypse itself in the
later chapters. Those figures are to be interpreted according to the symbols which they
bear and the accompaniments of their progress before the eyes of the seer. It is the same
process of interpretation as is applied in the study of Greek art: for example a horseman
almost identical in type and action appears on the two coins represented in
chapter 23, figures
26 and
27. In one this horseman is marked by the battle-axe which he
carries as the warlike hero of the military colony Thyatira. The other shows a more
peaceful figure, the Emperor Caracalla visiting Thyatira.
Similarly, in 6:2 the bowman sitting on a white horse, to whom a crown was given, is
the Parthian king. The bow was not a Roman weapon: it was not used in Roman armies except
by a few auxiliaries levied among outlying tribes, who carried their national weapon. The
Parthian weapon was the bow; the warriors were all horsemen; and they could use the bow as
well when they were fleeing as when they were charging. The writers of that period often
mention the Parthian terror on the East, and their devastating incursions were so much
dreaded at that time that Trajan undertook a Parthian war in 115. Virgil foretells a Roman
victory: the bow and the horse have been useless:--
With backward bows the Parthians shall be there,
And, spurring from the fight, confess their fear.
Colour was also an important and significant detail. The Parthian king in 6:2 rides on
a white horse. White had been the sacred colour among the old Persians, for whom the
Parthians stood in later times; and sacred white horses accompanied every Persian army.
The commentators who try to force a Roman meaning on this figure say that the Roman
general, when celebrating a Triumph, rode on a white horse. This is a mistake; the general
in a Triumph wore the purple and gold-embroidered robes of Jupiter, and was borne like the
god in a four-horse car. (See
chapter 26.)
The use of colour here as symbolical is illustrated by the custom of Tamerlane. When he
laid siege to a city, he put up white tents, indicating clemency to the enemy. If
resistance was prolonged forty days, he changed the tents, and put up red ones, portending
a bloody capture. If obstinate resistance was persisted in for other forty days, black
tents were substituted: the city was to be sacked with a general massacre. The meaning of
the colours differs; there was no universal principle of interpretation; significance
depended to some extent on circumstances and individual preference.
Figure 1: The ideal Parthian king, as he appears on Parthian
coins, 150 B.C.--A.D. 200
It is not to be supposed that St. John consciously modelled his descriptions on works
of art. He saw the figures march across the heavens. But such ideas and symbolic forms
were in the atmosphere and in the minds of men at the time; and the ideas with which he
was familiar moulded the imagery of his visions, unconsciously to himself. It is quite in
the style of Greek art that one monster in 13 should rise from the sea and the other
appear out of the earth (as we shall see in
chapter 7); but those
ideas are used with freedom. The shapes of the monsters are not of Greek art; they are
modifications of traditional apocalyptic devices; but the seer saw them in situations
whose meaning we interpret from the current ideas and forms of art. Hence, e.g., in the
Pergamenian letter, the white stone is not to be explained as an imitation of a precisely
similar white stone used in ordinary pagan life (as most recent commentators suppose); it
is a free employment of a common form in a new way to suit a Christian idea. The current
forms are used in the Apocalypse, not slavishly, but creatively and boldly; and they must
not be interpreted pedantically. A new spirit has been put into them by the writer.
Figure 2: The Parthian king welcomed by the genius of the
capital. Parthian coins, A.D. 42-65
Thus to refer to the Parthian king of 6:2: the type of the archer-horseman was familiar
to the thought of all in the eastern Provinces; but if we look at the most typical
representations, those which occur on coins, we find the various elements separately, but
not united. The regular reverse type on Parthian coins shows the founder of the race,
Arsaces, deified as Apollo, sitting on the holy omphalos, and holding the bow, the
symbol of authority based on military power (see Fig. 1). A rarer type, though common on
coins of King Vonones (83-100 AD) and of Artabanus III (42-65), shows the monarch on
horseback welcomed by the genius of the State: Fig. 2 gives the type of Artabanus: the
king wears Oriental attire with characteristic full trousers. The coins of Vonones have a
type similar, but complicated by the addition of a third figure.
Figure 3: Parthian captives sitting under a Roman trophy.
Coin of Trajan, A.D. 116
In Greek and Roman art the Parthian appears, not as victor, but as vanquished. The
coins of Trajan show two Parthian captives, a man and a woman, under a trophy of Roman
victory. St. John describes the Parthian king as seen by Roman apprehension, followed by
Bloodshed, Scarcity and Death; but that point of view was naturally alien to art, except
the art practised in Parthia. The spirit of the artist, or of the seer of the visions,
gives form to the pictures, and they must be interpreted by the spirit.
As to the letters, we notice that there are two pairs of ideas mentioned in 1:20,
"the seven stars are the angels of the Seven Churches; and the seven lamps are
Seven Churches." Of these, the second pair stand on the earth; and in the first
pair, since the stars belong to heaven, the angels also must belong to heaven. There is
the earthly pair, the Churches and the lamps that symbolise them; and there is the
corresponding heavenly pair, the angels and the stars which symbolise them.
A similar correspondence between a higher and a lower embodiment of Divine character
may frequently be observed in the current religious conceptions of that time. We find amid
the religious monuments of Asia Minor certain reliefs, which seem to represent the Divine
nature on two planes, expressed by the device of two zones in the artistic grouping. There
is an upper zone showing the Divine nature on the higher, what may be called the heavenly
plane; and there is a lower zone, in which the God is represented as appearing, under the
form of his priest and representative, among the worshippers who come to him on earth, to
whom he reveals the right way of approaching him and serving him, and whom he benefits in
return for their service and offering duly completed. One of the best examples of this
class of monuments, dated AD 100, and belonging to the circuit of Philadelphia, is
published here for the first time after a sketch made by Mrs. Ramsay in 1884. The lower
zone is a scene representing, according to a type frequent in late art, an ordinary act of
public worship. At the right hand side of an altar, which stands under the sacred tree, a
priest is performing on the altar the rite by means of which the worshippers are brought
into communication with the god. The priest turns towards the left to face the altar, and
behind him are five figures in an attitude nearly uniform (the position of the left hand
alone varies slightly), who must represent the rest of the college of priests attached to
the sanctuary. Their names are given in the inscription which is engraved under the
relief. There was always a college of priests, often in considerable numbers, attached to
the great sanctuaries or hiera of Anatolia; those priests must be distinguished
from the attendants, ministers, and inferiors, of whom there were large numbers (in some
cases several thousands).
Figure 4: The sacrifice on earth and in heaven: relief from
Koloe in Lydia
The existence of such colleges gives special importance to the Bezan text of Acts 14:13
in which the priests of the shrine of Zeus "Before-the-City," at Lystra, are
mentioned--whereas the accepted text mentions only a single priest. Professor Blass in his
note rejects the Bezan reading on the ground that there was only one priest for each
temple; but his argument is founded on purely Greek custom and is not correct for
Anatolian temples, like the one at Lystra, where there was always a body or college of
priests. In the relief which we are now studying the mutilation of the inscription makes
the number of the priests uncertain; but either seven or eight were mentioned. At the
Milyadic hieron of the same god, Zeus Sabazios, the college numbered six: at Pessinus the
college attached to the hieron of the Great Mother contained at least ten.
On the left side of the altar stand seven figures looking towards the altar and the
priest. These represent the crown of worshippers.
In the upper zone the central action corresponds exactly to the scene in the lower
zone: the god stands on a raised platform on the right hand side of an altar, on which he
performs the same act of ritual which his priest is performing straight below him on the
lower plane, probably pouring out a libation over offerings which lie on the altar. In
numerous reliefs and coins of Asia Minor a god or goddess is represented performing the
same act over an altar. That one act stands symbolically for the whole series of ritual
acts, just as in Revelation 2:13 Antipas stands for the entire body of the martyrs who had
suffered in Asia. The deity has revealed to men the ritual whereby they can approach him
in purity, and present their gifts and prayers with assurance that these will be
favourably received: thus the god is his own first priest, and later priests were regarded
by the devout as representatives of the god on earth, wearing his dress, acting for him
and performing before his worshippers on earth the life and actions of the god on his
loftier plane of existence. In this relief the intention is obvious: as a sign and
guarantee that he accepts the sacred rite, the god is doing in heaven exactly the same act
that his priest is performing on earth.
On the right of the raised platform stand three figures, with the right hand raised in
adoration. These represent the college of priests, headed by the chief priest; and all
must be understood to make the same gesture, though the right hands of the second and
third are hidden. The action of the priests who stand in the lower zone behind the chief
priest must be interpreted in the same way. The gesture of adoration is illustrated by
figure 23 in
chapter 21 and figure 27 in
chapter 23.
On the left of the platform another scene in the ritual and life of the god is
represented. He drives forth in his car to make his annual progress through his own land
to receive the homage of his people. He is marked as Zeus by the eagle which sits on the
reins or the trappings of the horses, and as Sabazios by the serpent on the ground beneath
their feet. Beside the horses walks his companion god, regarded as his son in the divine
genealogy, and marked as Hermes by the winged caduceus which he carries, and as Men by the
crescent and the pointed Phrygian cap. The divine nature regarded as male was commonly
conceived in this double form as father and son; and when these Anatolian ideas were
expressed under Greek forms and names, they were described sometimes as Zeus and Hermes
(so in Acts 14:10, and in this relief), sometimes as Zeus and Apollo or Dionysus. When the
deity in his male character was conceived as a single impersonation, he was called in
Greek sometimes by one, sometimes by another of those four names. The Greek names were
used in this loose varying way, because none of them exactly corresponded to the nature of
the Anatolian conception; and sometimes one name, sometimes another, seemed to correspond
best to the special aspect of the Anatolian god which was prominent at the moment.
The god on the car is here represented as beardless, but the god on the platform is
bearded; and yet the two are presentments of the same divine power. But this relief is a
work of symbolism, not a work of art: it aims not at artistic or dramatic truth, but at
showing the divine nature in two of the characters under which it reveals itself to man:
the object of the artist was to express a meaning, not to arrive at beauty or consistency.
The interpretation which has just been stated of this symbolical relief would be fairly
certain from the analogy of other monuments of the same class; but it is placed beyond
doubt by the inscription which occupies the broad lower zone of the stone: "in the
year 185 (AD 100-101), the thirtieth of Daisios (22nd May), when Glykon was
Stephanephoros, the people of Koloe consecrated Zeus Sabazios, the priests being
Apollonius," etc. (probably seven others were named).
The people consecrated Zeus Sabazios either by building him a temple, or simply by
erecting a statue in his honour: in either case the action was a stage in the gradual
Hellenising of an Anatolian cult in outward show by making it more anthropomorphic. The
original Anatolian religion was much less anthropomorphic; it had holy places rather than
temples, and worshipped "the God" rather than individualised and specialised
embodiments of him. Under the influence of Greek and other foreign examples, temples and
statues were introduced into that simple old religion. It is impossible to get back to a
stage in which it was entirely imageless and without built temples; but certainly in its
earlier stages images and temples played a much smaller part than in the later period.
The symbolism of this monument is so instructive with regard to the popular religious
views in Anatolia that a detailed study of it forms the best introduction to this subject.
The monument is now built into the inner wall of a house at Koula, a considerable town in
Eastern Lydia; but it was brought there from a place about twenty-five miles to the north.
It originates therefore from a secluded part of the country, where Anatolian religious
ideas were only beginning to put on an outward gloss of Hellenism, though their real
character was purely Asian. Greek however was the language of the district.
It is fundamentally the same idea of a higher and a lower plane of existence that is
expressed in the symbolism of the Angels and the Stars in heaven, corresponding to the
Churches and the Lamps on earth. The lamp, which represents the Church, is a natural and
obvious symbol. The Church is Divine: it is the kingdom of God among men: in it shines the
light that illumines the darkness of the world.
The heavenly pair is more difficult to express precisely in its relation to the earthly
pair. There seems to be involved here a conception, common in ancient time generally, that
there are intermediate grades of existence to bridge over the vast gap between the pure
Divine nature and the earthly manifestation of it. Thus the star and the angel, of whom
the star is the symbol, are the intermediate stage between Christ and His Church with its
lamp shining in the world. This symbolism was taken over by St. John from the traditional
forms of expression in theories regarding the Divine nature and its relation to the world.
Again, we observe that, in the religious symbolic language of the first century, a star
denoted the heavenly existence corresponding to a divine being or divine creation or
existence located on earth. Thus, in the language of the Roman poets, the divine figure of
the Emperor on earth has a star in heaven that corresponds to it and is its heavenly
counterpart. So the Imperial family as a whole is also said to have its star, or to be a
star. It is a step towards this kind of symbolic phraseology when Horace (Odes, i,
12) speaks of the Julian star shining like the moon amid the lesser fires; but probably
Horace was hardly conscious of having advanced in this expression beyond the limits of
mere poetic metaphor. But when Domitian built a Temple of the Imperial Flavian family, the
poet Statius describes him as placing the stars of his family (the Flavian) in a new
heaven (Silvae, v, I, 240f). There is implied here a similar conception to that
which we are studying in the Revelation: the new Temple on earth corresponds to a new
heaven framed to contain the new stars; the divine Emperors of the Flavian family (along
with any other member of the family who had been formally deified) are the earthly
existences dwelling in the new Temple, as the stars, their heavenly counterparts, move in
the new heaven. The parallel is close, however widely separate the theological ideals are;
and the date of Statius' poem is about the last year of Domitian's reign, AD 95-96.
The star, then, is obviously the heavenly object which corresponds to the lamp shining
on the earth, though superior in character and purity to it; and, as the lamp on earth is
to the star in heaven, so is the Church on earth to the angel. Such is the relation
clearly indicated. The angel is a corresponding existence on another and higher plane, but
more pure in essence, more closely associated with the Divine nature than the individual
Church on earth can be.
Now, what is the angel? How shall he be defined or described? In answer to this
question, then, one must attempt to describe what is meant by the angels of the Churches
in these chapters, although as soon as the description is written, one recognises that it
is inadequate and hardly correct. The angel of the Church seems to embody and gather
together in a personification the powers, the character, the history and life and unity of
the Church. The angel represents the Divine presence and the Divine power in the Church;
he is the Divine guarantee of the vitality and effectiveness of the Church.
This seems clear; but the difficulty begins when we ask what is the relation of the
angel to the faults and sins of his Church, and, above all, to the punishment which awaits
and is denounced against those sins. The Church in Smyrna or in Ephesus suffers from the
faults and weaknesses of the men who compose it: it is guilty of their crimes, and it will
be punished in their person. Is the angel, too, guilty of the sins? Is he to bear the
punishment for them?
Undoubtedly the angel is touched and affected by the sins of his Church. Nothing else
is conceivable. He could not be the counterpart or the double of a Church, unless he was
affected in some way by its failings. But the angels of the Churches are addressed, not
simply as touched by their faults, but as guilty of them. Most of the angels have been
guilty of serious, even deadly sins. The angel of Sardis is dead, though he has the name
of being alive. The angel of Laodicea is lukewarm and spiritless, and shall be rejected.
Threats, also, are directed against the angels: "I will come against thee,"
"I will spit thee out of my mouth," "I will come to thee" (or rather
"I will come in displeasure at thee" is the more exact meaning, as Professor
Moulton points out). Again, the angel is regarded as responsible for any neglect of the
warning now given, "and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee":
"thou art the wretched one, and poor, and miserable, and blind, and naked."
These expressions seem to make it clear that the angel could be guilty, and must suffer
punishment for his guilt. This is certainly surprising, and, moreover, it is altogether
inconsistent with our previous conclusion that the angel is the heavenly counterpart of
the Church. He who is guilty and responsible for guilt cannot stand anywhere except on the
earth.
The inconsistency, however, is due to the inevitable failure of the writer fully to
carry out the symbolism. It is not so difficult to follow out an allegory perfectly, so
long as the writer confines himself to the realm of pure fancy; but, if he comes into the
sphere of reality and fact, he soon finds that the allegory cannot be wrought out
completely; it will not fit the details of life. When John addresses the angels as guilty,
he is no longer thinking of them, but of the actual Churches which he knew on earth. The
symbolism was complicated and artificial; and, when he began to write the actual letters,
he began to feel that he was addressing the actual Churches, and the symbolism dropped
from him in great degree. Nominally he addresses the Angel, but really he writes to the
Church of Ephesus or of Sardis; or rather, all distinction between the Church and its
angel vanishes from his mind. He comes into direct contact with real life, and thinks no
longer of correctness in the use of symbols and in keeping up the elaborate and rather
awkward allegory. He writes naturally, directly, unfettered by symbolical consistency.
The symbolism was imposed on the writer of the Apocalypse by the rather crude literary
model, which he imitated in obedience to a prevalent Jewish fashion. He followed his model
very faithfully, so much so that his work has by some been regarded as a purely Jewish
original, slightly modified by additions and interpolations to a Christian character, but
restorable to its original Jewish form by simple excision of a few words and paragraphs.
But we regard the Jewish element in it as traditional, due to the strong hold which this
established form of literature exerted on the author. That element only fettered and
impeded him by its fanciful and unreal character, making his work seem far more Jewish
than it really is. Sometimes, however, the traditional form proves wholly inadequate to
express his thoughts; and he discards it for the moment and speaks freely.
It is therefore vain to attempt to give a rigidly accurate definition of the meaning
which is attached to the term "angel" in these chapters. All that concerns the
angels is vague, impalpable, elusive, defying analysis and scientific precision. You
cannot tell where in the Seven Letters, taken one by one, the idea "angel" drops
and the idea "Church" takes its place. You cannot feel certain what
characteristics in the Seven Letters may be regarded as applying to the angels, and what
must be separated from them. But the vague description given in preceding paragraphs will
be sufficient for use; and it may be made clearer by quoting Professor J. H. Moulton's
description of angels: "Spiritual counterparts of human individuals or communities,
dwelling in heaven, but subject to changes depending on the good or evil behaviour of
their complementary beings on earth."
How far did St. John, in employing the symbolism current at the time, accept and
approve it as a correct statement of truth? That question naturally arises; but the answer
seems inevitable. He regards this symbolism merely as a way of making spiritual ideas
intelligible to the ordinary human mind, after the fashion of the parables in the life of
Christ. He was under the influence of the common and accepted ways of expressing
spiritual, or philosophical, or theological truth, just as he was under the influence of
fashionable forms in literature. He took these and made the best he could of them. The
apocalyptic form of literature was far from being a high one; and the Apocalypse of John
suffers from the unfortunate choice of this form: only occasionally is the author able to
free himself from the chilling influence of that fanciful and extravagant mode of
expression. The marked difference in character and power between the Apocalypse and the
Gospel of St. John is in great measure due to the poor models which he followed in the
former.
It is interesting that one of the most fashionable methods of expressing highly
generalised truths or principles--the genealogical method--is never employed by John
(except in the universally accepted phrases, "son of man," "Son of
God"). The contempt expressed by Paul for the "fables and endless
genealogies" of current philosophy and science seems to have been shared by most of
the Christian writers; and it is true that no form of veiling ignorance by a show of words
was ever invented more dangerous and more tempting than the genealogical. An example of
the genealogical method may be found in Addison's 35th Spectator, an imitation of
the old form, but humorous instead of pedantic.
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