Patmos

 Patmos

The view of Harbor Street from the amphitheater is striking. The rich colonnade and the marble paved streets are lined with shops and vendors selling every imaginable product from all over the Roman empire. Their cries in three, daxanika (vegetables), froito (fruit), maskarisia (meat) announce their wares and their eagerness to make a deal with the passing masses. The street meets the deep emerald Aegean Sea and mingles together with the people. Twin masted ships rock, lashed to the sea wall, while sailors like ants unload. Ships groan with the release of their tonnage and bob lighter on the waves. A hundred more are anchored in the harbor waiting their turn.

This is Ephesus. It has been John's home for some time. It is here in tears he buried Mary the mother of Jesus. He never neglected his charge that Jesus gave him from the cross.

 "When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home."

Now John walks the street to the harbor for maybe the last time. He walks with assistance. Age and persecutions have taken their tole. Word has trickled in over time of the horrible  deaths of his compatriots. Crucifixions, beheadings, and general martyrdom, for the cause of the cross, have become  common place. He does not doubt his own demise will be soon. The fall of Jerusalem in 70 ad to the Roman General Titus scattered the disciples far and wide, but it only served to advance the gospel not paralyze it. The words of Gamaliel reverberate over the chaos of the years.

 But a Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law, who was honored by all the people, stood up in the Sanhedrin and ordered that the disciples be put outside for a little while. Then he addressed them: “Men of Israel, consider carefully what you intend to do to these men. In the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”

This same man, Gamaliel, was the tutor of Saul/Paul. Now a martyr in Rome for the Good News.

Churches sprang up across the empire from North Africa to Italia the story of Jesus and the Resurrection could not be stifled. John shuffles his feet along Harbor Street, an admixture of reluctance and age.  Caesar Domitian has ordered his exile. His white hair and aged stance had brought no mercy.

No one used to notice when John has walked these streets in the past. The path led past the magnificent Library and the "Houses of Love" advertised on the stone walkway. But today his Roman escorts make him a spectacle. Cat calls and jeers berate the one who has the nickname of the One Whom Jesus Loved. That love has been his sustenance these 60 years hence.

The oak gangplank bends under the weight of the men that bear the cargo, but fails to even  register the weight of the frail John. The guard who held his arm to steady him now thrusts him forward. John boards the ship and is wedged between crates and containers along with other prisoners. Their destination is a prison island for hard labor in the mines of Patmos. John can hardly contribute much to the cause. But Roman taskmasters have a way of finding work for every man. John's is a political exile. Refusal to acknowledge Caesar as god is intolerable, especially for the megalomaniac Domitian. The island is 50 miles from Ephesus if the winds are favorable, but today there is a southern prevailing wind. They will tack their way across the seas doubling the distance and the time.

John's mind wanders back across time, but even as he attempts to recall there is an inexorable tug to tomorrow. Not the day, but the future. The Spirit has been hinting to him of a time far off. He knows the Spirit's voice and is patient to await his apocalypse. 

Evening falls. The small vessel is no match for the Aegean. She rocks to and  fro. John is wise to the ship and faces his head into the waves. It is not long until the song of the mast lines in the wind and the gentle rolls bring sleep. He slumbers, but his sleep is restless and tormented. There is no meat on his old bones. The planks do not afford his hips much padding he awakes the next day aching.

By mid afternoon the next day the island breaks the horizon. By evening the deep harbor is made. First impressions can be deceiving. This ancient volcanic island appears at first glance to be a paradise, but is has a fresh water shortage with only a few springs. Most of the water needed to be gathered from rains in cisterns.

Throughout the island there are temples, none more prominent then that to Artemis. Ancient Greek mythology held that the Dragon Python, oracle of Delphi, had tried to kill Artemis and her brother Apollo. This same demoniac was the one that followed Paul around Philippi (Acts 16) 

It doesn't take long for John to fall into the routine of his exile. Granite is quarried from the mountains for Rome's insatiable desire to build. All day long the drills and chisels can be heard. There is an unmistakable cracking echo, like that of a whip, as stones give way to water wedges and hammer.  The pumice is carved from the face of cliffs. John is a cog in the Roman wheel of grandeur. But isolation and exile cannot silence the Spirit. 

On the Lord's day morning there is a Holy interruption of the routine.

On the Lord’s Day I was in the Spirit, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet, which said: “Write on a scroll what you see...

The apocalypse is born; revelation!

(I believe this book continues to speak to our times. This conviction grows stronger as I contemplate the future of our nation. As we toured Israel it became clear to me there will be a day when "all nations" will come against Israel. Can that day be far off?)