Carey, Greg. Rereading Revelation: Theology, Ethics, and Resistance. Eerdmans, 2025. xviii+210 pp. Pb. $29.99 Link to Eerdmans
Greg Carey is Associate Dean and Professor of New Testament at Moravian University School of Theology. He has previously published Stories Jesus Told: How to Read a Parable (Abingdon2019), Using Our Outside Voice: Public Biblical Interpretation (Fortress, 2020), and Death, the End of History, and Beyond: Eschatology in the Bible in the Interpretation series (WJKP, 2023). He often contributes to Sojourners Magazine.
This new book on Revelation addresses the book topically and theologically. He says that his theological perspective is “without bias” (xi). This might be possible, but in his introduction, he goes on to describe his biases. “I aim to read Revelation in a way that fosters life, community, sustainability, dignity, and equity” (xii). His goal in this book is to reach a broad audience, so there is no intensive engagement with secondary literature and certainly no list of what commentaries say about Revelation. In many ways, this theological reading of Revelation engages in a kind of reception history emphasizing modern interpretive methodologies. Often, Carey engages various approaches to Revelation (feminist interpretation, queer readings, post-colonial readings).
He observes that Revelation is a “dangerous and necessary part of the canon” (xii), which some Christians reject because of its violent imagery or the interpretations that it has fostered over the years. Perhaps the book is too esoteric? Is the book impossible to understand? For many readers, the answer is yes, and the book of Revelation is easily pushed aside. Carey’s book is an example of theological interpretation. It is a series of related essays on the book of Revelation without any sustained exegesis or historical research. Certainly, Carey has done that work, but this book stands on the grammatical-historical method, intertextual studies, and the socio-historical study of Asian Rome in the first century.
For Carey, the primary challenge of Revelation involves loyalty. Followers of Jesus are called to resist imperial culture and the worship of emperors and imperial gods. As such, the book is resistance literature (xv). The book is written to real churches in Roman Asia Minor who genuinely struggled to resist imperial ideology. Readers were experiencing pressure regarding their exclusive witness, and some hostility from both outsiders (the “inhabitants of the Earth”) and some unfaithful insiders (the “synagogue of Satan”). The author of Revelation allows no compromise with culture. Carey states that “Revelation is the only New Testament document to condemn Roman power in an overt way” (23).
The first chapter of the book is programmatic. He wants to reread Revelation as apocalyptic, prophecy, and a letter. This is often observed: Revelation is an apocalypse, or represents apocalyptic literature, yet it claims to be a prophecy and has features of a letter. As an apocalypse, Revelation participates in the literary traditions set forth by Daniel and 1 Enoch (5). Apocalyptic unveiled. More specifically, it unveils Rome through symbols such as a beast, a prostitute, or a dragon. “Revelation’s unveiling actively mocks Roman rulers, commerce, and piety by means of parody and satire” (21). Ancient Apocalypses have a scribal quality. They are intense conversations with other texts. He observes that Revelation alludes to 250–1000 Old Testament texts (depending on who is doing the counting).
As a prophecy, John does not see a boundary between prophecy and apocalyptic (as some scholars do today). He states that theological interpretation of revelation requires us to acknowledge John’s perspective (revelation is prophecy) but not necessarily to adopt it. For Carey, prophecy is a “contested category” (9). As a letter, Carey’s focus is on the embedded letters to churches in Roman Asia Minor in Revelation 2-3. Historians use these letters to reconstruct the circumstances of these seven churches, focusing on the conflicting teachers in Ephesus, Pergamum, and Thyatira (Balaam and Jezebel). Carey warns his readers about making too much of small clues in these letters (14).
There are two key challenges for Christian readers. First, how exclusive is loyalty to Jesus? What potential allegiance is threatened by this loyalty? Second, what is the relationship between the followers of Jesus and the state? These two questions have currency in the first century and make four interesting theological and cultural applications in the twenty-first century. Carey’s focus in this book is on Western Christianity, but it could easily be applied to other cultural contexts.
In chapter 4, Carey asks whether Revelation has an eschatology. He suggests “not in the popular sense” that many modern prophecy teachers used to read the book. Certainly, the book has something to say about “the end,” but it does not have anything to say about the rapture, the tribulation period, or any kind of literal judgments on earth. For Carye, this is not demythologizing because he does not think those elements were present in Revelation in the first place. Eschatology is not a sequence of future events, but a description of how we view reality, or cosmology. Maybe, eschatology is “what’s really going on.” If readers pay attention to the apocalyptic elements of the book and discern how they function in their own culture, they will not fall into the sorts of interpretations popular among premillennial or dispensational interpreters of Revelation (69).
Carey argues that Revelation provides the cosmological framework, with pervasive evil in this world and salvation coming from heaven. This is all based on a Jewish worldview of the first century. I don’t have a problem with this; Carey is certainly correct as far as he goes. However, it seems to me that the “Jewish world view of the first century” included quite a bit of fiery judgment on this world that at least some Jews took quite literally. If Revelation participates in the same literary world as Daniel and Enoch, why would it not also share literal eschatological expectations with that literature?
Nevertheless, he does recognize some eschatology in the book. There is an into history: the lamb defeats Satan and the beast, and the whole supernatural drama comes to an end (76). How all that happens is not what Revelation is about.
Chapters 6-9 discuss specific issues in Revelation (wealth, feminist approaches to the book (“A Queer Book”), violence (how can a pacifist read Revelation?), and resistance. With respect to violence, Carrie says, “Many readers, myself among them, find the lake of fire repulsive for moral and theological reasons (83). Revelation has an active hope for an afterlife for the righteous, but the punishment of the wicked is repulsive. But this violence is repulsive from a modern perspective (no one in the ancient world would see anything wrong with the lake of fire, and there are many antecedents in Revelation’s dialogue partners, the Hebrew Bible, Daniel, and 1 Enoch. Carey observes that “Revelation celebrates and endorses violence, even though it never calls its audience to violent action” (152). If Revelation is resistance literature, then the violence is expected.
For Carey, it is best to emphasize the book’s hopeful passages. For example, “Christian hope is not the same as empty optimism” (78). Revelation grounds its future in the shape of what God has already accomplished in creation, Israel, and the church (79).
Conclusion. Carey’s Rereading Revelation is a helpful contribution to theological readings of Revelation. By rereading Revelation through a thoroughly modern lens, Carey offers insight into this difficult book that other approaches overlook.
NB: Thanks to Eerdmans for kindly providing me with a review copy of this book. This did not influence my thoughts regarding the work.




