Minor Prophets

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.

Koenig, Sara M. The Ten Commandments through the Ages. Eerdmans, 2025. x+269 pp. Hb. $35.99   Link to Eerdmans

Sara Koenig is professor of biblical studies at Seattle Pacific University. She previously published two books on Bathsheba: Isn’t This Bathsheba? A Study in Characterization (Princeton Theological Monograph; Pickwick 2011) and Bathsheba Survives (USC Press, 2018). She co-edited the Robert Wall festschrift, The Usefulness of Scripture (Eisenbrauns, 2018).

In the thirty-six-page introduction to the book, Koenig suggests that the brevity of the Ten Commandments invites discussion in application. This begins in the Hebrew Bible itself, as well as in the Christian New Testament, early Judaism, and church history. This book is therefore a reception history of the Ten Commandments. It is certainly not exhaustive (239), reception history can rarely cover every time a text is used in other times and places. But she does manage to highlight how commandments grow over the centuries. Readers are invited to consider how they would receive these Commandments today.

Using “honor your father and mother” (Exod 20:12) as an example, she observes that Exodus 21:15-17 immediately expands on this commandment, and 1 Kings 15:11 demonstrates the commandment (David is honored as a father). In Luke 14:26, Jesus challenges the command (“hate your father?”), and in Ephesians 6:1, Paul briefly discusses what it means to “honor.” She then tracks how the commandment is interpreted in rabbinic literature and later Christian interpretation. Her main question is, “What does it mean to ‘honor your father and mother’ at different times and in different places?”

The introduction also asks, “Why Ten Commandments?” Citing one of the most significant theological voices of the twentieth century, George Carlin, it just sounds official to have Ten Commandments (11). She explains the variation in the Ten Commandments between the Jewish, Roman Catholic/Lutheran, Eastern Orthodox, and most Protestant lists in a helpful chart (7). Her introduction also offers a brief overview of modern reactions to the Ten Commandments today. Ted Turner, for example, publicly stated that the Ten Commandments were outdated and offered his own version. Some in the media will point out that these Commandments are not even unique. They’re quite comparable to other ancient law codes or religious systems. In America, the Ten Commandments have been particularly controversial as some of them posted in public courts or schools.

Koenig follows her introduction with ten chapters on each of the Ten Commandments. After a short introduction and explanation of the Commandment, she offers several sections that expand the Commandment. Focusing on the sixth Commandment as an example, she asks, Is the commandment “do not murder,” or “do not kill”? Does the commandment refer to only killing humans? What about war? Capital punishment? Modern gun violence? Suicide, euthanasia, abortion? She covers New Testament applications, such as Jesus’s extension of the commandment to include controlling one’s anger. Koenig then surveys the rabbinic literature, historical Christian interpretation (Luther, Calvin, Aquinas), modern commentaries, and popular authors.

In her commentary on each commandment, she avoids too much prescription or legalism 243. She’s rarely dogmatic about application. Nevertheless, she does offer some method for applying the Ten Commandments in a modern context. She suggests a positive formulation of the Commandments. So, for example, “do not commit adultery” becomes something like “preserve marriage.” Do things that protect the family (179).

Conclusion. Koenig’s book is an excellent introduction to the reception history of the Ten Commandments. Like Eerdmans’s Illuminations commentary series (see this review, for example), she draws together a wide range of rabbis, pastors, scholars, and pop culture which discuss each commandment. Koenig’s book will serve pastors and teachers preparing to teach the Ten Commandments in both the church and the academy. But more than that, this is an entertaining and challenging book that will appeal to any reader interested in thinking more deeply about the Ten Commandments and their application in new contexts.

NB: Thanks to Eerdmans for kindly providing me with a review copy of this book. This did not influence my thoughts regarding the work.

Sharp, Carolyn J. Micah: Introduction and Commentary. Illuminations. Eerdmans, 2025. xxv+466 pp. Hb. $64.99   Link to Eerdmans

Carolyn Sharp is Professor of Homiletics at Yale Divinity School. She has contributed a commentary on Jeremiah 26-52 (Prophecy and Ideology in Jeremiah, T&T Clarck 2003) and Joshua (Smyth & Helwys, 2910), as well as several monographs, such as The Prophetic Literature (2019); Wrestling the Word: The Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian Believer (2010); and Irony and Meaning in the Hebrew Bible (2009), and edited volumes. She serves as Preacher in Residence at St. Thomas’s Episcopal Church in New Haven.  In this new volume of Eerdmans’s Illuminations commentary series, Sharp provides an excellent exegetical commentary combined with theological interpretation and reception history.

In the extensive 126-page introduction, Sharp begins with an overview of Micah’s historical context, both new-Assyrian and neo-Babylonian. There are many proposals for the composition and editorial process of Micah as it appears in the Masoretic tradition. She surveys the relevant literature, including James Nogalski (NICOT, reviewed here) and Ehud Ben-Zvi (who argues the book represents Scribal memory from the Persian), and recent suggestions that there are canonical links within the book of the Twelve. She does not interact with Michael B. Shepherd’s commentary on the Twelve, which focused on these canonical links (reviewed here). Although she acknowledges it is not comprehensive (but it is thorough), Sharp reviews various theories of composition. She considers this survey “as an invitation to the reader, to observe shifts in tone, addiction, imagery, and the themes as Micah^MT unfolds” (18). In its final form, Micah was shaped as a written composition, drawing on the memories of the fall of Samaria and the neo-Assyrian invasion of 701, events that were still meaningful for the postexilic community (19).

Discussing literary dimensions of Micah, Sharp observes a “fascinating combination of artistically crafted language and structural elegance” (25). She discusses this poetic artistry by serving various forms with examples from the book. As a prophet, Micah is highly figurative and elliptical. The book represents a dramatic public performance by Micah, which was “polished up” by later scribes. She is not convinced the book dates entirely to the postexilic or Persian period. But neither is she convinced that the voice of the prophet can be discerned with confidence in the earlier oracles, but not in the later ones (25). She has a three-page sketch of what can be known about the original prophet Micah from the book.

An important part of her introduction is a discussion of political and economic factors in ancient Judah. After serving, she discusses several approaches to this, including feminist interpretations that amplify Micah’s views (46-57). Feminist interpretation engages with power in several ways, is concerned with social justice, and gives a voice to invisible or erased persons. As a Profitt, Feminist interpretation is interested in social justice and economic oppression, and wants to honor all subjects (erased, silenced, and distorted voices). With this in mind, Sharp addresses two sub-topics raised by Feminist interpretation. First, she asks if Micah was a killjoy, who “dares to name sordid and tragic truth of systemic, patriarchal violence” (52), which Micah often does!  Second, she describes Micah as representing “fugitivity.” This term refers to covert resistance to oppression. For Sharp, Micah, insights flight from dehumanizing violence. He argues a possible world exists, energized by life-giving mutuality” (55).

Another important theme in both the introduction and the overall commentary is Micah and ecological justice (57-60). She reads Micah in the context of “the present global ecosystem collapse.” In each chapter, there is a brief excursus connecting the chapter of Micah to a discussion of ecological justice.

Like other commentaries in the Illumination series, the majority of the introduction (60-124) is devoted to “history of consequences.” Here, she traces Jewish traditions (midrash interpretation, medieval Jewish interpretation, modern Jewish interpretation). She then focuses on Christian traditions, including early Christian interpreters, medieval, early modern, and contemporary interpreters, including Christian liturgy, and in social justice movements. Unlike Amy Erickson’s Jonah volume (reviewed here), Sharp has far less artistic reception of Micah. This is to be expected, since Micah generated very little art or literature.

The body of the commentary (133-408) is divided by the chapters of canonical Micah. She begins with a new translation, using YHWH rather than masculine pronouns when Micah refers to the deity. This is followed by several brief sections: a theological overview of the chapter, and a “history of consequences” sidebar (briefly summarizing the reception history covered in the introduction), a retrospect (a kind of application of the chapter), and a short essay on Micah and ecological justice. She follows this with an exegetical commentary. She focuses on exegesis of keywords and phrases (with Hebrew transliterated). All secondary sources are cited in text, making for a very readable commentary.

 Conclusion. As with other commentaries in the Illuminations series, Sharp’s excellent commentary on Micah is unique in that it attempts to do reception history alongside an exegetical and theological commentary. How does this commentary differ from Stephen G. Dempster’s Micah 2017 commentary in the Two Horizons series (reviewed here)? They are similar, but different. Both commentaries engage in theological readings of Micah and relate the ancient prophecy to contemporary issues. Both address Micah’s social justice and use it as a template for speaking to modern Christians and for how the church ought to address ecological justice (Sharp) or economic injustice (Dempster). Unlike the Two Horizons series, Sharp intentionally focuses her attention on the reception history of Micah. The result of the multi-focused goals of the illuminations series is a different sort of commentary that does indeed “illuminate” the ancient prophet’s text and is a pleasure to read.

NB: Thanks to Eerdmans for kindly providing me with a review copy of this book. This did not influence my thoughts regarding the work.