12. St. John In Patmos.

ST. JOHN IN PATMOS.

XLIII.

St. John slips, in characteristic silence, out of the Book of Acts; and the information which we obtain of his subsequent life is scanty in the extreme. In one of St. Paul’s epistles he is mentioned; and we are happy from this notice to learn that the two great teachers of Christianity met at least once face to face. Paul calls John one of the pillars of the church, the others at that time being St. Peter and St. James. This was when the headquarters of Christianity were still at Jerusalem. In Jerusalem St. John is believed to have remained till the death of the Virgin Mary, loyally and lovingly fulfilling the charge which the Saviour had imposed on him with his dying breath. When released from this duty by her decease, he no doubt went forth like the other apostles to evangelize the world; but in what direction he turned his steps we have no information. For a considerable number of years our record of his life is an absolute blank.

There is, in one of the writings of St. Augustine, some shadow of a statement that he went to the Parthians; but it appears to be founded only on the mistranslation of a word in one of St. John’s own writings. There is also a tradition of his being in Rome; and two well-known traditions are connected with this supposed residence in the eternal city. It is told that during one of the persecutions he was cast into a caldron of boiling oil, but came out unharmed; and it is also affirmed that he was given to drink a poisoned cup, but when he drank it no ill effect ensued, because the poison had taken itself away in the shape of a serpent. In mediaeval art this scene is frequently represented, St. John appearing as a beautiful youth with a cup in his hand, out of which a serpent is escaping. But legends of this sort carry on their face their own refutation.

Putting such traditions aside, we have satisfactory information that he appeared in Asia Minor. This is the statement of Irenaeus, who must have known the fact perfectly well, because he was a disciple of Polycarp, the martyr bishop of Hierapolis, and Polycarp was a disciple of John. The latter part of St. John’s life was spent in this region; and the city with which the unanimous tradition of early times associates him is Ephesus. This city was situated on the AEgean coast, and it was one of the great centres of human life in that age; for Christianity, at its inception, had a predilection for large cities, whence its influence might radiate into the regions with which they were connected. Ephesus contained a great population and was a place of enormous wealth and activity. St. John may have been inspired by the aspect of its busy quays and streets when he thus described the traffic of the mystic Babylon: “The merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and thyine wood and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass and iron and marble, and cinnamon, and odors, and ointment, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men.” The last awful words suggest—what was the fact—that it was an extremely wicked city. Shakespeare’s account of an imaginary Ephesus, in the beginning of the Comedy of Errors, is too true a description of the real ancient Ephesus:

“They say this town is full of cozenage, As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, Soul-killing witches that deform the body, Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such like liberties of sin.” Being connected by both land and sea with Syria and the countries beyond, it swarmed with those professors of black arts whom the East in that age poured in multitudes into the great cities of the West; and these preyed on the strangers from every shore who entered the harbor. The centre, however, of degradation was the temple of Diana. This was reckoned one of the seven wonders of the world. It was larger than any known structure of the kind; it had one hundred and twenty-seven pillars, each of which was the gift of a king; it contained masterpieces in both sculpture and painting of the greatest artists of antiquity, such as Phidias and Appelles; its worship was maintained by innumerable priests and priestesses; and its votaries could boast that Asia and the whole world worshipped its divinity.

Obviously this was a place where the Gospel was urgently needed; and before it was visited by St. John the work of its evangelization had been vigorously begun. It had been the chief centre of the third missionary journey of the apostle Paul, who had devoted to it three whole years. At the end of that time he was violently driven forth; but his work remained, and St. John, when he arrived, entered on the heritage left by his predecessor.

There is good reason to believe that St. Paul had not only established Christianity in Ephesus, but planted churches in the regions round about. Behind Ephesus, in the valleys of the Hermus, Cayster, and Maeander, there lay a number of important cities, such as Smyrna, Pergamos and Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea; and to these the Christian movement, if active in Ephesus, could hardly fail to penetrate. It had penetrated to them; and when St. John reached Ephesus he not only found the foundations laid in that city on which he might build, but a sphere of influence open to him in the surrounding places. This he would no doubt extend and develop, and we find him, in the opening chapters of the Book of Revelation, exercising a pastoral oversight not only over Ephesus, but also over the neighboring towns, evidently with a minute and sympathetic knowledge of the circumstances of every one of them.

XLIV.

There is only one incident of the latter half of St. John’s life of which we have a complete account; and we owe the vivid picture to his own hand. It is an account of his call to be a Christian writer. A speaker for Christ he had long been; but his writing was far to exceed in importance his speaking; and he received a special call to it. The circumstances are very fully given, and they are worthy of attention.

He was “in the isle called Patmos.” This is an island at no great distance from Ephesus, one of the group, called the Sporades, scattered at this part of the coast over the surface of the AEgean. It is only a few miles in length, and is rocky and rugged in configuration; but travellers speak with enthusiasm of its beauty, when it is seen in a favorable light where it sleeps upon the lovely sea. It has a few hundred inhabitants, but it is a lonely spot.

St. John says that he was on this island “for the Word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ;” which may only mean that he was providentially led there to receive by inspiration the Word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ; but more probably the generally accepted interpretation is correct, that he was banished to this place for preaching God’s Word and for his loyalty to Christ; because in the same breath he declares himself to be brother and companion in tribulation to those who are persecuted. Lonely islands were in that age favorite places of banishment; and Patmos may well have been used for this purpose by the authorities of Ephesus. What they intended, however, for evil turned out, through the overruling providence of God, to be for infinite good. Possibly in Ephesus St. John had been working so hard that he had little time to think and no time to write; but, when banished to this solitude, he found ample leisure. So it was when Milton’s public life was violently ended by the death of Cromwell, and his outward activity limited by his blindness, that he mused the greatest epic of the world; and it is indirectly to those who kept Bunyan for twelve years in Bedford jail that we owe the Pilgrim’s Progress. Prison literature has greatly enriched mankind, and at the head of all such products we must place the Book of Revelation.

Such was the place where the call came. The time was the “Lord’s day.” This is the only passage in Scripture where this now well-known name occurs; but, when we compare it with such a phrase as “the Lord’s Supper,” and when we read how the Christians came together for worship on the first day of the week, or on the same day laid by in store their gifts for poor saints, there can be no mistake to what it refers. The day of the week on which the Lord rose from the dead was already esteemed a sacred day by Christians, and in the mind of Christian Jews, like St. John, the sacredness of the Sabbath had in all probability been transferred to it.

How St. John was employed on such a day we can without difficulty guess. He was praying, no doubt. He might be reading the Word of God. We may even make a shrewd guess at the portion of Scripture he was studying; for the Book of Revelation is steeped in the spirit and imagery of the Book of Daniel. It exhibits many traces also of another book, not in the canon of Scripture—the apocryphal Book of Enoch—and this also the apostle may have had on the island with him. He was thinking with love and intense concern of the churches under his charge, from access to which he was for the time debarred; as other exiles—Knox for example, when in Geneva, or Rutherford, when banished from Anwoth— have passionately longed for their congregations. He was thinking, too, of “the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world;” for, whether his banishment took place, as is differently reported, in the reign of Nero or in that of Domitian, it was an evil time, when the ravening wolves of persecution had been let loose and threatened to annihilate Christ’s little flock.

Such was St. John’s situation on the Lord’s day on the lonely isle of Patmos, when his absorption deepened into the prophetic trance, or, as he puts it, he was “in the Spirit;” and then he was made acquainted with his divine vocation.

XLV. The divine call was addressed first to the ear and then to the eye.

First, he heard behind him “a great voice, as of a trumpet.” This expressed the desire of Him from whom the voice came to speak through means of the apostle: he had a message which he wished to ring like a trumpet round the world. This was further indicated by what the voice proceeded to say: “I am Alpha and Omega.” These are the first and the last letters of the Greek alphabet; therefore they are the beginning and ending of all that can be written in the Greek language. And so is Christ himself the sum and substance of all which his messengers have to deliver to the world: with him they have to begin, and with him they have to end. But there could be no mistake in the interpretation of the symbol, because the voice proceeded to instruct St. John that he was to write a book, the contents of which would be divinely communicated to him, and he was ordered to send it to the churches of the province of Asia, which were under his superintendence. So far the revelation addressed itself to the ear; but a much greater impression was produced through the avenue of the inner eye, to which there was presented nothing less than a vision of the glorified Head of the church.

Turning round to see, as he expresses it, the voice which talked with him, he saw One like unto the Son of man in the midst of seven golden candlesticks, or rather lampstands. These candlesticks were explained to him as symbols of the seven churches of the province of Asia; and the symbolism was appropriate, for were not these churches lights shining in dark places by holding forth the illumination of divine truth? But in order to serve this purpose they required to be trimmed and supplied with oil; and this was why He whom John saw was standing or walking in the midst of them. He was watching and passing from one to another to see that their light did not go out.

Such was his work; but St. John proceeds in sublime terms to describe his aspect.

He was “clothed with a garment down to the feet, and girt about the breast with a golden girdle.” The word employed for “garment” is the name for a priestly robe, so that it was in the character of priest that this superhuman Figure presented himself. Perhaps it is to the priestly character also that the next two traits apply. “His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow.” This has been supposed to indicate venerable age, but it is more likely that it is a symbol of priestly purity. And the other trait—“His eyes were as a flame of fire”—denotes the keenness with which he seeks for purity in others.

Two other traits appear to bring out rather his kingly character—the one, that “His feet were like fine brass,” and the other, that “He had in his right hand seven stars.” Feet of brass should be symbols of solid and irresistible strength, whether used for bearing weight imposed from above or for treading down opposition. There is no burden which the friends of Christ can lay upon him which he is not able to sustain; and, on the other hand, there is no force which his enemies can bring against him which he is not able to trample under foot. Woe to the opponent who feels on his neck the weight of the feet which are of fine brass ! In what form the seven stars appeared in the right hand of this Figure we can only conjecture. Some have supposed them to have been set like precious stones in a ring worn on his finger or in a bracelet on his wrist, but this is perhaps too precise. These stars are afterwards described as the angels of the seven churches, by which we are to understand the authorities presiding over them. These “angels” had the churches in their hands, but they themselves were held in the right hand of Christ, as the authorities of all churches must ever be if they are to have any true success. The two traits that have still to be mentioned may, perhaps, be said to set forth the prophetic character of Him who is here described. His voice was “as the sound of many waters.” As there is no sound so mystic and subduing as the manifold voice of ocean, and as this voice murmurs upon every shore and envelops the world, so is the prophetic word of Christ intended to reach all men, and when it comes with the power of the Spirit it is irresistible. “Out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword”—this is the other prophetic trait. Perhaps it ought rather to be regarded as kingly, for the sword intended is that of the Judge, who will separate men at the last and recompense them according to their deeds. But it also inevitably recalls the Word of God, which is “quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword.” The two meanings are not far apart, for Christ said himself in regard to everyone who heard him: “The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him at the last day.” The final trait of the description is, “His countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength.” Perhaps it ought rather to be “His aspect.” It was not the face alone of this wonderful Figure, but his whole person, that emitted a dazzling light: he stood in a circle of glory; and this was as intense as the midday sun.

XLVI. In some features of this description—especially the two-edged sword proceeding out of the mouth—we recognize the peculiarity of the Hebrew imagination, to which the harmony of one part of a picture with another was not a necessity, as it was to the mind of the Greek. Thoroughly to enjoy St. John’s description we should have to translate some portions of his imagery into their Greek equivalents, so as to render the whole harmonious as a single visual perception. But there is no doubt that this is one of the most impressive visions which the Word of God contains.

What surprises us is the discrepancy between it and the Christ of St. John’s memory. One would have expected that if in the vision he saw his beloved Master again the form would have been a glorified reproduction of the figure with which he had been so familiar in the days of Christ’s flesh. We dare not, however, regard what he saw in Patmos merely as an image projected from his own imagination; on the contrary, it was a figure cast on the internal mirror from the outside; and the reason why it was so different from the Jesus of St. John’s memory may have been because the apostle required an entirely new conception of his Master, answering to the distance to which He had removed and the state of glory into which He had entered. This may have been necessary, to impress the mind of St. John with the proper sense of His greatness. At all events, the impression which the vision did produce was profound. As St. Paul, when the Lord Jesus appeared to him in glory on the way to Damascus, fell to the ground and was struck blind for a season, so St. John when this vision flashed upon him fell down like a dead man. But the divine Figure at whose feet he had fallen, bending over him, touched him with his hand. This was the hand that held the seven stars, yet it could give a light and comforting touch; for, glorious and terrible as is the exalted One, yet is he that gentle Jesus who blessed the children and was the Friend of sinners. He proceeded to rally his prostrate servant with comfortable words; and then he instructed him that this vision was a divine preparation for the disclosure of the mystery which was still hidden, but which the book to be penned by him was to reveal to the world. In many respects this experience of St. John bears a striking resemblance to the visions by which the prophetic career of Old Testament prophets, like Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, was inaugurated. The peculiarity in this case, as has been already noted, is that the scene did not take place at the commencement of his career as a man of God, but in the middle of it, at the time when he was about to enter upon the work of a writer. This casts an interesting light on the writings of St. John. As far as we are informed, the literary activity of no other New Testament writer was inaugurated with any such ceremony and solemnity; indeed, many of the New Testament writings rather produce the impression that their authors were unconscious of the extraordinary place to which the productions of their pens were destined. But in St. John this came to complete consciousness, and he knew when he put pen to paper that he was doing a momentous work for both God and man.

There is, however, a more general lesson: and it is one specially adapted to our own times. The prevalence of writing is one of the characteristics of the present age, and the printed page is every day becoming a greater influence in shaping the thoughts and the conduct of mankind. Through it the voice of Christ can be made to sound like a trumpet, or, like the voice of many waters, to murmur round the globe. Writing, therefore, no less than preaching, may be a service done to Christ, and it ought to be carried on with the same purity of motive and the same devotion. Nor ought the sense of responsibility to be confined to religious writing. For good or evil, no influence goes deeper than that of written words, whether they appear in letter, journal, book, or any other form; and, as in every activity of life it is the duty of a Christian man to aim at the glory of God, so in this one also ought Jesus Christ to be the Alpha and the Omega.