The Seven Bowls of God’s Wrath (Revelation 15–16)
REVELATION 15–16
The Seven Bowls of God’s Wrath
As the story in the Revelation unfolds—and is brought to its climax in chapters 17–22—it becomes clear that John has two ultimate concerns: God’s judgment of Satan and his followers (chs. 19–20), and the final salvation of God’s people (chs. 21–22). With chapters 15 and 16 one comes to the penultimate concern in the story, God’s judgment of the church’s present satanic enemy, the Roman Empire and its emperors, pictured as two beasts in chapter 13. This judgment will be further spelled out with a variety of images in chapters 17–19. But in typical fashion, these final judgments against the Empire, which are given in chapter 16, are first solemnly introduced with a vision of heaven (ch. 15). Thus, just as the vision of the seven trumpets (8:6—9:21) was introduced by the imagery of “reversed thunder” in 8:1–5 as God’s response to the prayers of the saints, so here the last seven plagues are introduced with a twofold heavenly vision. At the same time John continues to pick up echoes from what has preceded, while setting the whole once again in the context of the first exodus (most often pictured in this book as another return from Babylon, thus the “second exodus”).
The present vision comes in two parts, corresponding to the chapter-and-verse numbering of our Bibles. These are (again) introduced first with “I saw” (15:1) and then with “I heard” (16:1). The introduction itself comes by way of a twofold heavenly vision, both parts of which anticipate the judgments that follow. In 15:1–4, with several echoes from 14:1–5, the redeemed and victorious martyrs sing again, this time “the song of Moses the servant of God, and of the Lamb,” a song that basically exalts God and extols God’s justice. With 15:5–8 one can now make better sense of (what appeared to be) the strange conclusion to chapter 11, where heaven opened exposing a visible ark of the covenant, plus an earthquake that included a great hailstorm. Here the scene shifts slightly, as the “ark” is now pictured as a “temple,” out of which come the seven angels with the last seven plagues.
This final set of seven (cf. chs. 6, 8–9)1 is now made up of the seven bowls of God’s wrath, God’s judgments on Rome, six of which echo the plagues of Egypt from Exodus 7–11. The probable reason for there being only six of them is that John at the same time has them correspond in part to the seven trumpets of chapters 8 and 9 (see p. 209). Thus in the earlier instance, regarding their relationship to the ten plagues of Egypt, there were four correspondences in John (italicized below), while the present plagues have six (underlined below):
1) Waters to blood (#2/3)
2) Frogs (#6)
3) Gnats
4) Flies
5) Death of livestock
6) Boils (#1)
7) Hail (#7)
8) Locusts
9) Darkness (#4)
10) Firstborn killed
Only the scorching sun from the fourth bowl poured out (16:8) is not directly related to one of the seven trumpets, and in this case it reflects the fourth trumpet (utter darkness) in reverse. The probable reason they do not all do so more directly is that John also has these seven bowls correspond in part to the seven trumpets. Thus (the single correspondence to the seals in bold):
1) Boils (6th plague)
2) Sea turned to blood (1st plague adapted to Rome = 2nd trumpet)
3) Fresh water to blood (1st plague = 3rd trumpet)
4) Scorching heat of the sun (= 4th trumpet in reverse)
5) Darkness (9th plague = 4th trumpet)
6) The Euphrates dries up (= 6th trumpet, joined to the 2nd plague [frogs])
7) Great Earthquake (= the 6th seal, plus the 7th trumpet, joined to the 7th plague [hail])
In keeping with the preceding seals and trumpets, the sixth and seventh bowls are also separated by a twofold interlude; but whereas in the earlier plagues the interlude was of considerable length, this one is so short (vv. 15–16) that many readers tend not to recognize it at all. Thus, even though in this case the whole is slightly modified, the overall pattern of 4-2[-interlude]-1 remains the same, signaled in this case ever so slightly with the note at the end of the fourth plague that even then “they refused to repent and glorify [God]” (v. 9).
In this final case John begins with a considerable prelude, which places the whole as something he once more “sees” in heaven. Thus in typical fashion this last set of plagues is placed not in the context of God’s wrath, even though that is the language John will eventually employ in 16:1, but in the context of heavenly worship (vv. 1–4), which in turn is followed by a description of the necessary preparations of the seven angels who will “pour out” these plagues “on the earth” (vv. 5–8).
PRELUDE: THE SEVEN ANGELS WITH THE LAST PLAGUES (15:1–8)
11 saw in heaven another great and marvelous sign: seven angels with the seven last plagues—last, because with them God’s wrath is completed. 2And I saw what looked like a sea of glass glowing with fire and, standing beside the sea, those who had been victorious over the beast and its image and over the number of its name. They held harps given them by God 3and sang the song of God’s servant Moses and of the Lamb:
“Great and marvelous are your deeds,
Lord God Almighty.Just and true are your ways,
King of the nations.4Who will not fear you, Lord,
and bring glory to your name?For you alone are holy.
All nations will comeand worship before you,
for your righteous acts have been revealed.”5After this I looked and in heaven the temple, that is, the tabernacle of the covenant law, was opened. 6Out of the temple came the seven angels with the seven plagues. They were dressed in clean, shining linen and wore golden sashes around their chests. 7Then one of the four living creatures gave to the seven angels seven golden bowls filled with the wrath of God, who lives for ever and ever. 8And the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from his power, and no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues of the seven angels were completed.
In light of the echoes (noted above) of the original set of plagues against Pharaoh and Egypt in Exodus 7–11, this prelude to the last set of seven plagues in John’s Revelation is likewise full of echoes of the original exodus. At the same time, it is also has several deliberate echoes of the second exodus from Babylon, the cryptic name for Rome that first emerged in the eagle’s announcement of her coming doom in 14:8. In keeping with the narrative to this point, John thus begins, I saw in heaven another great and marvelous sign, which is immediately identified as seven angels with the last seven plagues.2 Then, for the sake of John’s first readers, he elaborates so that they might understand what follows without any guesswork on their part. These are the last set of plagues, because with them God’s wrath is completed, “wrath” that was anticipated in 6:16–17 as of both the Lamb and God, and echoed again in 11:16. In 14:10, however, and picked up again here, this wrath is now that of God alone. The phrase “is completed” in this case would seem first of all to refer to the seven plagues themselves; at the same time it probably also tells the reader that there will be no more such sets of seven. What remains to be narrated is the spelling out in some detail as to how this wrath will play out historically on Rome itself, and thus on its great empire.
John’s follow-up description of this twofold reality has several echoes (understandably so) of the original heavenly scene in chapters 4–5, now joined with the “victors” from chapter 13. The entire scene also echoes Israel’s miraculous escape from Pharaoh in Exodus 14, while also anticipating the song of judgment against Pharaoh in Exodus 15. This is narrative art at its finest. Pictured here is the ultimate New Exodus, as the martyrs once again stand by the sea, as it were (Exodus 14), anticipating God’s judgment against their “Pharaoh.” Thus, with a second I saw, and with a deliberate recall of the picture in 4:6, John describes again what looked like a sea of glass, only in this case the sea is now glowing with fire. Although one can only guess as to the significance of this addition, it fits the present introduction to chapter 16, so that the once (apparently) calm sea now anticipates the judgment that is to come.
As elsewhere John’s interest is not so much in the “furniture” of heaven as in the primary reason for the present scene, having to do with those who were standing beside the sea. In light of the image that has preceded it in 14:1–5—not to mention the special place they are accorded later in 20:1–6—John is most likely (once more) here prophetically embracing those who are soon to become martyrs. Here they are singled out in particular with echoes of John’s own language from chapter 13. That they are the martyrs is made clear by the description that follows: these are those who had been victorious over the beast and its image, which thus also included victory over the number of its name. Thus with splendid, divine irony, John pictures those who were originally conquered by the beast as now in heaven and “victorious over” him. But in contrast to the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders in 5:8, these triumphant followers of the Lamb themselves held harps, which, in a most remarkable moment in the book, had been given them by God. In turn, and in yet another striking moment, with harps in hand they sang the song of God’s servant Moses and of the Lamb.
This collocation of Moses and the Lamb should catch the reader’s attention, especially the fact that these singers are surely to be understood as the martyrs; so why “the song of Moses,” one might well ask? The most likely answer is twofold. First, much of the narrative has clear echoes of Exodus 14, where Israel also stood by the sea—although the present sea is now mingled with the fire of judgment. But of special interest is “the Song of Moses, the servant of God” (Exod 14:31), which follows in Exodus 15. That song had three basic components: verses 1–10 celebrate God as Warrior, who overthrew Pharaoh and his chariots while at the same time redeeming his people Israel; verses 11–12 are clearly swing verses, which celebrate by way of rhetorical questions that God’s mighty acts of judgment had made clear that Yahweh is superior to all other deities (“Who among the gods is like you, LORD? Who is like you—majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?”); verses 13–18 then concentrate on the benefits of redemption, especially that Yahweh will lead them to his holy dwelling—and that the nations will hear and tremble.
What follows is typical of John’s literary skill. He had already echoed Exodus 15:11 in the parody of the beast in 13:4 (“who is like the beast?”); now in verse 4a he returns to that question as the central feature of this hymn. On the front side (v. 3) of that crucial question, and now echoing Psalm 139:14 and 145:17 (“your works are wonderful”), John offers a hymnic commentary on Exodus 15:1–10, which extols the great and wonderful nature of God’s works and the justice and truth of God’s ways. On the back side (v. 4b), and in response to the question itself, he affirms that all the nations will come and worship God, but concludes with the ultimate point of the section: the righteous character of God’s judgments.
Thus quite in keeping with these concerns, the actual content of the song is a collage of language from all over the Old Testament, including the “Song of Moses” in the Greek version of Deuteronomy 32. John’s version begins with an echo of Psalm 111:2 (LXX 110:2),3 Great and marvelous are your deeds, while the address itself, Lord God Almighty, is language derived from the Septuagint of Amos 3:13 and 4:13. Thus the first thing up has to do with God’s “mighty deeds.” Second, God is praised because just and true are your ways, a collage of language from the first two lines of Deuteronomy 32:4. Therefore, God’s “just way” of carrying out those “mighty deeds” is very much in keeping with God’s character. God is then addressed as King of the nations, echoing the Hebrew of Jeremiah 10:7, as does the first line of the next question: Who will not fear you, Lord? The final part of the stanza, and bring glory to your name, comes directly from Psalm 86:9 (LXX 85:9). In many ways this hymn is both a singular high point in John’s narrative and a clear indication of how much his own spiritual life was nourished on the (in this case Greek) Bible.
The next affirmation, for you alone are holy, is the first of two lines (cf. the final line) that are not direct citations of an Old Testament passage, although the sentiment can be found everywhere, as for example in the concluding line of Psalm 99 (“For the LORD our God is holy”). Moreover, it is the implication of the entire Levitical code that Israel in character must be like Yahweh (“therefore be holy, because I am holy,” Lev 11:45). The present affirmation, therefore, does not exclude God’s people from being holy; rather, it is the universal affirmation of the Jewish-Christian understanding of God, that God “alone is holy” in the ultimate sense. All other holiness, especially that of God’s people, is derived from God, and thus should lead God’s people to holy living.
The song then moves from a celebration of God’s character to affirm, again in a biblical way, what should be the normal human response to a God of such character. And here again John’s own concern for the nations comes to the fore, thus anticipating the final wrap-up in 21:22–27, where “all the nations” will “walk” where “the glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp.” The present hymn thus concludes with this repeated prophetic motif, especially appropriate for John’s readers: all nations will come and worship before you (cf. Isa 2:2–4; Jer 16:19). Here he is picking up from the fourth line above, that Christ is “King of the nations.” It also serves as another reminder to his readers that even in the midst of their present difficulties, they themselves, who are part of “all nations,” must continue to bear witness to these nations about their king, whom the nations have yet to acknowledge as Lord of all. Thus the hymn concludes with a final affirmation, offering the reason for “all nations” to “come and worship”: for your righteous acts have been revealed. Again, even though this is not the precise language of a particular Old Testament text, it is a repeated sentiment throughout, as for example in Psalm 98:2 (“The LORD has made his salvation known and revealed his righteousness to the nations”). Perhaps most remarkable of all is the past tense of this final line, since the hymn is intended to introduce acts that have not yet taken place.
The result of this extraordinary collage is a majestic Christian hymn, full of both adoration and affirmation, which at this point in John’s narrative is almost certainly intended to bolster the resolve of his readers—and that in light of the litany of dreadful judgments that follow (ch. 16) against those who are responsible for their suffering. Or to put John’s concerns in the language of a later hymn writer, “God is the ruler yet.”4 It is in this context of heavenly worship that John proceeds with the narrative by which he introduces the final seven plagues.
Immediately after the song, John says I looked, and what he now saw is expressed in an especially awkward way, even for a language that had considerable flexibility in the way words may be ordered.5 Here the NIV translators have probably come as close as one can to John’s intent, for whom, one must constantly keep in mind, Greek was a second language. Thus what he most likely “saw” in heaven was the fact that the temple/tabernacle containing the covenant law6 was opened, out of which now came the seven angels with the last seven plagues. However, again typical of John’s narrative art, he first describes the angels themselves, rather than the content of what had been opened.
The narrative therefore returns to the seven angels noted in verse 1; and again with consummate skill, John makes sure that his readers hear the plagues that follow—plagues on their enemies—in the context of God’s unspeakable glory. Thus, and in keeping with their heavenly origins, John describes the angels as dressed in clean, shining linen, the cloth of both priest and tabernacle in the Old Testament; and in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion, along with their linen they also wore golden sashes around their chests, as did Christ himself in 1:13. The divine mission of these seven angels, already hinted at in verse 6 (“with the seven plagues,” unveiled next in ch. 16), was to pour out on this planet seven golden bowls filled with the wrath of God, the Eternal One, whose eternity is expressed with who lives for ever and ever.
Finally, and with a marvelous touch of narrative art, John concludes the introduction not with focus on what enters the temple in heaven, but with what proceeds from it, namely the contents of “the seven bowls of God’s wrath” that will be on display in chapter 16. Thus the present introduction concludes with echoes of Isaiah 6:4 and 3: And the temple was filled with smoke [6:4] from the glory of God [6:3] and from his power, which at first blush might seem like a most unusual description of heaven. But again John is reflecting the historic Jewish understanding of the temple as the place of the Divine Presence. In so doing he once again echoes language from an Old Testament theophany, in this case Isaiah 6:4, where in that great revelation of God Isaiah notes first that “the whole earth is full of [Yahweh’s] glory,” and then that “the temple was filled with smoke.” The heavenly “temple,” which in this picture seems not to be heaven itself, thus takes on the aura of untouchable holiness, like that associated with the interior of the original temple in Judaism. In this case, however, entry is not based on worthiness or “clean or unclean,” but, in anticipation of what comes next in John’s narrative. Thus, in a figurative sense John sees all heaven as standing still until the seven plagues of the seven angels were completed. As has been frequently pointed out, one takes this language literally only at great cost, missing altogether John’s own point in this introduction: that what follows is to be read with a sense of holy awe.
THE SEVEN BOWLS ARE POURED OUT (16:1–21)
There can be little question that with the final set of seven which occurs next, John has deliberately chosen to echo both Israel’s first and second exodus—the original one from Egypt and the second one from Babylon. As with the preceding sets, this one also comes in a series of 4-2-1, with a twofold interlude between the sixth and seventh. But in this case, one also meets two unusual features: a rather long affirmation of the divine justice in these judgments after the third bowl (vv. 5–7); and an especially brief interlude in verses 15 and 16, which happens so quickly, as it were, that the reader can easily mistake these clauses as part of the sixth bowl itself. But as with all else in this book, nothing is without purpose, so at issue in part for the interpreter is to seek explanations for these two unusual moments—especially with regard to the first—while at the same time pursuing the role of the entire passage in the larger narrative.
The First Four Bowls (16:1–9)
1Then I heard a loud voice from the temple saying to the seven angels, “Go, pour out the seven bowls of God’s wrath on the earth.”
2The first angel went and poured out his bowl on the land, and ugly, festering sores broke out on the people who had the mark of the beast and worshiped its image.
3The second angel poured out his bowl on the sea, and it turned into blood like that of a dead person, and every living thing in the sea died.
4The third angel poured out his bowl on the rivers and springs of water, and they became blood. 5Then I heard the angel in charge of the waters say:
“You are just in these judgments, O Holy One,
you who are and who were,6for they have shed the blood of your people
and your prophets,and you have given them blood to drink as they deserve.”7
7And I heard the altar respond:
“Yes, Lord God Almighty,
true and just are your judgments.”8The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and the sun was allowed to scorch people with fire. 9They were seared by the intense heat and they cursed the name of God, who had control over these plagues, but they refused to repent and glorify him.
As noted above, the Exodus imagery in this passage is sustained to the very end, so that even the Greek word for “bowl” used here occurs regularly in the Septuagint for that especially used in the cultus, as delineated in Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers. Also noted, the first four bowls correspond largely with the first four trumpets—on the land, sea, rivers, and sun. In this case they are directed especially against those who bear the mark of the beast and have worshiped its image (v. 2). At the same time these plagues have a considerably eschatological ring to them, so that, for example, “every living thing in the sea died” (v. 3). The net result, therefore, is a dramatic and powerful prophetic word directed especially against the Empire for its (upcoming) slaughter of believers.
In some ways the most striking thing about what follows is the way it begins, and now one has a better sense of the why of the preceding preamble, because what John heard next was a loud voice from the temple.8 In context this now means “the temple” that appeared in 15:5 in the preamble to this passage, out of which the seven angels had come. The “loud voice” in this case spoke not to John, but to the seven angels themselves, with the command, Go, pour out the seven bowls of God’s wrath on the earth. All of this is in keeping with John’s literary method throughout, with an introduction many of whose elements are then repeated in the unfolding of the narrative itself.
Thus the first angel went and poured out his bowl on the land. That this is imagery, pure and simple, is highlighted here by the fact that there is no content as such in the bowls—they were introduced only as expressions of God’s wrath. In keeping with similar imagery throughout the narrative, the first part of the earth to be affected is the land. But the result in this case is something new in terms of its effects: ugly, festering sores broke out (cf. Exod 9:10). Not surprisingly, this happened to those who had become compliant with the Empire and its way of life, and thus is expressed in the language of chapter 13. Thus the “sores broke out” on the people who had the mark of the beast and worshiped its image. Again it takes the form of a divine reversal, in keeping with the biblical law of lex talionis (“an eye for an eye”). What the Empire dished out on those who refused to go along with its ungodly ways and policies will be what they receive in kind. This, of course, functions not as a warning to the Empire itself, but to those believers who might be tempted to accommodate to it in order to survive.
Again, typical both of the book as a whole and of the basic human understanding of the earth, the second angel poured out his bowl on the sea, meaning of course the salt water sea that most of the Western world knew: the Mediterranean (literally “the sea between the lands”). As before, the sea turned into blood (see 8:7), but now not just a third of it did so. John goes on to describe it as blood like that of a dead person, a comparison that is not especially immediate to the reader, since that would ordinarily mean something like “coagulated.” But despite the grammar itself, one wonders whether the intent of this rather clipped expression was simply a person whose blood had been poured out thus causing death.
In the same manner as with the third trumpet, the third angel poured out his bowl on the fresh waters, but now with different results. There the waters turned bitter and led to many deaths; here the rivers and springs of water … became blood. In the present case, therefore, both the saline and fresh waters are turned into blood, probably again suggesting a kind of lex talionis—in this case not “eye for eye” but “blood for blood.” If so, then this is another truly prophetic moment in the book,9 wherein God will execute judgment in kind on the Empire for its (coming) slaughter of God’s people.
That this is the proper understanding of John’s intent seems to be made certain by his own—and in light of all earlier moments in the book, unexpected—pause in the narrative while the angel in charge of10 the waters affirms the justice of these two expressions of divine judgment on all the waters, fresh and saline. And even though this seems to get in the way of the neat packaging that the reader has experienced up to now, John feels compelled at this point to remind his original readers that the divine reversal will be in effect in due time. Thus John pauses, briefly interrupting his numerical sequencing to extol God’s justice regarding the Empire’s getting “theirs”—“blood for blood” as it were. Is so doing, this “angel in charge of the waters” affirms first of all, in typical biblical fashion, that God is absolutely just in this coming expression of lex talionis, and then follows up with the reason for it.
Thus the angel begins with an affirmation of God’s justice: You are just in these judgments, which he follows immediately with a vocative that declares both God’s eternal nature and inherent holiness. First, regarding the fact that God alone is the Eternal One, he sings, you who are and who were. Missing (apparently deliberately so) is the normal affirmation of the future as well, “who are to come.” But that is not necessary here, since it has been said often before and it is already assumed in any case. The most likely reason for the more abbreviated form here is the addition to the vocative, O Holy One, which the NIV translators chose for the sake of English readers to put at the end of the first line. This language is taken directly from Isaiah’s repeated “the Holy One of Israel,” but now without the qualifier “of Israel.” However, the reason God is pronounced just in his judgments is as ambiguous in Greek as in the English translation(s): because you have so judged, which in Greek as in English means simply that “you have judged in this way.”
Although this kind of phrase is often filled with ambiguity, as to whether it points backward (to the preceding three expressions of judgment/ justice) or forward, John in this case relieves the ambiguity, by offering the quid pro quo itself, which is basically expressed as “blood for blood.” Thus, even though what John says amounts to because … they have shed … blood, you have given them blood to drink,”11 he actually puts this a bit more strongly. First up, in terms of the blood they shed, it is that of “your holy ones,” which traditionally has been translated “your saints,” and which the NIV translators have rendered as your people. The reason for going this route has to do with the unfortunate thing that has happened in English to the biblical word for “your holy people,” which is simply a reference to all those who belong to the newly constituted people of God. In this case, and in most other New Testament contexts, this is simply biblical language for God’s people as a whole, not for a special group of “holy” ones among that people. But for the ordinary English reader, the language of either “saints” or “your holy people” means exactly that—a special class of the truly “holy” among all the rest. English translators thus have to choose between what leads to a considerable misunderstanding or what is merely bland; and the NIV translators (rightly) chose the latter in this case so as not to mislead the reader into thinking that John is here dealing with a special group among the whole, rather than with the whole itself.12 What the reader must not miss in this case is that John starts with the whole people of God and then includes those who function as prophets among them, meaning in this case, as with Paul in 1 Corinthians, those who by the Spirit regularly speak a prophetic word into the life of these communities. Therefore, martyrdoms are to be expected by any and all, not just those who function as “prophets,” as John himself does. Thus “the blood of your people” includes “your prophets.”
John’s final word in all this is as they deserve—“blood for blood”—a typically biblical way of appealing to divine justice. This pronouncement by the “angel in charge of the waters” is at the same time both reassuring “the saints” that they have not been forgotten and indicating that those responsible for shedding their blood will experience divine retribution, spelled out here as having been given … blood to drink. So important for John is this moment of divine justice that the altar itself now responds, in this case with language that first appeared in the introduction (1:8) and then again in the first scene in heaven (4:8) as the initial language of praise by the four living creatures, who we are told “never stop saying, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come.’” Here it is simply, Yes, Lord God Almighty, to which is added language from the Psalter, true and just are your judgments (cf. Ps 119:137). And one should probably not read past this well-known biblical language too quickly, since “truth” and “justice” go hand in hand, and the eternal God cannot be or do otherwise—which is the reason for the “blood for blood” judgment that these two bowls represent.
John now follows this brief reassuring interlude with the fourth angel, who poured out his bowl on the sun. As noted earlier, the heavenly body that is recognized by all ancients as the most important of all, and which was darkened with the blowing of the fourth trumpet, now plays a reverse role, that of a blazing hot desert sun that was allowed to scorch people with fire. Its severe nature is further emphasized in that they were seared by the intense heat, so that whether intended so by John or not, they were given a foretaste of “the lake of burning sulfur” that awaits Satan and his followers (20:10). Indeed, rather than seeing the hand of God in all this as a call to repentance, they rather cursed the name of God, whom they instinctively recognize as the One who had control over these plagues, in the sense that they originate with God. Nonetheless, this recognition of the divine origin of these plagues leads not to repentance; rather they refused to repent and glorify God. At this point John is affirming a common reality: that even though people wish to live totally apart from God, nonetheless when things go against them God is to blame, who is thus to be cursed rather than loved (because loved by); and this leads the reader to the next picture.
The Fifth and Sixth Bowls plus the Interlude (16:10–16)
10The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in agony 11and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done.
12The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its water was dried up to prepare the way for the kings from the East. 13Then I saw three impure spirits that looked like frogs; they came out of the mouth of the dragon, out of the mouth of the beast and out of the mouth of the false prophet. 14They are demonic spirits that perform signs, and they go out to the kings of the whole world, to gather them for the battle on the great day of God Almighty.
15“Look, I come like a thief! Blessed are those who stay awake and keep their clothes on, so that they may not go naked and be shamefully exposed.”
16Then they gathered the kings together to the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.
As one might well expect at this point in the narrative, the content of the fifth bowl, poured out by the fifth angel, is directed explicitly against the Empire itself, thus on the throne of the beast. Then in a moment of splendid irony, the beast’s kingdom was plunged into darkness, echoing the ninth plague. Although one cannot be certain here, the beast’s “kingdom” is now most likely narrowed to Rome itself. Thus the assumed subject of the final clause, which the NIV renders as people, should probably be thought of not in general terms, but in this specifically as the beast and his followers, that is, the Empire and all those most closely associated with it and its policies. What is perhaps most striking about their response is that “people” both gnawed their tongues in agony and then used their tongues, not in this case to “curse the name of God,” but to curse the God of heaven because of their pains and sores. Thus in typical fashion the unbelieving world refuses to acknowledge God when things go well for them, but when things go badly, God is to blame. And the result tends regularly to be the same—they refused to repent of what they had done. Indeed, one need only consider that in our modern English-speaking world, natural disasters are regularly referred to as “acts of God”! And as with ancient Rome, such acts seldom lead to repentance, but to blaming God for all that goes wrong in the world. Thus the opportunity to repent is squelched by cursing.
Finally, John uses the action of the sixth angel to anticipate the Final Battle he will describe toward the end of the book (19:11–21). This angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, not as a curse on the river itself, but so that its water was dried up to prepare the way for the kings from the East, to give them easy access to the heart of the Empire. But rather than go on to describe the Final Battle itself, John returns to a new description of the demonic “trinity,” who are envisioned as ultimately responsible for the battle. Thus what John sees next are three impure spirits, which in this case also looked like frogs (cf. Exod 8:3), and who now came out of the mouth(s) of the demonic trio who were presented in chapter 13: the dragon (Satan), the beast (the Empire), and the false prophet (the cult of the emperor).
What these demonic spirits do next is no surprise; they perform signs, intended both to cause wonder and (thus) to keep the various peoples in check, as it were. But the final clause in this description is cause for surprise, since they next go out to the kings of the whole world, and do so in order to gather them for the final battle on the great day of God Almighty. With this picture John thus continues to keep the reader in a kind of suspense, as the story begins to move to its conclusion.
But before that—and now John’s literary art surfaces yet again—he maintains the structure of the previous two sets of seven by including an interlude between the pouring out of the sixth bowl and the seventh. As before, the interlude is in two (now very brief) parts. Also as before, the two parts are generally unrelated, a feature that is even more striking in this case, where the first is a final word to believers, while the second prepares the way for the final scenes of the narrative itself. Hence the suspense immediately turns into surprise, since without introduction or antecedent of any kind in the present narrative, the living Christ steps on the scene to call his own to watchfulness, so that they will not be swept away with those who are to be judged. And the way Christ’s people are warned is also full of surprise. Christ himself now speaks, using a metaphor found elsewhere in the New Testament, but not in John’s Gospel: Behold, I come like a thief! This metaphor was used by Jesus in the Synoptic tradition (Matt 24:43) as a way of encouraging watchfulness on the part of his disciples. It is also used in Paul’s earliest letter (1 Thess 5:2), as something his readers “know very well,” thus indicating that it is probably a common metaphor among the early Christians.
The imagery itself needs to be understood for what it is: imagery, pure and simple. At issue is the purpose of the image, since the comparison of the divine Savior to a thief does not sit well with those in Western cultures, who generally find metaphors difficult to manage in any case. But, as in the Synoptic tradition, the comparison is not with the thief as such, but with the way a thief comes—at night, and therefore when one is not on guard, but (properly so) sleeping. The assumption of the metaphor, of course, is cultural, that people slept basically in the nude; the difficulty with the metaphor, therefore, lies not with its basic intent, that one cannot know the when of Christ’s return. But the point of the metaphor is a simple one, and reflects the teaching of Jesus, that God’s people need to be on watch, as it were, always anticipating his Coming.
The call itself is then followed by another beatitude (the fifth of seven), in this case a “blessing” that on first reading is again full of surprises, especially for readers who belong to a different time and culture. The key to understanding lies with what immediately precedes: the final sentence in verse 14, the sixth of the poured out bowls of God’s wrath, which concludes with the imagery of warfare. The problem for the later reader is not only the sudden shift of images, but the nature of the images themselves, especially so in this case because John’s point is singular: the need for preparedness on the part of God’s people, so that they stay awake and are thus ready for their Lord’s return. Those who are not ready in this way are thus pictured as not keeping their clothes on. But that image, once struck, immediately calls for another one: the shame associated with nudity, especially in John’s own Jewish heritage. Thus the reason for the kind of preparedness imaged by being fully clothed is then spelled out in full detail: so that they may not go naked and be shamefully exposed. What one gets, therefore, is something fully biblical in terms of quick shifts of metaphor, all of which together call the reader to a kind of watchfulness that means constant readiness for Christ’s return.
With that in hand, the second part of the interlude simply returns the reader to the narrative of the sixth trumpet, and thus anticipates the Great Battle that is finally narrated in 19:11–21. But as often happens in the narrative, while John’s point seems ready at hand, the grammar can be elusive, so that the English translations, even the so-called literal ones, show considerable ambivalence as to how it should be handled—a difficulty illustrated early on in the copying tradition. The problem for the reader lies not with the words as such, but with what John intended by them, so much so that early scribes tried to alleviate it somewhat by a simple change from a verb in the singular to making it plural. What John (almost certainly) wrote was (as the KJV correctly had it) “and he gathered them together.” At issue is finding a proper antecedent for the singular verb and its direct object, “he gathered them.” Along with other versions, the NIV translators rendered this then they gathered the kings together. In so doing they chose to go with what is by all text-critical judgments a secondary reading, “they” for “he.” But in doing so, the translators failed in any case to alleviate the difficulties as such; who are the “they” and why simply “the kings”?
Although one cannot be certain, the better solution would seem to be to take the text as it stood (apparently) in its original setting, and recognize that John did not intend the ambiguity that resulted. Thus the “he” implied in the (third singular) verb is most likely intended by John to be a verb signaling divine intention. If so, then John probably meant “Christ [or God] gathered them together.” Indeed, in this case most of the issues are resolved if one sees this, in typical fashion for John’s overall narrative, as anticipatory of the Final Battle that will be spelled out in greater detail in the later narrative (19:11–21). After all, this is but the second, in this case very brief, member of a two-part interlude, both parts of which seem intended to anticipate much of the rest of the story. And if this is the way we are in fact to understand it, we are once more confronted with John’s own striking narrative art. This is but another signpost along the way for the big event that will be narrated a little further on.
In many ways the more striking moment is the final one in this brief interlude: that “he [God is almost certainly intended as the unnamed subject of the verb] gathered them together” to the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon. One’s initial response probably should be, “What?” That is, what can possibly be the point both of naming the place as such and then of giving only the Greek form of a Hebrew name? Not only so, but this is in fact the only occurrence of the name in all of Scripture. The very ambiguity of this term has thus called forth considerable speculation, none of which seems immediately pertinent to John’s own point, which is not the place as such, but the greater reality intended by the imagery. The term itself, it should be noted, simply means “Mount Megiddo,” but knowing that is of little help, and in many ways seems very much beside the point since what follows is not the Final Battle at all. When it does appear in 19:11–21, the place itself is quite irrelevant. Most likely, therefore, and without any sense of certainty (!), this is a play on the Hebrew term har mô‘ed (the “mount of assembly”), found in Isaiah 14:13, where the king of Babylon haughtily sits enthroned, but will finally be brought low by Yahweh. If so, then John is possibly using this term to indicate that the Empire will eventually be brought low at the Final Battle by the One who will “come like a thief.” But certainty at this point simply lies beyond us.
The Seventh Bowl (16:17–21)
17The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and out of the temple came a loud voice from the throne, saying, “It is done!” 18Then there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder and a severe earthquake. No earthquake like it has ever occurred since the human race has been on earth, so tremendous was the quake. 19The great city split into three parts, and the cities of the nations collapsed. God remembered Babylon the Great and gave her the cup filled with the wine of the fury of his wrath. 20Every island fled away and the mountains could not be found. 21From the sky huge hailstones of about a hundred pounds each fell upon people. And they cursed God on account of the plague of hail, because the plague was so terrible.
With the action of the seventh angel everything comes crashing down, as it were. What is striking, and in clear contrast to the other angels, is that this one poured out his bowl not on the land or the sun, but simply into the air. Before the results themselves are given, however, John notes first that out of the temple came a loud voice, which in this case came from the throne itself; thus apparently it is the voice of God. The pronouncement is a dramatic one, expressed in the Greek perfect (= already accomplished) tense, which in this case is nearly untranslatable, meaning something like “it has happened”; thus, It is done! By this announcement John probably meant something like, “The end of the Empire and its tyranny against God’s people has now come.” That this is John’s own intent is made plausible by the rest of the description that follows, a description made all the more complex because it seems so clearly to combine earthly and cosmic—and temporal and eschatological—moments together in one dramatic scene. And whatever else, the reader must be reminded that this is intended as imagery pointing to reality, and is neither a precise description nor the express nature of the reality as such. What is being pictured is the overthrow of the Empire as such, not the explicit way it will happen, which lies far beyond the nature of the apocalyptic genre.
The pronouncement itself is followed immediately with the fourth, and final, occurrence of the series:13 flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder and a severe earthquake. The difference in this case is that John’s interest is altogether on the final item in the list. What John pictures, therefore, is an earthquake the likes of which has never occurred since the human race has been on earth, so tremendous was the quake. With these last words, John accomplishes two ends simultaneously: the certainty of God’s coming judgment on the Empire, and the enormity of such a calamity when it does happen. The rest of the passage goes on to spell out the enormity of it in some detail, while making sure on a repeated basis that the reader recognizes the hand of God in all of this.
The next sentence serves as a kind of thesis sentence for the rest of the paragraph: The great city split into three parts, and the cities of the nations collapsed. Here the reader encounters both a puzzling moment (does its being “split into three parts” signify anything?) and a reminder that this final judgment is not just on Rome, but on all other “cities” that have carried out her demonic policies (for example, Alexandria and Carthage would certainly have been in mind). But neither will John allow the reader to hear the details of the judgment without being reminded of its divine origins. Thus the next sentence is the theological key to the whole: God remembered Babylon the Great, whose coming judgment is then spelled out with language that had been anticipated by the cry of the third angel in 14:10: and gave her the cup filled with the wine of the fury of his14 wrath. What follows then combines a prophetic announcement of the temporal judgment of Rome with several apocalyptic images. It begins with the earth itself wherein both islands and mainland are affected. First, every island fled away, of which the Mediterranean Sea has an abundance, including where John himself is in exile; second, the mountains could not be found, thus indicating that God’s judgment on Rome will include a general flattening of the earth itself.
But the judgments here pictured do not stop with their affects on the land and sea; they also include those who have regularly cursed God or simply acted as though God did not exist. Thus, from the sky huge stones of about a hundred pounds each fell upon people. But such judgments, as is often the case, do not lead to repentance but to anger against God, anger that has made its way into English, probably from God-fearing people, so that they are called “acts of God.” In the present case this anger turns to cursing God on account of the plague of hail, to which John adds in his typically repetitive style, because the plague was so terrible.
At this point the reader must be reminded that this is the content of the last of the seven bowls, which do not spell out the judgments themselves. Rather, these serve as preludes to the judgments that follow. These judgments begin with the powerful imagery that comes next, where Rome is imaged as the great, wanton harlot who has seduced the whole (then known) world.
1. See pp. 90–99 and 122–38 above for the discussions of these two prior sets of seven.
2. Whether intentional on John’s part or not, this passage also reflects the promised punishment for disobedience found in Lev 26:21: “If you remain hostile toward me, … I will multiply your afflictions seven times over.”
3. In the English versions of the citations that follow, I have italicized the portions where John’s Greek reflects direct echoes of the Septuagint.
4. From Maltie D. Babcock’s “This Is My Father’s World.”
5. In their Greek order—and grammar—the sentence reads: “And after these things I looked and opened [was] the naos [temple/tabernacle] of the tent of testimony in heaven, and I saw …”. The two genitives “temple” and “tent,” therefore, are best seen as in apposition, as the NIV has it, rather than as one modifying the other in some way.
6. For the probable origin of John’s language here, see Exod 38:21: “… the materials used for the tabernacle, the tabernacle of the covenant law.”
7. The original NIV had a third line in this bicolon, “because you have so judged”; but that seemed to be guesswork on the part of the original translators, and has rightly been removed from the current text.
8. Given the overall Isaianic context of this passage, this language may be an echo of Isa 66:6: “Hear that noise from the temple! It is the sound of the LORD repaying his enemies all they deserve.”
9. “Prophetic” not in the sense of foretelling the future, but of “forthtelling” God’s sure judgments on the enemies of God’s own people.
10. This rendition is the NIV translators’ attempt to make sense of John’s “the angel of the waters,” as it is rendered (literally) in most English versions; the NAB is the only other major English version that goes in the direction of the NIV.
11. Cf. the judgment in Isa 49:26: “[your oppressors] will be drunk on their own blood, as with wine.”
12. This difficulty can be seen by way of a quick survey of some of the more recent translations into English. Most have simply given up and continue to use “saints,” despite the fact that this word is now especially misleading in English. Among the major translations, only the NIV and the NAB (“the holy ones”) have tried to get away from using this misleading English term.
13. See on 4:5; 8:3, and 11:19 above. The order is the same in all but in 8:3, where the first three are in reverse order; and as noted on 11:19 John there adds “a great hailstorm.”
14. It is of passing interest that several later manuscripts (apparently) try to ease this moment somewhat by omitting the pronoun “his.”