Letters Of Gold

"Are ye ashamed to be corrected? This is the vice of the proud. It is, forsooth, a degradation for learned men to pass from the school of Plato to the discipleship of Christ, who by His Spirit taught a fisherman to think and to say, 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.' The old saint Simplicianus, afterwards bishop of Milan, used to tell me that a certain Platonist was in the habit of saying that this opening passage of the holy gospel, entitled, According to John, should be written in letters of gold, and hung up in all churches in the most conspicuous place. But the proud scorn to take God for their Master, because 'the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.' So that, with these miserable creatures, it is not enough that they are sick, but they boast of their sickness, and are ashamed of the medicine which could heal them. And, doing so, they secure not elevation, but a more disastrous fall." (Augustine, The City Of God, 10:29)

The Light Of The World, In Word And Deed

One way to judge the historicity of something is by whether it's reported in multiple types of contexts. For example:

"Multiple forms. This criterion should not be confused with multiple attestation. Instead of appealing to a similar episode in independent traditions (à la multiple attestation), the criterion of multiple forms appeals to similar content that is featured in different kinds of genre. If similar content appears in a saying and also in a parable, or if similar content appears in the narration of Jesus' actions and also in dispute dialogue, this criterion is warranted. For example, Jesus' respect for John the Baptist appears both in logia and in the narration of his baptism. This, of course, does not speak to the historicity of the final form of these sayings/stories, it merely indicates that such respect was remembered of Jesus' historical life and ministry." (Anthony Le Donne, The Historiographical Jesus [Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2009], 89-90)

In thy light we see light

A lot of stuff I post on Triablogue is out of duty rather than personal satisfaction. The culture war stuff. Atheism. Catholicism, Islam. And so on. It's necessary to write about these things.

But sometimes I write about things I personally care about. Over the years I did a number of posts on the biblical symbolism of light and darkness. Recently, a friend edited all the posts into an ebook. For interested readers, here's the link:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1roZD7ebH2y0V2jMk4GH8lCeTMi5Ht33F

Edit: The above file has been edited and updated at approximately 5pm EST (Nov 9, 2019) to fix some errors in the previous file.

Walk in the light

1.Once again I'm exploring the biblical symbolism of light and darkness. That's a major metaphor in Scripture. The Bible has many references to light, including natural light, preternatural light, and figurative light, viz.

• Pillar of fire (Exod 13:21)

• Wall of fire (Exod 13:19)

• Shekinah (Exod 40:38; Num 9:15-16; Isa 4:5; Ezk 1:4)

• Fiery sea of glass (Rev 15:2)

• Lightning (Ps 77:18)

• Plague of Darkness (Exod 10:21-29)

• Transfiguration (Mt 17:2)

• Light of Christ (Jn 1:4-5; 3:19-21; 8:12; 9:5; 12:35-36,46)

2. There are different positions someone can be in relation to light:

i) Daylight 

In that position, you're surrounded by light. There's no darkness apart from the shadow you cast.

ii) Pool of light

If you sit in front of a campfire or fireplace in the dark, you may be sitting in a pool of light, surrounded by darkness.

iii) Ring of firelight

Here you may be sitting or standing in darkness, but you're encircled by a protective ring of firelight. There's darkness both inside and outside the circle. Although you're sitting or standing in darkness, you're safe inside the ring of firelight. Dangers lurk in the darkness outside the circle. 

3. So there's more than one way to visualize how Christians might be in the light. 

i) It might be akin to daylight. 

ii) It might be akin to a pool of light. Suppose it's fatal for the kingdom of darkness to step into the pool of light. 

iii) It might be like a ring of fire. Suppose it's fatal for the kingdom of darkness to cross the fiery barrier. 

4. The Johannine references trade on the imagery of sunlight and daylight, evoking the creation account. And the Johannine references are metaphorical.

5. At the Plague of Darkness, Goshen was in a pool of light, surrounded by darkness on all sides. 

At the Transfiguration, especially if that happened at night, the disciples were literally in a pool of preternatural light generated by Christ. They were surrounded by darkness, but the Transfiguration brought the disciples into Christ's corona. 

6. In Exod 13:19, the Israelites were probably encircled by a wall of fire, which kept the Egyptians soldiers at bay. A literal, albeit preternatural ring of firelight. 

Segmented sleep

The present study is less a suggestion of any fresh finding in biblical matters than a plea that the awareness of a detail of premodern life be brought to bear on various biblical passages, namely, the pattern of segmented sleep. It is a matter that has been forgotten by those who benefit from artificial illumination, which is to say almost everyone in the modern world. 

Current research by physiologists, anthropologists, and historians has made it clear that the pattern of human sleep in preindustrial society has been strikingly different from the one now taken for normal…[Ekirch] There is every reason to believe that segmented sleep, such as many wild animals exhibit, had long been the natural pattern of our slumber before the modern age, with a province as old as mankind. Most notable is the fact that first sleep often ends with vivid dreams…distinguished by their narrative quality.

There are two similar parables about activity at midnight, of the wise and foolish bridesmaids (Mt 25:1-3) and the master home from the wedding feast (Lk 12:36-38). Both parables describe wakefulness and the preparation of a meal in the middle of the night.

Even the monastic practice of vigils (matins, prayer at midnight), which to us might be looked upon as an extreme asceticism, is better viewed as the community use of a normal sleep pattern…Praying in the middle of the night is a convention of the Psalms (Pss 63:7; 77:7; 119:55,62,148). W. L. Holladay, "Indications of Segmented Sleep in the Bible," CBQ 69 (2007). 

That's just a sample. The entire article is informative. And it sheds further light (pardon the pun) in a particular interest of mine: the biblical symbolism of light and dark. When, for example, modern readers study the references light and darkness, day and night, dawn and dusk, sun, moon, and stars in Gen 1, there's a myopic focus on units of light as units of time. Yet this motif had a much richer range of connotations for ancient Jews. And in this particular instance, the experience of sleeping and dreaming, which–not coincidentally–is a prominent theme in Genesis. 

Happy Hanukkah

I doubt it's coincidental that when Jesus calls himself the light of the world (Jn 8:12; 9:5), that's a lead-in to the account of Jesus at the temple during Hanukkah (Jn 10:22). And on the other side of the festival is the fate of those bereft of light, to be overtaken by darkness (Jn 11:9). The statements bookend Hanukkah.  

Unlike the Mosaic festivals, this was a customary festival, commemorating the Maccabean revolt. With intentional irony, Jesus appropriates the Festival of Lights to make it witness himself. This all hearkens by to the divine identity of Jesus in the Prologue as the Creator of sunlight, moonlight, and starlight. And it may not be coincidental that the Menorah symbolism in Revelation (e.g. Rev 1:12ff.) recalls Hannukkah as well as the tabernacle. Even Jews who reject the messianship of Jesus unwittingly celebrate Jesus whenever they celebrate Hanukkah.

His lightning lights up the world

The Bible contains many descriptions lightning. For instance:

12 He made darkness his canopy around him—

    the dark rain clouds of the sky.

13 Out of the brightness of his presence

    bolts of lightning blazed forth.

14 The Lord thundered from heaven;

    the voice of the Most High resounded.

(2 Sam 22:12-14)

He unleashes his lightning beneath the whole heaven

    and sends it to the ends of the earth.

(Job 37:3)

17 The clouds poured down water,

    the heavens resounded with thunder;

    your arrows flashed back and forth.

18 Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,

    your lightning lit up the world;

    the earth trembled and quaked.

19 Your path led through the sea,

    your way through the mighty waters,

    though your footprints were not seen.

(Ps 77:17-19)

4 His lightning lights up the world;

    the earth sees and trembles.

5 The mountains melt like wax before the Lord,

    before the Lord of all the earth.

6 The heavens proclaim his righteousness,

    and all peoples see his glory.

(Ps 97:4-6)

These and other descriptions reflect ancient awe at the spectacle of lightning. Electrical storms at night are especially impressive because they present an extreme contrast between light and darkness. Instantaneous alternat between opposites. One moment an observer can't see anything all. The night is pitch black. A moment later, the sky, down to the horizon, is blindingly bright. For a split second, the landscape is revealed in minute detail in searing light. Flooded with light, but drained of color.

The Christian pilgrimage is like walking home in the dark during an electrical storm. The trail is invisible in the impenetrable darkness. And there's a dangerous ravine alongside the trail. One misstep and you plunge into the ravine. But intermittent flashes of lightning illuminate the trail. For a split second, you can see ahead in crisp detail. The lightning guides you forward. But you must move in the direction you remember, from instantaneous flashes of light. Due to vision persistence, your perception the landscape lingers slightly longer than the illumination, but it fades. Most of the time, you can't see the trail. You must go by what you recall, during the last flash of lightning. But the trail isn't straight. As you're about to tumble into the ravine, there's another flash of lightning that enables you to make a last-moment correction. 

The future is like a trail at night. We can't see where we're going. We're walking blind. But the journey is punctuated by flashes of lightning that show us the next stretch of the trail. Then the view goes dark. We don't walk by what we see but what we saw. 

Dropping the metaphor, we have what God told us in the past (Scripture). Occasionally, God may give us a sign (miracle, revelatory dream, audible voice, answered prayer, remarkable providence), but that's unpredictable, and even if it happens, it's a flash of lightning, affording us a momentary glimpse of the way ahead, but the rest is by faith. 

Hail, gladdening light

Once again I'm going to revisit one of my favorite topics: the biblical symbolism of light. There's always something new to say. 

i) Let's begin with some preliminary distinctions. Take the distinction between interior and exterior illumination. Natural examples of interior illumination include lamps, candlelight, and a fireplace. Natural examples of exterior illumination include lightning, sunlight, full moonlight, and campfire. 

ii) Interior illumination may create a contrast between light on the inside and darkness outside. Conversely, exterior illumination may create a contrast between darkness on the inside and light on the outside.

iii) A building may be illuminated from the inside (e.g. candlelight) or the outside (e.g. sunlight shining though windows, skylights, oculus). 

iv) Inside and outside are comparative relations. For instance, heaven is external to the world while the world is external to heaven. 

v) In addition to interior/exterior illumination is portable illumination (e.g. a torch). Portable illumination can shift from interior  to exterior illumination or vice versa. For instance, you can light a torch from a campfire, then take that inside to illuminate the dark interior. Or you can light a torch from a fireplace, then take that outside to shine in the darkness.  

Creation reversed

Narratives like Gen 1 or Gen 2-3 are brief and sketchy, yet inexhaustible. There's always something new you didn't notice before. 

I'm going to revisit my abiding interest in the biblical symbolism of light. On the one hand, each day in the Gen 1 creation account has something distinctive. Day 1 represents the creation of light. Light is God's first creation. And the creation of daylight entails night, as a necessary point of contrast. 

Day 2 represents the creation of the atmosphere, rainclouds, and the sea. Day 3 represents the creation of dry land and flora. I assume Gen 1 doesn't differentiate the creation of freshwater from saltwater because bodies of freshwater (lakes, rivers, ponds) are features of the land, in contrast to the sea. 

Day 4 represents the creation of celestial luminaries (sun, moon, stars). That raises questions about the causal and chronological relationship between Day 1 and Day 4, inasmuch as the diurnal cycle is already in place on day 1, which implies the existence of sunlight and solar days.

Day 5 represents the creation of volant animals and aquatic animals, while day 6 represents the creation of land animals and mankind. And Day 7 is striking for what doesn't happen. After six days of creative activity, the reader is primed for something to happen on day 7. But day 7 is a coda to creation.

On the other hand, there's a constant running through all 7 days, and that's the overarching motif of dawn and dusk, daylight and night. One thing that's prescient about the light motif is how that supplies the backdrop for eschatological judgment. One of the signs of final judgment is a solar eclipse, lunar eclipse, and shooting stars. And that represents a reversal of day 4 in particular, as well as the persistent role of light in the creation account generally. On the one hand, a dominant theme of creation is celestial illumination. On the other hand, a dominant theme of eschatological judgment is the darkening sky. A return to darkness as sun and moon are occluded, while the sky is emptied of stars as they fall to the earth. So eschatological judgment represents a reversion to primordial darkness, before the creation of daylight, sunlight, moonlight, or starlight. In addition, the crucifixion darkness prefigures the final judgment. 

Never see the light of day

Or why was I not as a hidden stillborn child, as infants who never see the light? (Job 3:16).

his soul will go to the generation of his fathers, who will never again see light (Ps 49:19).

He has redeemed my soul from going down into the pit, and my life shall look upon the light (Job 33:28). 

This continues my ongoing fascination with the light motif in Scripture, and the significance of light for folks who lived prior to the advent of artificial lighting. This reinforces the link in Gen 1 between the creation of light and the creation of life. Sunlight, albeit literal, becomes a symbol of earthly, embodied existence and experience. To be fully alive is to participate in daylight. 

A couple of passages trade on the popular adage that death is a one-way trip, using night as a metaphor for death and sunlight as a metaphor for life. These occur in poetic passages. 

Another passage describes miscarriage in terms of dying before one ever sees the light of day. Very poignant. From a theological perspective, if God saves at least some babies who die from spontaneous or induced abortion, they won't see daylight, but heavenly light. And at the resurrection of the just, they will finally see the light of day. 

Floodlight

The days of Genesis are usually viewed in terms of time. However, that overlooks another aspect, for the days of Genesis can be viewed in terms of space. Where "day" in day/night, light/darkness, dawn/dusk stands for sunlight or daylight, light fills space. Sun, moon, and stars fill the sky with light. They illuminate land and sea. Darkness is empty space, devoid of light. It's not coincidental that the creation of light follows on the heels of the vacant condition of the primordial earth. Light fills the void, dispelling the darkness. Light represents fullness in contrast to emptiness. Preoccupation with the temporal function neglects the spacial function. 

The utter east

Light and darkness are major theological metaphors in Scripture, so I find it useful to mentally visualize the play of sunlight in different situations. 

In addition, my parents had a waterfront property with a panoramic view spanning east and west, so I was used to watching the play of sunlight on the waves as the sun arced over the sky. I've lived in different places, in and around nature, and I study sunlight from different angles. The symbolism of light in Scripture trades on these variations, so it's useful to be observant.

Suppose you're standing on a hilltop facing east, just before dawn. As the sun rises over the opposing hillside, the shadows retreat. As the sunlight strikes the hillside you're standing on, that's where the recession begins. When the sun is overhead, the valley is flooded with light. As the sun dips below the hillside, the valley becomes enveloped in shade, with shadows crawling up the opposing hillside. 

But suppose you're standing on a hilltop, facing west. As the sun rises, the valley is backlit. It comes alive in the light. By the same token, if you're facing east as the sun circles around behind you, the scene is backlit, but the light is muted. Fading, dying light. 

In the Christian pilgrimage, the road ahead is backlit. We don't see the sun directly. Rather, we see by the sun. We see the effects of sunshine. That's like faith and hope. 

The pilgrimage also has phases of twilight, moonlight, starlight, and pitch black. By contrast, heaven is like facing the sun, where faith and hope give way to sight. 

It's similar to the OT paradox about seeing God. You can't view God directly, face-to-face, and live–but you can see reflections of God. It reminds me of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader:

As I have said before, there had been too much light ever since they left the island of Ramandu — the sun too large (though not too hot), the sea too bright, the air too shining. Now, the light grew no less — if anything, it increased — but they could bear it. They could look straight up at the sun without blinking. They could see more light than they had ever seen before. And the deck and the sail and their own faces and bodies became brighter and brighter and every rope shone. And next morning, when the sun rose, now five or six times its old size, they stared hard into it and could see the very feathers of the birds that came flying from it.

After that for many days, without wind in her shrouds or foam at her bows, across a waveless sea, the Dawn Treader glided smoothly east. Every day and every hour the light became more brilliant and still they could bear it. No one ate or slept and no one wanted to, but they drew buckets of dazzling water from the sea, stronger than wine and somehow wetter, more liquid, than ordinary water, and pledged one another silently in deep draughts of it. And one or two of the sailors who had been oldish men when the voyage began now grew younger every day. Everyone on board was filled with joy and excitement, but not an excitement that made one talk. The further they sailed the less they spoke, and then almost in a whisper. The stillness of that last sea laid hold on them.

There was no need to row, for the current drifted them steadily to the east. None of them slept nor ate. All that night and all next day they glided eastward, and when the third day dawned — with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on — they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-grey, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colours. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave — a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall. It seemed to be about thirty feet high, and the current was gliding them swiftly towards it. You might have supposed they would have thought of their danger. They didn't. I don't think anyone could have in their position. For now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. They could not have seen even the sun if their eyes had not been strengthened by the water of the Last Sea. But now they could look at the rising sun and see it clearly and see things beyond it. What they saw — eastward, beyond the sun — was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. None of them remembers seeing any sky in that direction. And the mountains must really have been outside the world. For any mountains even a quarter or a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. 

Into darkness

It's striking how some movies and movie genres tap into biblical themes. Take the symbolism of light and darkness. Both the vampire and werewolf mythos trade on that motif. Both are creatures of the night. Unlike vampires, werewolves can function in daytime, but their true identity is manifested at night, under a full moon. Conversely, the true identity of a vampire is manifested by sunlight. Both werewolves and vampires usually appear to be human, but the quality of light reveals what they really are. This is a theme in John's Gospel.

You also have movies and TV dramas about journeys. Road films. The journey is a major biblical motif that operates at different levels. Exile and homecoming. 

The Warriors (1979) combines both motifs. The action begins after sunset and concludes at daybreak. The ultimate basis of the plot is Xenophon's Anabasis. In the original, a Greek army invaded Persia. But their leader was killed in action. His army had to fight their way back home, against hostile tribes. 

In Sol Yurick's modern adaptation, the plot centers on New York city street gangs. The leader (Cyrus) of the largest gang announces a one-night truces, inviting representatives of the major gangs to a powwow in the Bronx. The objective is to unite the gangs. Together, they outnumber the cops. United, they can run the city. That's the theory.

A gang (the Warriors) from Coney Island ride the subway into the Bronx. Cyrus is shot, and the blame is pinned on the Warriors. They must fight their way back to Coney Island. 

The subway is a unifying device. The opening scene begins after nightfall with a shot of an illuminated ferris wheel. We then see the cabin lights of a subway train–like a phosphorescent millipede floating in darkness. The Warriors board the train. They travel into the heart of darkness. The pace quickens as they approach their destination.

As a street gang far outside of their jurisdiction, they are extremely vulnerable. Traveling into what would normally be enemy territory. So long as the truce holds, they are safe, but when Cyrus is shot and they are scapegoated, they find themselves deep inside enemy lines, with hostiles lurking around every corner. 

The power of the film lies in simple visual symbolism. Elemental themes of danger, darkness, travel, and bonding–as well as choreographed fight scenes. Rather Dantean. A gang girl (hooker) whom they meet in the Bronx decides to come with them. 

Due to its secular, nihilistic viewpoint, the film has no great message to impart. Indeed, as Swan exclaims, when they finally reach Coney Island, "This is what we fought all night to get back to?"

It has winners and losers, but no heroes. Life and death without purpose or redemption. 

Consider what a Christian filmmaker could do with the same themes. There are parallels with the Fourth Gospel. Jesus journeys into darkness. A journey into time (night) and space (the earth). He invades the world he made, a world that's turned against its Maker, under the dominion of a diabolical usurper (12:31). A shaft of light, slicing through the darkness. 

The denizens of this world are nocturnal creatures. And some of them are repelled by the light (Jn 3:19). Darkness is their element. 

Although omnipotent, he allows himself to be captured by the enemy and tortured to death. The journey is a round trip. From heaven to the realm of darkness and back again. But he doesn't simply return to his own abode. He leads people from the realm of darkness to the realm of light (14:3,18; 16:16; 17:24). 

Likewise, Christians are born behind enemy lines. Their mission is to lead some of their nocturnal neighbors into the light.

In addition, some Christians are literally behind enemy lines. Whatever you think of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, there were Christian soldiers who were a witness to Muslims. Their presence brought light to the polar night of Islam. 

Twilight

God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day (Gen 1:5). 

The sequence of dusk followed by dawn is puzzling to commentators. Sarna thinks it reflects the Jewish calendar, where Passover and other festivals begin and end at sunset. 

Dusk to dawn is a way of saying "night". The literary function may be to transition from one day to the next. 

Sunlight is a positive theological metaphor. That's because humans are diurnal creatures who rely on eyesight. If we were nocturnal creatures, then sunlight wouldn't have the same emblematic significance.

The syntactical relation between v1 and v2 is disputed. If v1 is included in the events of the first day, then there was, in the absolute sense, a first day. 

Because sunup and sundown are cyclical–indeed, paradigmatic examples of periodic phenomena–it seems like there's always another day before today. But according to one reading of Gen 1, if you step into the time machine, you can only go back as far as the first day. There's no day before that. Nothing before that. No time or space. There's God, but the time machine won't take you to God.

Twilight is ambiguous. Is it the beginning of a new day or the ending of the day? Will it get brighter or darker? If you woke up outside at twilight, could you tell if it was dawn or dusk?

If you had a sense of direction, you could infer that from the direction of the light. Of course, the significance of east and west in that regard is something we appreciate from experience. But if, like Adam, on the day he was made, we had no prior experience of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, we couldn't detect or predict what twilight represented. To experience the new world for the first time would be bewildering, in a nice way. 

Its lamp is the Lamb

9 Then came one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues and spoke to me, saying, “Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.” 10 And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, 11 having the glory of God, its radiance like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. 12 It had a great, high wall, with twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and on the gates the names of the twelve tribes of the sons of Israel were inscribed— 13 on the east three gates, on the north three gates, on the south three gates, and on the west three gates. 14 And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

15 And the one who spoke with me had a measuring rod of gold to measure the city and its gates and walls. 16 The city lies foursquare, its length the same as its width. And he measured the city with his rod, 12,000 stadia. Its length and width and height are equal. 17 He also measured its wall, 144 cubits by human measurement, which is also an angel's measurement. 18 The wall was built of jasper, while the city was pure gold, like clear glass. 19 The foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with every kind of jewel. The first was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, 20 the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst. 21 And the twelve gates were twelve pearls, each of the gates made of a single pearl, and the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass.

22 And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. 23 And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. 24 By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, 25 and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. 26 They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. 27 But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb's book of life (Rev 21).

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. 3 No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. 4 They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 5 And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever (Rev 22:1-5).

i) I doubt the world to come will actually be devoid of oceans, sunlight and moonlight. Rather, that describes the visionary world John saw, like a surreal dreamscape. Dreams can have a detailed geography internal to the dream, but that doesn't correspond to reality outside the dreamscape. And visions are like inspired daydreams. 

ii) One exegetical question is the extent to which these are picturesque metaphors or direct descriptions of what John saw. In reading Revelation, it's useful to assume the viewpoint of a director. If you were filming Revelation, how would you visualize the imagery?

iii) Apropos (ii), John depicts the New Jerusalem as a fortified city. He says the source of illumination wasn't natural lighting but the Father and the Son. What is the reader supposed to envision? If these are figures of speech, then they don't necessarily depict a unified pictorial composition. If, however, these are descriptions of what John saw in his vision, then how should the reader imagine the scene?

Is the supernatural illumination external lighting? Does it shine over the city? Or is it interior lighting? Rev 1 begins with a Christophany. Jesus appears to John. His appearance is luminous. In addition to his personal radiance, he's holding a menorah. 

We have other examples of supernatural divine illumination in Scripture. The Shekinah. The pillar of fire. The Star of Bethlehem. So it's possible that John saw something like that. Perhaps, then, there's light within the new Jerusalem, but darkness outside the city walls. The source of light is not above the city, but inside the city. 

iv) Before the advent of electrical lighting, it was generally brighter outside than inside. During the day, exterior lighting (sunlight) illuminated buildings, through an open door, window, or oculus (like the Roman Pantheon). 

But in churches, the situation was reversed at night. After dark, candlelight made churches brighter on the inside than the outside. At night, a parishioner was walking into the light, as he entered church. Instead of sunlight illuminating the interior through windows, the widows radiated candlelight. Against the backdrop of the night, you could see the church as a literal beacon of light. A symbolic lighthouse.

v) One time during a power outage, I went outside while it was still light out. The only available light was sunlight, and that was fading by inches. 

Probably most folks in a hitech civilization have never watched daylight gradually fade until the last glimmering of light is gone. We have electrical lighting, flashlights, camp lanterns. We usually have some backup lighting source that we switch to before we're plunged into darkness. If there's a sudden blackout, we may grope in the dark for flashlights, but that's because we were caught off-guard. For obvious reasons, we don't normally wait until we can't see anything to reach for a flashlight. 

But imagine a traveler in the ancient world heading for a fortified city. Back then, a unit of time was "day's journey". You had to time things. Imagine the traveler's panic as he sees that he's running out of time before nightfall. He won't make it to the city in time. He clings to the remaining, fading daylight. After sunset there's some residual ambient light, but that's bleeding out–orange, red, gray, black. Now he's lost in the dark. At the mercy of nocturnal predators. 

And that's a description of hell. Outer darkness. Outside the city gates. Overtaken by the night. Eternal darkness. 

Consider the reverse. When God created light, when he said, "Let there be light!", was there a sudden burst of light, or was it like a dimmer? An imperceptibly incremental brightening, like sunrise? 

I Look From Afar

I often comment on the light motif in Gen 1, but additional to that, there's a sound motif. Not only does Gen 1 narrate light out of darkness, but sound out of silence. The opening scene begins in a state of silence as well as darkness. God breaks the silence by his creative commands and benedictions. 

Sound has a synesthetic quality inasmuch as sound can mimic spacial orientations. Take processional hymns. King's College Chapel recorded "I look from afar". That's an advent hymn. The English lyrics are:

I look from afar: and lo, I see the power of God coming, and a cloud covering the whole earth.

Go ye out to meet him and say: Art thou he that should come to rule thy people Israel?

High and low, rich and poor, one with another: go ye out to meet him and say:

Hear, O thou Shepherd of Israel, thou that leadest Joseph like a sheep: art thou he that should come?

Stir up thy strength and come to rule thy people Israel.

All glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. Alleluia.

In the recording, the choir begins at the back of the sanctuary. A soloist sings the first line, then the choir responds. Due to the placement of the choir in the huge reverberant sanctuary, it has the effect of hearing the music at a distance. Then, as the choir moves into the sanctuary, approaching the microphone, it creates a musical analogy for the text. At first the observer sees the power of God coming "from afar", like a cloud on the horizon. The heraldic cloud evokes the Shekinah. The implicit imagery is reminiscent of the theophany in Ezekiel 1. From a distance it appears to be a desert storm, but as it draws nearer, it becomes apparent to the prophet that this is no ordinary cloud. 

Another example is the same choir singing "Come, Thou Redeemer of the Earth." That's another processional advent hymn. Once again, the choir begins at the back of the sanctuary. The boys sing the first line, with their "angelic" voices wafting upwards and outwards. And once again, the effect mimics the lyrics. Hearing the choir at a distance, then hearing the choir draw near, is like the Redeemer leaving his world to enter ours:

Come, Thou Redeemer of the earth,

And manifest Thy virgin birth,

Forth from His chamber goeth He,

That royal home of purity,

A giant in twofold substance one,

Rejoicing now His course to run.

From God the Father He proceeds,

To God the Father back He speeds;

His course He runs to death and hell,

Returning on God’s throne to dwell.

By the same token, the creation account is like a processional hymn that gradually builds to a climax. And in the Prologue to John's Gospel, the Creator of the world enters the world he made to redeem it. 

Genesis: a phenomenological reading

1. I'm going to offer a neglected interpretation of Gen 1. A phenomenological interpretation. I'm not suggesting the account is merely about appearances. The account is constitutive. But it visualizes creation in phenomenological imagery.

The account has a few basic structuring principles. The seven-day progression gets the most attention, but other structuring principles include borderline conditions, progression from invisible to visible, and general to specific. 

2. In many respects, the opening scene is reminiscent of a world right after a flood. Down below, the land is submerged in standing water. Up above, rainclouds block the sunlight. 

3. Some scholars think the account doesn't represent an absolute beginning; rather, creation begins with preexistent matter. Water and darkness. That interpretation depends in part on the syntactical relationship between v1 and the following. Is v1 a summary statement, or part of day 1? For one interpretation:

https://frame-poythress.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PoythressVernGenesis1.1IsTheFirstEventNotASummary.pdf

4. Another question is whether darkness is metaphor for nothingness. If so, that wouldn't be a preexistent something. 

5. What's the relationship, if any, between water and light? On the face of it, these may seem to be unrelated substances. However, the combination of water and light may foreshadow the rainbow (Gen 9:13-17). And that, too, would fit the diluvial imagery or connotations. A rainbow is a borderline phenomenon, briefly existing between sunshine and rainclouds, as the sun begins to emerge from behind the clouds. And emergence from invisibility to visibility is one of the motifs in the creation account. 

6. Another example is the emergence of dry land. The description is reminiscent of flood waters abating. The dry land resurfaces after the floodwaters recede. 

7. A further example is the emergence of foliage. In a desert, the land may seem to be barren and deluded, but after a flash flood, there's a burst of foliage. The invisible seeds were dormant, waiting for water to spring to life. Conversely, flooding can produce an underwater forest. 

8. Then there's the paradoxical relationship between day 1 and day 4. How can there be dawn and dusk, and how the diurnal cycle be in place, before the creation of the sun?

There is, however, a very familiar condition, indeed, it happens twice a day, when you can see sunlight without seeing the sun. And that's when the sun is below the horizon. Before sunrise or after sunset. 

In addition, in winter, there's the polar twilight at arctic or antarctic latitudes, when there's daylight and sunlight even though the sun is invisible because it remains just below the horizon. So there can be a diurnal cycle without sunrise or sunset. (Of course, an ancient Near-Eastern audience would not be privy to that phenomenon.)

9. Sometimes light and darkness are opposites. That's the dichtomy between day and night in reference to sunlight. In that case, light is present when darkness is absent while darkness is present when light is absent.

But sometimes light and darkness are complementary. That's the relationship between darkness, moonlight, and starlight. It requires a darkened sky to see the stars. In that situation, light and darkness are simultaneous rather than successive. 

Likewise, hills, mountains, and shade-trees cast shadows, blocking the sunlight. Patterns of light and darkness can be spatial as well as temporal. 

8. You also have borderline conditions at twilight where Venus and the moon are visible in the waxing or waning sunlight. If it's dawn, they fade. If it's dusk, they brighten. 

9. There's a relationship between general partitions of space (land, sky, sea) and their specific occupants: land animals, aquatic animals, birds, the sun, moon, and stars. 

There's a relationship between generic light and darkness, and specific light and darkness (day and night, dawn and dusk). 

I think these aspects of the Genesis account are usually neglected because commentators aren't very observant about the natural world. Yet Genesis was revealed to people who were very attentive to their natural surroundings. 

Extinguishing the light

As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands, the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches (Rev 1:20). 

Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent (Rev 2:5).

Recently, as I was sitting in church, I was occasionally gazing at the out of doors through the window beside, another window facing me on the other side of the transept, yet another window in the apse. It was one of those mildly breezy, partly cloudy days where the trees are in motion and the ambient light alternately brightens and darkens.

It occurred to me that compared to many sanctuaries, this church had an usual number of windows. Clear glass windows. There are modern churches where the sanctuary has no windows at all. They are entirely illuminated by electrical lighting.

The difference is that I was seated in a Colonial church, built before the advent of electrical lighting. As such, the only source of illumination the sanctuary originally had was sunlight in the daytime and candlelight or lamplight for evensong. Hence, the abundance of windows. 

If, at night, you were to extinguish the lamplight or candlelight, it would plunge the sanctuary into darkness–unless there was a full moon.

The imagery about lampstands in Revelation trades on that picture. Removing the lampstand plunges the errant churches into darkness. A reversion the heathen darkness. 

The light motif is one of the themes that John's Gospel shares in common with Revelation. The "Light of the World" is a title for Christ in John's Gospel (Jn 8:12; 9:5). That harkens back to his role as the Creator of light in Jn 1:1-4. Light was God's first creation (Gen 1:3). In Revelation, Christ is again the light of the world, only Revelation uses a concrete metaphor to illustrate the title. 

When I was a boy, we'd attend the candlelight service on Christmas Eve. Near the end of the service, the electrical lights were switched off. Each parishioner had a candle. The pastor had one lit candle.  He used his candle to light the candle of someone sitting in the first row. And so it went, row by row. The spreading light. The sanctuary gradually filling with light. Light swallows up darkness. But if the candle is quenched, darkness swallows up the light. 

Plague of darkness

i) Some scholars attempt to explain the ten plagues of Egypt naturalistically. That has the merit of taking the historicity of the events seriously, but the danger is to secularize the account. 

Some miracles may employ natural mechanisms. Those are coincidence miracles. 

However, the plagues can't be sheerly natural events. One reason is how selective they are. They single out the Egyptians but exempt the Israelites. Natural events aren't that discriminating. Although some natural disasters have disparate impact, the distribution is random. 

The plague of darkness is a striking example. Unlike the other plagues, which are physically destructive, this is more a case of psychological warfare. It happens without warning. The Egyptians go to bed at night, expecting sunrise. Nothing is more elemental and perennial in human experience than the diurnal cycle. Yet imagine waking up in the dark, wondering what time it is. At first they assume they must have awakened in the middle of the night, and go back to sleep. But as the hours wear on, sunrise never happens!

In theory, they could resort to firelight (lamps, torches, bonfires) to create a bit of illumination, but paradoxically, it takes light to make light. You can't make a fire when it's pitch black. You need to be able to see what you're doing to make a fire. And the plague of darkness struck without warning, so they didn't have a chance to make preparations. They couldn't keep a fire burning. 

Moreover, even if they did have a lamp or torch, that's not a flashlight. It doesn't project light any distance. So you'd become hopelessly lost in the dark if you ventured a few yards from home.

In the meantime, the Israelites in Goshen continued to have natural light. Sunlight, starlight, moonlight. 

It's as if thick clouds blanketed the land of Egypt, but there was a hole in the cloud cover just above Goshen. Sometimes, if you're outside during a daytime storm, the sky is blackened by menacing clouds, yet there's a break in the clouds. The ground is dark as night, except for a bright patch, like a spotlight from the sky. Perhaps, in the enveloping darkness, the Egyptians could see Goshen encircled in light. 

ii) There's an interesting relationship between the plague of darkness and the creation account. The plague lasts for three days. The land is plunged in darkness apart from Goshen.

In comparison, you have the paradox of Genesis, where the diurnal cycle seems to preexist sunlight for the first three days. Day and night alternate, yet the sun is not created until the fourth day. Or is it? 

By the same token, Egypt is enshrouded in darkness for three days, except for Goshen, which remains illuminated by shafts of sunlight through an opening in the clouds. (Or something like that.) Then, on the fourth day, sunlight is restored to the land of Egypt. 

Door into heaven

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. 2 But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 To him the gatekeeper opens…7 So Jesus again said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture (Jn 10:1-3,9).

7 And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: ‘The words of the holy one, the true one, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens. 8 I know your works. Behold, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut (Rev 3:7-8).

After this I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven! And the first voice, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said,“Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this” (Rev 4:1). 

i) A neglected line of evidence for the common authorship of John's Gospel and Revelation is the door motif. In both documents, Jesus functions as the doorway to heaven.

It might be objected that in Jn 10, Jesus is the door, whereas in Rev 3:8, is distinct from the door. However, the metaphor is flexible. Jn 10 alternates between the door and the doorkeeper. Rev 3:7-8 has the same alternation. To say Jesus is the door or Jesus has the key are variations on the same metaphor. 

ii) A door is a screening device, allowing authorized individuals to enter while disallowing unauthorized individuals from entering. Jesus is the way to salvation. But because Jesus is the only way to salvation, he is simultaneously an entrance and a barrier. A person can only enter through him.  

iii) The image of a door between this world and the world to come is simple yet arresting. In this life, heaven seems far away. We can't see it or touch it. We can't hear the saints and angels on the other side. Yet in reality, it's as if there's an invisible door connecting our world to the world to come. A door that becomes visible at the moment of death. It was there all along. We just don't know where to look. And the door is locked until the moment of death. By passing through the door, we leave this world behind.  

iv) A door demarcates the outside from the inside. In addition, it may be dark outside, but light inside. When the door is open, you walk into the light. Moreover, the light guides you to the door. If it's dark outside, and the door is closed, the door is invisible. If the door is opened, it suddenly becomes visible.

v) In Jn 10 and Rev 3:7-10,20, the door is a metaphor. But in Rev 4:1, the door is a simulation rather than a metaphor. John has a vision of a door, and passes through the visionary door. His experience is a sample of what Jesus promised to the beleaguered Philadelphian Christians. 

Although the door is imaginary or figurative, it's possible, if God so wills, for a dying Christian to experience death as seeing an open door, approaching the door, and passing through the door into the light beyond–just as John did in his vision. The body dies, releasing the soul.