The passage: John sees another angel come down from heaven with great power, so bright that the earth is lit up by his glory. The angel cries out that Babylon the great has fallen and become a home for demons and unclean spirits, because all nations were made drunk with her corruption, the kings of the earth joined in it, and the merchants grew rich on her luxuries. Another voice from heaven calls God’s people to come out of her so they will not share her sins or her punishments, for her sins have piled up to heaven. She is to be repaid double for her deeds; because she boasted that she sits as a queen, is no widow, and will never see sorrow, her plagues—death, mourning, famine, and fire—will come in a single day, for strong is the Lord who judges her. The kings, merchants, and shipmasters who profited from her stand far off and mourn as they watch the smoke of her burning, wailing that so great a city and so great a wealth came to nothing in one hour; a long list of her merchandise is named, ending with slaves and the souls of men. Heaven and the apostles and prophets are told to rejoice, for God has avenged them. A mighty angel throws a great millstone into the sea to show how violently Babylon will be cast down and vanish, with no more music, craft, millstone, lamplight, or voices of bride and bridegroom, because her merchants were the great men of the earth and her sorceries deceived all nations, and in her was found the blood of the prophets and saints and of all who were slain on the earth.
The language of the previous chapter was exact. The angel spoke of five kings who no longer are, one who now is, a seventh yet to come, and an eighth like one of the seven. It spoke of a city on seven hills that rules over the kings of the earth. Such a description, I thought, must have been meant to fix our minds on imperial Rome at a particular time. The emperor before Vespasian seemed clearly indicated; the setting of the prophecy seemed to be the period between Nero’s death and the fall of Vitellius.
The language of this chapter is broad and general. It is impossible to limit this description to any disasters that fell on the mere city of Rome—even including, as they did, the burning of the Capitol itself. So I cannot wonder—nor regret—that men in different ages have been sure it did not refer only to some past event affecting others, but concerned them and their own actions, that it was a prophecy about the world they were living in. As I said last Sunday, I believe their instinct is entirely right, and that the more strictly we hold to the exact words of the book, the more that instinct is confirmed.
If the Apostle meant Rome, why did he say Babylon? The question is often asked, and the usual answer is surely unsatisfactory. Some suppose that speaking openly would have been dangerous, so he was forced into riddles. Dangerous for whom? He was already on Patmos—would a few more years of life matter so much to an apostle that he would suppress the truth to gain them? Perhaps dangerous because he might have stirred up rebellion against the ruling powers. But whom could he have tempted into such a rebellion? No heathen would have listened. His words were especially discouraging to all Jewish dreams of supremacy. They plainly warned the members of the Church not to take the sword, lest they perish by it. The whole empire, heathen and Jewish alike, was already in chaos. What men wanted was someone to tell them whether the chaos would last forever.
We read of the destruction of Babylon, not Rome, because it was Babylon’s destruction that was in the mind of the prophet and of Him who taught the prophet. We read of Babylon, not Rome, because the words were exactly true of the Babel-order of which Rome had become the center, and would not have been true of the mere city, whether considered as walls or as a mass of people. We read of Babylon, not Rome, because the subject is a system that had been at work for generations, not in one country but in all countries, and which was to hear its sentence in that generation. We read of Babylon, not Rome, so that we will not tie that system to one place—however evil the place may be—but may study it in all its forms and aspects, and be certain that wherever it has existed, exists, or shall exist, it is essentially the same.
I. “And after these things I saw another angel come down from heaven, having great power; and the earth was lightened with his glory. And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies.”
The earth’s darkness is shown to John by a light from heaven. That light does not let him regard any evil as original or as finally victorious. Babylon has fallen from a better and nobler condition; she has become a home of demons. The phrase clearly points to moral or spiritual wickedness. The “unclean and hateful birds” nesting in the city are not owls and bitterns, but the greed, filthiness, and malice that fill the empty spaces once occupied by better spirits. The ruling city had been corrupting the nations with her pride, ambition, and lust for gold. Kings of West and East had sold their truth and freedom to her; she had degraded and stupefied them with her luxuries; she had made the earth’s traders servants of her greed. We all know this was so. If we are afraid to fix the charge on the Roman world of the first century, it is because we suspect the words may apply to worlds we have known more closely. We need not fear that they will lose their force. Let them mean what they meant at first. God will see to it that they mean no less to us.
- “And I heard another voice out of heaven, saying, Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues. For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities. Reward her even as she rewarded you, and double unto her double according to her works: in the cup which she hath filled fill to her double. How much she hath glorified herself and lived delicately, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit as a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow. Therefore shall her plagues come in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire: for strong is the Lord God which judgeth her.”
Did this heavenly voice mean that Christians should flee from Rome because it was about to suffer great disasters? Where could they flee? What part of the empire was not exposed to the same disasters? Would they share Rome’s sins more by living in her than by living anywhere else? Everyone has felt that the message must mean something other than this. Babylon was in Rome, but it was also wherever men worshipped the things they could see and handle, worshipped their own lusts, worshipped themselves. It was this worship that had brought the evil spirits into the city; from it, and from them, God calls His people out. All were His people—Jews or heathens—who would obey that voice, who would confess a righteous Being to be King and Judge of the earth, who would firmly believe that whatever is not righteous must perish. It is hard to believe that—hard even for those who profess to believe it most, yes, even for those whose reason is fully convinced it cannot be otherwise. Atheism creeps over everyone. The more corrupt a society is, the more its habits and traditions press upon us the feeling that it will go on; it robs us of the heart and hope that ought to rise against it. If the belief of that society were true—that God has abandoned the world to itself, that He is only as just as we imagine Him to be—there would be no escape from this state of things: the worse it grew, the more it would seem guaranteed to last. But He speaks, and He can make Himself heard. He makes men’s consciences understand that they will have their revenge for the debasement and degradation these vile doctrines and grovelling practices have inflicted on them—for these have infected everyone within their reach; there is no one whose standard has not been lowered, whose character has not been impoverished, by them. It is a glorious proclamation for mankind: “Reward her even as she rewarded you, and double unto her double according to her works”; it is the fitting song of triumph over the fall of a demoralizing tyranny. Do not pity it; it has withered human hearts and souls; let it wither utterly. The punishment must match her luxury and wantonness, must match the carelessness and stupid confidence that centuries of sin have bred in her. “She sits as a queen”—what can depose her? She is no widow—what does she care for any divine Lord? She “shall see no sorrow”—she does not know what sorrow means; she cannot imagine it coming near her. And so the destined fall catches her wholly unprepared: “in one day there is death, mourning, famine.” The fire that went out from her comes back to consume her, for He whom she thought far away is at hand. She finds that righteousness is not a fantasy but a Person—“strong is the Lord God that judgeth her.”
- “And the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her, and lament for her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning, standing afar off for the fear of her torment, saying, Alas! alas, that great city Babylon, that mighty city! for in one hour is thy judgment come.”
The terror of these kings is not about the fall of a particular dynasty—they would be well used to that—nor about some ordinary trouble overtaking Rome, which they might even have welcomed. They have no sympathy for the victim; they “stand afar off for fear of her torment.” What they feel is the insecurity and instability of everything they had assumed was most secure and stable. Their world is toppling at its foundation. The scheme of society they thought immortal is breaking apart. The outer supports have failed. It seems to have no inner cohesion. The religious ideas it cherished, which seemed to promise more than material help, are thrown aside; men suspect them to be inventions—they never stopped the rulers from doing as they pleased, and they will not stop the rebels from doing as they please. “Alas, alas, that great city, Babylon!” It stood on its own foundation, and that foundation has given way.
- “And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more: the merchandise of gold and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all 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 odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and the souls of men. And the fruits that thy soul lusted after are departed from thee, and all things which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thou shalt find them no more at all. The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, and saying, Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, and precious stones and pearls! for in one hour so great riches is come to nought. And every shipmaster, and all the company in ships, and sailors, and as many as trade by sea, stood afar off, and cried when they saw the smoke of her burning, saying, What city is like unto this great city! And they cast dust on their heads, and cried, weeping and wailing, saying, Alas, alas that great city, wherein were made rich all that had ships in the sea by reason of her costliness! for in one hour she is made desolate.”
The detail of this description is exactly what gives it its value. Sum up the “odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and fine flour” in some general phrase about the vanishing of material prosperity, and you carry us off into vagueness; the actual cries of the merchants, the shipmasters, and the sailors are no longer heard. I would only weaken the passage by commenting on it. But there are one or two words in the middle of it that throw light on the whole. The trade is in “beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and the souls of men.” No distinction is drawn between the items; they are all treated alike, as entries on a bill of lading, as things to be bartered. The last of them are valued chiefly as tools for producing and exchanging the rest. They are the least significant part, but a necessary part, of the great system. They must be ground to atoms in the whirl of this social machine; they eat a certain amount of food; one by one they die; their places are filled by others who do the same jobs. And the kings of the earth, and the merchants, shipmasters, and even the sailors, cannot see how it could be otherwise—how society could ever be built on any other principle. To those who profit from the labor and to those who do it alike, it is equally hard to imagine that men could be anything more than hands for reshaping certain things, or heads for directing those hands. It is not only a class of tributaries or serfs that the earth’s rulers reduce to this condition; they themselves are tributaries and serfs. The vision is of a state of society in which they have lost any idea that they have any purpose on earth except to combine “odours, and frankincense, and fine flour, and wine, and sheep, and oxen” in different ways. It is a world of restless idleness—all wanting to be idlers, all imagining some distant time when they will have so much more of the earth’s goods than their neighbors that they can simply eat, drink, and be merry. But these children never reach the end of the rainbow, however hard they run; the serfdom continues; the merriment is always still to come; and their very capacity to enjoy it grows less each day.
V. And therefore, “Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye holy apostles and prophets, for God hath avenged you on her.”
You, sons of God, who shouted for joy when the earth was made very good, when man ruled over all its bright and glorious things, when man looked up to God, was formed in His image, and worshipped Him—you have seen the spectacle of a wicked world, men bowing down to these things and making gods of them. Will you not shout for joy again, because God is declaring that this reversal shall not stand, because in thunder and lightning He bears witness that His order will be established and that whatever contradicts it will come to nothing? What have you been protesting against, holy prophets, but this worship of things, this degradation of man? What have you been saying but that God will rise up from His place to put down those who make men toil in the furnace, that He will show a man to be more precious than a golden wedge of Ophir, that He will bring forth One who will rule in righteousness and judge the poor, who “shall reprove with equity for the meek of the earth, who shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall slay the wicked”? What have you been announcing, holy apostles, but that the Son of God has taken the form of a servant and become man; has passed on earth as the carpenter’s son; has died the death of the slave and the criminal; has risen from death in His human body; and in that body has ascended on high to fill all things? Did you imagine that in announcing this Gospel you were introducing a new religion to overthrow the old and to glorify your own names? Did you not understand that you were declaring the divine order and economy of the universe? Did you not understand that you were foretelling the utter downfall and destruction of everything—by whatever name it boasts—that reduces man to a slave and an animal, that forbids him to claim his glory as a member of the body of the only-begotten Son of God? Then will you not rejoice? For in this downfall of a brutal tyranny, in this chaos of the ruling city, in this earthquake of all nations, your message is proved true; the kingdom of man’s enemy is shown to be rotten; the kingdom of man’s Father and Redeemer is shown to be eternal.
- “And a mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all. And the voice of harpers, and musicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters, shall be heard no more at all in thee; and no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee; and the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at all in thee; and the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived. And in her was found the blood of prophets, and of saints, and of all that were slain upon the earth.”
The merchants and shipmasters wailed when they saw what was happening in the world. It seemed to them that the system they belonged to, the one they had given their hearts to, was breaking into pieces while another world came into view. The angel who casts the stone into the sea confirms their fear. He too sees in what is happening the pledge of what shall happen; he perceives the doom of the whole Babel system and order in the shock it is passing through at this particular moment. Understanding the nature of prophecy this way frees us from many crude notions about it—notions on which many opinions that disparage the authority of both the Old and New Testaments have been built. “Is it true,” we are asked, “that the voice of harpers, musicians, and trumpeters was never again heard in the city of Rome after the first century? Is it true that no craftsman of any craft was found in her, and that the voice of the bridegroom and the bride was never again heard in her after the upheaval that came upon her in the days of Vitellius, or after any event since? Must not St. John then have been mistaken? Was not the catastrophe he thought was near really centuries away and still unfulfilled? Is it not obvious that he was expecting much more than the destruction of Rome? Was he not looking for the destruction of the world?”
I will take the last question first, and answer it as I have before. If by the destruction of the world you mean the destruction of this earth as it came from God’s hands, then St. Paul and St. John did not expect it in their own day, because they did not expect it in any day. The earth was dear to them; they believed Christ had come upon it to redeem it from its curse, to burn away its corruption, to claim it for His Father. If, on the other hand, by the destruction of the world you mean the destruction of human society, I answer that the Apostles’ Gospel was about a kingdom of heaven. They took great pains to show that by a kingdom of heaven they did not mean a kingdom somewhere in the clouds, but a society of men built on a principle that does not make society destructive and impossible—a society governed by God and not by the Devil. They did not foretell a destruction of human society in their own day; had they done so, they would have been foretelling that the very kingdom they said would never end was to perish at once. What they did look for was a striking vindication of the law of human society against those who break that law. This they did expect in their own day. They said that if it came in their day, a truth would be revealed for all ages to come: it would be shown that the earth and human society rest on a divine foundation and can rest on no other. One great experiment had been made, and was still being made, to establish it on a brutal or devilish foundation. That experiment would be confounded. The Babel doctrine might have champions, advocates, and apostles by the thousands and tens of thousands in later ages, but it had been proved a lie, and every fresh trial of it would furnish a fresh proof.
And now I come to the particular question about Rome. Beyond all doubt she rose again as an imperial city after the anarchy under Vitellius; she remained imperial from Vespasian to Augustulus; she conferred the title of Caesar in both East and West even after she herself was subject to barbarian masters; the name Eternal City, given her by heathens, was confirmed by popes; her laws and customs were carried into every nation of the West; within her actual walls the voices of harpers and musicians, of bridegrooms and brides, were heard again; all the arts and ornaments of life were there. So it was—and so the words of the prophets and apostles were fulfilled. They said the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it; they denied that man’s pride and vanity are the source of any outward or inward treasure man possesses; they said that He who gives to all generously and without reproach is the author and sustainer of laws, institutions, and social order, of everything that makes life healthy, convenient, and graceful, of all that lifts us above the beasts that perish. And therefore they said that Babylon the Great—which refuses to confess that the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, which traces all men’s possessions to their pride and vanity, which degrades all laws and institutions into servants of arbitrary will, which turns the arts into servants of materialism and sensuality—must sink like lead in the waters; that whenever, in any kingdom on earth, its maxims become fully accepted and all other maxims disbelieved, that kingdom must perish. The voices of bride and bridegroom must cease in it; its music must turn to discord. It may revive, it may pass through many transformations, but the same law will hold in each. God will be its upholder; its own lusts and atheism will undermine it. These lusts and this atheism are most unbearable when they are disguised in the forms of religion, when the name of God is used to cover contempt and denial of His nature, when the spirit of selfishness is confused with His, when the sacrifices that spirit delights in—the sacrifices of the souls and bodies of men—are offered up as if they pleased the God of Truth. In her, it is said, was found the blood of prophets and of all who had been slain upon the earth. This belief in a false and cruel God is responsible for the murder of all brave men who stood firm for the truth, and for the murder of all men whatsoever, in soul and body. All are victims of the Babel system. The blood of all is uncovered when that system falls.
“What matters where, if I am still the same?”—the words our poet puts in Satan’s mouth. They have a striking force in the sense he meant them. They also have another force. What does it matter where—in what city or land, under what government or what religion—evil is still the same, selfishness is still the same. The Adversary will make a Babylon wherever men will stoop to him. But “What matters where, if I am still the same” are also words that He who came to destroy the works of the Devil and to bruise the serpent’s head is speaking to our hearts: “Whatever falsehood there is in any society or in any heart, I can overcome it. Out of death I can bring life. Whatever has been turned to Babylon’s service—whatever gifts of the earth, whatever human faculties, energies, and affections, in any corner of the universe—is mine. It is the purchase of my blood. I have vindicated it, and I will vindicate it, for the service of the kingdom of God.”