REVELATION IS AN intimidating book of the Bible to understand, let alone apply to everyday life. Dense with symbolic imagery and metaphors, it has been subject to innumerable interpretations and far-flung theories. But what are we to make of startling moments in the text, like when Jesus regurgitates a sword or John eats a scroll? In Upside-Down Apocalypse: Grounding Revelation in the Gospel of Peace, author Jeremy Duncan walks readers through Revelation by drawing parallels between the genres and figures of speech of John’s day and ours, lending clarity to how John’s apocalypse is deeply steeped in Jewish literary tradition and Roman culture. When we ignore this context, we miss the point of the final book of the New Testament: Revelation is not the wrathful reckoning of a conquering king; rather, as Duncan writes, it’s a testament to “how the Prince of Peace turns violence on its head once and for all.”
With each chapter, Duncan decenters “chrono-centric” approaches to Revelation, encouraging readers to avoid reading the text as “a story about me and my world and my time exclusively.” As the perfect, timeless witness of God, Jesus must be the guiding principle by which we understand all of scripture. Only then can we appreciate how God’s kingdom in Revelation contrasts with earthly kingdoms fueled by oppression. “[E]very time you awaken to how empire is trying to steal your imagination and make you believe in violence,” Duncan writes, “you have rightly interpreted Revelation regardless of the time period in which you awake.” Revelation asks us to watch for injustice, wherever and whenever it appears.
But personal piety alone won’t dismantle oppressive systems. Duncan cites Ezekiel and Isaiah to show how “a sanctification of the soul that fails to leave any footprints in the world” is a faith often held captive by the promises of empire. John indicts any politics and economics with a prosperity predicated on fear and exploitation. Duncan writes that “the measure of our faith is not how well we are doing; it is how well we serve those near us.”
He convincingly argues that the one on the throne in Revelation 4 and the horsemen in Revelation 6 are abstract representations of human rulers and institutions that captivate us by their power. Aggressive translations of Revelation 6:4 emphasize how the rider of the red horse suggests he will “take peace from the earth” by inciting violence with a sword. But Duncan doesn’t interpret this text as an endorsement of violence; he believes this rider exposes the violence of Roman rule — a false peace perpetuated by the sword. Duncan stresses that when we read Revelation, we must “embrace not only the words but also the tone and texture of that tale.”
He believes the prophets’ righteous longings of justice were subverted and expanded through Jesus. Christians are not called to sit out — or God forbid advance — the end of the world. We’re called to be stewards unto nature and servants unto neighbors. If death is defeated, then the “only strategy that evil has left is to get you to forget the way of peace.” Duncan invites readers to remember that the Jesus of Revelation is the Jesus of the gospels: A king of kings and a Prince of Peace.
Joey Thurmond is a writer specializing in Christian sexual ethics, pop culture, and faith.
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