Harvest and Winepress

Detail of a miniature showing the Last Judgement from the “Queen Mary Apocalypse”, early 1300s (Royal MS 19 B XV, f. 40r).

Then I looked, and … another angel came out of the Temple and called in a loud voice… “Put in your sickle and harvest for the hour of the harvest has come, for the harvest of the earth is fully ripe. (Apocalypse 14:14-15)

In much of the New Testament (Matthew 13) or the Old Testament prophets (Isaiah 17, Jeremiah 51, Joel 3), the images or parables about the harvest use the image of “harvest” as a way to talk about the Last Judgment, the End of Days. Often, the idea of harvest includes the idea of condemnation: the wicked will be harvested and condemned to their eternal punishment. But in the Apocalypse, the idea of harvest is about salvation rather than condemnation. The righteous are ripe–they have withstood the test of persecution–and they are harvested in the Apocalypse, not the wicked; the righteous are harvested and gathered before the Throne of God as crops are gathered into a barn for safekeeping.

But after the righteous are harvested, the wicked are gathered into the divine winepress. The “great winepress of God’s wrath” (Apoc. 14:19) is outside the heavenly city, just as the Cross was erected outside the walls of Jerusalem. The winepress grinds up those flung into it and their blood pours out as the grape juice flows from a winepress on earth, ready to be made into wine. Christ is flung into the divine winepress on the Cross and his blood pours out into the chalice of the Eucharist; in the Apocalypse, the wicked are thrown into the divine winepress which is outside the city–outside the Church–and they are trodden as grapes are trodden. But they do not emerge from the winepress victorious, as the martyrs do. The wicked are destroyed in the winepress because they choose to align themselves with the dragon–all the powers that oppose God and the Lamb.

Harvest and winepress. Bread and wine. How we choose to prepare for (1 Cor. 11) or respond to these experiences results in our salvation or condemnation. Often in ways that we do not expect.

A Little Scroll

This fresco on Mt. Athos from the 17th century depicts the opening of chapter 10 of the Apocalypse: St. John sees the massive angel, standing with a foot in the sea and a foot on land, who gives him a little scroll to eat.

Then I saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven, wrapped in a cloud, with a rainbow over his head: his face was like the sun and his legs like pillars of fire. He held in his hand a little scroll which was open…. He said to me, “take it and eat it.” (Apocalypse 10:1-2, 9)

St. John takes the small, open scroll and eats it although the angel warns that it will taste sweet in his mouth and then turn his stomach sour. “You must prophesy over many peoples and nations and tongues and kings,” St. John is told after eating the scroll.

Eating a scroll is often the first thing a prophet is told to do (Ezekiel 3). The prophet ingests the message he is to deliver and integrates it into himself. It becomes his message as well as the message of God. (The scroll that Ezekiel eats is also sweet to taste but produces “laments and words of woe.” Both Ezekiel and the Apocalypse are associated with the liturgical season of Eastertide; the Death and Resurrection of Christ are simultaneously blessing and judgement which are described in terms of the Last Days by the prophet and the apostle.)

Given that the Apocalypse is a liturgical commentary, what does this episode correspond to in the Eucharist? Consuming the little scroll can also correspond with receiving Holy Communion, as does Isaiah’s lips being touched by a heavenly coal. Each communicant is called to the same vocation as the seer although details of how that vocation is exercised may differ.

Although this scroll is small, unlike the others mentioned in the Apocalypse, its most important distinguishing feature is that it is open rather than closed. An open message is one that will be fulfilled shortly after it is proclaimed; a closed message is about an event that will happen long after the proclamation is made. The message that will be accomplished soon is the preaching of the Gospel to “many peoples and nations and tongues and kings.” Prophets like Ezekiel were sent only to the Israelites; John–and the Church as a whole–are sent to the whole world. The ingathering of the nations to join Israel in receiving the blessings of God was proclaimed by the prophets as one of the signs that the Last Days had finally come; the nations responding to the preaching of the Gospel is a sign that the Last Days have now arrived.

The Apocalypse is, in many ways, the proclamation of the same message that the prophets proclaimed but that message has now been fulfilled-accomplished. The Last Judgement–while still a distant event in linear time–has begun and is already present in the spiritual-liturgical life of the Church. Eternity has begun to erupt into the world of space-time. The Apocalypse is not a blueprint or a timeline for something to happen in the future; it describes the life of the Church now.

The fancy theological way to refer to this is “realized eschatology.” Eschatology is the Greek word for “last things.” The last things have been realized/accomplished in the life-ministry-Passion of Christ and are now playing out in the life of the Church. Sometimes “realized eschatology” is contrasted with consistent eschatology, which insists that the Last Days are still entirely in the future. The two concepts are combined by some modern authors in inaugurated eschatology.

The Seventh Seal

Dionysiou Monastery on Mt. Athos was founded in 1374. In its refectory (dining hall) is a magnificent series of frescoes that illustrate the Apocalypse. In this illustration of chapter 8, we see the seven angels with trumpets, the censer with smoke, a mountain in the sea, the bloody sea water, destroyed ships, the fountain of water, the star Wormwood (in the rocks in the right corner), a darkened sun, etc.

When the Lamb broke the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. I saw the seven angels who stand before God and they were given seven trumpets. (Apoc. 8:1)

The silence in heaven is momentous. It grabs the attention. It is louder than the thunder and commotion that either precede or follow it. Silence is not simply the absence of noise or the lull between events, one thing having finished and the other not yet having started as sometimes happens when a reader or performer is not ready to begin. Silence is a living presence.

I read many years ago that the most brilliant moment in music is the silence before the Et incarnatus of Bach’s “B Minor Mass.” The silence in heaven is like that. It is the sudden silence that follows Dorothy’s house crashing into Munchkinland as it drops from the cyclone in which she has seen Miss Gulch become the Wicked Witch.

This silence in heaven is an echo of the silence in heaven that preceded God’s first utterance: “Let there be light.” (see 4 Ezra 7:30-33) The apocalyptic silence in heaven is liturgical silence, the moment when all creation holds its breath seeing the Word of God crucified. It is the silence of the Great Entrance on Holy Saturday: God the Word has died and descended into Hades. It is the moment before all creation is turned topsy-turvy by Life himself tearing Death to shreds from the inside out.

Before the angels blow their trumpets, another angel-deacon comes to offer incense at the heavenly altar. There is “much incense” offered. The smoke creates an impenetrable cloud, much like the cloud of incense that the prophet Isaiah also saw (Isaiah 6). It was said that when the High Priest offered incense in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur that there was not enough smoke if he could still see his hand in front of his face. The smoke creates a buffer that serves to protect the human from the brilliant glory of God that would annihilate anything or anyone that dared stand unprotected in the terrible light.

In the Our Father, we pray, “Thy kingdom come.” Before the kingdom comes, all creation holds its breath and peers through the smoky clouds of incense, waiting to see what will happen when God reveals himself.