January 2021 – Liz Cooledge Jenkins

Thyatira & MLK Day

This is (a fairly literal translation of) the rest of what Jesus has to say to the church in Thyatira ― continuing from last week’s post about Jezebel. Revelation 2:24-29 reads:

(24) I say to y’all, to the rest of the ones in Thyatira, as many as do not have this teaching, whoever did not know the deep things of the satan, as they say: I throw no other burden on y’all, (25) except that what y’all have, y’all grasp, until whenever I will have come. (26) And the one who conquers and the one who keeps my works until (the) end, I will give to him/her power over the nations, (27) and he/she will shepherd them with an iron staff, as the potter’s vessel is broken to pieces, (28) as I also have received from my father, and I will give him/her the morning star. (29) The one who has ears, let him/her hear what the spirit says to the churches.

There’s a lot going on here, but I’m interested in the part where Jesus says, I throw no other burden on y’all, except that what y’all have, y’all grasp, until whenever I will have come (v. 24-5). Or, as the NIV puts it, I will not impose any other burden on you, except to hold on to what you have until I come. Jesus says, I don’t want to add any more weight to the things you’re already carrying. I just want you to remember and hold onto the things you already have. I want you to remember and keep doing the things you already know to do.

I’m thinking about these words, today, in relation to our national holiday in recognition of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Toward the end of last week, my awesome pastor Lina Thompson wrote this on Facebook in anticipation of today: “Bracing myself for the barrage of MLK Jr. quotes that are sure to fill our feeds on Monday. I’d rather white folks embody his words.”

Then, earlier today, I saw a Facebook post from a Fuller classmate (and now fellow M.Div. grad!), September Penn. It was this quote from Dr. King: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends” ― along with this reflection from September: “Folks have indeed been silent. Some will probably share an obligatory post today as their good deed in honoring Dr. King. Instead of doing so, try actually reading his words and learning from his life. The very man that we celebrate today was hated by much of society while he lived. Just saying.”

What I hear both Lina and September saying is that the anti-racist work that is needed goes much deeper than giving a social media shout-out to Dr. King on MLK Day once a year. Honoring Dr. King’s life and work and prophetic brilliance has to go beyond taking some of his more-palatable-to-white-people quotes and posting them on Facebook.

Racial equality is not going to happen just because white people learn to say some of the right things. Especially just once a year, when it’s popular and convenient to do so.

What I hear Lina and September saying is that there is so much more work to be done, and it’s year-round, daily work. We need to learn how to embody Dr. King’s radical vision of equality in our whole lives. Even, and especially, when it is ― as it was in Dr. King’s day, and often is now ― very unpopular and very inconvenient.

Sometimes I feel like, when it comes to things like racism and racial justice, we white people love to learn. Or maybe, more precisely, we like to feel like we know things. And we like other people to know that we know things.

Some of this isn’t necessarily bad. When it comes to the structurally racist history and present-day reality of the U.S., most of us white people have plenty to learn. It’s important for us to read and think, to seek out books and articles and podcasts by people of color, to shut up and listen and try to better understand experiences we haven’t had.

At the same time, what good is knowing lots of things, if we’re not living them out? I’m reminded of what James wrote: it’s like looking into a mirror and then going away and immediately forgetting what we look like (James 1:22-25).

The point of learning more about racism is not to be able to prove that we know things, that we’re among the “good” white people (unlike those ignorant, racist white people over there), or that we’re woke.

The point is to embody more fully a recognition of the humanity of all people and the kinship that we share. The point is to learn to live in ways that are more just, that better honor the dignity of our siblings of color. The point is to move, together, toward building communities of equals ― as Dr. King would say, beloved communities.

Maybe this MLK Day ― and, more importantly, in the days and months and years to come ― we can learn to honor Dr. King by holding onto the things we already know. There is so much to learn, but there are also plenty of basic things we already know, about what the world is like now, and what a more just world could look like in the future.

Maybe we don’t need the additional weight and burden of always trying to know more ― and appear less racist ― than other white people. Maybe we just need to, as Jesus told the church in Thyatira, grasp onto what we have. Live out what we do know. Embody, as Lina wrote, Dr. King’s words. Learn, as September wrote, from Dr. King’s life.

I’m not sure what to think of the deep things of satan (v. 24), or the iron staff and the broken pottery (v. 27), or the morning star (v. 28) ― but I think it’s enough, today, to grasp onto what I do know, and to seek to live it out more fully.

Some feminist-ish musings on Jezebel

Revelation 2:18-23 reads, literally translated, something like this:

(18) And to the angel of the church in Thyatira, write: these things says the child of God, the one who has eyes like flames of fire and feet like burnished bronze: (19) I know your works and love and faith and service, and your steadfast endurance, and your last works (are) greater than the first ones. (20) But I have against you that you put up with the woman Jezebel, the one who calls herself a prophet and teaches and leads my servants astray to fornicate and to eat food sacrificed to idols. (21) And I gave her time, that she might repent, and she does not wish to repent from her fornication. (22) Behold, I throw her on a sick-bed, and the ones who commit adultery with her into a great affliction, if they do not repent from her works, (23) and I will kill her children with death. And all the churches will know that I am the one who searches innermost thoughts and hearts, and I will give to y’all each according to y’all’s works.

This is the first half of what Jesus says to the church in Thyatira, according to John’s vision. (I’ll get to the second half next week.) There’s a lot going on here, and, as usual, I don’t intend to try to speak about all of it. But I do have some thoughts about Jezebel.

Basically, I think it’s kind of bonkers that the idea of Jezebel ― of a female false prophet who leads people astray, or, really, just any woman cast as troublesome or villainous ― has become such an outsized religious and cultural image since biblical times.

For many (Western male) writers, preachers, and other people-whom-people-listen-to, Jezebel has been a go-to label for a woman who does not fit the confines of what is considered (by men in power) to be respectable and good, demure and feminine. Additionally, in some usages, it has been a racially-specific stereotype directed at Black women to further their intersectional oppression. It is also a label that has been reclaimed by some feminists who see the biblical Jezebel as a sort of icon of female empowerment.

Reading this passage in the context of what Jesus has to say to the other three churches before this one ― which I’ve been reflecting on in my last three posts (“Jesus, Pergamum, and Trumpism,” “From Jesus, to those who are suffering,” and “Where is the love?”) ― makes it pretty clear that the actual New Testament reference to Jezebel really has nothing to do with gender.

It’s not her female-ness that’s important; rather, it’s the content of her teaching. And the reference to fornication, or prostitution, or sexual immorality, or however you want to translate πορνεύω, is likely a metaphor for idol-worship and general unfaithfulness to the ways of the God of love and justice ― not a literal reference to female sexuality.

Jesus rails here against the teachings of Jezebel; in previous passages, he railed in a similar way against the teachings of Balaam (2:14) and of the Nicolaitans (2:15, also mentioned in 2:6). We don’t get any specifics about the teachings of the Nicolaitans, but we do know that the teachings of Balaam involved eating food sacrificed to idols and committing fornication (2:14) ― the exact same description as we get of Jezebel’s teachings in v. 20.

To be fair, Jezebel has quite a history in the Old Testament (see 1 Kings 16-21) ― but then again, so does Balaam (see Numbers 22-24). And Balaam is referenced three times in the New Testament, by three different New Testament writers: here, in 2 Peter 2:15, and in Jude 11. Jezebel is mentioned only this once.

And yet, (Western) men have latched onto the idea of Jezebel as an image of the kind of wicked woman who clearly needs to be brought under (male) control ― while Balaam, as far as I can tell, has been kind of ignored. No one sees a male leader doing something immoral and thinks, “ah, another Balaam,” or, “clearly this is why men should not be given power.”

I’m also kind of interested in the simple fact that ― assuming “Jezebel” is being used here as a sort of code name for an actual woman who was teaching and misleading people ― this means that there was an actual woman who was actually teaching and leading people in Thyatira, and people were actually listening to and following her. Bummer that the people of Thyatira were being led to do bad things and believe things that weren’t true ― just as the people of Pergamum were, likewise, by “Balaam” ― but good for them for at least being open to seeing women as spiritual authorities.

It seems that, in some ways, late first century Christians weren’t really hung up on questions about whether women should be teaching and preaching and leading. (So much for our convenient myths of progress.) It’s kind of encouraging, in a way ― to think that, if this kind of church community where women taught and led freely could exist two thousand years ago, surely more of these kinds of church communities could be built today.

(By the way, if anyone says that it wasn’t a good thing that the people of Thyatira were willing to listen to and follow Jezebel, I would like to reiterate this: the fact that she was a false teacher had nothing to do with her gender. If we say that women should not lead because Jezebel led poorly, we also have to say that men should not lead because Balaam led poorly.)

I don’t exactly want to look to the biblical Jezebel as a role model ― although I don’t fault other feminists for looking for strong women in the Bible amidst a religious tradition in which strong women are often ignored or downplayed, and finding her. At the same time, I really don’t want to, in the language of v. 20, “put up with” people trying to use this passage to imply something about women in general that it absolutely does not, or using Jezebel language to shame and silence women who step up and speak up in ways men in power don’t like.

Perhaps the image of Jezebel and the ways it has been used are the things that now need to be, in the literally-translated words of v. 23, “killed with death.”

Jesus, Pergamum, and Trumpism

Continuing in the book of Revelation, here’s a pretty literal translation of 2:12-17:

(12) And to the angel of the church in Pergamum, write: these things says the one who has the sharp two-edged sword: (13) I know where you dwell, where the throne of Satan (is), and you are grasping my name and did not deny my faith, even in the days of Antipas my witness, my faithful one, who was killed in y’all’s presence, where Satan dwells. (14) But I have against you a few things: that you have, there, ones who are grasping the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to throw a cause of stumbling before the children of Israel, to eat things sacrificed to idols and to prostitute themselves. (15) In this manner you also likewise have ones who are grasping the teaching of the Nicolaitans. (16) Repent, therefore; but if not, I am coming to you quickly, and I will make war with them in the sword of my mouth. (17) The one who has ears, let him/her hear what the spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers, I will give to him/her the Manna that has been hidden, and I will give to him/her a white pebble, and on the pebble a new name has been written, which no one knows except the one who takes (it).

It feels relevant―as, just a few hours ago, a mob of Trump supporters, many of whom are quick to voice their Christian religious affiliation, violently stormed the U.S. Capitol Building―that this passage is all about a church where people grasp tightly to the name of Jesus (v. 13), while some of them also grasp just as tightly to the false and harmful teachings of Balaam (v. 14) and the Nicolaitans (v. 15).

Since the language of “grasping” Jesus’ name, or “grasping” different kinds of religious teachings, isn’t necessarily the most natural-sounding thing in English, I don’t blame various translations for using different words here. The NIV, for example, speaks of “remaining true” to Jesus’ name, and of “holding” to the various false teachings. The (more literal) NRSV and ESV speak of “holding fast” to Jesus’ name, and, like the NIV, of “holding” to the teachings of Balaam and the Nicolaitans.

There are lots of ways one could reasonably translate this Greek word for “I grasp,” which is κρατέω. “Hold” or “hold fast” are definitely among them, and “remain true” also seems like a reasonable interpretation. Other options include “seize,” “retain,” “keep,” or “take hold of.”

It feels important to me, though, that it’s the same Greek word that is used each time. Jesus commends his hearers in Pergamum for “grasping” his name…and then expresses frustration toward some of them for―just as easily, in the same sort of way―“grasping” onto teachings Jesus wants nothing to do with. They’re holding fast to Jesus’ name, which is awesome…but they’re also holding just as fast to some messed up stuff, which is not awesome.

I get the sense that these churchgoers in ancient Pergamum were as highly dedicated to their faith as could be―and, at the same time, one hundred percent wrong about what the actual content of that faith entails. They refused to deny Jesus’ name, even when one of them was killed for it (v. 13)―and yet when it came down to what Jesus was actually about and what he wants for his followers, they were all over the place. They were doing and promoting all sorts of things Jesus never wanted them to do or promote.

Some of them, perhaps, were not all that different from the people who carried “Jesus 2020” signs as they stormed the Capitol Building today. (For context, the “Jesus 2020” sign seems to be the sort of thing that was originally conceived as non-political, but, of course, has become pretty Trump-y in the meanwhile.)

It doesn’t take a highly trained biblical scholar to recognize that the things Trump says and does tend to be the polar opposite of everything Jesus said and did. And yet, there are those who grasp the name of Jesus tightly, and also grasp Trumpism just as tightly.

As I read about Jesus speaking to the church in Pergamum, I wonder if he might speak to these Christian Trump-followers in a similar way.

He might begin with some compliments―and sincere ones (as unnatural as this might sound to a lot of us who oppose Trump and Trumpism). He might say, as he says in v. 13: I see your willingness to stand up for what you believe in, even in the face of a lot of opposition and pressure to do otherwise. I see your loyalty―how you want to hold tightly onto my name in the midst of a rapidly changing world.

I think Jesus would resist the urge to dehumanize these people―even if they have done plenty of dehumanizing of their own. I think he would speak to them with respect and dignity.

And then Jesus would get down to it. He might say, I have a few things against you (v. 14). He might spell out the ways in which Trumpism is directly opposed to Jesus’ own teaching. He would call them to repent (v. 16). He would invite them to change their minds, to turn around and walk a different path.

He might even add: it’s not too late. Repentance doesn’t need to be shameful. It’s okay to admit you were wrong. Repentance can be freeing and awesome. There is grace. You don’t have to keep grasping to the things you’ve been taught, or your family believes, or your pastor keeps saying. You can choose a different way.

And then he would let them know he’s serious. He might tell them: Trumpism is freaking dangerous, destructive, and deadly. If you don’t repent, there will be consequences. I will come to you in judgment (v. 16). You can’t keep grasping my name and also grasping these hideous things that are no part of me at all. That’s not how this works. I want better for you than that, and I want better for all the people who are harmed by these teachings you’ve followed.

Just as he would resist the urge to treat these people disrespectfully, I think Jesus would also resist the urge to excuse the path they’ve taken and pretend like it’s okay. I don’t think he would pretend that Trumpism is just another valid political view―something we can set aside when we come to church, so we can all sing How Great is Our God together like one big happy family. I think Jesus would speak to these people clearly, seriously, and urgently. Repent, or I am coming to you with a sharp two-edged sword.

As v. 17 says, whoever has ears, let them hear.