Some people interpret the book of Revelation as if it were so many tea leaves. Invariably, the verses converge at the bottom of their cups to reveal references to current political leaders and dire predictions of disaster. This approach to the book’s interpretation has devoted followers (like the gentlemen who questioned me about the book at the dog park – you can listen to that story, starting at minute 53:43, on YouTube). But many Christians, including a healthy percentage of Presbyterians, are uncomfortable with such conjurings and too often allow the book to fall into disuse. Skittish about its misinterpretations, repulsed by the way it has been appropriated by Hollywood to inspire horror films, and uncomfortable by those Christians who are most passionate about the book – we treat it like Bruno from Disney’s Encanto – we don’t talk about it (If you’ve missed Encanto and the song, We Don’t Talk about Bruno – follow the link and give it a listen!).
 
If Christians has a keener sense of Revelation as book of comfort, we might not be so reluctant to read it. Penned in the context of persecution, St. John the Divine’s vision of the consummation of Christ’s Kingdom seeks to reassure its readers that no matter how bad things get, God’s justice will ultimately prevail.
 
Nowhere is this message more apparent that in Revelation 6: 9 – 11:
“When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slaughtered for the word of God and for the testimony they had given; they cried out with a loud voice, “Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the earth?” They were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number would be complete both of their fellow servants and of their brothers and sisters, who were soon to be killed as they themselves had been killed.”
 
In these verses John describes the souls of the martyrs crying out for justice. “How long?” they plead with the Lord. “How long will it before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the earth?”
 
Ok, so the theme of comfort isn’t immediately obvious. Cries for vengeance rarely make 21^st century Christians “comfort-able.” If we try to hear the passage with 1^st century ears, however, it may sound a bit different. If you knew that you might be called up to bear witness to your faith with you life, and more than that, through a horrible death, wouldn’t this cry for vengeance sound forth from your heart as well? It is no coincidence that the Greek word for “witness” is martus, a term that even in the 1^st century was well on its way to becoming the technical term “martyr.” Christianity was a capital offense in those days, and many believers bore witness to it with their lives.
 
Let’s listen again for the comfort. First, the martyrs are depicted as being “under the altar” of God. While this might strike us as being an undesirable place (like being “swept under the rug” in modern lingo), there is, in fact, no place nearer to the heart of God for the ancient Christian. Picking up on Old Testament images of the altar as a place of sanctuary (read 1 Kings 1: 49 – 53 for a sample), this picture presents the martyrs as awaiting the resurrection in a place where no harm can possibly come to them. They are, literally, under the protection of the Most High God: “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.” (Ps. 84:3). The location also puts their deaths in the proper perspective. It reveals that their lives were not so much taken as sacrificed, that their blood was a symbol of life rather than death.
 
The martyrs’ cry for vengeance has it comforting aspects as well. The Greek word that is usually translated as “avenge” also means “procure justice for.” It is justice the martyrs long for, justice for themselves and, by extension, for all who have suffered unjustly throughout the ages. The moment for which the martyrs long is the one for which all long. It is that moment when the world will know that God is not some sort of absentee landlord, oblivious to all that is going on. The martyrs’ cry reminds us that, in spite of all appearances, there will be a day when justice will “roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:24).
 
It says something about the faith of these martyrs that they do not ask “whether” God’s justice will win out, but “how long” will it be until it does. Ever after enduring unspeakable horrors at the hands of their persecutors, they still bear witness to a God who is holy and true. This may be the most important message from the martyrs. In a world where murder no longer merits the front page, where the eyes of the innocents look out at us from scene after scene of gun violence and cry “how long?” it is important for us to be reminded that God does not sit dispassionately by. If we ever needed proof of it, we need only look to Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, who mingled his own blood with that of the martyrs.
 
Peace,
--Tony