I’m not in the habit of writing apocalyptic poetry, but I wrote this a few months back as I reflected on what I’ve been learning about the industrial food system, the global economy, and climate change. We often use the word “apocalypse” to refer to the idea mass destruction or the end of the world, but in the original Greek it means “uncovering”: the lifting of a veil; a revelation.  For people who seek to be shaped by the Biblical narrative, its important to know who we are, and where we are, in the story. Imagining all kinds of evil outside of ourselves or our own community without recognizing our role in contributing to life or to destruction is worse than useless–it actually distracts us from using the power available to us to take meaningful action.

I grew up in churches where we talked about the end of the world fairly often, but it was all mystifyingly spiritual–beyond our control and even beyond our understanding. We rarely discussed any of the real-world destruction going on around us in the form of wars or other man-made disasters. We never imagined that we might be benefiting from, let alone contributing to, the very systems of power that were destroying God’s creation or the lives of our fellow human beings.

St. John wrote the book of Revelation to help his readers understand the times in which they lived and to help them respond faithfully to their situation. Here is what it might look like to interpret the book of Revelation in our twenty-first century context of climate refugees, mass extinction, and a worldwide economy that depends on ecological and human exploitation to sustain its perpetual growth:

 

Apocalypse

I nightmared of the rapture

From the age of ten

Looking out for all the signs

That would mark the end:

 

The blood-red moon,

The rebuilt temple,

Rumors of famine and war

It was simple

 

To keep watch and prepare

For the tribulation:

A mysterious age

When the world would be one nation

 

With power concentrated

In a single pair of hands:

The evil antichrist

Against whom we would stand

 

We brave, holy Christians

Ready to be martyred

If we hadn’t been raptured already

By the time the suffering started

 

Yes, this was the revelation

According to St. John

And Tim LaHaye

And on and on

 

They proclaimed with confidence

All those fiery preachers

They understood it all;

They were inspired, spiritual teachers

 

The evil they envisioned

Was otherworldly; other

It had nothing to do with us,

With how we lived with one another.

 

But what if apocalypse does not depend

On events beyond our knowing?

What if the world will meet its end

At the hands that should have been sowing

 

Gardens of perpetual abundance

Instead of economies of perpetual growth

Contentment instead of greed

So that life would not be choked?

 

“Rule over all the earth,and subdue it,”

Say our scriptures in the beginning.

“Tend this garden in my stead,”

But already our heads were spinning…

 

With ways to turn this mandate

For protecting the work of God’s hand

Into the right to rape and plunder

like warlords on stolen land.

 

God said that it was very good

But we couldn’t just take that at face value

There was still untapped potential

For air-conditioning and indoor bathrooms

 

And look, God approves–

With wealth He does bless!

Convenience, comfort,

More is always better than less

 

But somehow we missed the signs

Of the snowballing destruction

That we “the faithful” brought about

With our affluent consumption.

 

“Fallen! Fallen

Is Babylon the Great!”

Her sins are piled to heaven,

Judgment will no longer wait.

 

The saints and apostles

and prophets rejoice,

But we wealthy who made merry

Cannot find a joyful voice

 

“Come out of her,” the Lord had said

But we all felt just fine

It was difficult to leave—

We all had drunk her wine

 

Drunk with power, and distraction

It was difficult to see

all the blood there on our hands

as we lived our lives in ease.

 

For our finely-built houses

We turned forest land to sand

For our juicy beef burgers

We drove peasants from their land

 

But this all was done by proxy,

Please try to understand,

We would not have done this dirty work

Directly with our hands.

 

“Woe! Woe, O great city,

O Babylon, city of power!”

All your horses and chariots and tanks

Could not prolong your life by an hour.

 

For your growing empire was rotting

All along, from the inside out,

Destroying the very nourishment

That you could not live without.

 

You sought to trade

and buy and sell

Human bodies and souls

ecosystems as well

 

You poisoned your own rivers

And you counted it as profit

The important numbers grew,

But you never measured losses.

 

Why think about the future?

In the present, you could thrive.

No need to let inconvenient fact

Intrude on your way of life:

 

Freedom of choice

Freedom of trade

Slave labor hidden

In everything that’s made.

 

Poison air that burns the lungs

Of the workers making shoes

“Pleather weather” over factories

That produce for me and you

 

Ocean waves enclosing

An island homeland beneath the surf

That’s the end of someone’s world,

If not the entire earth.

 

Famines, droughts, deforestation,

And wars waged over water

This certainly will end the lives

Of certain sons and daughters

 

Genocides of birds and of fish

And bees and soil, too.

All creatures that eat food will die.

Eventually, humans do.

 

No showy Armageddon;

Just a slow fading out:

Like a self-inflicted wound

That finally brings death round.

 

Or like the drug addicted

Overdosing on the sidewalk

En masse, of course, but just as

accidental and suicidal.

 

This, the self-made apocalypse

Of prideful, self-made men

More predictable than what we sought

In our cryptic verses back then.

revelation apocalypse