One of the most valuable aspects of attending Candler School of Theology has been to study under Dr. Susan E. Hylen. Dr. Hylen is the Charles Howard Candler Professor of New Testament at Candler, as well as the General Editor of the Journal of Biblical Literature.
In my first semester, having not a clue what classes I should take, I took Dr. Hylen’s introduction to the New Testament course. I instantly fell in love with her methods of interpretation and teaching. About midway through the semester, I asked her to be my advisor—to which she agreed.
Of course, the following week, we had class on Halloween. I was working in behavioral health at the time and Terrifier 3 had just released. My plan had long been to dress up as Art the Clown for work that day.
Only… I also had Dr. Hylen’s class, right before I needed to leave. So, I did my makeup before class. Emory is a fairly liberal school—surely I won’t be the only one in a costume. I didn’t even think about it. But I entered that Zoom class, dressed as Art the Clown… and quickly learned I was the only one in any costume whatsoever.
Yikes. And not a mask I could just peel off. Thick, white makeup all over. Even in my beard, which took weeks to wash out. Well, I don’t think anyone in that class will forget me.
Coming from a background that detested the violence and horror associated with Halloween, I feared I made a total ass of myself. It was epic, sure, but it also made me wonder whether I pushed the envelope too far. Art isn’t a family-friendly or faith-friendly character; maybe Frankenstein, but not someone who gleefully mutilates and tortures.
But today, Dr. Hylen is my advisor. Not only that, but she has had some level of involvement in all my research at Candler. She’s been profoundly foundational in my development both as a scholar and as a person. And reflecting upon her approach to the Book of Revelation, I find a very helpful approach to interpreting the violence in the Bible. The question isn’t whether violence works as imagery—it does. The question is what it does to us when we live inside it.
Violence is Necessary… Sometimes
A horror movie is rarely ever scary without some level of violence. A war movie would fail to be evocative without it. In art, violence is often necessary. No, I do not mean artists should be stabbing each other with their paintbrushes but… you get the point.
So many of our favorite films and books, even for those who do not like horror, rely on violence. Imagine what The Hunger Games would be like without violence. Extremely boring, right? Now let’s try that with Judges. If we ripped Judges 19 out of the book, does the Bible become more presentable? Does God suddenly appear nicer?
The answer is yes. And that is exactly why it is problematic.
Dr. Hylen raises a similar issue in Revelation. She states that the violent imagery in Revelation matters because “it shapes the imaginations of those who enter into John’s worldview.”1 So much so, she argues, that the violent imagery of Revelation shapes how the interpreter perceives the both the content and the message. Just as my Art the Clown makeup forced my classmates to see me through a specific, albeit disturbing (albeit honest, in some metaphoric way), lens, John’s violent metaphors frame how we see the divine.
But there’s a catch…
There is a reason those of my previous context struggle to make sense of the violence in Revelation. The issue lies, in this case especially, in literal interpretation. To understand the violence of the Bible, one MUST let go of the idea that “this is gonna happen because God said so.” There is a literalist way around the issue of violence in Revelation, but it requires one to be less Christ-like.
The workaround is to believe that Christians will not experience or witness these events … as if Jesus promised his followers a pain-free life… So, a cheat code was created. That is, if you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you will be magically plucked from the earth before the mayhem of Revelation starts. Hylen critiques this literalism in Revelation, noting that interpretations such as the infamous Left Behind series often result in a zero-sum game where there must be clear winners and losers. This fuels the “us versus them” mindset.
The way around this is to not cheat. It is to read the text as it is—a text. A text with literary techniques and devices, such as repetition, juxtaposition, and in this case, metaphor. Here’s a helpful, authoritative definition of “metaphor”:
a figure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them (as in swimming in paperwork) ~ Merriam-Webster, “Metaphor“
One does not literally swim in paperwork. I don’t need to tell you this, I hope. One does, however, need a way of expressing the fact that they have a lot of paperwork to complete. “I have a lot of paperwork to finish.” Boring. Dry. But swimming or drowning in paperwork? Congratulations, you have now forced your listener to construct a mental image just to understand your pain.
Hylen argues that metaphors aren’t just fancy ways of talking; they are how we reason. When we use the language of the battlefield—conquering, defeating, winning, etc.—we aren’t just describing a future event; we are trapping our minds in the logic of war.
So why must we read Revelation, or any biblical text, literally? Why is it imperative to believe that everything in Revelation will happen exactly as John describes it, now some 2000 years later? I would love to hear some genuine answers to these questions. My personal answer is, bluntly, denial.
Texts generate different meanings in different contexts—not infinitely, but genuinely. This, I find, is definitive of true art. If there was one, universally accepted meaning, we would have no interest whatsoever. The ambiguity draws us in and keeps us coming back.
Conclusion
The Bible is full of violent imagery, especially in the apocalyptic/eschatological literature. I will admit that it’s a sensitive topic for me. The violence in Amos, namely, is what sealed my shift to agnosticism. That becomes a matter of personal faith, not research. I cannot rationalize a loving God who murders the innocent… but again, this is a personal claim, not an academic one.
So it’s a sensitive topic, for myself and countless others. But it should be. When we are debating the violence of scripture, I somehow find tiny glimmers of hope for humankind. I am reminded that these things matter to others. I am reminded that ethics are not totally dead. And I am reminded that some don’t resort to screaming, “Evil doesn’t actually exist!“
Metaphor enables us to embrace creativity in our interpretations. When I dressed up as Art the Clown, I did not become Art the Clown. I did not commit any of his crimes. But I did say something about myself: I enjoy looking at the uncomfortable. Whether that be in horror films or the darker sections of the Bible we often fear, part of wisdom is learning to find beauty in the rage and violence of life.
If the violence of Revelation is off-putting to you, good. It should upset you because it is evocative. And that evocation sparks curiosity. The curiosity to imagine a world not marred by hebel or evil, but thriving with love and hope.
- Susan Hylen, “Metaphor Matters: Violence and Ethics in Revelation,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly (73, 2011): 780. ↩︎