This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 1 – 12 August 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
Angelus
General Audiences
Speeches
Category: +Religion
Are All the Books of the Bible Historical?
Everything in the Bible is historical in the sense that it was written in historical times. The Bible is a small library of literature that was written over the course of about 1,000 years–a period that ended nearly 2,000 years ago. So the biblical books are historical documents in that sense.
But what about the content of the biblical books? If you open up the Bible to a random passage, does that mean what you are reading is automatically history?
An Obvious No
In one sense, the answer is an obvious no. Not all books in Scripture are trying to recount historical events.
The Gospels are. The Acts of the Apostles is. Many books of the Old Testament are. But relating history is not the purpose of other books.
For example: the epistles of St. Paul or the epistles of James, Peter, John, and Jude. These are concerned with building people’s faith, but they aren’t narratives. They don’t tell the story of what happened in a particular period in history the way that Matthew, Acts, or 1 Kings does.
We can learn certain historical facts from them, but these historical items are things mentioned in passing, not the principal purpose of the epistles.
Similarly, in the Old Testament we find books like Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. These also may make passing references that are of value to historians, but they aren’t intended to tell us the story of particular historical periods.
What About Prophecy?
What about the prophetical books? Don’t these tell us about history?
Yes, but they also are not straightforward historical texts.
The book of Revelation contains information about both the beginning and the end of Church history, and so it relates to history in a definite way.
The Old Testament prophetical books contain material that relates to the events of their own day, to times soon after, to the time of Christ, and to the end of the world, so they also relate to history.
But they convey this material in advance and through symbols. That makes them different than straightforward historical records.
The Example of the Gospels
Consider just the Gospels. These books are historical in the sense that they relate what Jesus did during his earthly ministry. But they also contain Jesus’ teachings. While these were given at a certain point in history, they aren’t about history. Jesus was not serving as a history professor. The content of his teachings deal with God and our relationship with him.
Consider in particular Jesus’ parables. These are lessons that communicate theological truths in an allegorical way.
When Jesus says, “A man left on a journey,” or “A sower went out to sow,” or “There was a man who had two sons,” he is not intending to tell us about about particular historical events. It would be a mistake, when told about the man with two sons, to ask, “What were their names?”
Instead, Jesus is using allegory told in the form of a story to reveal a spiritual truth. The parables thus show us something very significant . . .
A Story Is Not Enough
The fact we are reading a story in the Bible does not automatically mean that we are reading history.
Jesus’ parables contain stories with beginnings, middles, and ends, but Jesus is not intending to tell us about a specific historical event that really happened.
That means that when we read a story in the Bible, we must examine it to see whether it is meant to be a historical account or something else. We must look to the cues it gives the audience to signal what kind of account it is.
Taking Your Cues from the Text
It is notable that, in his parables, Jesus almost never names anyone involved in the story. (The only exception is Lazarus in the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man.) Instead, he leaves the principal figures anonymous: a king, a master, a son, a servant.
That is one of the conventions Jesus uses to tell us that what we are reading is a parable rather than a historical narrative. But this is not the only way that the Bible signals something other than history.
Another signal is obvious symbolism. If you open the Bible to certain prophetic passages, you will find passages in describing monsters–dragons, wild beasts that combine the features of different animals, things with many heads.
This kind of obvious symbolism can also serve as an indicator that what you are reading isn’t straightforward history but something else.
Subtler Cases
Jesus’ parables and the prophetic texts are obvious cases that contain cues which even people today, raised in a totally different culture, can pick up on. But there are texts in the Bible that use cues subtle enough that it is easy for people today to miss them.
Consider this: Suppose we took the parable of the Prodigal Son and gave names to the characters. Suppose we added the name of the village where they lived–a real village. Suppose we even said the year in which the events took place (according to the ancient way of reckoning years). What would we make of the story then?
We might well conclude that Jesus was telling us about an actual historical event.
There might be cues in the tales that would signal their allegorical nature, but in the absence of the familiar cues of nameless characters in a nameless place at a nameless time, we might mistake what we were reading for straightforward history.
So here’s something interesting to think about: If, within the Gospels, Jesus told short allegories that could be taken as historical accounts if a few details were supplied, could God inspire an entire book–not just part of a book–that is an allegory? Could he even supply names, dates, and places, trusting the ancient audience to recognize the allegorical nature of the text where we might miss it?
And not just could God do this, but has God done this?
John Paul II was of the opinion that he has.
John Paul II on Allegorical Books of the Bible
He didn’t give an exhaustive list of allegorical books (many would put the book of Job into that category), but in 1985 John Paul II gave a brief review of the books of the Old Testament in which he stated:
The Books of Tobit, Judith, and Esther, although dealing with the history of the Chosen People, have the character of allegorical and moral narrative rather than history properly so called [General Audience, May 8, 1985].
Why would he say this?
Tobit, Judith, and Esther all contain named figures–some of whom are known to history. They mention real places. And they refer to datable events. So why would he say they are allegorical rather than history proper? What cues in the text would reveal that?
In coming posts, we’ll take a look at that, and it will give us a chance to learn some interesting things about the Bible.
In the meantime, though, allow me to mention . . .
Pope Benedict’s Recommended Reading
Like many of us, Pope Benedict takes a vacation in the summer to rest, recuperate, and catch up on projects.
Like the rest of us, he finds himself looking for things he can profitably read during this time.
So does Pope Benedict have any thoughts about what people might profitably read during this time?
He does.
That’s why I’ve prepared a special “interview” with Pope Benedict on just this subject that I’ll be sending to members of the Secret Information Club on Saturday, August 18th.
To find out what Pope Benedict recommends for summer reading (and it’s not big heavy theological works but stuff anybody can read–sometimes in an hour or less), sign up at www.SecretInfoClub.com or use this handy form:
Why Do the First Books of the Bible Have Those Strange Names?
The names of the first five books of the Bible sound rather strange: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.
What do these names mean, and where do they come from?
Genesis
The name Genesis is easier for us to understand, but for a rather ironic reason.
Everybody knows that the book of Genesis is about the beginning. It starts with the beginning of the world, it goes on to describe the beginning of God’s people, Israel, and along the way it describes a lot of other beginnings as well.
Thus it’s no surprise that the name of the book has become a metaphor for beginnings. As a result, we might today speak of the genesis of modern science, the genesis of the Civil War, or the genesis of the Internet. In each case the word genesis is used to refer to the beginning of the thing in question, and most people perceive this as a metaphor based on the name of the book of Genesis.
The word genesis comes into Enlglish through the Latin Vulgate translation of the Bible, and the Vulgate got it from the Greek translation of the Old Testament known as the Septuagint.
The irony is that in Greek the word genesis actually means “beginning.” So it originally meant beginning, became the name of a biblical book, and is now perceived by many people as a metaphor for “beginning,” based on the name of that book.
Why is the book called Genesis in Greek? Is it just because the book deals with beginnings or is there more to it?
Actually, there is a bit more: In Hebrew–the langauge in which the book was originally written–it is known as B’r’shit.
B– is a preposition in Hebrew that means “in.” R’shit means “beginning.” So the book in Hebrew takes its name from its opening words, commonly translated in English as “In the beginning . . . ” (Gen. 1:1a).
Exodus
This is another case where we get the book title from the Latin Vulgate, which took it from the Greek Septuagint, though the ending of the word changes a bit. It’s Exodus in Latin but Exodos in Greek (this is normal when a word is brought from Greek into Latin).
In English, the word exodus basically means “departure,” “journey away from,” or “emmigration.”
The Greek term is derived from two Greek words: the preposition ek, which means “out” or “from,” and hodos, which means “road.”
An exodos thus means taking the road out, or just going out, and in the book of Exodus, the children of Israel go out of the land of Egypt under Moses. That’s why it has the Greek name it does.
This has nothing to do with its Hebrew name, though. In Hebrew, it is called Sh’mot, which means “Names.”
As before, that’s a reference to the opening of the book in Hebrew: “These are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each with his household” (Exodus 1:1).
Leviticus
This is another Greek to Latin to English special. In Greek, it’s Leuitikos, which gives us the Latin and English Leviticus.
So what does it mean?
It’s based on the Greek word for “Levites” (Leuites), which refers to members of the priestly tribe of Levi.
All told, Leuitikos means “relating to the Levites” or “concerning the Levites,” and it is this book that contains most detailed regulations regarding what the priests and other Levites are supposed to do in the conduct of their ministry. In fact, the first seven chapters are detailed regulations about how to offer sacrifices.
In Hebrew the name of the book is Va-yiqra (“And he called”), from the opening words: “And he (the LORD) called Moses” (Leviticus 1:1).
Numbers
At last! A book with a straight-forward English name!
“Numbers” is an English translation of the Latin name: Numeri (“Numbers”), which is a translation of the Greek name Arithmoi (same root as “arithmetic”).
So we all know what numbers are, which makes the name of this book easy to understand, right?
Not so much.
Despite what you’d think, this book does not have a lot to do with mathematics.
Instead of being used in its standard, familiar sense, the term “numbers” is being used in a somewhat specialized one that might be better rendered “numberings.”
The reason is that at the beginning and the end of the book, they take a census (a counting, a numbering) of the children of Israel. There are two censuses in the book, so it’s the book of numberings, or Numbers.
As before, the Hebrew name is based on the first words of the book. It’s B’midbar, which means “In the desert” (note the same “b-” preposition as in B’r’shit).
The opening verse reads: “The LORD spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai” (Numbers 1:1).
Deuteronomy
Although Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers have names that are or have passed into English as familiar words, Leviticus and Deteronomy don’t. We’ve already seen what Leviticus means, but what on earth does Deuteronomy mean?
Once more, we’re getting it from Latin (Deuteronomium) from Greek (Deuteronomion).
It comes from two Greek words meaning second (deuteros) and law (nomos).
It’s called that because in Deuteronomy Moses delivers the law to the children of Israel for the second time (not just the Ten Commandments, but a much broader body of rules and regulations).
The generation that originally received the Law ended up dying in the wilderness, and now that their children are about to go into the Promised Land, and thus complete the exodus from Egypt begun several books ago, Moses sums up for them (with some variations) the teaching God has given in the interim. Hence, a second giving of the Law.
The Hebrew title is Devarim (“Words”), from the opening words in Hebrew: “These are the words that Moses spoke to all Israel beyond the Jordan in the wilderness” (Deuteronomy 1:1a).
Learning More
That’s not out yet, though, so until then you might want to check out my Secret Information Club. In fact, if you join then the very first think you’ll get is an “interview” with Pope Benedict about the book of Revelation. (I composed questions and then took the answers from his writings.) It’s fascinating reading, so I hope you’ll check it out.
You should click here to learn more or sign up using this form:
The Weekly Benedict: 5 August, 2012
This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 22 July – 3 August 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
Angelus
Messages
Why Don’t We Call Moses and Elijah “Saint”?
Recently I received the question: “Why don’t we call Moses and Elijah ‘Saint'”?
In other words: Why aren’t they referred to as St. Moses and St. Elijah?
Evidence for Sainthood
After all, we have it on pretty good authority that they are holy and in heaven.
Both Old and New Testament attest to the holiness of both individuals. We have a clear indication that Elijah was taken directly into heaven, without dying, and while Moses did die, there’s no serious doubt about his making it to heaven (at least after heaven was generally opened to the righteous of the Old Testament).
Most impressively, both Moses and Elijah get to appear with Jesus in the Transfiguration.
That’s kind of a giveaway.
So why don’t we call them saints?
Old Testament Saints in General
A basic answer would be that we tend not to use the honorific “Saint” for human beings who lived in the Old Testament period.
We do use it for angels we read about in the Old Testament–St. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael–but not human beings.
That is probably just an artifact of how the term “Saint” evolved. Originally it was an adjective, meaning “holy” (Latin, sanctus). People started prefixing it to the names of notably holy individuals (holy Peter, holy Paul), and eventually it came to be used as an honorific–like “Mister” or “Doctor” (thus St. Peter, St. Paul).
But for whatever reason, people tended not to do this for Old Testament figures.
Perhaps this was because holy figures of the Old Testament were thought to already be sufficiently hallowed by their inclusion in Scripture–although that would not explain why the apostles and other New Testament figures got the title “Saint.”
More likely, Old Testament figures were seen as less directly relevant as examples to Christians, because they lived before the Christian age. Those living in the Christian age, like the apostles and later saints, are more like us and thus more direct examples for us in a certain sense.
However that may be, Old Testament figures were generally not called “Saint.”
But sometimes they were. . . .
Meet St. Moses and St. Elijah
The Latin Church maintains an official list of saints and blesseds known as the Roman Martyrology, and it actually lists some humans from the Old Testament, including Moses and Elijah.
Here is part of the entry for September 4:
On Mount Nebo, in the land of Moab, [was the death of] the holy lawgiver and prophet Moses.
And here is part of the entry for July 20:
On Mount Carmel, [was the departure of] the holy prophet Elijah.
Latin or English?
The Roman Martyrology, of course, is in Latin, and the translation offered above is accomodated to standard English usage, which avoids using “Saint” for Moses and Elijah. The Latin original is a bit different.
Here is the Latin for these two entries, along with a more word-for-word translation:
In monte Nebo, terræ Moab, sancti Móysis, legislatóris et Prophétæ.
On Mt. Nebo, of the land of Moab, [was the death] of saint Moses, lawgiver and Prophet.
In monte Carmélo sancti Elíæ Prophétæ.
On Mt. Carmel [was the departure] of saint Elijah the Prophet.
This is the same construction that is used to report the deaths of other saints in the Matyrology. For example, a bit later on September 4th, we read:
Tréviris sancti Marcélli, Epíscopi et Mártyris.
Which would be:
At Treves [was the death] of saint Marcellus, Bishop and Martyr.
You might note that the term “saint” is lower-case in the Latin, and you might argue from that that it should be translated as an adjective–“holy”–but the point is that the Martyrology is applying to Moses and Elijah the same terminology that it applies to other saints.
It’s listing them in the same way, despite the fact that they’re Old Testament figures.
And then there’s this . . .
Meet Mar Musa and Mar Elia
English and Latin aren’t the only two languages in the Church, and the Latin Church isn’t the only body in union with the pope. Consider, for example, the Chaldean Church, which is one of the Eastern Catholic churches.
It uses a dialect of Aramaic as its liturgical language, and it refers to Moses and Elijah as saints, using the standard Aramatic term fors “saint”–“mar”–as a title for both of them.
They are referred to as “Mar Musa” (St. Moses) and “Mar Elia” (St. Elijah).
You will find various Chaldean institutions, like churches and monasteries, named after them the same way you find them named after other saints.
And Mar Musa and Mar Elia don’t just have particular days celebrating them on the Chaldean liturgical calendar. They actually have liturgical seasons devoted to them.
I should note that the term “mar” also has other meanings. Its root meaning is “lord.” And you can see it in the term “maranatha” (Marana tha = “Our Lord, come!”).
By extension it also is used as a title for saints, as with Mar Musa, Mar Elia, and all the other saints honored in the Chaldean Church.
Finally, it is also used as a title for bishops, but nobody is under the impression that Moses and Elijah were bishops.
We thus have to be a bit careful about who the “we” is when we ask why we don’t refer to Moses and Elijah as saints.
Some of us do, because the practice can vary from one language to another and from one Catholic rite to another.
Cool! New Secret Club Endorsement!
Awesome!
I just received a new endorsement for the Secret Information Club from Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers (“the Dynamic Deacon”), who writes:
I joined Jimmy Akin’s Secret Information Club a while back, and I thought you might like it.
It’s fun and informative. Jimmy sends out information about the Catholic faith and makes it easier to understand.
Tell him the deacon sent you!
Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers
www.DeaconHarold.com
I’m always delighted when fellow Catholic professionals recognize the effort I’m putting into the Secret Information Club and trying to make it fun and informative for everyone.
Thank you, Deacon Harold!
If you’d like to see what “the Dynamic Deacon” is talking about, be sure to check out www.SecretInfoClub.com or just sign up using this handy signup form:
Are You a Hater or a Bigot? Or Are You Just Intolerant?
A reader writes:
I had a question that I needed to ask you. I just found out that the owner of Chick-Fil-A stated that he was against Gay Marriage. Personally, I agree with him, yet when I told someone on the Chick-Fil-A Facebook page that being against Gay Marriage isn’t the same as being “Anti-Gay”, they ended up calling me a “Hateful bigot”.
Does being against Gay Marriage automatically make me a hateful person or oppressive person?
I don’t try to hate anyone and I don’t want to be seen as hateful by others. I just feel conflicted. If you can help me understand how to resolve this conflicted feeling that I’m currently having, I would be very thankful!
It is difficult to know what to say the first time one encounters this type of claim, which is regrettably common.
Hatred and bigotry are real phenomena. They really exist. And they are evil.
It is natural to want to avoid them and to want to avoid being perceived as committing them. That is true in everywhere, but it is particularly true in our own culture, which highly prizes tolerance, understanding, and letting people “do their own thing.”
Precisely because there is such a strong aversion to these things in our culture, there is a perverse phenomenon that also occurs in which charges of hatred, bigotry, and intolerance are used to perversely express and create intolerance.
This occurs when accusing someone of these faults is done as a way of shutting down rational discussion, of stifling disagreement, and of wounding (emotionally or socially) the one against whom the charges are made.
People who make blanket charges of hatred, bigotry, and intolerance are themselves being intolerant, displaying bigotry, and may even be hateful.
Why do I say this?
Why Is the New Testament Organized This Way?
Anyone starting to read the Bible for the first time quickly encounters a frustration: Why are these books, which have strange sounding names, organized this way?
It seems maddening. They aren’t organized in any familiar way. It’s not alphabetical. It’s not chronological. It’s not topical. It’s not by author. It’s not any familiar way of organizing books.
Actually, and even more maddeningly, the organization seems to change at different times between chronology, topic, and author, but it won’t stick to any one scheme. And then there are sequences that just seem mystifying.
But there is a hidden plan within the Bible’s Table of Contents. So let’s take a look at why they are organized the way they are.
Here we will look at how the New Testament books are organized.
The Biggest Division
The biggest organizational division in the New Testament is between those books that are of a historical nature–meaning, the have recording historical events as their primary purpose–and those books that don’t.
Into the first category are the Gospels and the book of Acts and into the second category go everything else.
The historical books are placed first in the New Testament because they describe the founding of the Christian faith. All of the other books, which are written in the form of letters, are placed afterward, so that if you are reading your way through the New Testament you will be able to better understand them after you’ve learned about the foundational events of the faith. Plunging into the letters (epistles) without a grounding in the gospel story would be regarded as a serious mistake.
The Historical Books
Among the historical books, the Gospels come first, because they deal with the beginning of the Christian story–the life of Jesus Christ, his ministry, and his death and resurrection.
The book of Acts comes later, because it deals with later historical events, focusing on what happened after the earthly ministry of Christ.
The Order of the Gospels
Within the Gospels, why are they placed in the order they are?
The basic reason is that this is the order that, for much of Church history, this is the order people thought they were written in. In his Harmony of the Gospels, St. Augustine explains:
Now, those four evangelists whose names have gained the most remarkable circulation over the whole world, and whose number has been fixed as four—it may be for the simple reason that there are four divisions of that world through the universal length of which they, by their number as by a kind of mystical sign, indicated the advancing extension of the Church of Christ—are believed to have written in the order which follows: first Matthew, then Mark, thirdly Luke, lastly John Harmony of the Gospels I:2:3).
This opinion was not universal in the early Church. Indeed, Eusebius reports concerning Clement of Alexandria:
The Gospels containing the genealogies [i.e., Matthew and Luke], he says, were written first [Ecclesiastical History: 6:14:6].
Clement lived earlier than Augustine, and so his represents earlier testimony, but it was Augustine’s opinion that came to dominate.
Most modern scholars think that the order in which the Gospels were composed was actually different, but that discussion would take us too far afield.
For now suffice it to say that the reason the Gospels are organized the way that they are was because that was historically the dominant view of the order in which they were written.
The Epistles
All of the books after Acts are written in the form of letters, which means that they technically qualify as epistles. How are these organized?
For the most part, they are organized by author, like this:
- The ones attributed to Paul
- The one attributed to James
- The ones attributed to Peter
- The ones attributed to John
- The one attributed to Jude
- The book of Revelation
You’ll notice that Revelation is separated from the epistles attributed to John. You could explain this by the fact that Revelation deals (in part) with the end of the world, making it a fitting end piece for the Bible, but that’s not the whole story.
It would not explain why Jude comes directly before Revelation, separating it from the other epistles of John. Why not just put Jude before the epistles of John and letting them lead directly into Revelation?
The reason seems to have to do with the order in which the books became popularly received by churches in different areas. Revelation, like a few other books toward the end of the New Testament, was not immediately received as Scripture by everyone, everywhere. Some had doubts about it, and it took a while for the Holy Spirit to guide the Church as a whole into recognizing its inspiration.
Things that people were less sure of tended to get put toward the back of whatever collection they were being included in, with the more certain works first. That’s a phenomenon we’ll see again.
The Epistles of Paul
Why do St. Paul’s epistles come first, right after the book of Acts? It’s because he wrote more epistles than anyone else. The other writers penned fewer, and so theirs go later.
Okay, but why are Paul’s epistles arranged the way they are?
The basic division is between those he wrote to churches (Romans through 2 Thessalonians) and those he wrote to individuals (1 Timothy through Philemon), with the book of Hebrews added on at the end.
Why is Hebrews at the end? Because some disputed its scriptural status early on and, as we said before, things that people were less certain of tended to get put in the back of the collection.
Eventually the Church was convinced of the canonicity of Hebrews, and it was included among St. Paul’s writings because it has some similarities to his thought and because the dominant view came to be that he was the one who wrote it. (More recent scholars, including Pope Benedict, think it was written by someone else, but it is still sacred and canonical.)
That explains Hebrews, but what about the epistles to the churches and those to individuals? Why are these two collections organized the way they are?
Believe it or not: Size.
It’s the length of the book that determines where it goes in the collection. The longest ones go first and the shortest last. There are other collections of ancient works organized like that, too. It was a somewhat common way of organizing things in antiquity.
Here are the books with the number of words they contain in the Greek New Testament:
- Romans: 7,111
- 1 Corinthians: 6,829
- 2 Corinthians: 4,477
- Galatians: 2,230
- Ephesians: 2,422
- Philippians: 1,629
- Colossians: 1,582
- 1 Thessalonians: 1,481
- 2 Thessalonians: 823
There’s a bit of a hiccup in the pattern with Ephesians coming after Galatians, but size is still the overall criterion. The same applies to the epistles written to individuals:
- 1 Timothy: 1,591
- 2 Timothy: 1,238
- Titus: 659
- Philemon: 335
The Catholic Epistles
The Catholic epistles make up the remainder of the New Testament (excepting Revelation, which we’ve already covered).
In different periods of Church history these were arranged several different ways, but the current order is largely dominated by length–just like St. Paul’s epistles–only with individual collections being kept together by author. Here’s the breakdown:
- James: 1,742
- 1 Peter: 1,684
- 2 Peter: 1,099
- 1 John: 2,141
- 2 John: 245
- 3 John: 219
- Jude: 461
The size pattern explains everything here except why 1 John comes after James and Peter instead of first. If the size rule explained everything then you would expect the author collections to be sequenced John (1-3) > James > Peter (1-2) > Jude, but that’s not what we find in a typical modern New Testament.
So . . . there is some mystery after all.
But there’s also more order than at first meets the eye.
Learning More
I’m currently writing a book–titled Secret History of the Bible–which will go into this kind of information and more, revealing fascinating facts that bear on how, when, and by whom the Bible was written.
That’s not out yet, though, so until then you might want to check out my Secret Information Club. In fact, if you join then the very first think you’ll get is an “interview” with Pope Benedict about the book of Revelation. (I composed questions and then took the answers from his writings.) It’s fascinating reading, so I hope you’ll check it out.
You should click here to learn more or sign up using this form:
The Weekly Benedict: 22 July, 2012
This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 15 – 16 July 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
Angelus
Homilies
Messages
When Was the Book of Revelation Written?
Most scholars today think that the book of Revelation was written around the year A.D. 95, during the reign of the Roman Emperor Domitian.
Historically, though, many thought it was written earlier than that, and there is a surprisingly strong case that the book was written in the late A.D. 60s or the early part of A.D. 70. Let’s take a quick look at the evidence . . .
“Five Are Fallen”
In Revelation 17, John sees a vision of the Whore of Babylon seated on the beast with seven heads, and he is told:
[9] This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated;
[10] they are also seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he comes he must remain only a little while.
There’s pretty good evidence that the beast represents the Roman empire and that these seven kings represent the line of first century Roman emperors.
If you’d like more information on that subject, check out my videos, Who Is the Beast of Revelation and Who Is the Beast of Revelation (Part Two).
Assuming that identification is accurate, that gives us a pretty strong clue about when the book was written. If five of the kings (emperors) are fallen (dead) and one is (living/reigning) then that means Revelation was written during the reign of the sixth emperor. So which would that be?
Here are two possibilities . . .
The Reign of Nero?
- Julius Caesar
- Augustus
- Tiberius
- Caligula
- Claudius
- Nero
Nero certainly fits well with the description of the beast that is given in the book (see the two videos), but there is a possible problem: Julius Caesar was not technically an emperor. He was a dictator (meaning: the Roman Senate voted him the title “dictator”–which was an actual political office back then, before the term came to mean “tyrant”), but he wasn’t voted the title “emperor.”
Still, it’s possible that this might not have made a lot of difference from the perspective of first century Jews and Christians.
Technically, the Roman emperors weren’t kings at all (the Romans were very proud of the fact that they had ended the line of Roman kings and set up a republic), but they functioned as kings, and everybody understood that.
This is why the crowd cried “We have no king but Caesar!” during the trial of Jesus.
So if the count starts with Julius then we have reason to think Revelation was written in the reign of Nero, which was between October 13, A.D. 54 and June 9, A.D. 68.
But there’s another possibility that may be even more likely . . .
The Reign of Galba?
- Augustus
- Tiberius
- Caligula
- Claudius
- Nero
- Galba
I know. You may be saying, “Who?”
Galba isn’t a very famous emperor, and one reason is that he didn’t reign very long. In fact, he reigned only a few months, during a disastrous period known as “the Year of Four Emperors,” in which Rome was torn apart by a series of bloody civil wars in which one emperor toppled another in rapid succession.
But if that’s the case then, since Galba reigned such a short time, we’d actually be able to date the writing of Revelation very precisely.
It would have to be between June 8, A.D. 68 and January 15, A.D. 69. (Galba actually began reigning the day before Nero died, because Nero had been declared an enemy of the state by the Senate and went on the lam before being coerced into committing suicide.)
So it could be that Revelation was written during a very short span in late 68 or (very) early 69.
Is there other evidence that has a bearing on this?
“He must remain only a little while”
Yes. In fact, it fits both of the possibilities we’ve mentioned.
If Nero was reigning then Nero’s successor, Galba, certainly reigned a short time–just barely over 7 months.
If Galba was reigning then, since he was reigning in the Year of Four Emperors, his own successor–Otho–lasted only a short time as well, just 3 months (from January 15 to April 16, A.D. 69).
“Do not measure the court outside the temple”
[1] Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told: “Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there,
[2] but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.
This passage speaks of the Jewish temple in Jerusalem as if it is still standing.
The text speaks of the gentiles (or nations, same word in Greek) trampling the holy city (Jerusalem) and invading the temple courtyard.
They also invaded and destroyed the temple itself, but the text speaks of this as not having happened yet, since John is told to measure the temple, its altar, and those worshipping there. So it was still functioning.
Since the temple was destroyed on August 5, A.D. 70, that also suggests that Revelation was written before this date.
Learning More
I’m currently writing a book–titled Secret History of the Bible–which will go into this kind of information and more, revealing fascinating facts that bear on how, when, and by whom the Bible was written.
That’s not out just yet though, so until then you might want to check out my Secret Information Club. In fact, if you join then the very first think you’ll get is an “interview” with Pope Benedict about the book of Revelation. (I composed questions and then took the answers from his writings.) It’s fascinating reading, so I hope you’ll check it out.
You should click here to learn more or sign up using this form: