And he had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines.

//According to this verse, Solomon kept a thousand wives and concubines. But when Solomon himself tells the story, it becomes a much more manageable number.

There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and virgins without number (Song of Solomon 6:8).

Oh, thank Goodness! 140 women in the rotation sounds lots easier to handle. Nice to have all those virgins available, too. Question is, why did Solomon fudge the number? Was it just kingly humility?

Turns out Solomon was speaking to his “one and only,” his “beloved one,” his “dove.” He couldn’t hardly admit to having 999 more girlfriends, could he? 140 is about as much as one man can get away with.

★★★★

The eight chosen passages are:

From the outset, The Dalai Lama assured his listeners that he had no intention of sowing seeds of doubt, and instead encouraged listeners to “experience the value of one’s own religious tradition.” He taught that the authentication of all religion is the realization of a good heart. He acknowledged similarities between Christianity and Buddhism, especially in regards to compassion, brotherhood and forgiveness, and strongly encouraged meetings between people from different religious traditions (not scholars but “genuine practitioners” interested in “sharing insights”). Yet he feels it does a disservice to both religions not to acknowledge their uniqueness. The Dalai Lama would rather we remain Christian than try to “put a yak’s head on a sheep’s body” and call ourselves Buddhist-Christians.

He spoke, as always, with insight and humility, and his take on Christian scriptures was wonderfully fresh and simple. My respect for the Dalai Lama increased even more. Yet I was a little disappointed; invariably, the discussion of Christian scriptures steered into comparisons with Buddhism—to be expected, I’m sure—but Buddhist thought is so ingrained in the Dalai Lama that much of the discussion felt foreign to me. Not that I couldn’t follow his thinking, and not that I don’t appreciate the similarities between Christianity and Buddhism and their common goal of compassion, but Eastern thinking is just … well … different.

//Yesterday, I described Babylon, Revelation’s mystery whore, and promised her unveiling today. Most scholars lean toward Rome as Babylon’s identification. I listed several of her qualities, and a couple of them do sound an awful lot like Rome. But at least one seems like it can’t possibly match Rome (all the prophets and saints shed their blood there). Yet there is one identification—again, a city—that matches all the qualifications … if you think like a first-century prophet.

Babylon, I’m absolutely certain, refers to Jerusalem. Remember, we are not at all concerned with modern day Rome or Jerusalem, but what was in John’s mind as he penned the book of Revelation, and how his first-century audience would have interpreted the role of Babylon.

Throughout scripture, the prophets repeatedly condemn Israel as a harlot and end up stoned in Jerusalem. No, not in a good way. To Revelation’s first readers, the image of a harlot would have automatically brought to mind a myriad of prophetic pronouncements against Jerusalem in the Old Testament. Certainly, Matthew would agree: in 23:34-38, Jesus bemoans the desolate state of Jerusalem because she killed the prophets and stoned those sent to her, and declares that upon Jerusalem will come “all the righteous blood that has been shed on the earth.”

Perhaps we need to view the two cities, Jerusalem and Rome, from an early Christian perspective: as hopelessly entwined, in rule and custom, and inseparable. Jerusalem had lived under the occupation and rule of Rome for 100 years, and just as the original Babylon 600 years earlier swallowed up God’s people, the Jews again could not avoid integration.

Roman and Jewish leaders conspired to crucify Jesus, to raise abominable pagan idols and places of worship, to build seaports for trade, and reportedly even conspired with Nero Caesar to bring about the great persecution of the Christians that Revelation talks about. As Babylon rides upon the Beast, so does Jerusalem throw in her lot with Rome. “Babylon” denotes the city of Jerusalem as a city polluted with the influence of Rome.

What makes me so certain of this identification? More tomorrow.

This title was written on her forehead: Mystery Babylon the Great The Mother of Prostitutes And of the Abominations of the Earth. 

Does it still sound like Rome? Except to first-century readers, Babylon’s identity veils itself well. Tomorrow we’ll unveil her.

When Moses had proclaimed every commandment of the law to all the people, he took the blood of calves, together with water, scarlet wool and branches of hyssop, and sprinkled the scroll and all the people. He said, “This is the blood of the covenant, which God has commanded you to keep.” In the same way, he sprinkled with the blood both the tabernacle and everything used in its ceremonies. In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood …

Pagels then progresses through the next few hundred years of Christianity, detailing how Revelation was received (or not!) by the Church, the argument over its authorship, and how its prophecies were used to bolster or condemn. Irenaeus and Justin the Philosopher strongly championed John’s Apocalypse, both of them certain that its promise of tribulation could be seen plainly in the Christian persecution they were already witnessing. Tertullian praised John for the courage to portray Rome as Babylon, “proud of her power, and victorious over the saints,” but damned and doomed. Even Constantine got in on the act, claiming that his rival, Licinius, was represented in Revelation by the dragon. Constantine wrote in a letter to Eusebius that he had restored “liberty to the human race” after he drove “that dragon out of public administration.” Still, the vengeful book of Revelation barely squeaked into the Christian canon.

In the few instances where Pagels does attempt an interpretation of the original meaning of Revelation, her perspective is strongly influenced by her exhaustive studies in the Gnostic Gospels—the Nag Hammadi findings—and this emphasis shines a different light on the topic. For example, she compares Revelation to 4 Ezra (the Revelation of Ezra), a Jewish book somewhat contemporary with Revelation. Revelation is Christian, Ezra is not. But because she dates them concurrently (early 90’s) and notes their similarities, she lets one aid in the interpretation of the other.

I loved the book, but I can’t help contributing my two cents. I disagree with her approach to interpretation, believing that we can date Revelation to perhaps fifteen years earlier, so its teachings should stand more firmly on their own. History and Christian thought were changing rapidly during this period, and even fifteen years makes a major difference. One example: In a discussion of the hated “Babylon” in Revelation, I believe its original meaning referred not to Rome, but to Jerusalem. Only later, when Revelation’s dreams failed to quickly materialize, did Christians lose interest in Jerusalem and shift to interpreting Babylon as Rome. Far more clues point to Jerusalem as the original intended meaning, and I think I’ll run a blog series shortly with the arguments for Jerusalem. Keep an eye on my blog at www.dubiousdisciple.com.