Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem (Numen Book Series: Studies in the History of Religions)

Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem

Numen Book Series Studies in the History of Religions

Edited by

Steven Engler Kim Knott P. Pratap Kumar Kocku von Stuckrad Advisory Board b. bocking ‒ m. burger ‒ m. despland ‒ f. diez de velasco i. s. gilhus ‒ g. ter haar ‒ r. i. j. hackett ‒ t. jensen m. joy ‒ a. h. khan ‒ g. l. lease ‒ e. thomassen a. tsukimoto ‒ a. t. wasim

VOLUME 111

Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem by

Maria Leppäkari

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON 2006

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem / by Maria Leppäkari. p. cm. — (Numen book series. Studies in the history of religions, ISSN 01698834; v. 111) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 90-04-14915-5 (alk. paper) 1. Apocalyptic literature—History and criticism. 2. Jerusalem in Judaism. 3. Jerusalem in Christianity. 4. Apocalyptic literature—History and criticism— Theory, etc. BS646.L47 2006 203/.509569442 22

ISSN 0169-8834 ISBN 90 04 14915 5 © Copyright 2006 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill Academic Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

The Lover of Life’s Not A Sinner The Ending is Just A Beginner Ronnie James Dio

CONTENTS Preface and Acknowledgements ................................................

xi

Chapter One Introduction ...................................................... 1.1 Materials and Methods of the Study .......................... 1.2 Theoretical Approach and Definitions ........................ 1.3 Relevant Scholarly Literature ...................................... 1.3.1 Messianism ........................................................ 1.3.2 Messianic and Millenarian Groups .................. 1.3.3 The Millennial and Millenarian Problem ...... 1.4 Aim and Structure of the Study ..................................

1 10 14 20 20 23 30 33

Chapter Two Theoretical Perspectives .................................. 2.1 Interpretive Frames ........................................................ 2.1.1 Dan Sperber’s Representation Theory ............ 2.1.2 Symbolic Interactions ........................................ 2.1.3 Integrating the Theoretical Approaches .......... 2.2 Apocalyptic Representations in Practice ...................... 2.2.1 Textual Apocalypses .......................................... 2.2.2 Interpreted Apocalypses .................................... 2.2.3 Culture-Bound and Contextual Apocalypses .... 2.2.4 Ethical and Existential Apocalypses ................ 2.2.5 Gender Apocalypses .......................................... 2.2.6 Environmental and Technological Apocalypses ........................................................

35 35 35 46 53 58 58 65 66 68 71

Chapter Three Jerusalem as Sacred Place and Symbol ...... 3.1 Visions of the End and the Coming Jerusalem ........ 3.1.1 Jerusalem in Early Jewish History .................. 3.1.2 The Temples ...................................................... 3.1.3 The Name of Zion ............................................ 3.1.4 The Cosmic Mountain ...................................... 3.2 The Christian Impact .................................................... 3.2.1 The Early Christian Church ............................ 3.2.2 Living Close to the End .................................. 3.2.3 Christian Conquest of Jerusalem ......................

77 77 77 80 81 83 86 87 93 96

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3.3

contents 3.2.4 Anticipation of the Antichrist .......................... 3.2.5 Paradise Within Reach .................................... 3.2.6 Science and Redemption .................................. Coming Deliverance ...................................................... 3.3.1 Meaning of Jerusalem to Jews and Christians ............................................................ 3.3.2 The Foundation of the State of Israel in 1948 .................................................................... 3.3.3 Independent State and Growth of Religious Extremism .......................................... 3.3.4 Apocalypse Interpreted in Finland ..................

Chapter Four The Eternal Kingdom of God—Two Case Studies ............................................................................ 4.1 The International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem .... 4.1.1 Christian Zionism—a Background Story of the ICEJ ............................................................ 4.1.2 Foundation of the ICEJ .................................... 4.1.3 Activities of the ICEJ ........................................ 4.1.4 Christian Struggle for the Chosen City .......... 4.1.5 Apocalyptic Events and Second Coming of Christ ............................................................ 4.2 The Temple Mount Faithful ........................................ 4.2.1 Foundation of the TMF .................................. 4.2.2 The Cultural Radicals’ Activities .................... 4.2.3 Sympathizers ...................................................... 4.2.4 The Apocalypse and Future Jerusalem .......... 4.3 Representations of Jerusalem in the ICEJ and the TMF ........................................................................ Chapter Five Theoretical Application .................................... 5.1 Contemporary Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem .................................................................. 5.1.1 Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem ...... 5.1.2 Mental Apocalyptic Representations ................ 5.1.3 Public and Cultural Apocalyptic Representations .................................................. 5.1.4 Commonly Conceived Apocalyptic Representations ..................................................

99 107 110 117 117 120 122 124

129 131 131 140 146 149 158 161 161 166 177 181 185 191 193 197 199 200 202

contents 5.2

Representations as Tools for Interpretation ................ 5.2.1 Attractiveness of Apocalypses .......................... 5.2.2 Transformation of Apocalypses ........................ 5.3 Interpreting an Identified Reality ................................ 5.3.1 Reality Building-blocks ...................................... 5.3.2 Legitimating Everlasting Life ............................ 5.4 The Significant ‘Sacred’ in a Crisis Perspective ........ 5.4.1 Sacrality as primus motor .................................... 5.4.2 Apocalypses as Survival Strategies ..................

ix 204 207 210 212 213 214 216 217 219

Chapter Six The End Is But A Beginning .......................... 223 Bibliography ................................................................................ 235 Index of Names .......................................................................... 249 Index of Concepts and Places .................................................. 254

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Much has happened within the field of the study of religion since the original doctoral dissertation on which this book is based was published by the Åbo Akademi University Press in 2002. The fall of the Twin Towers in New York on September 11th 2001, the London bombings in July 2005, and the Gaza pullout in August 2005, are just a few of the events which have stimulated an increasing public interest in religious activity and the role of religion in political conflicts. Scholarly debate is intense, while in the media religion is often presented as a source of rising global threat. Underlying this political dimension, however, is a concern with religious symbols and the representations that they generate. This book consequently is not focused on the role of religion in political conflict as such, but rather on the role of apocalyptic representations in actions that can be said to be inspired by religious endtime beliefs. The research for this study began in February 1998, when I travelled to Jerusalem on the recommendation of my academic advisors, but without knowing where the trip would eventually lead me. When I had begun my work in comparative religion, I had first more or less ‘bumped into’ the idea of Zion, when studying in Jamaican Rastafarianism. I came to realize that the image of Jerusalem was actually more complex than I had originally imagined. After starting with a ‘back to Africa’ movement I moved into Judaism, and finally ended up with Christian interpretations of the ‘Kingdom of God’. I traveled to Israel originally with a stipend to participate in a four-month seminar at the Swedish Theological Institute in Jerusalem. Jerusalem itself, then, was not a strange place, but the Jerusalemites (those who live in the city) were all strangers to me. Some months later, after I had gone back home, I received a letter from the Hebrew University, telling me that I had received the Rothberg Family Scholarship, and so back I went again. This time I stayed in the country for a year and actually lived with Israelis. During my visits to Jerusalem I started to collect empirical material for my studies. Although overwhelmed by the beauty of the city’s archeological sights, I still managed to get some actual work done.

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I met with representatives and members of the Temple Mount Faithful and the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem. These groups were exciting, I thought, since they were both very actively involved in the cause of redemption while focused on Jerusalem itself. I wish to thank all those who were kind enough to share with me their personal beliefs, personal perspectives and religious convictions. As I acquired first-hand knowledge of a culture I had previously only read about, the approaching Millennium1 (the turning of the year 1999 into 2000), started to blow new winds into my research. The idea of the Millennium had come to be regarded as somewhat old-fashioned and was not so popular among scholars in my field, but as the date came closer I suddenly had to deal with a mountain of new books on the subject, while new aspects of religion, culture and the millenarian problem arose before my eyes. The sudden awakening of media interest in the subject further expanded both public and my own private interest in the field. The resulting doctoral dissertation was published in 2002 as The End is a Beginning: Contemporary Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem; and was kindly accepted by Brill Academic Publishers as part of the Numen series. Both the original dissertation and this present revision for Numen should therefore be seen as a result of all these factors. The continuation of my work on the study of the relationship between symbols and action has been made possible thanks to generous financial support from the Academy of Finland (project nr. 202523). The individuals whose knowledge and good judgment have helped me to rethink my conclusions, sharpen my arguments, and improve the manuscript are numerous. I would like especially to thank the anonymous reviewers of the manuscript, editor Joed Elich and assistant editor Mattie Kuiper for their kind assistance and help. I thank the students, teachers and others at the Department of Language and Culture, Comparative Religion and Folkloristics at Åbo Akademi University, my colleagues at the Faculty of Theology in the same university, and at the Hebrew University, together with all Finnish and international colleagues. Special thanks go to my doctoral supervisors, professor Nils G. Holm and docent Siv Illman, for setting high professional standards 1 The Millennium is a concept referring mostly to the Christian calendar of the Common Era. This concept of time will be presented in more detail later on in this study.

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by personal example in their immediate work and beyond. In particular, their advice has inspired me to continue research within Religionsvetenskap. I additionally wish to thank emeritus professor KarlJohan Illman, now deceased, but who through his exceptional teaching, opened this student’s eyes to Jewish studies and encouraged me to travel to Jerusalem. Many thanks also go to my friends and colleagues Dr. Ruth Illman, Motti Inbari, and Dr. Jonathan Peste. Professor John Skinner revised the original English text, and Dr. Richard Bartholomew helped me with this manuscript. Of course, I myself am responsible for weaknesses in the language of the present form. There are many challenges to be confronted when trying to pursue one’s own way. In the middle of the chaos which is part of all scholarly work I had the privilege of enjoying the support of friends and family. The sharpest critic, however, and most breathtaking support always come from you, Petri.

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION Within the sphere of religion we find that certain geographical sites are of intrinsic importance as sacred places and attract people in a very special way. Such sites come to signify something ‘holy’: in Hinduism, Varanasi is a place of worship and pilgrimage; in Islam, Mecca is the spiritual centre; in Catholic Christianity, Rome has been referred to as a city of God. As R. J. Zwi Werblowsky puts it, there are holy places, as distinct from holy lands, and there are holy cities, as distinct from holy places.1 The city commonly regarded as a holy place in the three monotheistic faiths of Judaism, Christianity and Islam is Jerusalem. Jerusalem is special since no other historical city evokes such claims to this day. The goal of this study is not to give an account of the city’s history, but to analyze the conceptions of Jerusalem as an endtime symbol in religious settings; perhaps as rephrased with Werblowsky’s words one could say, “the correlation between outer space and inner space”.2 For each of the three religions Jerusalem has a different meaning. We find at least two factors in the religiously motivated longing for Jerusalem which unites the three monotheistic faiths: the actual geographical spot of Jerusalem and its mountain of the Lord, and the role that the city plays in futuristic visions of life on earth. But if we sift through the different strata of the city, as archaeologists do, we will find that Jerusalem has a history going back to long before the time of the Jewish scriptures. In particular, the golden Dome of the Rock sits on area which has had an enormous impact on the history of the city since the pre-Israelite period: a large flat rock that has served as a place of worship from that time until today. The rock, which is still visible, served as an altar to a god, possibly El Eljon. The same rock would come to play a major role in a succession of other religions. Jews call it the Stone of Foundation, where

1 R. J. Zwi Werblowsky, “Introduction: Mindscape and Landscape” in Sacred Space: Shrine, City, Land (eds.) Benjamin Z. Kedar & R. J. Zwi Werblowsky 1998: 11. 2 Werblowsky 1998: 14.

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it is claimed that human history began with the creation of Adam, the first human being. The legend of how Abraham was about to sacrifice his son on the same spot has been attached to the tradition and has added to the significance of the place. Jewish sources name the area as Mt Moriah, and interpret it as being a meetingplace between heaven and earth, a role which history and religious phenomenology also attribute to some other mountains in the vicinity, such as Mt Sinai, Mt Zion, Mt Carmel, and Mt Gerizim. In some versions of the religious longing towards Jerusalem, the word ‘Zion’ is used as an equivalent to Jerusalem. ‘Zion’, then, is associated with the past, present and future enterprises of the present city. In Judaism, Zion has come to denote the glorious ancient times of God’s capital during the periods of the ancient Israelites. In modern Judaism, however, ‘Zion’ not only refers to the ancient city, but also to the present-day city of Jerusalem. ‘Zion’ became the word describing the ancient Jewish longing for a homeland, and after the foundation of the State of Israel the dream of the Zionists was to a certain extent realized. Today’s Jerusalem is actually looked upon as a fulfilment of the ancient dream, not only in the religious realm but also in political terms. Not all Jews are happy with this, and some still argue that the True Kingdom of Israel can only be created by God himself when the time is ripe, and not by secular Jews. For Judaism, Jerusalem is an important place because of what is written about the city in Jewish holy texts: the Tanach, Talmud, and related rabbinic literature. The sacredness of Jerusalem in those texts is derived from Mt Moriah, the location of the ancient rockaltar and the Israelite Temple which historical sources place there. The first and second temples built there were significant markers of divine presence for the Jews; God himself was believed to be present upon this mountain and the worship of the Lord cemented the life of the people in the area, transforming it into a relatively strong nation. The temple on Mount Moriah, was thus connected with the very core of Jewishness, and this symbolic significance was applied to the whole city of Jerusalem. After the destruction of the first temple in 586 bce, a somewhat different form of Judaism was developed during the subsequent Jewish exile in Babylon. The exiled Jews were some decades later allowed to re-settle in Judea and begin the construction of a new temple. During the period of this second temple, which lasted until 70 ce, the monarchy again became concen-

introduction

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trated on Jerusalem, while pilgrimages and feasts celebrated in the city in connection with the temple were important elements in forming early Jewish identity; Herod the Great attempted to cement his rule with extensive rebuilding during the first century ce. After this temple was destroyed by the Romans, Jews had to find new ways of organising their lives without temple-worship and its sacrifices. The synagogue as an institution became a replacement, but the religious longing for Zion or Jerusalem was still celebrated in prayers. Over the centuries, the surviving parts of the second temple—Herod’s outer courtyard and the ‘Wailing Wall’ or Western Wall—have become as important as the rock where Abraham is believed to have offered to sacrifice his son Isaac to God. The Wall itself became an important physical manifestation of Jewish veneration, an eternal symbol of the Jews’ loss of Jerusalem and their longing for the fulfilment of their dreams. Even today, however, there are many problems concerning the Jewish relationship with the actual physical city. Even before, but especially during, the time of the Holocaust in Europe, the Jewish dream of Zion grew very strong; finally, a Jewish nation was re-established in 1948 ce, though not without misfortunes. Where Jerusalem is concerned, such misfortunes seem to be something connected with the city’s existence. While for modern Judaism, Jerusalem is linked with political matters, for Christianity politics does not seem to be at stake here. For Christians, Jerusalem as a city has many faces. Considering the earliest period of Christianity, when the religion was still only a Jewish sect, scholars argue that the city may have held connotations of sacredness.3 Jesus of Nazareth was supposed to return very soon to the spot where he had ascended into heaven; but when the return of Jesus did not occur as foretold, a new perspective developed. For some of the leading Church Fathers, Mt Moriah was nothing more

3 Cf. E. P. Sanders, “Jerusalem and its Temple in Early Christian Thought and Practice” in Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (ed.) Lee I. Levine 1999: 93. Sanders writes that the best explanation for why Jesus, as a loyal Jew, would have opposed the Temple seems to be that Jesus expected the Temple to be destroyed so that when the kingdom of God arrived a new one would be built, one made without human hands. Jesus was an eschatological prophet who expected God himself to interrupt human history and create a new and better world, one in which Israel was redeemed and restored, and in which the gentiles, too, would come to worship the God of Israel.

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than a rubbish heap. The ruins of Jerusalem were theologically understood as visual evidence for pilgrims that the Christian God had finally rejected his originally chosen people and now opened the gates of heaven and eternity to all people who believed in the Christian salvation narrative. Jerusalem only returned to religious significance with the establishment of a Christianised Roman Empire centred at Constantinople, as the city became revered as the location of Jesus’ Passion, death and Resurrection. This slowly developed into an understanding of Jerusalem as a symbol of eternity and the kingdom of God, although this created a dilemma: God’s kingdom was situated in heaven, and not on earth. In this way the city became more broadly the central focus of Christian attraction, inviting religious thoughts and emotions. During the Middle Ages Christian understanding of Jerusalem acquired new dimensions. Successive Roman Catholic Popes sent Christian warriors, known as Crusaders, to the Middle East to liberate Jerusalem—which was then known as the City of God—from what was regarded as the evil enemy: Islam. Once this religious task was completed, the Crusaders set up an earthly kingdom based in the city. Jerusalem then became a piece in a political game between east and west, and in a later period between various Western powers. In both Christianity and Judaism, it is clear that we are actually dealing with two Jerusalems, one in heaven that religious people have pictured in many ways, and one on earth, which is the actual physical city. These two Jerusalems, however, have often been confused with each other (the actual development of these images of Jerusalem will be discussed below). Earthly Jerusalem was nevertheless an allegory of the heavenly kingdom of God, and it was regarded as the Place to which Jesus would return. So, what, then, was the connection of this earthly Jerusalem with the heavenly one? The foundation of the State of Israel in 1948 became, for many Christians, a difficult issue to deal with.4 While some paid little attention to it, or saw it basically as a response to the needs created by the events of World War II, others viewed the foundation of the 4

Cf. Mayer Gruber, “Jerusalem in Judaism” in The Encyclopaedia of Judaism, vol. II J–O, (eds.) Jacob Neusner et al. 2000: 532. Most Christians of the post-135 ce eras interpreted the barring of the Jews from Jerusalem in theological terms. In the Byzantine era, and later in the Crusader period, Christians saw in their own occupation of Jerusalem and their filling it with churches and monasteries visible symbols of their having become the new and authentic Israel.

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state as divine intervention. The birth of the state allowed endless streams of new apocalyptic imagination: Israel became a concrete place of reference, a place where the Kingdom of God would be established. The political situation of present-day Jerusalem is sometimes viewed by Christians as a question of redemption. Islam is often defined as the enemy of the Jews and, in some Christian circles, as an enemy to themselves as well. It should though, be remembered that within Islamic tradition, too, Jerusalem plays an important role in its views on the world’s redemption and the final battle between good and evil.5 The presence of Islam in Jerusalem today has a long history, going back to before the time of the Crusaders. If asked to give the most distinctive feature of Jerusalem, the reader would probably respond with a description of the Dome of the Rock, the golden shrine on the top of the Old City walls; this might be called the standard tourist view of the city. This building, Qubbat al-Shakra (sometimes even called a mosque), is an important symbol of Islam. The Dome of the Rock was, according to tradition, constructed by Abd al-Malik in 691, and was built as the first major sanctuary of Islam in Jerusalem.6 Jerusalem was already viewed as holy by the Jews and the Christians, both of whom Muslims call “People of the Book”. Muslims believe that Muhammad was the last of God’s prophets and see him as completing the work begun by the Hebrew prophets, Abraham, Moses and Jesus, in showing the way towards a true monotheism.7 For Muslims, Jerusalem is the third holiest place in their tradition.8 It is an important part of the Muslim umma, the religious family, which embraces all the world’s Muslims. According to 5 The trumpet will sound the last judgement when men will be raised from the dead and called to account. Those who have believed the messages of the prophets and have struggled to follow God’s path will be summoned to enter paradise where they will live forever in a garden with cool streams, beautiful and spotless women, couches adorned with silk, flowing cups and luscious fruit, although all these will be as nothing compared with the ultimate reward, the sight of God. Those who have ignored the messages, and have followed other gods, will be cast into hell. Robinson 1987: 42; Hjärpe 1995: 12, 19–20: Sura 17:1 referred as interpreted by the tradition of Ibn Hisham, cf. pp. 38–39. 6 Moshe Sharon, “The Birth of Islam in the Holy Land” in The Holy Land in History and Thought (ed.) Moshe Sharon 1988: 229; Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, The Holy Land. The Indispensable Archaeological Guide for Travellers 1992: 90. 7 Francis Robinson, Atlas of the Islamic World Since 1500 1987: 22; M. A. Salahi, Mohammad. Man and Prophet. A Complete Study of the Life of the Prophet of Islam 1995: 59. 8 Robinson 1987: 174.

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tradition, it is the place where Mohammad flew on a night journey (Isra") from Mecca to al-Quds on the back of the Buraq, a winged creature, and from there visited heaven.9 In early Muslim tradition Jerusalem was the first quibla.10 In prayer, the first Muslims turned towards Jerusalem, although Jerusalem was later replaced by Mecca. As in the Jewish tradition noted above, the place is also connected to the story of Abraham and his sacrifice.11 However, in the Islamic tradition Jesus is also relevant as ‘the sign of the Hour’ (Q.43: 61), as he will return to Jerusalem and kill the Antichrist. Jerusalem is thus also assured a central place in the topography of the Islamic apocalyptic tradition.12 Within the sphere of this study I have chosen to omit Islam in discussing the significance of Jerusalem as a holy city. I do so only in order to make this study possible, and the exclusion of Islam is in no way a religious-political statement on the affairs in the Middle East. Islam’s significance for this study is that it is identified as an enemy of the state of Israel by the Temple Mount Faithful movement and by the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem, the two groups that feature in the empirical section. In these groups, and within wider trends within some forms of Christianity, Islam is identified as the enemy, of whom it has been prophesied that God will fight “at the end of the days”. But why does Jerusalem, of all places, remain so central? The Israeli writer Amos Elon has reflected on this matter and writes: . . . here a national identity was defined, perhaps for the first time, by articulating a philosophy of history. And here, the idea of progress was first broached. In its time it was an absolutely sensational idea. [. . .] . . . the scribes and prophets of Jerusalem enchallenged the pre-

9 Lailat al-Miraj, the “Night of the Ascent,” 27 Rajab, commemorates the night in the tenth year of Muhammad’s prophet hood when the Archangel Gabriel conducted him through the Seven Heavens (mi'radj), where he spoke with God, and from which he returned the same night with instructions that included the institution of the five daily prayers. Muhammad is said to have made his journey on Buraq, a winged creature, half-human, half-horse, and his ascent is said to have begun from the al-Aqsa in Jerusalem. Robinson 1987: 191; Jan Hjärpe, Lära och livsmönster 1995: 44–45; Salahi 1995: 170–176. 10 Sharon 1988: 233. 11 Cf. Said Amir Arjomand, “Messianism, Millennialism and Revolution in Early Islamic History” in Imaging the End. Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America (eds.) Abbas Amanat & Magnus T. Bernhardsson 2002: 108–125. 12 Arjomand 2002: 112; S. A. Arjomand, “Islamic Apocalypticism in the Classic Period” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, vol. 2. Apocalypticism in Western History and Culture (ed.) Bernhard McGinn 1999: 238–275.

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vailing notion that history necessarily moved in cycles, repeating itself again and again. They invented utopia, the possibility of a better world.13

The Bible (here both the Jewish Tanach/Christian Old Testament and the New Testament) is a book that closely relates hope to Jerusalem, both symbolically and geographically. Whoever reads it will find postulated there a linear progression toward a better, redeemed life. The city did not have much strategic value in biblical times, but was significant in political and religious matters. We find one answer to the question of Jerusalem if we look closer at what is meant by sacredness or sanctity. In fact, I would argue that the myth of Jerusalem has been transmitted from one generation to the next because of an identification of the city as being related to something ‘sacred’. This idea has successfully survived by being passed on not only from generation after generation, but also from one religious tradition to another, while always giving birth to new meanings, interpretations and ideas. The myth of Jerusalem and its significance has somehow succeeded in gaining territory in the various re-interpretations and re-presentations of the thought and meaningcreating processes of people over generations. As a holy city, Jerusalem is not only a geographical spot close to the Mediterranean coastline, but it is also present in people’s dreams and future-oriented visions of a kingdom of heaven. We have briefly surveyed various images that religiously motivated people have had about Jerusalem through history; but these images are not restricted to history alone, for in this study we find them very much alive today among both Jews and Christians, as well as others. Religion stands, in general, for a meaning-creating orientation for life. It deals with questions and matters that are important to all of us—existence, morality, and adoration. Religiosity as a form of praxis and an attitude is expressed in many ways, and included in these expressions we find rituals and a particularly rich religious symbolic language. In this way, religion can be viewed as a combination of physical elements and the symbolic meanings and functions attached to its physical realities. As part of cumulative traditions, religion has been expressed through the use of physical elements, such as temples, churches, mosques, statues, pictures and texts, including ritual elements 13 Amos Elon, Jerusalem. City of Mirrors 1996: 18. Within the Jewish tradition Zion is often considered as a source to utopian thought.

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combined with diverse physical expressions. But if we are to understand properly the function of these physical and ritual elements and their interplay within religion, we ought to look for their cognitive content, or emotional and meaning-making functions, in order to obtain a holistic picture of what we have labelled as religion. A more detailed description of these ideas will be presented in chapter two. This meaning-creating function of religion can be described by analyzing cognitive elements in religious commitment. In practical life, these cognitive elements are nevertheless in close interaction with the physical and ritual ones. In the case of Jerusalem, the relationship and interaction between a physical place and the expression of it in religious imagination then becomes especially interesting. As a holy place, Jerusalem attracts attention and religious adherence in relation to its actual physical presence. Jerusalem’s significance as a place in people’s religious experience and imagination becomes relevant; it then becomes a perfect example of how a sacred earthly place becomes the centre of religious dreams. It is the special sanctity of Jerusalem which has motivated innumerable visions of the holy place within several religious traditions. The cognitive way of understanding religion refers here to the study of what has been labelled as religious ‘symbols’ and ‘representations’. Jerusalem as a symbol and what it represents are important aids for expressing, constructing, reflecting upon and understanding our reality or, in other words, what the multiple representations of ‘Jerusalem’ might stand for. Since Jerusalem is not merely a religious symbol, but also at the same time an actual geographical place, it then becomes interesting for the student of comparative religion to study how the concrete and the cognitive variants of the image interact and overlap. For this study, then, it is the very connection or convergence of the symbolic with the geographical dimension that will be in the focus of inquiry. It will be carried out by studying how religious interpretations are related to physical elements of religion. This is illustrated in the description of a specific example, involving both the physical and the spiritual image of Jerusalem, in an analysis of how concrete (or physical) elements of religion may effect the symbolic representations and interpretations of religious individuals and groups, and vice versa. In the cases that I present, it is obvious that the physical city of Jerusalem influences the symbolic representations of the believers. My assumption is that believers find and employ these symbolic expressions and images when they try to create meaningful inter-

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pretations for life. In this sense, the symbols actually help religious individuals to orient themselves in their personal lives and in the surrounding world. Hopes and dreams are expressed in many ways; generally in art and literature we find them as suggestions on how to look at life. We try to grasp and interpret these visions and aspirations, which are commonly viewed as means of getting in touch with a meaningful understanding of our lives past, present and future. Within the context of religion, dreams and hopes tend to become conceptualized in visions of paradise. One of these paradises is called Zion. But ‘Zion’ itself has a multitude of meanings for people and this study will be restricted to one type of interpretation of the image. As a foreigner, studying a culture where one is an outsider can sometimes be difficult. As a scholar one is liable to criticism for one’s starting-points, methods and interpretations. Though the reader may inevitably find gaps in the material presented in this study, I nevertheless hope to highlight new aspects of an issue that has been studied by many representatives from different academic fields around the world. This is not an easy task, but by joining this company of academic scholars I hope to clarify some old and well-known aspects of religiosity in general and illuminate the concept of Jerusalem as a symbol (or metaphor) for the religious longing for an earthly paradise. This invites the researcher to look back into history and trace similar religious images in the history of the Christian West. In chapter three, I will present very briefly a history of apocalypticmillenarian religious ideas which in one way or another have generated strong feelings about an earthly paradise of Jerusalem. This needs to be done if we are to understand the different religious meanings intertwined with the image of Jerusalem that are accurate today. And we will find that history indeed has played an important role by shaping models for contemporary religious, as well as secular, longing for an earthly paradise. Next, by presenting the two case studies of the Temple Mount Faithful and the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem in chapter four, I wish to stress the importance of understanding the symbolic representations of ‘God’s Kingdom’ in relation to an actual physical place. However, to keep our minds clear we need to keep our feet on the ground and not become excessively involved in metaphysics. This is achieved here by the choice of theoretical approaches. One of these falls into the realm of what I call apocalyptic representations, but before introducing

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terminology and the theoretical discussion, I shall first present the material employed in this study. 1.1 Materials and Methods of the Study For the material of my study I will use relevant literature on the two main topics of this inquiry: Jerusalem and its relevance for the religious anticipation of what is called ‘the end of time’. In the literature used, this relevance is to be seen in the way people have expressed, and still do express, their relation towards the city, either heavenly or earthly, of Jerusalem. I reflect not only on literature concerned with Jerusalem, but also on other literature that explores human anticipations of the future world. In order to combine these two aspects I use sources largely from the field of comparative religion to illuminate the complexity of the problem. The ‘anticipation of the end’ is analyzed partly through the models provided by classical theories of apocalypticism, messianism, and millenarism, but also by my own extensions of these theories using symbol and representation theory. Through these, we come to see apocalyptic phenomena enrolling Jerusalem in a new perspective. Ultimately, in dealing with the actual city of Jerusalem there is an enormous amount of literature that could be used. One important field is archaeology, but geographical and archaeological matters are not our concern here. It is important, however, to have some general knowledge about the city’s history, although history can be written in different ways: from the point of view of the victorious or from that of the defeated. We will probably not find any history not written from one of these perspectives, since complete objectivity, I would argue, is impossible to achieve. However, we know that certain events have taken place in history. There are many good histories of the city of Jerusalem it is, however, impossible to account for all these books.14 14 I will only mention two that I have found most valuable. First, Karen Armstrong’s Jerusalem—One city, Three Faiths (1996) manages to capture the history of the city in one book, written professionally but in a way that always remains accessible. Second, Jonathan Z. Smith’s To Take a Place. Toward Theory in Ritual (1987) illuminates important comparative perspectives of ‘the Place’ as marker of divinity. Smith discusses the significance of biblical texts and early Christianity’s relation to Jerusalem in light of classical theories in comparative religion. The book does, however, not actualise contemporary understanding of Jerusalem.

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In dealing with matters concerning Judaism, I have chosen to rely on research done by generally acknowledged specialists in the field; and the same applies for the references to Christianity. However, all the material is interpreted in accordance with the principles of the academic field constituted by the comparative study of religion. Most of the literature deals with history. As far as I know, there has been no previous study in the specific area of the symbolical meanings of ‘endtime’ Jerusalem. In this sense, as I see it, the study fills a significant gap. Meanwhile, in other academic fields, such as history (especially political history), theology, archaeology, and anthropology, to name only a few, work on Jerusalem and its significance has already been carried out for many years. With regard to the empirical part of this study, in the analysis of the two religious groups in Israel, the Temple Mount Faithful (TMF) and the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem (ICEJ) I will use material which I gathered during my periods of fieldwork in Jerusalem. My fieldwork was basically carried out during the years 1998–1999, in addition to several shorter periods. In Jerusalem I met with sympathizers of the two groups and back in Finland I undertook participant observations in several meetings arranged by the ICEJ together with local parishes in Åbo. The ethnographic data is documented in field-research diaries and interviews, which have been deposited at the Archive of Folkloristics at Åbo Akademi University. I continued to monitor the two groups via the Internet until the end of 2002. The empirical material used in this study consists solely of the publications of the above-mentioned groups: books, pamphlets, information leaflets, web-sites, and e-mails sent to the author. A great amount of the information has also been collected from the Jerusalem Post and Ha"aretz newspapers, and The Jerusalem Report magazine. These articles were collected from the archives of the Swedish Theological Institute covering almost a twenty-year period, from January 1982 to January 2000. I also conducted some supplementary interviews with the leader of the TMF movement, Gershon Salomon, and with the PR representative of the ICEJ, David Parsons. Interviews were also carried out with one of the founding members of the ICEJ, Jan Willem van der Hoeven, and with Yehuda Etzion, the leader of the Redemptionist Movement. Only relevant collected data is included to this study. Both the TMF and the ICEJ have support groups working locally in different countries. I paid attention to the Finnish branch of the

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ICEJ, since they were geographically easily accessible for me. There were nevertheless certain practical difficulties in arranging interviews with the leading figures of the Finnish branch. I attended meetings arranged by the ICEJ in Finland and can therefore only speak specifically about Finnish activities. During the Feast of the Tabernacles, a Jewish festival during which the ICEJ holds various activities in support of Israel, I spoke to Finnish ICEJ supporters who had come to Jerusalem on holiday in order to take part. The empirical material is perhaps not as comprehensive as one would wish, but as no larger study of these groups has yet been made, I regard the empirical material as representative enough for the purposes of this study. Here, these two religious groups serve as examples of how religious adherence might actually be preformed today in relation to both a spiritual and a physical ‘Kingdom of God’ in the city of Jerusalem. Although the TMF is a Jewish group, and the ICEJ is a Christian one, they still share certain characteristics: they both work actively in Jerusalem, were both founded in Jerusalem, and both anticipate the Redeemer arriving in Jerusalem during our lifetime. The future Jerusalem is regarded by both groups the centre of the universe. Using newspaper articles as a source requires a critical standpoint and attention to a range of issues. We need to take into consideration the newspaper’s general policy, the reporter’s personal point of view and how the issue is presented in each case. In some of the newspaper articles used in this study I found that political discussions in the Middle East dominated the presentation of the two groups, linking them to a more general political discussion concerning Jerusalem. In the Middle East, and especially in Israel, religion and politics are often seen as two sides of the same coin; and in fact both the TMF and ICEJ are closely related to political agendas. Media attention is especially important for these groups and others like them. As Gadi Wolfsfeld points out, “protest groups in Israel have an unusual dependence on the mass media due to the lack of alternative paths of political influence”.15 According to Wolfsfeld, the only way to gain access to the press seems to be to stage media events that are “unusually disorderly and violent”. Most of the protest 15 Gadi Wolfsfeld, “The Politics of Provocation Revisited: Participation and Protest in Israel” in Israeli Democracy Under Stress (eds.) Ehud Sprinzak & Larry Diamond 1993: 215.

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groups find themselves competing for a limited amount of space in both the national and international media.16 For this study, it was also of great help to have access to publications produced by the groups themselves. In these publications (for example, the magazine A Word From Jerusalem and numerous pamphlets) the vision of redemption is clearly presented and defined. When studying the ICEJ, I received great help from the book Christians and Israel. Essays on Biblical Zionism and on Islamic Fundamentalism, edited by Matt Johnson and Nicola Goodenough. This book I have used as a primary source for my theological analysis of the ICEJ, which functions as an umbrella organization for Christians supporting Jerusalem (for diverse reasons) all around the world. The Finnish branch of ICEJ, Jerusalemin Kristillinen Suurlähetystö Suomessa, also publishes a Finnish version of the English A Word from Jerusalem, entitled Sana Jerusalemista. It also has its own homepages on the Internet, which differ slightly from those of the main office. David Parsons is both the ICEJ’s PR representative and the editor of the ICEJ newsletter, which is sent via e-mail to all members and sympathizers around the world every day. The TMF also produces newsletters, written by the leader, Gershon Salomon. These are disseminated to members and sympathizers around the world via the Internet and personal e-mail, and they clearly outline what the movement stands for and how it interprets what is happening in present-day Israel. Both groups use the Internet as an information channel to reach out to people who are interested in their activities. They maintain homepages with current information, so that people on the net can keep up with the latest news and issues. The homepages are made attractive, in order to appeal to as many readers as possible. Although the reliability of the Internet is disputed among academic scholars, because the TMF and ICEJ use their homepages to keep their followers up to date with events in Jerusalem, we can be confident that these sites correspond to the work they are actually doing. In the scholarly field of the study of religion,17 ‘religion’ is studied with the help historical, sociological, psychological, philosophical 16 Wolfsfeld 1993: 216; for more media critic especially concerning the TMF’s “Temple Mount provocation” in July, 1991 cf. David Bar-Illan, Eye on the Media 1993: 80–83. 17 The current debate concerning the concept of religion discerns that the notion

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and anthropological perspectives, and today it is hard to distinguish clearly between all these fields since they have all influenced each other and play a great role in the process of trying to explain the phenomena labelled as religion. Indeed, one could hardly study any religious group, religious idea, or representation of religion in culture, without including elements from all these areas. If one still wished to indicate which category this study falls into, it might be appropriate to call it a blend of all of these, with an emphasis on qualitative methods and social psychology. Whilst accounting for the emergence of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem is the primary objective of this study, a secondary concern is the emergence of the vision of Zion or the future Jerusalem in two contemporary religious groups active in today’s Jerusalem, how they see the world around them and how they shed light on why religiously motivated people act in the way they do. This is clarified by theoretical contributions dealing with the significance of symbols and representations. In the process of exploring these themes, I have emphasized the groups’ perspectives of ‘the end’, which lead us in turn to terminology associated with millenarian religious thought. Words such as apocalyptic, messianic, millenarian, representation and symbol are frequently used in different studies, very often without reflection, and need particular clarification. In the following section I therefore offer the reader some guidelines and definitions about how these concepts are employed in this study. 1.2 Theoretical Approach and Definitions In order to correctly understand certain words that will occur frequently in the following chapters, some clarification is necessary. Scientific terms and definitions become much more complicated when they are applied to a ‘living’ context. By using terms such as apocalyptic, messianic, millenarian and symbol, the researcher is able to make interpretations and analyze the material;18 but these terms man-

of the word is highly controversial. Within the academic study of religion several covering terms are used. Many of the terms used are, for instance ‘religious studies’, ‘science of religion’, ‘science of religions’, ‘history of religion’, ‘history of religions’, ‘philosophy of religion’, ‘phenomenology of religion’, ‘psychology of religion’. Arie L. Molendijk, The Emergence of the Science of Religion in the Netherlands 2005: 1. 18 Cf. Maria Leppäkari, “Sion och det eviga fredsriket: en fallstudie i samtida millenarism” in I förgården till tusenårsriket (eds.) M. Leppäkari & T. Mansikka 1999: 140.

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age to grasp only fragments of the complicated reality that people live and experience. Comparative religion creates an interpretive frame of its own through the act of describing a multitude of religious situations. Religion is then viewed as a way of seeing, a form of world construction. Here, religion not only represents a social force or a psychological situation, but a way of interpreting experience through its own symbolisms.19 In addition to this, religion has also a meaningcreating function for believers. We construct definitions. One way to categorise definitions of religion is two see them as belonging to one of two types: the substantial and the functional. Substantial definitions focus on what is reflected upon as ‘sacred’: God, deities, transcendent forces, and whatever is associated with these ‘higher powers’. Functional definitions interpret religion by its special function in life rather than by considering divine entities and try to describe how people come to terms with ‘ultimate issues in life’.20 Within this field, it has become accepted practice to distinguish functional from substantive definitions, and, following Ralph W. Hood, Jr. the substantive definitions are avoided by most contemporary social scientists.21 Kenneth I. Pargament, who defines religion as “a process, a search for significance in ways related to the sacred”,22 has in his definition combined aspects of ‘the sacred’ with the concept of ‘significance’ as follows: The religious world wraps its search for significance in higher powers: deities; ultimacy; and the beliefs, experiences, rituals, and institutions associated with these transcendent forces. People are called religious when the sacred is part of their deepest values and when the sacred is involved in the way they build, maintain, and change these values.23 Religion is also oriented to significance. By significance I am referring to what is important to the individual, institution, or culture [. . .] significance includes life’s ultimate concerns—death, tragedy, inequity.24 19

William Paden, Interpreting the Sacred 1992: 83. Kenneth Pargament, The Psychology of Religion and Coping 1997a: 29. 21 Ralph W. Hood, Jr, “The Relationship between Religion and Spirituality” in Defining Religion: Investigating the Boundaries Between the Sacred and the Secular (eds.) Arthur L. Greil & David G. Mromley 2003: 242–243. 22 Pargament 1997a: 32; Kenneth Pargament, “Conservation and Transformation of Significance” in Religion and the Clinical Practice of Psychology (ed.) Edvard P. Shafranske 1997b: 216. 23 Pargament 1997b: 216. Cf. Pargament’s analysis of the construction of religious worlds in “World”, Guide to the Study of Religion (eds.) W. Braun & R. T. McCutcheon 2000: 334–347. 24 Pargament 1997a: 31. 20

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The ‘sacred’ seems at first to be an unproblematic concept. Times, places, persons, animals and objects are classified as ‘sacred’, because they have, or have had, a religious or spiritual significance for people in specific historical and social contexts.25 However, religious and other social concepts and categories that comprise and organize knowledge do not float in the air as abstract entities, but are inseparably connected to the corporeality and territoriality of human beings, and this is also the case with the ‘sacred’. Veikko Anttonen argues in his categorization of the sacred as a cultural representation that the word ‘sacred’ is polysemous, with meanings that vary according to time and place, the users of the word and the cultural symbol system and values in whose sphere of influence its meanings exist. As a culturally dependent cognitive category (rendered to any object, person, place or phenomenon), it simultaneously separates and binds.26 Put otherwise, it functions, symbolically, as a bridge or communicative link between cognition and experience. ‘Religion’ is a complex term, including traditions and culture, personal belief and rituals.27 It gathers people together and provides meaning for individuals, groups and nations. Throughout the ages, culture intertwined with religion has shaped our ways of thought, and still continues to do so. ‘Religion’ does not fit into a scheme; it is like an organism living its own life. We find systems of thought and practice, but religious life does not always fit these norms: even in the secular world of today we find ‘worldviews’ and ‘spirituality’ that point toward religious thinking. Such worldviews can be viewed as religion in other clothes.28 In grasping the plurality and complexity

25 Veikko Anttonen, “Does the Sacred make a difference? Category Formation in Comparative Religion” in Approaching Religion (part 1.) (ed.) Tore Ahlbäck 1999: 9. 26 Veikko Anttonen, Ihmisen ja maan rajat. ‘Pyhä’ kulttuurisena kategoriana 1996: 213. 27 Cf. Ilkka Pyysiäinen, How Religion Works. Towards a New Cognitive Science of Religion 2001: 12, 157–158. Pyysiäinen discusses concepts like ‘supernatural’, ‘superhuman’ and ‘transcendence’ and replaces them with the concept of ‘counter-intuitiveness’, pp. 48–52. He also criticizes scholars’ use of the concept “worldviews” since they “by necessity also contain many other elements besides religious ones”. Op. cit., p. 150. 28 Ralph W. Hood discusses the relationship between religion and spirituality and in his article he relates to the claims that K. Pargament, D. Wulff and E. Troeltsch have made. Hood’s conclusion is that “spiritual mysticism becomes a redundancy in so far as mysticism refuses to articulate the object of transcendence or the object itself ”, and continues “[a]s social scientists likely to be more spiritual than religious, perhaps we ought to be a bit cautious about declaring in advance the triumph of a spirituality that itself is not religious”. Hood 2003: 261.

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of religious phenomena, social science will always fall short—but the effort can still be fruitful. According to William Paden, “one person’s view on religion can change throughout the course of a life—and even pivot through the attitudinal circumstances of a week or day”.29 It is perhaps this which gives religion its ability to adapt and give meanings to ideas and explanations, and its capacity to draw people into old and new ideas and ways of behaviour. ‘Religion’ and the ‘sacred’ are discussed in further depth in a later part of this study; but first, we must consider some brief definitions of terminology, which will then be discussed in more detail later on. The word apocalyptic refers in this study to a future-oriented vision of forthcoming catastrophes which, in one way or another, will involve humanity and life on earth. The apocalyptic idea that life on earth will come to a disastrous end nevertheless has its opposite pole—the advent of the longed-for paradise, or Kingdom of God. The word ‘apocalyptic’ can refer to an event, a text, a theme, or an idea. The use of apocalypse here refers not only to a specific literary genre, but in this study it will be used as an umbrella term, or frame of reference, which also includes messianic and millenarian expectations, a broader term to signify the event of transformation.30 As John Hall et al express it, ”these millenarian anticipations are a subset of a broader category of religious ideas about the transition from one era to another that can be called, in the generic sense of the term, apocalyptic”.31 The term messianic refers to the belief in a leader (divine or with a special mission from God) who guides his believers on their common path towards the City of Peace. It can refer to a person, a hope, an idea, a doctrine or a religious movement. By millenarian I understand the belief in, or visions of, an everlasting City of Peace, also commonly referred to among believers as the City of God—in the context this study is concerned with, it is a synonym for Jerusalem. In this study millenarism refers to a religious longing for a better future by divine intervention on this very planet. But millenarian belief can also stand for a description of the future in wider terms. 29

Paden 1992: 116. For a similar use of the term, cf. Stephen O’Leary, Arguing the Apocalypse. A Theory of Millennial Rhetoric 1994: 13, 15; Hall, John R., Schuyler Philip D. & Trinh Sylvaine, Apocalypse Observed. Religious movements and violence in North America, Europe, and Japan 2000, as discussed on p. 3. 31 Hall et al. 2000: 3. 30

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If we regard messianism as the force that brings forth or realizes the millenarian dream, the apocalypse then is the very shift of paradigm in the actual situation, the string that binds the two together. One way of studying religious expressions is to examine the relevance of its symbols and how these symbols are used. The words ‘symbol’ and ‘representation’ are familiar to us from everyday use, but become more complex when used in a social scientific context. In this study I use ‘symbol’ and ‘representation’ as they have traditionally been used in comparative religion in combination with cultural anthropology. Symbols are not easy to grasp, nor are they easy to explain, but scholars have shown that they are important building blocks with which we construct our lives and our images of reality. The anthropologist Raymond Firth, for example, sees symbolism as a universal human process and writes: The essence of symbolism lies in the recognition of one thing as standing for (re-presenting) another, the relation between them normally being that of concrete to abstract, particular to general. The relation is such that the symbol by itself appears capable of generating and receiving effects otherwise reserved for the object to which it refers— and such effects are often to high emotional charge.32

The term symbol is used to describe things, objects, persons, actions, and relationships of public interest—even countries are symbolized by their products. Take for example Finland, a country that is associated with its Nokia mobile phones, Finlandia vodka, and often spoken of as the land of a thousand lakes and the midnight sun. In this dissertation Jerusalem is studied and analyzed as a symbol representing the ‘City of God’. An overt use of the term symbol does not necessarily convey clearly what kind of relation is envisaged between the thing cited and whatever it is intended to represent. A symbol represents ‘something’, but there may be several levels of meaning involved.33 Firth offers a wide range of symbolic material—things that are called symbols and ideas about symbols—and states that anthropologists have observed what symbols people actually use, what they have said about these things, the situations in which the symbols emerge and the reactions to 32 Raymond Firth, Symbols. Public and Private 1973: 15–16. For the use of “symbol” in cognitive studies cf. Dan Sperber, Rethinking Symbolism 1977 and Pascal Boyer, Cognitive Aspects of Religious Symbolism 1993. 33 Firth 1973: 21–22.

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them. Systematic description and analysis of different symbolic emergences are then carried out in research. Firth regards religious symbols as referring to the same order of reality as everything else. He also deliberately tries to consider private as well as public aspects of symbolic behaviour and concepts; for, according to Firth, the relationship between them has often been neglected.34 In order to illuminate what Firth refers to as the relationship between the private and the public aspects of the symbol, I have found that Dan Sperber’s interpretation of culture—what he calls an epidemiology of representations—is the most useful theoretical contribution. According to Sperber, we deal with two kinds of representations: mental and public. Beliefs, intentions, and preferences are defined as mental representations. Signals, utterances, texts and pictures are all defined as public representations.35 Some representations propagate themselves, and these can be regarded as successful. In other words, communication is the test which decides whether a symbol survives.36 In order to clarify this aspect of success or communication, Sperber develops a model for the ‘epidemiology of representations’ where the ‘epidemic’ metaphor refers to the process of transformation that the different representations go through. Since the focus in this study has been placed on the idea of the apocalypse, our concern is with how the various symbols and representations of Jerusalem make the city into a millenarian vision of a future earthly paradise. This identification of Jerusalem as a symbol in the apocalyptic frame of thought concerns past, present and future, and over thousands of years the symbol has gone through many transformations, becoming, to use Sperber’s terminology, a sort of cultural representation. Sperber’s representation theory, however, does not clarify the underlying motives of the attractiveness of apocalyptic representations in culture. In order to get a more holistic understanding of this complex phenomenon, I will also take into account the concept of symbolic universe.37 Traditionally used within the field of social constructionism, this term was developed by Peter L. Berger 34

Firth 1973: 29. Dan Sperber, Explaining Culture. A Naturalistic Approach (orig. published in 1996) 1999: 24–25. 36 Firth 1973: 34. 37 Peter Berger & Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality (orig. published in 1966) 1973: 114–115. 35

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and Thomas Luckmann, and here it is supplemented with Nils G. Holm’s integrated role-psychological approach referred to as the inner and the outer existence space.38 1.3

Relevant Scholarly Literature

I refer here to what I consider to be the most central theoretical contributions to the study of millenarism in Judaism and Christianity. The theories of Gershom Scholem, Rafael Zwi J. Werblowsky, Yonina Talmon and Norman Cohn have acquired (more or less) classic status within the field. This brief survey cannot reproduce their theories in depth, but it does outline how the central themes of ‘messianism’ and ‘millenarism’ have been treated by the academic study of religion. These concepts are particularly relevant for the further study I have undertaken, and my arguments, which are presented later in the study, should be regarded as an addition to these more classic approaches. 1.3.1

Messianism

Millenarian visions are connected to messianic hopes of a better future. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the phenomenon may be traced back to the preaching of the biblical prophets to the Israelites. The messianic idea in Judaism is most clearly described by Gershom Scholem in his classic study of the subject. Scholem writes that Judaism, in all of its forms and manifestations, has always maintained the concept of redemption as an event which takes place publicly, on the stage of history, and within the community. In contrast, Christianity (as presented in traditional Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Protestant theology) conceives redemption as an event in the spiritual and invisible realm, an event which is reflected in the private world of each individual, and which effects an inner transformation which need not correspond to anything outside.39 The history of the messianic idea in Rabbinic Judaism is regarded as conservative, restorative, and utopian. It is conservative in the sense that it is directed towards the preservation of what exists and 38

Nils G. Holm, Människans symboliska verklighetsbygge 1997b: 36–37. Gershom Scholem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism. And Other Essays on Jewish Spirituality (orig. published in 1971) 1995: 1. 39

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what, in the historical realm of Judaism, was always in danger. This is established and preserved in the religious law or Halachah. The restorative forces of messianism are directed towards the return and recreation of an ideal past condition. Here hope is turned backwards to the re-establishment of the original condition of the world; but the messianic vision also contains forces pressing forward, nourished by a vision of the future and utopian inspiration. The aim here is to create a state of things that has never yet existed. Scholem argues that we will never find a ‘pure case’ of the exclusive influence or crystallization of one of these tendencies. For Scholem, the reason for this is clear: even the restorative force has a utopian factor, whilst in utopianism restorative factors are at work. There is common ground for Jewish messianic hope. Thus the utopian visions which present the Jew of a particular epoch with the vision of an ideal world fall into two categories: the first, restoration of what is ancient; and second, a completely new order.40 Of these two alternatives, it is the second that will be further addressed and discussed in this study. Knowingly or unknowingly, certain other elements creep into such a restoratively oriented utopianism.41 These are not in the least restorative, but still derive from the vision of the completely new state of the messianic world. The completely new order has elements of the completely old, but this new-old order does not consist only of the past as it was, but rather a past transformed and transfigured in a dream brightened by the rays of utopianism. The prophecies and eschatologies of Hosea, Amos, and Isaiah are of a national kind. They knew only a single world, in which the great events at the End of Days would run their course. The Book of Isaiah speaks of the re-establishment of the House of David, now in ruins, and the future glory of an Israel returned to God. The author speaks also of an everlasting peace and the turning of all nations toward the one God of Israel and away from heathen cults and images.42 The words of the prophets, which in their original context appear clear and direct, henceforth become riddles, allegories,

40

Scholem 1995: 3–4. Scholem discusses utopianism by using categories presented by Ernst Bloch in Geist der Utopia (1918) and Das Prinzip Hoffnung (1954–59). 42 Cf. Antti Laato, “About Zion I will not be silent”. The Book of Isaiah as an Ideological Unity 1998. 41

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and mysteries which are interpreted—if not deciphered, according to Scholem—by an apocalyptic homiletic or an original apocalyptic vision.43 Messianic apocalypticism resurrects the old promises and traditions, but with newly adhering motifs, interpretations, and reinterpretations, derived from two aspects of Jewish millenarian consciousness. On the one hand, redemption brings catastrophe and destruction; but on the other, the content of realized messianism is utopian. According to Scholem, Jewish messianism is in its origins and by its nature a theory of catastrophe. This theory stresses the revolutionary and cataclysmic element in the transition from every historical present to the messianic future. The messianic vision holds catastrophe and its visions of doom in a particular fashion. The dualism of doom and redemption refers to two periods of which one, the rule of the Messiah, still belongs to this world, whilst the other already belongs entirely to the new aeon which begins with the Last Judgment. But this doubling of the stages of redemption is mostly the result of learned exegesis which, according to Scholem, seeks to put every saying of the Bible harmoniously into place. In the original vision, catastrophe and utopia do not follow after each other, but precisely through their uniqueness they bring to bear with full force the two sides of the messianic event.44 Can man hasten the coming of the messianic kingdom? The answer of the apocalyptist would be, in Scholem’s opinion, a strict ‘no’. But the enticement to action, the call to fulfilment, is inherently projected onto the future of the most heroic individuals, and this is emphatically set forth in the utopian elements of Jewish messianism. It is not surprising that, despite the repudiations and reservations of the theologians, historical recollection and mythical legend together kept alive the memory of the messianic ventures of Bar Cochba45 43

Scholem 1995: 6; Laato 1998: 1–13. Scholem 1995: 8. 45 During the regime of Hadrian there was a massive guerrilla campaign that lasted from 132 to 135 ce in Judea under the leadership of Simon Bar-Cosiba, known to his supporters as Bar-Cochba, and to the later rabbis as Bar-Koziba. “The messianic revolt against Hadrian’s Rome also involved, if not a millennium, then at least a new age of liberty for Israel. Coins minted by the revolutionaries display an image of a star over the Temple, which they hoped to restore”. Harold W. Attridge, “The Messiah and the Millennium: The Roots of Two Jewish-Christian Symbols” in Imaging the End. Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America (eds.) Abbas Amanat & Magnus T. Bernhardsson 2002: 104–105. 44

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and Sabbatai Sevi.46 Messianic activism, incidentally, lies on that peculiar double line of mutual influence between Judaism and Christianity, which has gone hand in hand with developments within both religions.47 The above-described messianic kingdom is very similar to the millenarian kingdom envisioned as coming after the war of Armageddon (also known as Har Megiddo), to which we will return in the analytical part of this book. First, however, we must consider the messianic figure. 1.3.2

Messianic and Millenarian Groups

Central to the study of messianic leadership is Rafael Z. J. Werblowsky’s categorization of messianism. His often-quoted typology in the Encyclopedia Britannica (1980) has functioned as a point of reference in many studies of religious behaviour. The word ‘Messiah’ comes from the Hebrew word mashiah (anointed), denoting a person who has a special God-given task. It stands for the Jewish religious concept of a person with a special mission given by ‘God’, and is used in a broader sense to refer to beliefs or theories regarding an eschatological improvement of the state of man, or the world, and a final consummation of history. This might seem slightly confusing when related to millenarian and apocalyptic representations, but if we continue to distinguish between messianism as an ideology and as a movement, greater clarity is possible. Werblowsky distinguishes between messianism as a complex of ideas, doctrines, hopes and expectations, and, on the other hand, the potentiality of a messianic movement. Messianic movements are, so to say, messianism in action. Messianic ideologies and movements are not necessarily centred on a messianic figure, although there is a tendency for such movements to personify the messianic ideal and to have a personal messiah play the central role in its realization. Very often messianic movements are initiated by strong charismatic personalities.48 Werblowsky distinguishes between several different types of messianism. 46 Gerschon Sholem, Sabbatai Sevi. The Mystical Messiah (orig. published in 1973) 1989. 47 Scholem 1995: 15. 48 R. Z. J. Werblowsky, 1980: 1017. Cf. Bryan Wilson, Magic and the Millennium (1973) 1975: 196–220, 309–317, 322–347; Fiona Bowie, “Equilibrium and the End

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Firstly, there is restorative and future oriented messianism, where the ideal is either a return to the original state of bliss that seems to have been lost or a radically new future, a totally new state of being that has not existed before. Connected to these ideas, according to Werblowsky, is the returning idea of the saviour. We are dealing with eschatological and reformative messianism when there is a group leader who announces impending salvation and gives instructions on how to prepare for it. Depending on the role and function of the messianic leader and a variety of socio-cultural and individual factors, we find a passive and an active variation of this type of messianism. The passive form holds the end to be preordained, where the believers do not make the revolution but prepare for its advent, while the active form is more militant and calls on believers are to be instrumental in ushering in the new order. A millenarian type of messianism emerges, in Werblowsky’s typology, when the messianic expectation is not based on mystical experiences but on the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. This type of millenarism is described as literalist, and is held to be a rational exegesis of prophecies which provide the leader(s) of such groups and sects with details (including even the date in the most extreme cases) of the expected messianic advent. The understanding of prophecy in its literalistic sense also implies that the course of history is strictly predetermined and that the messianic hour is fixed and can therefore be calculated. Messianic movements imply the imminent occurrence of some decisive event, and have therefore been called short-range messianism. Long-range messianism, on the other hand, is described by Werblowsky as a matter of beliefs and doctrines rather than of ferment and agitation. When the expected advent is a dim and therefore colourless dogma on a far-away horizon, Werblowsky speaks of a distant messianism. Messianisms can also be distinguished according to the contents of their expectations. Messianism may be particular or universal, or exhibit different combinations of these two characteristics. It also tends to be particularistic and exclusive, at least in of Time: the Roots of Millenariansim” in The Coming Deliverer. Millennial Themes in World Religions (ed.) Fiona Bowie 1997: 2–11, 14–17, 22. Cf. Britta Gullin-Hofstedt, Messianism och millerism. Typologiska synpunkter på messianska fenomen 2000, Werblowsky’s typology op. cit., pp. 47–49, 123–124; her tentative model contains four basic elements in contexts where messianism as a phenomenon is important: time, place, we—the others, the Messiah figure, p. 170. Gullin-Hofstedt, however, emphasizes messianic rather than millenarian characteristics.

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the sense of distinguishing or otherwise qualifying who will be saved and who will not. The community of the saved may be identical with a particular and inscriptively defined group (people, race) or part there of, or with an electively defined part of mankind; or it may broaden its scope and embrace the whole cosmos. This new reality is of a mythological and symbolic order, and its inauguration presupposes the passing away, or even cataclysmic annihilation, of the old order. The transition from historical to mythological symbolism can be made in many different ways, and messianic movements exhibit great variety in the forms of interrelationship between history and myth. Particular historical and geographical symbols can become ‘mythologized’ and ‘universalized’. As an example, Werblowsky offers the ‘New Jerusalem’ or the ‘heavenly Jerusalem’ in Christian symbolism; conversely, universal symbols, such as those which appear in Christianity, can again be reinterpreted in a particularistic fashion.49 There are several studies where the old and new millenarian groups overlap. Existing studies of millenarian groups are closely related to the study of messianism, but the focus has usually been placed on the expected kingdom of peace, either spiritual or physical. Some historical examples of this kind of group will be surveyed in chapter three. But as recent studies of the phenomenon have shown, it is also important to monitor the messianic and millenarian groups flourishing today. The emphasis in recent studies has been placed on millenarian themes, since the word ‘millenarian’ has also come to cover messianic features in contemporary study of millenarian group activity.50 A classical typology of millenarian movements is presented by Yonina Talmon in the Archieves Européennes de Sociologie (1966), where she already points out that the term ‘millennial’ is used “not in its specific and limited historical sense but typologically to designate 49 Werblowsky 1980: 1021. Cf. Tore Ahlbäck, Människosonen—en självgjord messias i Tyskland efter första världskriget 1983: 23–31, who compares Werblowsky’s typology on messianism with Vittorio Lanternari’s and his use of Guglielmo Guariglia’s theories. Vittorio Lanternari, The Religion of the Oppressed 1963: 301–303, 324. 50 For studies on contemporary millenarism cf. Catherine Wessinger, How the Millenium Comes Violently. From Jonestown to Heavens Gate 2000, Damian Thompson, The end of Time. Faith and Fear in the Shadow of the Millennium (orig. published in 1996) 1998; Charles B. Strozier and Michael Flynn (eds.), The Year 2000: Essays on the End 1997; Fiona Bowie (ed.) The Coming Deliverer. Millennial Themes in World Religions 1997; Gershon Gorenberg, The End of Days: Fundamentalism and the Struggle for the Temple Mount 2000.

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religious movements that expect imminent, total, ultimate, this-worldly collective salvation”.51 According to Talmon, the messianic figure was mythologized in early Christianity and at the same time there was a universalization of the redemptional process, which now emphasised the image of the suffering Messiah who redeems humanity by his tribulations and his martyrdom. Jesus of Nazareth was then seen as an incarnation of God and not only as a representative of divine powers. In early Christianity the concept of a golden age became trans-national and meta-political.52 In her typology, Talmon accounts for eleven significant factors, which need to be surveyed briefly. 1.) The millenarian concept that salvation is total, a complete transformation and perfection in itself. 2.) The impending redemption is viewed as ultimate and irrevocable. As such, it symbolizes the limitless meta-historical future. 3.) Salvation is regarded as imminent. Millenarism assumes that history has its predetermined underlying plan, which is being carried to its completion, and that this predetermined denouement is due in the near future. 4.) The millennial view of salvation is revolutionary and catastrophic. There is the dominating sense of a deepening crisis, which can be solved only by ultimate salvation. 5.) Millenarism is terrestrial and has a worldly orientation. Millenarism offers not an otherworldly hope, nor a purely spiritual salvation, but the fulfilment of the divine purpose in a new universe and a new social order. 6.) Millenarian movements have a collective orientation. Salvation is to be enjoyed by the faithful as a group. The aim of millenarism is not only the salvation of individual souls but also the erection of a heavenly city for the chosen people, or the elect. 7.) Millenarian movements tend to be ecstatic. They engender an emotional upheaval and evoke total commitment and deep exultation. 8.) Antinomian tendencies are closely related to the phenomenon. Many millenarian movements deliberately break accepted taboos and overthrow hallowed norms. Expressions of aggression are common. Sometimes aggression is turned inward; the members destroy their own property and even commit mass suicide. 9.) The majority of millenarian movements are messianic. A redeemer who is a mediator between the human and the divine brings salvation. There are, however, a number of different such figures. The messianic agent 51 Yonina Talmon, “Millenarian Movements” in Archieves Européennes de Sociologie 1966: 159. 52 Talmon 1966: 162.

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can also be a liberating or invading army. In some cases, the messianic agency is non-personal and non-human. 10.) Leadership in millenarian movements tends to be charismatic. Leaders act as precursors of the Messiah and his prophets, and blast a trail for him. They interpret the millennial traditions and combine disparate elements and systematizations. They announce the good tidings, propagandize and agitate. They organize their followers and lead them in preparation for the advent. 11.) Organizationally, millenarian movements vary from the amorphous and ephemeral, with a cohesive core of leaders and ardent believers and a large, ill-defined body of followers, to the fairly stable, segregated and exclusive sect-like group.53 Millenarian dynamism solidifies into a new institutionalized religion when an alternative reaction to non-actualization switches from a short-range, radical millenarism to a long-range more or less attenuated version. According to Talmon, this happens when the future becomes past and there has been no fulfilment. The ‘endzeit’ is moved into the past and integrated into the present as a new ‘urzeit’. As a result the final redemption is then either postponed to a more distant future or becomes spiritualized.54 In her comparative analysis of millenarian movements Talmon further attempts to construct a systematic typology of what she calls “dimensions of intratype differentiation” from the religious and sociological points of view. These categories are derived by Talmon from the list presented above. She discusses history versus myth, temporal versus spatial emphasis, catastrophe versus redemption, redemption versus redeemer, particular versus universal millenarism, short-range versus long-range millenarism, restorative versus innovative millenarism, antinomian versus hypernomian millenarism, and active versus passive millenarism.55 Millenarian movements are known by many names: crisis cults, nativistic movements, messianic cults, cargo cults, chiliastic movements, revitalization movements, utopian movements, apocalyptic movements, and millennial movements. According to Richard Landes, these movements all share a number of common features: 53

Cf. Yonina Talomon, “Millenarism” in Encyclopedia of Social Sciences 1968: 349–360. Here Talmon lists nine dimensions of differentiation in the characteristics of millenarian movements. Cf. Leppäkari 1999: 134–137; Catherine Lowman Wessinger, Annie Besant and Progressive Messianism 1988: 21. 54 Talmon 1966: 172. 55 Talmon 1966: 173–180.

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chapter one They are collective movements, drawing people together in a common belief and often a common cause. They depend on what are known as millennial or millenarian beliefs—the idea that the world can, and will, be transformed or improved or saved. They look to the supernatural or spiritual world—whether to a god or to aliens from another galaxy—for assistance and guidance.56

Besides Talmon, there are also other ‘classic’ approaches to the phenomenon called millenarism. Terms such as ‘pre-millenarianism’, ‘post-millennialism’ and ‘amillennialism’ were frequently used in studies during the 1970s to 1980s. According to Lowman C. Wessinger, these terms were originally applied to Christian conceptions of the millennium. The terms ‘pre-millenarianism’ and ‘post-millennialism’ have, in particular, generally been used to denote two different views of history.57 Here pre-millenarianism denotes a pessimistic view of history where the world is seen as evil and steadily becoming more corrupt. In time, the millennium will be brought about in catastrophic manner by counter-intuitive agents. Post-millennialism is an optimistic view of history that sees a gradual improvement in conditions and more continuity with the past. Human beings work to bring about the millennium but they remain under the direction of a superhuman or divine agency. In his classic study, Pursuit of the Millennium. Revolutionary Millenarians and Mystical Anarchists of the Middle Ages (1957), Norman Cohn defines millenarism as: a belief in salvation which would be a) collective in the sense that it is to be enjoyed by the faithful as a group; b) terrestrial, in the sense that it is to be realized on this earth and not in some otherworldly heaven; c) imminent, in the sense that it is to come both soon and suddenly; d) total, in the sense that it is utterly to transform life on earth, so that the new dispensation will be no mere improvement on the present but perfection itself; e) accomplished by agencies which are consciously regarded as supernatural.58

Cohn’s and Talmon’s definitions of the phenomenon are to a certain extent very similar, but although the theme of apocalypse is 56 Richard Landes & David Levinson, “Introduction” in Encyclopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements (ed.) Richard Landes 2000: xi. 57 Wessinger 1988: 20. Cf. Gunner Göran, När tiden tar slut. Motivförskjutningar i frikyrklig apokalyptisk tolkning av det judiska folket och staten Israel 1996: 22–24, 66–68. 58 Norman Cohn, Pursuit of the Millennium. Revolutionary Millenarians and Mystical Anarchists of the Middle Ages (1957) 1993b: 13 and 1997: 30. Cf. Jan Lundius, The Great Power of God in San Juan Valley: Syncretism and Messianism in the Dominican Republic 1995: 288–290; Wessinger 1988: 21.

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present in both Cohn and Talmon, it is not given as much attention as one would expect. More recent scholarly work has argued that millenarism is “driven by a sense of imminence (apocalyptic)”.59 In this study, messianic and millenarian phenomena are approached from the perspective of a ‘representation theory’, in order to illuminate the potential of apocalyptic representations created by the image or symbol of Jerusalem. Catherine Wessinger distinguishes between ‘catastrophic millenarism’ and ‘progressive millenarism’. With the concept of ‘catastrophic millenarism’ Wessinger describes a pessimistic view of humanity and society where dualistic distinctions emphasise the corruption of the world, which therefore becomes subject for destruction. This destruction of the world will begin on at the battleground between good and evil, which will lay the ground for the new world. ‘Progressive millenarism’ involves an optimistic view human nature that became prevalent in the 19th century. Humans engaging in social work in harmony with the divine effect changes that non-catastrophically and progressively create the millennial kingdom. These two millenarian concepts are, however, not mutually exclusive. Wessinger further distinguishes between three subcategories which address the dynamics of violence. These subcategories of millenarian violence are ‘fragile millenarian groups’, ‘assaulted millenarian groups’, and further ‘revolutionary millennial movements’.60 These subcategories can, according to Wessinger, also be seen as distinctive moments on a continuum involving millennial beliefs and the potential of violence. It is necessary to determine whether a millennial group involved in violence has been assaulted by outsiders, whether the members have committed violent acts due to the group’s fragility, or whether the believers carry out violent acts according to a revolutionary ideology. This, Wessinger argues, determinates which party—the millenarians or the outsiders—is in the end responsible for initiating the violence.61 Crucial when determining a group’s potential millenarian volatility is the quality of interactions taking place between members of mainstream society and the believers. Wessinger’s key argument for

59 Richard Landes, “Millennialism in the Western World” in Encyclopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements (ed.) R. Landes 2000: 257. 60 Catherine Wessinger, How the Millennium Comes Violently. From Jonestown to Heavens Gate 2000: 16, 24, 264–265. 61 Wessinger 2000: 24, 264–265.

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understanding a millenarian group’s potential for violence is related to a radical dualism which occurs on both sides of the conflict, and this has the tendency to increase the potential for violent activity.62 Millenarism, either progressive or catastrophic, does not necessarily produce violence. The various groups embracing a millenarian outlook on life, or belief in catastrophic endtime scenarios, are not all the same. Wessinger also makes the important point that “dualistic or dichotomous thinking is not confined to catastrophic millennialists, but is found also among law enforcement agents, anticultists, and people generally”.63 Dualistic thinking is perhaps the most common feature of human nature. It is expressed all around us, in cartoons, movies, novels, news reporting, and in religious doctrines, and in its most radical forms it leads to a dehumanizing and demonizing of those who become identified as ‘other’. Wessinger suggests that only when the group designated as ‘the other’ is viewed as valued human beings like ourselves can this radical dualistic thinking be overcome: a “face-to-face dialogue is the way to humanize the dehumanized ‘other’”.64 Millenarism will according to Wessinger always exist, because it addresses the perennial human hope to overcome finitude and achieve permanent well-being.65 In relation to the ‘perennial human hope’, I would argue that as a religious pattern, millenarian beliefs offer salvation not only for collectivities of people, but also for individuals as it continuously keeps attracting people and becomes re-interpreted in forms of an apocalyptic representation. 1.3.3

The Millennial and Millenarian Problem

There is a problem of definition concerning the words ‘millennial and ‘millenarian’. What should we call individuals and groups that hope and dream for a better future—a kingdom of God to come? Scholars in the field have dealt with this problem for over half a century, but we still do not have an appropriate definition of the phenomenon. Religion is ever-changing its nature and developing, like society in general. The religious ideas that are spread go through

62 63 64 65

Wessinger Wessinger Wessinger Wessinger

2000: 2000: 2000: 2000:

265. 275, 283. 275. 284.

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a transformation as they gain new terrain and become interpreted over and over again. This includes religious millennial ideas. ‘Millenarianism’, ‘millennialism’, or as I prefer, millenarism, has been studied in many cultural contexts, including outside the western world. The type of millenarian expectations with which this study is concerned with is restricted to Jewish and Christian religious longing for a better future on this very planet. This is naturally connected to the envisioned 1000-year kingdom of God: the notion of a thousand-year kingdom is unambiguously called chiliastic (from the Greek word for thousand) or millennial (from the corresponding Latin word). What happens, though, when the ‘1000’ no longer strictly applies to the general millenarian beliefs? Beside these millennial visions of the future there are conceptions of another type, when believers no longer refer to a thousand-year heavenly regime, in either a spiritual or geographical sense.66 In cases where the connection with numbers has been discarded and the focus lies on the result (paradise regained or the kingdom of heaven realized), this shift of the historical paradigm becomes important. In these cases, which will be presented later as part of the empirical study, there exist no 1000-year speculations. Therefore, in such cases, we should drop the strict millennial or chiliastic definitions.67 The word “millenarian” allows us to broaden the usage of the word: The word millennium has two meanings. In its most basic sense it refers to a span of a thousand years. But in the years near the turn of the calendar millennium this mundane fact began to carry more symbolic freight. [. . .] . . . there is no necessary relationship between the millennium as a calendar date and the millennium as a theological concept.68

When, however, we use the word to describe such visions of future as mentioned above, we also run into problems. Scholars dealing with millenarian issues do not always agree on their uses of the definitions either. In this study, I use the word ‘millenarian’ to describe the envisioned future of the world in wide terms, applying it in a general way. I am referring strictly to an imagined or envisioned/realized Paradise on earth; Heaven; Kingdom of God on this very planet. 66

Bowie 1997: 4–9. For a different opinion and criticism, cf. Gunner 1996: 22–23. 68 Ted Daniels, A Doomsday Reader. Prophets, Predictors, and Hucksters of Salvation 1999: 2. 67

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Both millennial and millenarian imaginations and appear in eschatological 69 visions of the future. Eschatology in Biblical and Christian terms refers to the doctrine of the last things (Greek ta eschata), whether personal or cosmic: “Eschatological beliefs describe what will ultimately happen either in terms of restoration to an ideal original state or in terms of a new creative act by GOD”.70 Where there are eschatological beliefs, we nearly always find apocalyptic and messianic motives. There is hardly a case of millenarian vision without an “apocalypse” that turns the way of the world. This is also the case with messianic ideas and apocalypticism.71 Depending on whether the emphasis is placed on the apocalypse or on millenarian perfection, we are dealing with different types of movements or ideologists. This study does not consider political millenarism72 although this is an important feature to notice when theorizing on apocalypticmillenarian phenomena. Furthermore, religion “is political to the extent that it attempts to govern access to power and to prescribe its exercise”.73 In all cases, the millenarian definition covers the eschatological visions of a post-catastrophic, better future on this earth. ‘Millenarian’ is applied especially to cases where there are no time bound 1000-year imaginations, and cases where life is imagined as going on for eternity on this very planet.74 69 Teachings about “last things”. Eschatology refers more strictly to theological teaching or dogmas in relation to what is generally perceived by the word apocalyptic. “In general, millenarianism appeals to enemies of the established order, eschatology to its supporters, or at least to those who believe in compromise. The former is destabilizing, revolutionary and emerges from misfortune and oppression. The latter is conservative and often associated with privilege and power”. Nicholas Champion, The Great Year. Astrology, Millenarianism and History in Western Tradition 1994: 318. For a description of Iranian influences, traditions of judgment and cosmic destruction, in an eschatological tradition from an earlier period of Christian history, cf. Birger A. Pearson, “Indo-European Eschatology in 2 Peter 3” in Kontinuitäten und Brüche in der Religionsgeschichte 2001: 536–545. The striking similarities of Persian or Iranian apocalypticism in Jewish-Christian tradition are accounted for in Anders Hultgård, “Persian Apocalypticism” in the Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism (ed.) John J. Collins 1999: 39–81. 70 John R. Hinnells, (ed.) A New Dictionary of Religions 1995: 155. 71 Scholem 1995: 4, 10. 72 For more on contemporary right-wing political millenarism and communal dreams, cf., Jeffrey Kaplan and Leonard Weinberg, The Emergence of a Euro-American Radical Right 1998: 12–13, 145, 196. 73 Daniels 1999: 8. 74 “. . . Millennium (with a capital M) is used as a technical term by theologians and social scientists, and that it has nothing to do with the date. Furthermore, very few of those movements which history calls millenarian have been inspired by the years 1000 or 2000”. Thompson 1998: xi.

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Aim and Structure of the Study

In the forthcoming chapters I will attempt to answer the question: what makes the apocalypse the kind of idea that keeps on attracting people, and how has it become manifest in culture? But my task does not end here. In addition, I will offer some examples of how the various representations of the apocalypse emerge on both the individual and the social level, and how these representations of the future city simultaneously interact. The scope of this study, then, is to clarify how Jerusalem, as a symbol, creates representations of both a sacred place and a dream of the future, and inspires the creation of meaning for religiously motivated people to act eagerly for its cause and realization. In conclusion, I will argue, based on the material presented in this study, that we can identify several types of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem. These representations are shaped within the realm of apocalyptic religious belief and interact on different levels. My assumption is that Jerusalem in the apocalyptic frame might be seen as simultaneously present on the mental, public, cultural and thus even symbolic levels. In chapter two, Theoretical Perspectives, the theoretical frames are discussed more comprehensively. Dan Sperber’s representation theory (epidemiology of representations) is presented in detail, together with the concept of symbolic interactionism. Chapter three, Jerusalem as Sacred Place and Symbol, outlines a historical frame for the analysis. In chapter four, The Eternal Kingdom of God—Two Case Studies, presentday activity in Jerusalem is connected to the body of history, and my task is to show how the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem are formed in the activities, ideology, and interpretation of reality by two contemporary groups in Jerusalem: the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem and the Temple Mount Faithful. Chapter five, Theoretical Application, will clarify what is meant here by apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem, through the application of theories introduced in chapter two. Here the relevance of tradition, holiness, and death are discussed and further presented as underlying motives for the different apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem. Chapter six provides a concluding discussion where the results of this inquiry are summarized in brief. The goal of this book is to explore, and even to suggest possible interconnections between the complex, multifaceted experiences related

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to Jerusalem as an apocalyptic representation culminating in the belief in a better tomorrow. In order to identify and trace these apocalyptic representations, I turn to history, but not to history alone, to explain how these representations work, how they should be identified and how the representations end. This process is then further illustrated by the study of two contemporary groups active in today’s Jerusalem.

. . . my walker in Jerusalem is not simply any ambler; he is always a social anthropologist and ethnographer interested in the culture of Jerusalem that he discovers in people and places. He is one who seeks to take those who walk with him not only to the physical Jerusalem but to the Jerusalem of people’s dreams, of their attachments, and of their beliefs. —Samuel Heilman, A Walker in Jerusalem 1995: 12–13. CHAPTER TWO

THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES 2.1

Interpretive Frames

The discourse of the apocalypse has many variants. In this chapter I will point out only the most common variations of the apocalyptic phenomenon. They are not all directly related to the empirical material of this study, but are of great interest and importance for those who study millenarian conceptions of the world. The apocalypse allows us to explore the limits of what is permitted within the parameters of cultural boundaries and what is not: in the apocalypse, things that we generally find strange and tabu are frequently used and exposed. These apocalyptic ideas are not unique to religion alone, and we find them expressed generally at many other levels of society. For the idea of the apocalypse to survive in a new context it is required to be transformative, as I will illustrate in the examples which follow the introduction to the theoretical discussion. 2.1.1

Dan Sperber’s Representation Theory

In order to carry out an analysis of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem I have chosen to draw on Dan Sperber’s Explaining Culture (1999), where he argues that ideas may be contagious and that culture is made up of such contagious ideas. Observing a behaviour or its traces gives rise to ideas, such as the ideas that are at this very moment entering the reader’s mind. Sometimes the ideas caused by a behaviour resemble the ideas that have caused the behaviour, if those ideas are understood correctly.

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chapter two An idea, born in the brain of an individual may have, in the brains of other individuals, descendants that resemble it. Ideas can be transmitted, and, by being transmitted from one person to another, they may even propagate.1

Sperber argues that some ideas, such as religious beliefs, cooking recipes, or scientific hypotheses, “propagate so effectively that, in different versions, they may end up durably invading whole populations”.2 In culture we also find all the productions (artworks, writings, tools and so on), which, through their presence in the shared environment of a human group, permit the propagation of ideas. Culture is, according to Sperber, made up first and foremost of such contagious ideas.3 In explaining culture we try to explain why and how some ideas seem to be contagious, and by using Sperber’s explanatory model we can see how the idea of the apocalypse has survived different modifications through human history. Not only does the theory illuminate the survival of an idea but it also displays, on a more general level, the discourse of cultural representations. Sperber calls his interpretation of culture an epidemiology of representations, where the word ‘epidemiology’ comes from the Greek epidemia, meaning ‘stay or arrival in a country’. In its most common use epidemia referred to the stay or arrival of people, but it could also refer to the stay or arrival of things such as rain, diseases, or even customs. Comparing the spread of diseases with that of ideas is an old commonplace, and the word ‘contagion’ is so frequently used for mental states that the metaphorical character of this usage is a barely metaphorical extension of the term.4 [. . .] Epidemiology is eclectic in its use of explanatory models. Some models are borrowed from population genetics, some from ecology, some from social psychology and new ones may develop as the need arises.5

I choose the epidemiological model to explain certain emergencies in culture since the idea it expresses is simple, illustrative and general. Some critical remarks will, however, be presented when this theoretical approach is problematized and expanded below in sec-

1 2 3 4 5

Dan Sperber, Explaining Culture (1996) 1999: 1. Ibid. Sperber 1999: 1. Sperber 1999: 2. Sperber 1999: 24.

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tion 2.1.3, where I present an integrated model of the theoretical approaches. Sperber has chosen the term ‘epidemiology’ precisely because of this generality and eclecticism. A naturalistic approach to culture, he suggests, requires the consideration of how a variety of mental and environmental phenomena are distributed. For this, different causal models are needed simultaneously.6 Sperber’s theory illuminates how thoughts and their production are spread in a specific population.7 This approach has, however, been criticized by other cognitive theorists because of its failure to take psychological processes into consideration. Here, however, I will not concern myself the details of these critiques.8 Instead, I will supplement Sperber’s theory with aspects of socialization and role-taking theory, as discussed below. What, then, are cultural items made of ? In part, they consist of bodily movements by individuals, and environmental changes resulting from these movements. Examples presented by Sperber are when people beat drums, erect a building, or slaughter an animal. The material character (my italics) of these phenomena is, so far, unproblematic. But Sperber takes this further and asks us to consider meanings. For example, with regard to the beating of a drum: is it a musical exercise, a drummed message, or a ritual of some kind? Is the building under construction a house, a shop, or a temple? Is the

6

Sperber 1999: 2. Pascal Boyer, “Cognitive Aspects and Cultural Representations” in Cognitive Aspects of Religious Symbolism (ed.) P. Boyer 1993: 13. 8 For criticism of Sperber’s approach, cf. Pascal Boyer, Religion Explained. The Evolutionary Origins of the Religious Thought 2001: 38–40, 46–47 with the emphasis on mental resources. Claudia Strauss and Naomi Quinn challenges the “taken-forgranted” concepts of culture in their book A Cognitive Theory of Cultural Meaning (1997) 1999. They argue that “in order to rethink culture, we need to understand how human beings construct meanings”, p. xiii. Strauss & Quinn define meanings by combining earlier behaviourist aspects “meanings are defined by their stimuli and responses” with the ideational statement that “meanings are ideas in people’s heads”, p. 5. When they speak about cultural meaning it implies that “what something (a word, an object, an event) means to somebody depends on exactly what they are experiencing at the moment and the interpretive framework they bring to the moment as a result of their past experiences”, p. 6. According to Sperber, “culture is made up by contagious ideas”. Sperber 1999: 1. Strauss & Quinn take a step further and argue that culture is not a thing. Since culture is defined in the experience of each person, this makes a person “a junction point for an infinite number of partially overlapping cultures”, p. 7. Strauss & Quinn’s scholarly view differ from Sperber’s approach in the cognitive paradigms upon which they draw; Tom Sjöblom, Teologinen Aikakauskirja/Teologisk Tidskrift 2001: 579–580. 7

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slaughtering of an animal butchery, or a sacrifice? In Sperber’s search for an answer, he suggests that one must, one way or another, take into account the representations involved in these behaviors. When defining cultural phenomena, representations play an essential role, no matter whatever one’s theoretical or methodological framework may be, and we need then to ask of what these representations consist. To begin, Sperber argues that there are two types of representations: mental representations and public representations. Beliefs, intentions and preferences are mental representations. [. . .] Signals, utterances, texts and pictures are all public representations. Public representations have an obviously material aspect. However, describing this aspect—the sounds of speech, the shapes and colors of a picture—leaves out the most important fact, that these material traces can be interpreted: they represent something for someone.9 In order to account for the fact that public representations are interpretable, one must assume the existence of an underlying system: for example, a language, a code, or an ideology. In the semiotic and semiological traditions, these underlying interpretative systems have been described in abstract, rather than in psychological terms, and indeed their existence has often been considered extra psychological. With such an approach, the material existence of these systems remains obscure. As a result, the material properties which make public representations interpretable and the material existence of cultural phenomena described with reference to public representations remain obscure too.10

Sperber also suggests that one may also view the “underlying interpretation systems as complex mental representations”: This second approach brings us back to the psychology of mental representations, and therefore to perspectives opened by the development of cognitive sciences. [. . .] However, in psychology, the material character of mental representations has changed from the status of a mystery to that of an intelligible problem.11 9

Sperber 1999: 24. Ibid., 32, 78. Cf. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, The Meaning and End of Religion (1963). On differences between explanatory and descriptive models in early psychology of religion, and a discussion of Willfred Smith’s (1963) critique of the noun ‘religion’ as misleading, cf. David Wulff, “The Psychology of Religion: An overview” (ed.) Edward Shafranske Religion and the Clinical Practice of Psychology 1997: 43–52; Smith 1963: 1–14. Later on I will imply to Sperber’s perspective the notions of “inner and outer existence space” by Holm, which can be related to mental and public representations. 11 Sperber 1999: 24–25. Cf. Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy (1958). This German theologian and scholar of history and phenomenology of religion writes of the reli10

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Here it is important to be aware that representations are understood as symbolic to the extent that they are not fully explicable, that is, expressible by semantic means. We receive symbolic information as representations through any or all of our senses.12 To the question of why some representations propagate, either generally or in specific contexts, Sperber answers by developing a kind of “epidemiology of representations”. Here the epidemic metaphor can help, provided we recognize its limits. One limit is self-evident: Sperber does not want to imply that cultural representations are in any sense pathological. Another limit is, according to him, less obvious but more important: . . . whereas pathogenic agents such as viruses and bacteria reproduce in the process of transmission and undergo a mutation only occasionally, representations are transformed almost every time they are transmitted, and remain stable only in certain limiting cases. A cultural representation in particular is made up of many versions, mental and public ones. Each mental version results from the interpretation of a public representation which is itself an expression of a mental representation.13

Sperber notes three important factors to consider when studying representations: Firstly, a representation sets up a relationship between at least three terms: “that which represents, that which is represented, and the user of the representation. A fourth term may be added when there is a producer of the representation distinct from

gious experience of ‘the holy’. Otto makes a distinction between the rational and the non-rational in religion by examining the use of language. He distinguishes a quite discrete category of the holy or the sacred, and argues that the numinous experience of the holy is basic to all religious experience and thus an a priori category in both its rational and non-rational elements. This meaning is later problematized in the ‘numen’ and ‘numinous’, in mysterium tremendum et fascinans. In Otto’s opinion man uses adequate symbols, which are expressions of the actual meaning behind them. It is a well-known fundamental psychological law that ideas ‘attract’ one another, and that one will excite another and call it into consciousness, if it resembles it. The same rule applies to feelings. The combination of analogies, the relation of the rational to the non-rational element in the idea of the holy or the sacred, is just one such kind of ‘schematization’; and the non-rational numinous fact, schemantized by the rational concepts, yields up the category of ‘holy’ itself, Otto argues. His analysis is an extraordinary example of how ontological questions were answered or explained in the early twentieth century, but Otto is also an example of using the ‘contagious’ model for explaining religion. 12 Dan Sperber, Rethinking Symbolism 1977: 86, 113. 13 Sperber 1999: 25–26.

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its user”.14 Secondly, “a representation may exist inside its user: it is then a mental representation, such as memory, a belief, or an intention. The producer and the user of a mental representation are one and the same person”.15 And thirdly, “a representation may also exist in the environment of its user, as is the case, for instance, of the text you are presently reading; it is then a public representation. Public representations are usually means of communication between a user and a producer distinct from each one another”.16 A mental representation has, of course, a single user; a public representation may have several. A speech may be addressed to a group of people. A printed text is aimed at a wide audience. [. . .] oral transmission allowed the production of representations similar to one another: the hearer of a tale may, for instance, become in turn its teller. It must be stressed, however, that oral transmission is not a reliable means of reproduction; it generates a fuzzy set of representations which are more or less faithful versions, rather than exact copies, of one another.17

Sperber clarifies this by an illustration, asking us to consider a social group: . . . a tribe, the inhabitants of a town, or the members of an association. Such a group and its common environment are, so to speak, inhabited by a much larger population of representations, mental and public. Each member of the group has, in his or her head, millions of mental representations, some short-lived, others stored in long-term memory and constituting the individual’s ‘knowledge’. Of these mental representations some get communicated repeatedly, and end up being distributed throughout the group, and thus have a mental version in most of its members.18

This is how mental and public representations intertwine and become permanent within a given population. We then speak about cultural representations. Understood in this way, they are a fuzzy set of mental and public representations inhabiting a given social group.19 Sperber points out that anthropologists do not share a common definition of what cultural representations are, nor do they have a common terminology to describe them. There are several ways of 14 15 16 17 18 19

Ibid. 32. Ibid. Ibid. Sperber 1999: 32. Ibid., cf. Sperber 1977: 137–138. Sperber 1999: 32–33. Cf. Sperber 1977: 87.

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approaching each of the various genres of representation separately. Some scholars talk of beliefs, norms, techniques, myths, classifications and so forth, according to the case. In constructing his own theoretical approach to the discussion of cultural representations Sperber argues: [I]n order to represent the content of a representation, we use another representation with a similar content. We don’t describe the content of a representation; we paraphrase it, translate it, summarize it, expand on it—in a nutshell, we interpret it. An interpretation is a representation of a representation by virtue of a similarity of content. In this sense, a public representation, the content of which resembles that of the mental representation it serves to communicate, is an interpretation of that mental representation. Conversely, the mental representation resulting from the comprehension of a public representation is an interpretation of it. The process of communication can be factored into two processes of interpretation: one from the mental to the public, the other from the public to the mental. [. . .] To express oneself or to understand other people’s expressions is, implicitly, an act of interpretation.20

Sperber has developed his representational approach from his study of symbols as conceptual mechanisms. In his study Rethinking Symbolism (1977) he argues that symbols form conceptual representations. Symbolic data (here presented as distinct from linguistic data) are integrated in the individual. Sperber argues that symbolism, because of its cognitive capacity, “remains throughout life a learning mechanism”.21 While the symbolic data process new data, they themselves are modified in the process. Symbolic representations or symbolic data do not constitute an example of the fixed set, but although these representations are open to various transformations a resemblance remains. If symbolic representations are thus understood as a cognitive system, symbolism is far from being mysterious.22 “As long as interpretation is about individual words or thoughts, the degree of freedom that the interpreter grants herself may be manifest and unproblematic”.23 In anthropology, Sperber argues that what gets interpreted is often a collective representation attributed to a whole social group. He criticizes the fact that there is “neither a 20 21 22 23

Sperber Sperber Sperber Sperber

1999: 1977: 1977: 1999:

34. 88, 112. Op. cit. p. 89. 87, 90. 35.

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commonsense understanding of what such a collective representation might be, nor a straightforward way of assessing the faithfulness of the rendering” and notes that the lack of a clear methodology makes it even more difficult to evaluate and exploit.24 ‘To explain’ may be taken in two senses. In the first one, to explain a cultural representation—for instance, a sacred text—is to make it intelligible, that is, to interpret it. [. . .] In the second sense, to explain a cultural representation is to show how it results from relatively general mechanisms at work in a given specific situation . . . the explanation of cultural representations has an essential theoretical aspect: the identification of the general mechanisms at work.25

What is referred to as ‘cultural’ in this study corresponds with the argument proposed by Sperber: those representations that are widely and durably distributed in a social group.26 In the following chapters I will pay most attention to the cultural character of apocalyptic representations of the city of Jerusalem, and in accordance with Sperber, I will focus on the explanation of a specific cultural character of specific representations. This study can be seen as one response to Sperber’s question: Why are these representations more successful than others in a given human population? And in order to answer this question, the distribution of all representations must be considered.27

Sperber’s epidemiology of representations goes on to attempt to explain cultural macro-phenomena as: the cumulative effect of two types of micro-mechanisms: individual mechanisms that bring about the formation and transformation of mental representations, and inter-individual mechanisms that, through alterations of the environment, bring about the transmission of representations.28

Formation, transformation and transmission of various representations take form in the process of constructing or, actually, reconstructing “not a representation of the object, but a representation of that representation”.29 24 25 26 27 28 29

Sperber Sperber Sperber Sperber Sperber Sperber

1999: 1999: 1999: 1999: 1999: 1977:

35. 41. 49, 33. 49. 50. 117.

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[I]n an epidemiological explanation, the explanatory mechanisms are individual mental mechanisms and inter-individual mechanisms of communication; the representations to be taken into account are those which are constructed and transformed by these micro-mechanisms. In other words, the relevant representations are at the same concrete level as those that daily social intercourse causes us to interpret . . . it provides a principled way to identify the types of cultural things for which a more general explanation is to be sought.30

In this epidemiological perspective, the explanations of cultural facts (that is, the distribution of representations), are “to be sought not in some global macro-mechanism, but in the combined effect of countless micro-mechanisms”.31 Here I wish to stress the importance of the questions raised by Sperber in relation to the distribution of representations: What are the factors that lead an individual to express a mental representation in the form of a public representation? What mental representations are the addressees of the public representation likely to construct? What transformation of content is this process likely to bring about? What factors and what conditions render probable the repeated communication of some representations? What properties, either general or contextual, does a representation need in order to maintain a relatively stable content in spite of such repeated communications?32

These questions become important in reflection on the various apocalyptical representations that we find in culture. To some of the questions I could suggest explanations, but these in turn need to be further tested. In chapter five I will return to these questions and argue further for a combined theoretical perspective, but the chapters three and four will also extend the discussion of mental, public and cultural representations and their interaction. The emphasis in my discussion is placed on communication between individuals and the surrounding world, not only on interpersonal communication or on human conceptions as such. Pascal Boyer has further developed Sperber’s epidemiological model and has thus contributed to the discussion why some ideas are attractive. In his schema of things that exist in the world, and how these things affect the conceptual traffic, Boyer uses the term intuitive

30 31 32

Sperber 1999: 53. Sperber 1999: 54. Sperber 1999: 54–55.

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ontologies,33 and argues that ideas which attract attention have to be of a kind that we can relate to our ‘intuitive ontologies’, or everyday impulses. For an idea to become interesting and to attract our attention it must go against our expectations; attractive ideas are thus ‘counterintuitive’. According to Boyer, this would mean that ideas and images of gods and religious phenomena would correspond to such counterintuitive ontologies. In Boyer’s and Sperber’s terms, it is when these ideas fascinate us and we actually pay attention to them.34 Such theorizing invites a broader discussion about how we understand religious ideas in relation to other ideas. As I see it, religious ideas taken as such ‘counterintuitive ontologies’ are no different from any other notions we think of, or pay attention to, in our everyday life. This invites to further discussion, but the question of the naturalness or unnaturalness of religious ideas is not at stake here. Boyer’s explanatory theory deliberately leaves aside features that religious participants would consider crucial, but this does not mean that Boyer would consider such aspects to be ‘unimportant’ or ‘trivial’.35 Apocalyptic belief can be interpreted in the light of such theoretical reasoning, although the apocalyptic frame of reference in a religious worldview is a special one, notable for its clearly dualistic characteristics. As such, it is well suited to such a category for its ‘counterintuitive ontology’, although religious life and belief in general are not totally permeated by such dualistic perspectives. This kind of discussion is not our main concern here, but it certainly requires consideration. The cognitive perspective referred to here is applied to selected apocalyptic images and the apocalyptic imagination with reference to Jerusalem as a post-apocalyptic city of peace. By including this cognitive element in my theoretical approach I

33 Thomas Lawson, “Cognition” in Guide to the Study of Religion (eds.) Willi Braun and Russell T. McCutcheon 2000: 78; Boyer 2001: 72–75, 85. For ontological categories, cf. pp. 95–101. Sperber also discusses the concept of ontology in Explaining Culture 1999: 9–12. On the discussion of “naturalness” and Boyer’s aim “to show . . . that the content and organization of religious ideas depend . . . on noncultural properties of the human mind-brain, and . . . despite “socialization,” they are perceived as intuitively unnatural by human subjects”. According to Boyer, religious ideas are entertained and transmitted partly because they seem intuitively unnatural to the subjects who hold them. Pascal Boyer, The Naturalness of Religious Ideas: A Cognitive Theory of Religion 1994: 3. 34 Lawson 2000: 78–80; Cf. Boyer 1994. 35 Boyer 1994: 295.

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wish only to clarify certain theoretical and methodological implications. However, the cognitive mind-brain approach is not fully applied to the material presented here. The theoretical implications outlined above regard humans as more or less mechanically-designed objects with cognitive abilities. Such an explanatory model, which is in fact derived from cognitive science,36 might illuminate certain phenomena that are of interest to the scholar of comparative religion. The cognitive model in Sperber’s and Boyer’s approaches is nevertheless not particularly interested in explaining the wider implications of the contents of the representations. The fact that representations do exist is not enough for the purpose of my study and therefore another perspective needs to be added to clarify my arguments for the survival of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem from one context to another. That the thoughts of human beings have a cognitive ability is well-established, and serves as a popular explanatory model for scholars of comparative religion.37 This cognitive study of religion does not, however, focus on matters of content38—that is, the essence or inherent viewpoint in religions that keeps attracting people from one generation to another. Using the cognitive perspective, we can focus on people’s representations of the apocalypse to identify different versions of the same theme through the ages up to the present time. But the fact that we can identify various apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem does not, however, explain why and how Jerusalem, by symbolizing a millenarian dream, keeps on attracting people and giving rise to new representations.

36 Cognitive science is described as “the attempt to bring cognitive psychology, philosophy, neurophysiology, artificial intelligence, linguistics, and anthropology together in order to understand cognition”. Maurice Bloch, “Language, Anthropology, and Cognitive Science” in Assessing Cultural Anthropology (ed.) Robert Borofsky 1994: 276; “A cognitive study takes religion as a set of cultural representations, which are acquired by individual minds, stored and communicated to others. [. . .] the point of a cognitive approach is . . . to show that . . . properties of the human mind too have an important influence on some aspects of human cultures”. Boyer 1999: 53. 37 Such representatives of a Finnish cognitive approach towards the explanation of religion are, for example, Veikko Anttonen, Matti Kamppinen, Ilkka Pyysiäinen and Tom Sjöblom. For international representatives see, for example, Thomas Lawson and Pascal Boyer. 38 Pyysiäinen has integrated the role of emotions in contemporary cognitive study of religion. His criticism is constructed on the assumption that the present “view of the mental is not satisfactory, as it leaves unexplained what causes people to act in certain ways”. Pyysiäinen 2001: 46.

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In this study, I do not attempt to answer all the questions that arise from a consideration of Jerusalem and the apocalypse. Here the focus is placed on mental, public and cultural representations of the idea of the apocalypse. Considering apocalypses as mental and public representations makes them observable, while their role as a cultural representation is derived from their many transformations; a process outlined in sections 2.1.2 and 2.1.3. The integrated representational model to be presented in section 2.1.3 is a heuristic analytical tool through which the following questions can be addressed: What makes the apocalypse the kind of idea that keeps on flourishing in people’s minds and what has made it manifest in culture in general? What factors and conditions have made it possible for the apocalypse of Jerusalem partly to keep its form while partly becoming transformed into new variations? The motive behind choosing the epidemiological model of explaining culture, therefore, is to complement previous research on apocalyptic phenomena and to shed some new light on the already much-studied issue of millenarian groups and the apocalyptic imagination. Later on in the study I will use the two groups, the Temple Mount Faithful and the International Christian Embassy, Jerusalem, as examples of how representations of the apocalypse emerge on both individual and social levels by describing and at the same time providing an interpretive analysis of their conceptions of Jerusalem— which consist of multiple apocalyptic discourses. To prepare for that discussion, however, we need to take a closer look at what the force majeure is which propels apocalyptic discourse, feeding it with hopes in individual minds. My key argument is that it is the millenarian dream of a better future that functions as this motivation and hope. In the concluding chapter, I will further discuss the different types of apocalyptic representation that interact within the symbol of Jerusalem. 2.1.2

Symbolic Interactions

In the section above I noted, following Sperber, that ideas and symbols create representations, while representations themselves create and generate new symbols and meanings. When we look closer at the contents of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem, numerous such representations are to be found, and I have organised these into four types. First, there are mental representations of the symbol and,

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second, public representations that are linked to the very same mental images. In the latter part of this study we will see how apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem also give expression to, thirdly, cultural representations. With this mixture of mental, public and cultural representations, we may speak of a fourth category: symbolic representations of the endtime Jerusalem. It can be said that the symbol then stands for a ‘meta-representation’. Such meta-representational capacity means that Jerusalem as a symbol constructs not only descriptions (representations of states of affairs) but also interpretations (representations of representations).39 These representations are studied here as objects in the world,40 even if they are found partly inside the heads of people and are not as such directly accessible to the researcher. These representations in turn give rise to new representations, some of which are expressed in a material way and are thus more easily accessible, in paintings, poems and the like: in other words, tradition. Such physical expressions of beliefs are then public and we can all further reflect on them and interpret them. In the context of concern to us, it is important to note that mental and public representations of Jerusalem are related to the representations the physical city gives rise to and vice versa. These representations are studied here as such objects in the world. The representational phenomenon here then needs to be examined with an eye on the Jewish and Christian traditions of faith. As stated earlier, I do not include the Islamic contribution in the discussion, despite its significance. However, certain Jewish and Christian groups in Jerusalem do assign Islam a negative role in their endtimes perspectives, and a brief discussion concerning the role of Islam as the enemy within the apocalyptic frame of interpretation is presented in chapter four. Merely identifying representations like these, though, tells us little about their content or significance. Sperber’s key question is: why do some representations propagate or survive? To answer this question, and to understand how and why Jerusalem as a symbol keeps attracting people, it is necessary to pay some attention to the beliefcontent of these apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem. To illuminate this process I have chosen a social constructive approach. 39 Sperber 1999: 87 and Dan Sperber, “Metarepresentations in an Evoultionary Perspective” in Metarepresentations: a Multidisciplinary Perspective 2000: 117, 121. 40 Sperber 2000: 3.

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This is done in order to clarify the importance of socially learned patterns of thought, which then further shape our thoughts. I shall here briefly introduce Peter L. Berger’s and Thomas Luckmann’s concept of ‘symbolic universes’ in combination with an approach from psychology of religion, Nils G. Holm’s notion of “inner and outer existence space”. In their classic work, The Social Construction of Reality (1966) Berger and Luckmann argue that consciousness always intends, or is directed towards, objects. Or, as these authors express it: . . . the sociology of knowledge must first of all concern itself with what people ‘know’ as ‘reality’ in their everyday, non- or pre-theoretical lives. In other words, commonsense ‘knowledge’ rather than ‘ideas’ must be the central focus for the sociology of knowledge. It is precisely this ‘knowledge’ that constitutes the fabric of meanings without which no society could exist.41

Berger and Luckmann’s theory of the sociology of knowledge has been very influential in works on religious reality construction within the academic study of religion Though several more recent approaches on religious reality construction could have been chosen, I have preferred to stay with the original, classic introduction. Their theory can be used to generate new implications for the theoretical discussion, and supplements Sperber’s theory, which leaves aside identity construction, a subject which has been discussed extensively by social scientists and social theorists who have dealt with social change and its characteristics.42 I wish to stress the effect or impact of socialization and learning processes in reflection on the representational process of religious ideas. Social learning of a tradition plays an important role in the formation of our concepts of reality and of what the world looks like. Though I apply the concept of ‘symbolic universe’, I wish to stress the point that the context is utterly crucial when we study humans in a specific milieu, society or culture.43 According to Berger and Luckmann, this ‘symbolic universe’ which they refer to is conceived of as the matrix of all things which are socially and subjectively perceived as ‘real meanings’. Furthermore,

41

Peter Berger & Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality 1973: 27. Cf. Anthony Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity (1990), Modernity and Selfidentity. Self and Society in Late Modern Age (1996), Sociology (1997) and Zygmunt Bauman, The Individualized Society (2000). 43 Thomas Johansson, Socialpsykologi 2005: 21–24. 42

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they suggest that the entire symbolic universe can be understood as “constructed by means of social objectivations”: . . . the symbolic universe is conceived of as the matrix of all socially objectivated and subjectively real meanings; the entire historic society and the entire biography of the individual are seen as events taking place in this universe.44

Through differing processes of legitimization, the symbolic universes are then seen as social products with a history. Berger and Luckmann argue that if we are to understand the ‘meanings’ of these symbolic universes, we “need to understand the history of their production”.45 Thus understood, “the symbolic universes operate to legitimate individual biography and the institutional order”.46 This institutional order then provides the models or (in Berger and Luckmann’s terminology) orders for how certain events are to be experienced by the individual. Even though dreams (or ‘counterintuitive ontologies’ as Sperber and Boyer would prefer) belong to different ‘spheres of reality’, they still are integrated in the same overarching universe of meaning. Unintelligible things are then explained within the frames of everyday life and ordered within the socially conceived model of a given ‘symbolic universe’.47 One strategic legitimating function of such symbolic universes for the individual is the concept of death. The experience of the death of others and the anticipation of one’s own death posit the marginal situation par excellence for the individual.48 As the symbolic universe orders history, it also, with regard to the future, establishes a common frame of reference for the projection of individual actions. The symbolic universe then links humans with their predecessors and their successors in a meaningful totality serving to transcend the finiteness of individual existence and bestow meaning on the death of the individual. In this way, all the members of a given society can conceive of themselves as belonging to a meaningful universe.49

44

Berger & Luckmann 1973: 112–113, op. cit. p. 114. Berger & Luckmann 1973: 115. 46 Ibid. 47 Ibid. 48 Here the theorists refer to Heidegger’s philosophy of death and Malinowski’s analysis of the social function of funerary ceremonialism. Berger & Luckmann 1973: 118–119. 49 Berger & Luckmann 1973: 120–121. 45

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In applying the theory of Berger and Luckmann to the material of this study, the concept of death will be discussed with reference to the apocalyptic frame, where the apocalypse itself functions as a kind of death and thus a representation of the ‘ultimate end’. But here the apocalypse also functions as a passage from death to new life. This division between existence and non-existence on the planet earth and life as we understand it can now be understood as an apocalyptic crisis, the reflection of an individual concept of death in the symbolic universe: life will eventually end. The fact that humans have a restricted time on earth can then be reflected in beliefs about the earth’s future. Eventually, as with the life of humans, the life of this planet will also come to an end. Institutional models of explaining existence versus non-existence reflect the individual’s own perception of time and its end, but also operate on a more general level. Death and dying also contain an element of anguish, although they are a more or less accepted reality of life. Most people may not reflect upon death every day, but in the apocalyptic worldview the dichotonomy between life and death is constantly present and even affects the way humans perceive the world and life in general. In its most intense variants the dichotomical character of a person’s ‘symbolic universe’ motivates that person to act for what they perceive as a better future. Religion offers people meaning and the need to have acceptable answers is especially important when confronting the mystery of death. It is a mystery in the sense that most people cannot deal with the possibility of a simple, final termination when life ends. It is not just that people want to live on indefinitely, but that they desire conviction and certainty that this will occur. Religion offers the assurance that this will eventually take place.50 Empirical research has been carried out in order to test the fairly popular hypothesis that belief in an afterlife correlates positively with anxiety about death. For example, Osarchuk and Tatz (1973) conducted an experiment and found evidence that concern about death can increase belief in an afterlife. However, religious beliefs, attitudes, and values certainly have a relevance well beyond this specific matter, although religion manifests itself in a wide variety of developmental, personality, and

50 Ralph W. Hood, Jr. Bernard Spilka, Bruce Hunsberger, & Richard Gorsuch (eds.) The Psychology of Religion. An Empirical Approach 1996: 153.

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social concerns and expressions and this is particularly true of belief in an afterlife.51 When reconsidering the impact that symbols, both mental and public, have in people’s ways of looking at their lives and interpreting their existence, it is important to reflect on how we usually construct our realities. Correspondence between mental and public symbols can be explained with reference to an ongoing communication between the two realms. One such explanation of how the two realms interact, communicate and give rise to new meanings is presented in Nils G. Holm’s integrated role-theory. Holm provides a psychological explanation for the relation between the personally experienced and what is socially conceived, and in his integrated role theory for the psychology of religion he speaks of an “inner existence space” in relation to an “outer existence space”.52 Holm’s theoretical approach implies that we both create and interpret meanings and symbols, which are both personal and social, and that the ability to do so is partly due to a social learning process. However, the individual’s intra-psychic processes, experiences and emotions give these socially transmitted models and roles a personal variation, thus making each individual exceptional and unique. Though humans are all similarly constructed in biological terms, we still constitute personal entities: The objectified symbol system that we normally call religion mainly consists of two kinds of symbols. We have the more cognitive symbols (with their emotional implications), in addition to the external, obvious symbols, which have a more commonly shared interpretation within society. The inner cognitive symbols include, for example, God, the devil, spirits, atonement, judgment, grace, and so on. [. . .] The external ones are symbols that have acquired form in movement, color, music, or anything else we can absorb through the senses.53

51 Hood, Spilka, Hunsberger & Gorsuch 1996: 157–158: Osarchuk & Tatz’s (1973) study is summarized in brief in the book on p. 157. 52 Nils G. Holm 1997a: 73–85 “An Integrated Role Theory for the Psychology of Religion” in The Psychology of Religion. Theoretical Approaches (eds.) Bernard Spilka and Daniel N. McIntosch; Människans symboliska verklighetsbygge 1997b: 34–37; “Extas, trans och tungotal” in Mänskliga gränsområden. Om extas, psykos och galenskap (eds.) Johan Cullberg, Karin Johannisson, Owe Wikström 1998: 51–56; Nils G. Holm, “Symboler i trånga och vida rum” in Religio et Bibliotheca (eds.) N. G. Holm, M. Rajalin, K.-G. Sandelin, P. Södergård & U. Wolf-Knuts 2001: 77–84. 53 Holm 1997a: 81.

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Culture is understood by Holm as “a stereotypified human reality with fixed forms in linguistic activity . . . and behavioural structures”.54 In the English translation of the Swedish original, Holm argues that “humans as participants in and constructors of culture make condense human experiences available in symbols”.55 Holm has focused above all on religious symbols and how these are conceived and explained through a “symbolical construction of reality”. Emphasis is being placed on the correspondence between these two spheres. In a way, Holm’s psychological approach has resemblances with Sperber’s naturalistic cognitive account of the relevance of the interaction or communication between mentally and publicly perceived representations. According to Holm, individual history is formed by memories that store experiences of different kinds. Our memories are controlled by different processes, with the result that contact with reality is not always ‘objectively real’. Instead, there is displacement, fusion, or reinforcement, creating emotionally charged motifs. Holm argues that if the personal symbols find an equivalent in the collectively given religious imagery, a role-taking then occurs on a deeply individual plane, allowing the individual to feel meaning and hope in life.56 Identification in this process can evoke both positive and negative reactions, which further determine how people experience religious symbols.57 This theoretical implication of a process of communication between the inner and outer existence space can be used to explore how religious individuals identify, react and refer to Jerusalem both as an inner image and as an factor in their external reality. In the next section, I outline a theoretical model which combines the aspects of cognitive science, social constructionism and the integrated role theory presented here. This model is first presented in a brief and idiosyncratic manner. The presentation does not claim

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Holm 1997b: 37. My translation. Ibid. 56 Ruth Illman has applied this symbol perspective, and further developed it while accounting for stereotypified symbolic expressions in cultural encounters where boundaries are both created and broken. According to Illman, conscious, as well as unconscious, motives and attitudes play a part in the many-faceted process of interpretation, formed by the actor, the situation and the relationship. Ruth Illman, Gränser och gränsöverskridanden. Skildrade erfarenheter av kulturella möten i internationellt projektarbete 2004: 261, 264. 57 Holm 1997a: 85. 55

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to be either definitive or complete at this time, but merely attempts to frame the complex theoretical perspectives. 2.1.3

Integrating the Theoretical Approaches

In the previous section I have outlined the theoretical models to be applied in the forthcoming chapters. Representation theory from the cognitivist perspective legitimates the concepts of representations and further explains how the various representations emerge and interact. Sperber’s epidemiological model is used to study the apocalyptic crisis in relation to Jerusalem, revealing mental, public and cultural representations of the city. These representations exist simultaneously, and although they are on different levels they interact and give further rise to new representations. Firstly, the mental images concern the relation the apocalypse has to Jerusalem, and what this means for individuals. Secondly, we can assume that the apocalypse also gives rise to public representations. This means that some mental images of the apocalypse have been transformed and further expressed in collective images, paintings, pictures, themes, written comments, speeches and public gatherings and so forth. While the mental representations are something inside the producer’s head, the public representations are found ‘outside’ within the realms of the surrounding society. Public representations of the apocalyptic symbolization of Jerusalem are then expressed in a concrete way for other people to participate in. These diverse public representations of an endtime Jerusalem are then something which we can all physically observe in one way or another through our senses. In combination, these mental and public representations give rise to new representations, when communicated representations propagate themselves. In this process, new mental representations are evoked in people’s minds. As an example, let us consider the New Testament Book of Revelation, also known as the Apocalypse of John. The text suggests that John had a ‘dream’ or vision while in prison, concerning the situation he found himself in, what the world around him looked like, and how the world would end. He then created a mental representation of what the future would look like. However, his mental image was then transformed into a written text, either by himself or someone else. Evidently others would read this text and would in turn construct mental representations (their own thoughts and interpretations) of John’s dream. For some, these

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representations might not be particularly significant, whilst for others they would become central. Some of these people would want, for various reasons, to tell others about John’s story, which they had read or heard in their own environment. In this sense, John’s mental vision presented in a public version has then become a public representation: many people can read about John’s vision and obtain their own mental representations of it. For whatever reason, John’s vision has survived what Sperber calls “the test of communication”. Over the generations people have read the transcribed version of John’s dream, with some readers even trying to give their own interpretations of it, and again writing them down so that others could study them. Some have given expression to their mental representations in artistic form; they have visualized how they have perceived John’s vision in works of art. Not only ideas, but also these works of art and other material products are public representations and again give rise to new mental representations in the mind of the viewer of the artefact. Understood in this way, the process of mental representations becoming public and giving rise to new mental representations is constantly ongoing. What makes it interesting here is the way in which apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem as a millenarian hope can be traced thematically both in past and contemporary settings. Tracing such apocalyptic representations through history would be an impossible task in a study of this length. My account is therefore deliberately selective and does not purport to be either definitive or complete. Instead, I merely pay attention to the fact that the apocalypse has emerged in many forms throughout history, and as a theme that survives countless tests of communications it lives on in the contemporary world. In recent times the apocalypse has reached an almost global recognition beyond its religious origin.58 The theme has not only survived, but has also actually mutated into new forms. This successful test of communication has then given rise to what, in Sperber’s terms, would be called a cultural representation. The apocalyptic representations of endtime Jerusalem has then become 58

As a multifaceted manifestation the evolution of millenarism as a historical phenomenon has multifaceted manifestations in culture. And as such, it seems to have a lasting hold over the human imagination. Abbas Amanat, “Introduction: Apocalyptic Anxieties and Millennial Hopes in the Salvation Religions of the Middle East” in Imaging the End. Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America (eds.) Abbas Amanat & Magnus T. Bernhardsson 2002: 1.

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a theme that is culturally cognizable. Within the frame of the mixed mental, public and cultural representations, we can speak of symbolic representations of endtime Jerusalem with a ‘meta-representational’ ability. With reference to the example of John’s vision, this means first that John’s dream has become a representation which people are familiar with. Second, it takes new forms and occurs in many different versions. Third, each mental version of the Apocalypse of John results from the interpretation of a public representation, which is in itself the expression of a mental representation. In order to explain cultural representation, Sperber suggests that we should seek to answer why some examples are more successful than others in a given human population. The argument of my study should then be seen in the light of this theoretical question. As I shall demonstrate, the attractiveness of the apocalyptical myth involving Jerusalem lies in its basic dualistic character, where good meets evil and life meets death, becoming transformed into eternal life. But this is not only due to the dichotomy between good and evil, or eternity and death, since there are presumably even more such dichotomies to be found beneath the surface. I will return to this discussion in chapter five, where I will apply the theoretical model to the empirical material. I regard the concept of representation theory as a good starting point, although Sperber’s epidemiological theory does not, as mentioned before, explain the contents of the various representations that appear in this study. As already stated, his model does not focus on content, but we must assume that content is significant when defining which representations become long-term, thus explaining why they keep attracting people. Such an assumption calls for further analysis. As noted above, one of my key arguments is that it is due to the millenarian hope of a better future closely linked to the apocalyptic myth of destruction that people are inspired to further interpret the original representations. On the one hand, the apocalypse is a sad, threatening and frightening event in people’s minds since it focuses on destruction; but on the other hand it gives rise to hope since at the end a new paradise will be created.59 From this it can 59 This line of reasoning comes close to Boyer’s thoughts about death as a profound factor in life. According to him, death evokes feelings of awe and fear and creates rich influences in the minds of people. Death is intuitively connected to religion and the supernatural world. Boyer 2001: 21–22, 281, 324.

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be argued that attention is paid to apocalyptic representation because it includes an element of hope. To summarize, the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem become attractive since they point towards post-apocalyptic perfection. When we consider how the content in these mental, public and cultural representations affect the outcome of an epidemiological process, the fundamental premise of this theoretical perspective is that people never approach religious experience or religious concepts in general as a tabula rasa.60 As humans, we actively construct meaning rather than passively absorb it and as such world constructors, we will satisfy rather than maximize outcomes. In this sense, we are better at processing positive than negative information.61 Socially learned patterns of thought then function as models for how to regard the past, the present, and the future. Through processes of socialization and learning (as Berger and Luckmann present them) people construct their worlds, form concepts and further acquire a frame within which to place their own lives. These frames or contexts are ‘symbolic universes’. If we are to understand the context or see within these given frames how people apply socially conceived models of thought and behaviour, further consideration is required, especially of institutional models that explain existence versus non-existence. The processes of socialization certainly affect how the apocalyptical representations of Jerusalem are responded to. These learned models sanctioned by a tradition in turn colour the way others see the world. Let me for a brief moment return to the example of John’s apocalypse. The public representations of the Apocalypse of John also affect how Jerusalem is understood. Of course, there are many other ways of regarding Jerusalem (as we noted in chapter one), but here Jerusalem is prescribed with a specific model: a role is given to Jerusalem in a cosmic drama (Rev. 21–22). In this sense, the role of Jerusalem has become externalized. John’s vision of endtime Jerusalem has then become, in Berger and Luckmann’s terms, “taken over by tradition and culture”. This would mean that Jerusalem has thus become an objectified form and internalized in turn via socialization. 60 Elisabeth Weiss Ozorak, “A Social-Cognitive Model of Religious Belief ” in The Psychology of Religion. Theoretical Approaches (eds.) Bernad Spilka and Daniel N. McIntosh 1997: 195. 61 Ibid.

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As an apocalyptic representation, Jerusalem has then received a fixed role in the ‘symbolic universe’ and is reinforced through communication. In this process the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem become meaningful to individuals, and stories about Jerusalem might then be interpreted in a way that makes sense in particular contexts. This ‘sense making’ can be illuminated by Holm’s model of the relationship of the personally experienced to what is socially conceived. In our “inner existence space”, where religious cognitive symbols refer to basic experiences of the individual’s life struggle, we create mental representations based on what we feel and what we have been taught. Simultaneously, we have learned collective symbols in culture that are sanctioned by various traditions. These symbols within “outer existence space” connect the individual to other individuals and to a larger whole. Holm’s way of expressing this would imply that, as humans, we both create and interpret meanings and symbols, personal as well as social ones. The personal symbols, feelings and experiences are “objectified in the religious symbols”, and as such ‘objectified symbols’, they interact between “inner and outer existence space[s]”. Staying with the example of the Apocalypse of John, this means that people have a kind of space or ‘file’ ready to be used or filled with interpretation, meaning that a person reading the Apocalypse of John would probably have a ‘reference space’ within which to link what is read with his or her own experiences. The individual religious interpretive model for the Apocalypse of John would then depend on tradition. If the text inspires personal reflection, it would, in Holm’s terms, “find an equivalent in the collectively given religious imagery”. On a personal level, role-taking then occurs, and the correspondence between the reader and the text being read might then allow the individual to feel meaning and hope in John’s vision of the future Jerusalem. But John did not beget his vision of the New Jerusalem in a vacuum. He was himself also part of a tradition and his vision was coloured by this tradition. John did not create the apocalyptic model discussed here; in fact the apocalyptic theme goes much further back in time. John, too, was familiar with the concepts which were part of an apocalyptic tradition, and he just gave them a personal touch, a character of his own, in response to the situation at hand. Often in the discussion of representations, the emphasis is placed on mental images. In my case, however, I deal with representations

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that are both mental and physical. Jerusalem is an actual place, but it simultaneously refers to an imagined future. This is an issue that will often become relevant in the course of this study. The fact that apocalyptic representations include simultaneously a physical, geographical place and a mental vision is central in my theoretical approach. The interaction between the place and the idea therefore makes appropriate the combination of the theoretical approaches presented earlier. My task then is to demonstrate how the physical city affects mental and public images, and how mental and public images in turn affect people’s attitudes and views towards the contemporary city of Jerusalem. In order to clarify my theoretical approach I will in the following section present in greater detail six general types of apocalyptic representations. This survey is to be read in the light of the theoretical approach outlined here. The apocalyptic representations I suggest are of the public type, but naturally they also spring from the mental kind and become mentally interpreted further. 2.2

Apocalyptic Representations in Practice

In this section I will outline some of the most commonly conceived notions of the apocalyptic imagination. These different types of ‘apocalypses’ will later in this study account for the religiously-imagined futuristic Jerusalem. It should be noted here that apocalyptic representations do not only occur in people’s religious imagination; they are actually part of broader society and refer to something that exists in reality as well as in vision. Below, I have identified six ‘apocalypses’ that shape our orientation towards the future: written or textual apocalypses, apocalypses interpreted, culture-bound and contextual apocalypses, ethical and existential apocalypses, gender apocalypses, and finally environmental and technological apocalypses. These ‘apocalypses’ become used later on as heuristic analytical tools through which contemporary apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem can be identified. 2.2.1

Textual Apocalypses

The Greek word apokalypsis means revelations of hidden things, or unveiling. Traditionally, the word implies that, for a certain individual or recipient of the message, hidden knowledge of the coming destruction of the world is revealed. The recipient is, as it were,

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given a hint of future happenings in cryptic visions and messages, through dreams or in a state of trance. Messengers, such as angels, often reveal these visions to the recipient, and help him or her interpret their experience.62 This type of apocalyptic pattern is typical for the prophets Daniel, Isaiah, Ezekiel and Zechariah in the Tanach, and in the New Testament we see the same with the Apocalypse of John. The most common themes of Jewish and Christian apocalyptic writings and later revelations are closely linked to the revelations of these men. The roots of the Jewish-Christian symbols referring to messiahs and millenniums, images that offer hope in a situation of despair, “call on the imaginative tradition of Jewish literature, adapting ancient prophetic traditions to meet new needs”.63 The combinations of these two elements are only fully appreciated with reference to “the background of 200 years of Jewish resistance to external political power, and to the Christian adaptation of that resistance”.64 With regard to this written type of apocalypse, it is generally held by scholars that this form “emerges during times of oppression”.65 The function of these apocalypses has, according to exegetical scholars, a particular time and place in history, and their primary task has been to succour believers by giving them strength and endurance. In general, when speaking about the apocalypse, scholars have tended to refer to apocalyptic writings, a certain genre of texts.66 Scholars in the exegetical field argue that these apocalypses should also be seen as demonstrating continuity in prophetical thinking, even though the various texts found within the Bible emerged during different periods. The Book of Daniel, for example, has its historical background in the persecution of the Jews in the time of the Seleucid monarch Antiochos IV Epifanes, whose reign in Palestine lasted from 175–164 bce. The author of Daniel wants readers to hold fast to the religion of their fathers, and he shows through his visions that

62 Cf. Adela Yarbro Collins, Cosmology and Eschatology in Jewish and Christian Apocalypticism 1996: 7. 63 Harold Attridge, “The Messiah and the Millennium: The Roots of Two JewishChristian Symbols in Imaging the End. Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America (eds.) Abbas Amanat & Magnus T. Bernhardsson 2002: 91. 64 Attridge 2002: 91. 65 Cf. Lanternari 1963; Wilson 1975: 484. 66 For an outline of the traditional distinction between ‘apocalypses’ and ‘apocalyptic’ as historical movement see John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination. An Introduction to the Jewish Matrix of Christianity 1984: 2ff.

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the Seleucid Empire will soon be overthrown. The apocalyptic texts basically succour readers and give them strength to keep on until the evil powers are defeated. This apocalypse is just one from a whole genre that flourished at the time.67 In the modern study of religion, the apocalypse is not limited to certain biblical episodes. Scholars tend to trace apocalypses in patterns of thought—which are often, but not necessarily—linked to the interpretations of these apocalyptic writings. In the Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism the authors make an important distinction: Apocalypticism is an analogous term, and it admits of different emphases. Some material is recognized as apocalyptic because it relates to the end of history. Other material is apocalyptic insofar as it describes supernatural revelation and the activities of angelic and demonic powers.68

In the discussion of textual apocalypses the Greek genre is often overlooked, as scholars move from Jewish apocalypse towards the Christian examples. Juha Sihvola has paid this issue some attention. In his essay Aika ja maailmanloppu antiiikin ajattelussa [Time and the end of the world in the thinking of Antiquity] he shows that in ancient Greek philosophy (Homer, Hesiod, Anaxsimander, Plato, Aristotle, etc.) we also find visions about time and the end of the world, even though the linear view of history was introduced to the Greeks when Christianity, through Judaism, became part of European intellectual life.69 According to scholars of the New Testament there 67 Jewish apocalypses are to be searched for example in the Book of Daniel (around 165 bce), though similar themes can be traced back to Zechariah 1–5. Zechariah’s night visions are dated by exegetical scholars to 520 bce, and similar related motifs are also found in Isaiah 24–27, also known as the Isaiah apocalypse. Even in Ezekiel 37–39 one can find similarities. He delivered a series of oracles of hope, including visions of a rebuilt Jerusalem with a temple, not in a new universe but in a renewed Jewish commonwealth. Heikki Räisänen, “Raamattu ja lopunodotus” in Lopun leikit. Uskon, historian ja tieteen eskatologiat (ed.) T. Lehtonen 1999: 38–57; Juha Sihvola, ”Aika ja maailmanloppu antiikin ajattelussa” in Lopun leikit. Uskon, historian ja tieteen eskatologiat (ed.) T. Lehtonen 1999: 13–37; cf. Colleen McDannel & Bernhard Lang, Heaven. A History 1990: 12–13; Attridge 2002: 90–93. On the apocalyptic genre, cf. Antti Laato, Inledning till Gamla testamentet 2002: 268–270. 68 John J. Collins, “Introduction” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Christianity, (vol. 1) (ed.) John J. Collins 1999: xiii. 69 Juha Sihvola ”Aika ja maailmanloppu antiikin ajattelussa” in Lopun Leikit. Uskon, historian ja tieteen eskatologiat (ed.) T. Lehtonen 1999: 13–37. See also Hubert Cancik, “The End of the World, of History, and of the Individual in Greek and roman Antiquity” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Christianity, (vol. 1) (ed.) John J. Collins 1999: 84–120; Greek doctrines had an

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is one clearly defined apocalyptic text, the Apocalypse of John, but there are also some other apocalyptic ideas to be found in certain chapters of the gospels of Mark (1), Matthew (24), and Luke (21). Traces of apocalyptic thinking are also to be found in 2 Thessalonians, as well as in the letters of John. Even though apocalyptic thinking strongly influenced early Christianity, there are only a few chapters in the Scriptures dealing with the second coming of Christ or parousia, which are found in the synoptic gospels. A letter addressed to the Christian congregations ascribed to John mentions the Antichrist, an incarnation of evil who sets up his reign over the earth before the final battle. The Apocalypse of John deals with images of the millennial (1000-year) kingdom of God and the concept of the “New Jerusalem”, in chapter 22. The same biblical passage has inspired many authors and artists in depicting the horrors of the endtimes and its visions of the harmonic end, which also indicates the importance of the biblical text to its interpreters. The apocalyptic worldview was an important factor for the early church, and besides the apocalypse of John, many old Jewish apocalypses were kept alive in the new congregation, although modified to meet new needs.70 The apocalyptic genre has inspired many church leaders, from the early Church Fathers until modern times. While some emphasized the apocalyptic point of view, others were more sceptical towards interpretations of the book, especially before it was canonized in 393 ce. Subsequently during the history of Christianity, many chiliastic groups have emerged, whose adherents have looked forward to a paradise to be re-created on earth in either an immediate or distant future. From time to time, apocalyptic-millennial movements have arisen and they continue to arise, feeding their followers with religiously motivated hopes, or preaching the very same hopes but impact on Jewish and Christian belief. Unlike the earlier Jewish monotheists, Hellenistic Jews showed little interest in recreating a Jewish national state. They regarded Judaism as philosophy, a system of belief, rather than an ideology of the state. McDannel & Lang 1990: 17–18. 70 Christian apocalypses were the Apocalypse of Peter (135 ce), Shepherd of Hermas (130–140 ce). The Gnostic-Christian writings found in the Nag Hammadi library in the 1920s are typical in expressing this aspect of light fighting darkness, dualistic views on life. For more about early Christian apocalypses see, for example, David Frankfurter, “Early Christian Apocalypticism: Literature” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Christianity (ed.) John J. Collins 1999: 440–446.

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disguised in political or ideological clothing. Many have sought support from the Apocalypse of John, seeing themselves as representatives of the 1000-year regime on earth and considering those who oppose this as working on behalf of the Beast of John’s Apocalypse, who is usually identified with the Antichrist. These enthusiasts saw, and still see, themselves as being chosen to live in a paradise-like future which comes after the horrors of the final battle between good and evil. While some have interpreted their everyday life and future in the above-mentioned terms, others distanced themselves from this kind of thinking. Generally, it could be argued that the larger church groupings in today’s Christianity no longer consider the apocalyptic drama as fundamental to the Church. These visions might still be alive, but instead of searching for signs of the future apocalypse, the final battle has lost its significance for mainstream western Christianity, which has in many parts of the world today focused on the teaching of Jesus of Nazareth, providing its members with guidance for day-to-day life. This does not, however, exclude the emergence of apocalyptic or millenarian tendencies within the boundaries of Church. Some scholars tend to regard apocalyptic beliefs as dangerous, because of their innate power to foster self-righteousness among the elect, and at times they react with violent opposition, even persecution, to those who are identified as representatives of the opposition, seen as Satan’s party. Nevertheless, apocalypticism has been regarded as a source of hope and strength for those who feel oppressed.71 In the modern study of religion some scholars trace apocalyptic patterns in the history of religion and study their theological significance (with emphasis on the eschatological relevance of the always-victorious final glory). In the study of apocalyptic texts, scholars have traced the historical roots of the apocalyptic idea. As Norman Cohn puts it: . . . the story itself has continued down the ages. And what a story it has become! Much theological speculation; innumerable millenarian movements, including those now flourishing [. . .] even the appeal once exercised by Marxist-Leninist ideology—all things belong to it [the ancient combat myth]. Nor is there a reason to think that the story is nearing its end.72

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Collins 1999: x. Norman Cohn, Cosmos, Chaos and the World to Come. The Ancient Roots of Apocalyptic Faith 1995: 228. Brackets added by me. 72

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In this section I have primarily traced Jewish-Christian textual apocalypses, but we should not ignore the fact that we also find written apocalypses in other religious and political traditions. We should also bear in mind that the emergence of Jesus should be seen in the light of the political situation in the Palestine of his day. Cohn, who has studied the millennial groups of the Middle Ages, has also shown the importance of imagery from the ancient world in relation to the understanding of Jewish and Christian apocalypses. In his book Cosmos, Chaos and the World to Come (1995) he argues that the ancient form of the combat myth later turns into apocalyptic faith.73 Tracing the origins of apocalyptic motifs, he finds literature related to the theme as far back as about 1500 bce: . . . peoples as diverse as Egyptians, Sumerians, Babylonians, IndoIranians and their Indian and Iranian descendants, Canaanites, preexilic Israelites were all agreed that in the beginning the world had been organized, set in order, by a god or by several gods, and that in essentials it was immutable. For each of these people, security— meaning fertility of the land, victory in war, stable social relations sanctioned by custom and law—was the outward and visible sign that a divinely ordained order did indeed exist. However, that order was never untroubled, it was always threatened by evil, destructive forces—sometimes identified as flood or drought, famine or plague, inertia or death itself—but sometimes also as hostile peoples or tyrannical conquerors. In the combat myth, in its various formations, the conflict between universal order and the forces that threatened and invaded and impaired it—between cosmos and chaos—was [and still is] given symbolic expression. A young hero god, or divine warrior, was charged by the gods with the task of keeping the forces of chaos at bay; and in return he was awarded with kingship over the world.74

Cohn goes even further in his analysis, arguing that at some time between 1500 and 1200 bce Zoroaster broke away from this “static yet anxious worldview” by radically reinterpreting the Iranian version of the combat myth. In Zoroaster’s view, the world was not static, nor would it always be troubled—even now the world was moving through incessant conflicts, towards a conflict-less state. In Zoroaster’s vision a time would ultimatley come when, in a final battle, the supreme god and his supernatural allies would defeat the

73 74

Cohn 1995: 114–115. Cohn 1995: 227. Brackets added by me.

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forces of chaos and their human allies and eliminate them once and for all. From then on, the divinely appointed order would obtain absolutely: Zoroaster expected a general resurrection of the dead, a universal divine judgment, and an eventual cleansing of the earth. Restored to its original perfection and beauty, the world would then serve as the true and eternal kingdom of Ahura Mazda, the Creator. In this new world men and women would live forever.75

In other words, the world would be forever untroubled and totally secure. Unheard of before Zoroaster, according to Cohn, that expectation deeply influenced certain Jewish groups—witness some of the apocalypses and other writings found in Qumran.76 However, we not only find the idea of the apocalypse in the Near Eastern and Mediterranean area. We can also trace its motifs in Scandinavian mythology, in the Edda and in the Kalevala, and there are apocalyptic components in Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam and other religions. Within the traditions of the ‘world religions’, the apocalypse is strongly connected to the hero of the combat myth. In addition to the mythicmessianic founders of religions, we find other individuals engaged in the role of messiah. To list all such cases would be excessive, but to mention just a few: the Sabbatian Movement with its leader Shabbatai Sevi, the Heaven’s Gate with Marshall H. Applewhite and Bonnie Nettles, the Rastafarian movement with Haile Selassie, Aum Shinrikyo with Shoko Asahara, and Branch Davidians with David Koresh, in addition with several other religious groups with messianic leadership. We can, however, identify several different types of saviour gods or messianic leaders in various mythical and social contexts.

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McDannel & Lang 1990: 12. For a more detailed overview of the origins of Jewish-Christian apocalypticism, cf. The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism (vol. 1) (ed.) John J. Collins 1999. This work covers the historical literature of apocalypticism beginning with the ancient Near East and Mediterranean world, moving through Judaism, the Dead Sea Scrolls and Jewish mysticism. It also covers the eschatological teaching of Jesus, as well as examining the synoptic Gospels, the Book of Revelation and early Christian apocalypticism. Cf. Cohn 1995: 227–228; Tony Dunderfelt & Martti Mäkisalo 1999: 15–23; Helmer Ringgren, Forntida religioner i Mellanöstern 1987. 76

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Interpreted Apocalypses

The different apocalypses are interpreted in various ways. These interpretations are bound to individuals’ social and cultural backgrounds, which provide several meanings. However, the intensity (or frequency) of the interpretation varies; in larger religious communities the interpretation is made valid through tradition, with institutionalized interpretations serving the needs of the larger community and therefore no longer serving exclusive means to such a great extent. In smaller religious groups the means of interpretation are more intense. In such cases, the interpretations often tend to serve the needs of a charismatic leadership, which in turn influences the small group’s activities. In order to survive, the group naturally has to make some adjustments in its theology over time. This can be observed in the social science classifications of churches, movements, denominations and sects,77 with scholars of religion able to observe various interpretations within each kind of group. Most often it is up to the preacher or leader of the religious movement to interpret the Scriptures, which he/she does in his/her own selective way. Often relying on, and referring back to, the leader’s own experiences, the selected text is regenerated and adapted to fit the modern congregation or audience. The more attractively the story is presented, the more influence it is likely to gain. Listeners have the power to either approve or disapprove the interpreted message and to choose whether it should be shared further. In smaller groups the interpreted message is by nature ‘more radical’, exclusivist and introvert. The more exclusive the group, the more effort the leader has to put into his work.78 When the apocalypse is interpreted to serve the needs of a specific group, it is often followed by hard criticism of the wider church and society in general, leading to judgement of those not part of the group. This tendency towards a dualistic worldview leads naturally to an even stricter exclusion of members from wider social involvement. In such cases, the use of apocalyptic texts feeds the intense 77 James Beckford, “Introduction” in New Religious Movements and Rapid Social Change (ed.) J. Beckford 1986: x–xv; Bryan Wilson, The Social Dimension of Sectarianism Sects and New Religious Movements in Contemporary Society 1990. 78 Smaller religious groups do not confirm to one clearly articulated type of movement, either ideologically or organizationally, but it may be generally said that such movements are exclusivistic, standing in some degree of protest against the dominant traditions of society and rejecting prevailing patterns of belief and conduct. For more on the study of extrinsic religious groups and sects, cf. Wilson 1990: 1–3.

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group with visions of the future, which in turn lead to a very concrete assumption of the forthcoming apocalypse. In cases where apocalyptic dualism clearly occurs in the interpretations, it takes on an active or passive form, naturally, according to on the leader(s) and the group(s) in question. Apocalyptic ideas most urgently need re-interpretations when prophesised events apparently fail to occur. In these situations, interpretations follow one of three courses. The first, most common, reaction pattern is that the group members either drop out of the group or become anti-religious in general. A second alternative is that they modify the interpreted message in line with events, which includes postponing the date for the apocalyptic climax. A third possibility is that the group will urge rapid social change. The only alternative to these is to prepare for death: suicide becomes as a rational choice, a way of saving the group of believers from the oncoming catastrophe.79 The interpreted apocalypse is perhaps the most important factor in millenarian worldviews. Depending on how the apocalypse is interpreted, different types of religious millenarian groups arise, and it is important to pay attention to how apocalyptic representations are interpreted in a specific context. As Adela Yarbro Collins points out, those who have recognized the social and political concerns of the apocalypses, some have taken their visions as literal prophecies of political and military events to be fulfilled during their lifetime.80 And as a famous example she mentions Hal Lindsey and his way of interpreting apocalyptic texts. The various representations of apocalypse, how frequently they are referred to and what these representations conceptualize, is of importance in studying the outcome of a religious interpretation and its consequences for a religiously motivated worldview. 2.2.3

Culture-Bound and Contextual Apocalypses

The interpreted apocalypse is formed out of the context in which the group holding the interpretation is situated. The interpretations are naturally linked to the time and situation in history during which 79 Charles B. Strozier, “Apocalyptic Violence and the Politics of Waco” in The Year 2000. Essays on the End (eds.) C. Strozier & M. Flynn 1997b: 97–98, 105, 109. Cf. Christian Wulff, “‘The Last Exit’ och Heaven’s Gate” in I förgården till tusenårsriket (eds.) M. Leppäkari & T. Mansikka 1999: 107–111. 80 Collins 1998: 15.

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the group emerges. According to the historical period and location, different tendencies tend to shape ways of thinking. The student of apocalyptic groups needs therefore to take into consideration what kind of society the groups are living in. Although the apocalyptic model of interpretation in almost all cases follows the same patterns, we need to take into consideration whether the group is the product of a European or American society, or of some other part of the world. Different elements are emphasized in different interpretations, which shape the experience of reality depending on whether they belong to a past or present society. In each case, contemporary society and the reality experienced are reflected in the ethics of the group. Interpretations of the apocalypse are clear on this point. Dualism is then a cause of the interpretation: there is ‘good’ and there is ‘evil’. With regard to the question of salvation, the group itself naturally represents ‘the good’, while ‘evil forces’ are working against the intentions of ‘the good’. According to this dualistic view, ‘the good’ originates in God, while its counterpart has its origins in evil, the forces fighting against God. The dualistic character of the interpreted apocalypse expands while the expectations in the group grow in intensity. The culture-bound apocalypse not only refers to the geographical context in which the group is active; it can also refer to both ethnic and national disputes in a given context. Sometimes ethnic and national disputes and confrontations are given an apocalyptic overtone, where the two sides are glorified and demonized. Social transformation, for example, has been studied through apocalyptic structures in society. An example of this can be seen in the work of Tina Pippin, whose search for cultural apocalypses took her both to her own childhood, growing up in a racist society in the southern United States, and to the use of the language of the body as presented in the Apocalypse of John. In her book Apocalyptical Bodies (1999), Pippin asks, “How do I locate apocalypse in my life and in the gospel narrative?” For her, looking at a sign stating Ku Klux Klan ideology creates an apocalyptic discourse by forming a piece of who she is: the sign functions as a visual memory of her story. In other words, looking at this symbol (the sign) she creates a visual memory of her personal story and ‘white southern female’ constitutes her identity. Then again, the sign actualizes the apocalypse in her life. It takes shapes in its multiple meanings of privilege, oppression, and violence. The sign was in her

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childhood a form of ‘truth’; thus the truth of the sign is now different for her than it is for her family, and different for her now than it was in her childhood.81 The point that I wish to stress by the culture-bound apocalypse is that the environments in which we live shape our identities, which are thus in constant dialogue and change. The transformation of the ‘truth’ also depends on the cultural context we live in, and with whom we interact. The apocalyptical landscape therefore marks the point of interpretation in time and space. ‘Changing landscape’ means therefore to change the context, which is the origin of interpretation, definition and description. These cultural readings can also be identified as ‘representations of apocalypse’. This is equally relevant for discussing the secularization of the apocalypse. Contemporary apocalyptic thinking is not confined to theology, and it can actually be discovered in many of the expressions of postmodern thinking. One of its clearest forms is found, according to Thomas J. J. Altizer, “in a new media philosophy purporting to be the expression of a cybernetic revolution”.82 In his essay, Altizer also reflects on the issue of whether modern (even secular) apocalypticism should be seen as a “genuine recovery and renewal” of a “seemingly invisible or hidden apocalyptic tradition”. There is a suggestion of a ‘yes’ in Altizer’s closing words, but if assurance is needed we may turn to Stephen O’Leary, who demonstrates that “many of the genres and themes of contemporary popular apocalyptic have recognizable antecedents in the cultural products of earlier decades”.83 2.2.4

Ethical and Existential Apocalypses

Can or should the apocalypse be interpreted ethically? One approach to this question is easily understood by following Pippin’s analysis. We can naturally argue over what is meant by ethics in general, but let us here start with the Jewish-Christian approach to ethics, which

81 Tina Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies. The Biblical End of the World in Text and Image 1999: 14–17. 82 Thomas J. J. Altizer, “Modern Thought and Apocalypticism” in Ecyclopedia of Apocalypticism (vol. 3) (ed.) Stephen J. Stein 2000: 348–349. 83 Stephen O’Leary, “Apocalypticism in American Popular Culture. From the Dawn of the Nuclear Age to the End of the American Century” in The Ecyclopedia of Apocalypticism (vol. 3) (ed.) Stephen J. Stein 2000: 393.

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is the one commonly taken in the western world. Reading and interpretation are subjective, and we may then ask if a particular interpretation has ethical consequences, for instance, with regard to race, sexuality and other series of markers. Pippin’s feministic approach notes that traditional New Testament studies “admit to nothing but a series of ‘objective truths’ without acknowledging”, in her own words, “the fallacies of Enlightenment, overwhelmingly white, heterosexual, first-world, male power readings”.84 She continues to trace the apocalyptic patterns starting from Mark’s Gospel, chapter 13, as an outline of the events expanded upon in the Revelation of John. In Mark 13 we find according to her “a system of privilege in terms of the saved and the damned”,85 as clearly as in any apocalyptic thinking. Due to the dualistic character of the apocalyptic narrative, there always remain the two groups: the saved and the damned, like there are ‘the good’ and ‘the evil’. Therefore, to have the ‘elect’, one also needs those who will not be saved. Pippin points out that already before the Crucifixion, the reader knows there will be payback, and the Son of Man will return with his heavenly hosts: “Heavenly hospitality is not inclusive”.86 Pippin asks a religious reader of the texts: what is the ethics of the apocalypse? If destruction is acceptable, do Christians operate under this ethic? Is the only way to paradise through a bloody coup, offering up heaps of bodies to a bloodthirsty God, and what kind of covenant is the apocalypse? Is it legal; is it ethical for the deity to destroy? Is Jesus off the hook, and is God held to a different moral standard, because ‘only the Father’ knows the hour of disaster? In line with all these questions Pippin asks what it means to read the apocalypse ethically. This extraordinary interpretation of the apocalypse expresses important consequences for the religious reader. In my opinion, there is an ethical dimension to the apocalypse. And to move a step beyond Pippin, I would argue that, depending on the reader of the apocalypse, his or her general interpretation shapes the meaning of the apocalypse and defines the relationship between the chosen and ‘the others’. 84 85 86

Pippin 1999: 19. Pippin 1999: 22. Pippin 1999: 22.

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The ethics of the apocalypse (at least in Christianity) are paradoxical. If emphasis is laid on the dualistic approach, we find that the interpretation of the apocalypse is ethically correct, since “the chosen ones” will emerge victorious from the final battle because they have deserved it. But if the believers, on the other hand, wish to emphasize the gospel of charity, which preaches an all-loving God, then the apocalypse does not seem ethically just. While the clock of the apocalypse says that the time to repent has run out, the gospels’ words of love, peace and harmony yield to an endless black hole. What is left for the believers is to choose the way or the means of interpretation—is there a time of reckoning, or is the world just to keep going on its path or will there be disaster? What has been typical of apocalyptic groups is that they have served as voices for those who have not been allowed to have opinions: the oppressed, the neglected, and the silenced. But the apocalypse interpreted is not egalitarian in its basic characteristics. The oppressed have now become those who will ultimately oppress their own former oppressors, by connecting their own life situation to the historical point of fire. Measuring all this in eschatological terms, one can argue that the oppressed are convinced of their messianic significance and sure of being the truly ‘chosen’, those who know what is about to happen. In some Christian apocalyptic groups or movements the coming of the end is commonly interpreted as salvation for the group in question, and for those who favour them, although extinction is expected of those who did not listen to what the group had to preach. In extreme situations, where the apocalypse serves as a means of liberation, this seems justified. This, as many scholars have argued, was the case during the time of early Christianity. However, we have also situations that were quite the opposite; for example, when the Catholic Church during the Middle Age used apocalyptic discourse to justify its policies. Apocalypse can therefore be used by both sides: by the oppressed to gain more confidence and power, and by the larger community to argue for more power and therefore to oppress even more.87 In both cases, the question of ethics is left open, and

87 Cf. Vittorio Lanternari, Religion of the Oppressed (1963) and Wilson D. Wallis, “Messiaanisten liikkeiden sosiokultturaaliset taustatekijät” in Uskonto, kulttuuri ja yhteiskunta (ed.) Juha Pentikäinen 1992: 217–219.

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maybe there is no room for ethics and morality in the apocalypse. Is the only way of keeping ‘the good’ and ‘chosen’ faithful by threatening with punishment and retribution? Even though the apocalypse is a discourse that pronounces itself to be timeless, it has over the centuries functioned as an oppressive force, especially towards women and racial and sexual minorities. Lee Quinby argues that this authoritarian regime continues through specific, time-bound, issues of the day. In her attempt to demythologize apocalypticism while seeking to understand current crises, ranging from moral education to attacks on sexual freedom, she strives to expose the ways in which apocalypticism “gallops over and buries complex history in the dust”.88 This in turn raises questions that require further examination. One of these is related to the ethical apocalypse, the question of gender. 2.2.5

Gender Apocalypses

The most frequently used symbolic language in Christian apocalyptic writings is dualistic: light versus dark, good versus evil, etc. In most texts the destiny of the evil is illustrated by the use of a female symbol. From time to time it is John’s Whore of Babylon, representing a concentrated embodiment of the forces of chaos, which is eventually stripped, gang-raped, killed, eaten and set on fire forever. This is the image of Jezebel, for the city, as female, never fares well in the Bible. Her sexual power is always under control, made passive or simply destroyed.89 The symbol of the whore also includes the economy of the capital and “the city of Babylon is the opposite of the ideal City of God, which is the New Jerusalem”.90 In Genesis 11, human pride and perversion caused God to act and destroy the tower and the city of Babel. In the story, all the inhabitants of that city deserve what happens to them. According to Pippin, we find that the cultural representations of Babel are rather anachronistic. In Gen. 11, for example, there is no direct mention of perversion (or degenerated economy), and the city is not even completely built. In the biblical

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Lee Quinby, Millennial Seduction. A Skeptic Confronts Apocalyptical Culture 1999: 10. Pippin 1999: 32, 50; Cohn 1993: 153, 217. A counter-symbol to the whore of Babylon is the bride of Jerusalem. 90 Pippin 1999: 57. 89

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text, the tower minimizes the immense space between humans and God for a brief moment.91 In apocalyptic language, the female in many cases represents oppressive power, and therefore the apocalypse of gender has throughout history played out for the benefit of male-ruled societies. Pippin continues her argument by making interesting points in her analysis of the gender question in the apocalypse. Here follows an example: Variants of the Greek word porneia appear in the Revelation of John and stand for “unrestricted sexual indulgence”. . . . Jezebel and her followers are accused of this indulgence, as are the Whore and her followers. Both female figures are stripped in this accusation—Jezebel is thrown on a bed and the Whore is stripped naked. The Greek root apocalyptein means to reveal, expose, uncover.92

And Pippin asks if it is something pornographic which is revealed in this endtime scenario: Is the Apocalypse pornographic? Are apocalypses the pornography of the end of time? Pornography, like horror and utopian literature, goes beyond social boundaries. Like horror, pornography is iterative: the act of violence repeats itself in our re-readings, in the violence done on the psyche of the victim.93

Pippin goes on to ask whether the Apocalypse does psychological damage: The wrathful and judging God is alongside the joy of the believer. The deadly desire of godly utopia targets the unbeliever—and wayward women.94

The purpose of art is often to change or challenge the ideas of people. In this sense the apocalypse also serves the means of exploring culture. Through apocalyptic symbols we expand our culturally manifested boundaries: what has been forbidden or traditionally felt as

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Pippin 1999: 57–60. Pippin 1999: 92. 93 Pippin 1999: 93–94. “Apocalyptical dramas starring women have been comparatively rare and usually confined to esoteric circles”. Susan Palmer, “Woman as World Savior. The Feminization of the Millennium in New Religious Movements” in Millennium, Messiahs, and Mayhem. Contemporary Apocalyptical Movements (eds.) Thomas Robbins and Susan J. Palmer 1997: 160. 94 Pippin 1999: 94. Pornography is no longer about eroticism; it is about humiliation. See for example Christian Shapiro, “Satori & Pornography. Canonization Through Degradation” in Apocalypse Culture (ed.) Adam Parfrey 1990: 213–215. 92

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strange, the apocalypse allows to be brought forth. Artists who use apocalyptic imaginary themes expand cultural boundaries by simply shocking people. In ancient society ‘holy whoredom’, as Pippin refers to the temple cult, was regarded upon as a spiritual way to achieve union with the deity. Pippin has been criticized for taking symbolism in the Apocalypse too literally. But in response to her critics she turns the story upside down, and asks what if a male prostitute was the key symbol of the Apocalypse, and this male were raped and murdered? The point that I find important here is that symbolism matters, and that the symbolism of the woman’s body being attacked is important. Would the symbol be acceptable if the violence were imposed on a male? Pippin’s answer to her critics goes as follows: “the gang rape and murder of a male would be totally unacceptable to biblical scholars and the ‘symbolism’ of the evil empire would break down on this point”.95 2.2.6

Environmental and Technological Apocalypses

One of the most accurate apocalypses is the technological one. The nuclear age with its the vision of nuclear bombs and war has generated dystopias, as opposed to utopias, where the destruction of the planet is seen as the result of man’s eternal quest for power and wellbeing. Comets, famine, AIDS, and pollution also generate apocalyptic visions of the future, but here I will not enter into detail concerning these themes.96 Where nuclear bombs created apocalyptic visions of a destroyed planet and a destroyed future, the more modern version of the myth has a slightly different shape. The nuclear apocalypse might seem somewhat old-fashioned today. Most recently, the idea of a technological apocalypse emerged as the year 1999 became 2000. Witnessing the “turn of the millennium” added a new dimension to my research. As I tried to grasp the image of Zion as a utopian goal in religiously

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Pippin 1999: 92–94. On Scandinavian fears of comets see Björn Hedberg, Kometskräck. En studie i folkliga och lärda traditioner 1990; on AIDS and the apocalypse, see Susan Palmer. Cf. Michael Schoepflin, “Apocalypticism in an Age of Science” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. Apoclaypticism in the Modern Period and Contemporary Age (vol. 3) (ed.) Stephen J. Stein 1999: 427–439. 96

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motivated worldviews, the techno-apocalypse showed that modern man is not so different from his ancestors. The technological apocalypse is about man developing a machine that takes control of the world. In this imagined future man is no longer in charge of nature, nor does he have a free will. He is merely trapped in his own creation. In this apocalypse, human-made artificial intelligence is enslaving humanity, only serving the needs of artificial intelligence. Examples of this can also be found in popular culture, for instance in movies such as The Matrix, in the work of artists such as Geiger, and especially in science fiction literature. Books, films and art as such often reflect aspects of our society, either directly or indirectly.97 The almost mythically-inspired Y2K bug is just another example of how vulnerable our highly developed society is. The so-called millennium-bug triggered our fear of disaster. At the turn of the decade it was not only the fear of a possible computer disaster (or technocatastrophe), for it ultimately proved to be not so much a question of how the Y2K would affect man’s survival, but of what kind of representations it created. The apocalyptic fear of the end being close at hand generated newspaper headlines all around the world. And it was not only the Western world that was involved: fears of imminent disaster were worldwide. In this manner the ancient combat myth—this time with or without a hero—flourished once again in people’s minds. Despite the potential horrors of the Y2K phenomenon, some saw beyond the catastrophic scenario to envisage living in a better future, watching the millennium filled with hope for a better tomorrow. With regard to Finland, the most curious part of the whole ‘millennial hysteria’ was that it was created within secular circles. It was mostly not religious people but the non-believ-

97 Tom Doyle’s, Mick Broderic’s and Amanda Loos’s papers on millennial themes in pop culture at the 5th Annual Conference on Millennialism at Boston University, Center for Millennial Studies in November 2000. Part of the roll of the media is to give us ideas and lead us, but in this process ‘the mass’ starts to act as a homogenous group and stops thinking for itself. There is one important feature which has not yet been studied by scholars in the field, namely, the computer games. For more about contemporary apocalypses and popular apocalypses see, for example, The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. Apocalypticism in the Modern Period and the Contemporary Age (vol. 3) (ed.) Stephen J. Stein; James Berger, After the End. Representations of PostApocalypse 1999: xiii. Berger seeks to understand apocalyptic representations of historical catastrophes, how writing about history constructs scenarios ‘after the end’, in which the ending both does and does not take place.

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ers, who have adopted a critical position towards old myths and irrational modes of life, who feared the ‘computer crash’.98 The media watch for millennial apocalyptic cults was a failure. As far as we know today, no such ‘suicide’ or ‘doomsday’ groups emerged. The only one which was first referred to as such concerned the ritual murder of members of the Kanungu cult in Uganda.99 This later turned out to be just the cruel murder of hundreds of people, benefiting the leaders of the cult, which preached that the end of the world would arrive on December 31st, 1999.100 In Jerusalem there was, in fact, more media staff on the Mount of Olives than there were ‘potential suicide’ groups. On the Mount of Olives there were just ordinary people celebrating the turn of the millennium, perhaps with the exception of a few visitors who could have been identified as suffering from a temporal anxiety also known as the ‘Jerusalem syndrome’. However, whether you were bitten by the millennium bug or not, all the millennium-related items on sale a few weeks after the celebrations marked the consumer triumph of the decade. In consumer society nothing seems to have permanent value. It seems as if the media’s attempt to tell us our future has failed, but modern ‘sceptic and rational’ humans were not left untouched: the passing of the year 1999 into 2000 showed how deeply rooted the ancient apocalyptic combat myth still is in our western minds.101 Small details in our computers, which experts had been working on for several years, managed to shake our concept of reality. Once again the fear of the apocalypse made us envision a destructive techno-apocalypse of a new decade or millennium.

98 This was a result shown in the Gallup poll conducted in the year 1997 and 1999 by the Finnish Gallup Company together with the Finnish Evangelical Church’s Research Centre. In the survey 68% of those who answered feared some kind of computer crash on the New Year’s Eve. Also notable was the high number of people fearing the breakdown of the Russian power plants and a rise in the number of refugees. These threat images are partly cultural, but in the Finnish case they were combined with millennial fears. 99 Jean-Francois Mayer, “Fieldnotes: The Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God” Nova Religio 5, 2001: 203–210. Cf. John Walliss, Apocalyptic Trajectories. Millenarism and Violence in the Contemporary World 2004: 203–230. 100 Cf. Sunday Vision, a Kampalan (Uganda) newspaper, No. 12 Sunday, March 26th 2000, and The New Vision vol. 15 No. 76, Tuesday, March 28th 2000. 101 Cf. Amanat 2002: 1.

The dreams about an Earthly Paradise are as old and as varied as mankind itself. —S. B. Liljegren, Studies on the Origin and Early Tradition of English Utopian Fiction. 1961: 15. CHAPTER THREE

JERUSALEM AS SACRED PLACE AND SYMBOL ‘Jerusalem’ has a twofold meaning. On the one hand, it refers to a specific city on a certain stretch of land near the eastern shore of the Mediterranean where modern Israel is located. On the other hand, it is an idea, a thought in relation to the tangible place, as its earthly manifestation. The Bible is common to both Jews and Christians, but the tradition is interpreted in a number of different ways. Theologians argue for Christians, the history of the time before Jesus is important to acknowledge, otherwise the point of revelation might be regarded as neglected. In this chapter I will briefly describe important events in JewishChristian history that have relevance for the apocalyptic imagination in western thought of an earthly millenarian Kingdom of God in Jerusalem. The historical overview presented here in short, with just a few examples from a time period covering several thousand years. To analyze or even mention all the relevant themes and works is here an impossible task. My account should not therefore be considered either definitive or complete. By means of this brief historical presentation I wish to indicate how the various representations of Jerusalem as an apocalyptic image have developed and I also intend emphasize that what we today actually identify as apocalyptic interpretation of events in history is not a new phenomenon. To a certain extent, we find the models for contemporary apocalyptic interpretation in our history. 3.1 3.1.1

Visions of the End and the Coming Jerusalem

Jerusalem in Early Jewish History

For religions in the ancient Near East it was typical for the capitol of a state to be considered a ‘City of God’. In line with this, the

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leader of a state was believed to have a special relationship to God or the gods. Scholars of ancient religion and Near Eastern culture tend to argue that kingdoms during this time were to be connected with religion and actually have a religious function. A ruler was then associated with divine powers—symbolically he was held as a representative of the divine on earth. The gods, in connection with the ruler, were entitled to have a place of worship and temples were built, but not only for this purpose. The temples were called the “house(s) of God(s)” and the kings were supposed, in connection with the god(s), to keep chaos out and make sure that cosmos, or peace and harmony, were present. The construction of a major temple is surely a religious act, but the construction is integrally and systematically part of the social, political, and economic fabric of any community. Therefore, when religious or cultic institutions are studied, attention is paid to approaches which take into account the intimate relationship of religious beliefs and activities with the dynamics of human organization, including economic, political and social factors.1 In the context of the history of religion with regard to early Judaism—the formation of the Jewish religion in the post-exilic period—Salem, or later on Jerusalem, become a significant of preJudaistic religiosity when the JHWH cult was centered in the city. According to F. E. Peters in Encyclopedia of Religion, “Jerusalem was a Canaanite settlement in Judea when David, king of Israel decided to make the city his capital”.2 The place to which David, according to tradition, chose to bring the Ark of the Covenant in ca. 1000 bce3 has, according to scholars in the field, a history of ancient worship. David Freedman has found the monarchic period to be a good startingpoint in defining religion in ancient Israel: A convenient way to define and delimit the period of Israel’s early faith is by the estab-

1 Carol Meyers, “David as a Temple Builder” in Ancient Israelite Religion (eds.) P. Miller, P. Hanson & D. McBride 1987: 358–359. 2 F. E. Peters, “Jerusalem” in Encyclopedia of Religion (ed.) M. Eliade vol. 8, 1987: 10; John D. Levenson, Sinai & Zion. An Entry into the Jewish Bible 1985: 93. Note that Salem was originally the name of a Canaan deity, and it is interesting that a patriarchal narrative presents Salem as the name of the city in the time of Abraham, who is blessed by the priest-king in Gen. 14:18. 3 Levenson 1985: 92. Dates are here just to illuminate the reasoning. What is historically relevant does not need to be the ‘truth’. There are several ways to define the dates for the monarchies of David and Salomon. Scholars in the field have not yet found any consensus to the matter. Laato 2002: 62–66.

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lishment of the monarchy in Israel, starting with Saul and his house and then on a more permanent basis with David and his dynasty.4 However, if we are to develop a relatively trustworthy picture of the faith of early Israel, we need according to Freedman to give attention to the earliest poetry of the Hebrew Bible. The origins of the people, community, and nation are “somewhat murky and shrouded in mystery”, but there are indications in the book of Genesis and external sources that help the researchers to reconstruct the beginnings of the Israelitic religion.5 It should then be evident that Yahweh and Yahwism did not spring full-blown from the head of Moses. Rather, Freedman argues, Yhwh was a deity from older times, with a territorial base centered on the Mount Sinai area. As such a god, he would have been equipped with a mythology of his own and associated with other deities, male and female, in an appropriate pantheon. Relics, vestiges, allusions, and echoes of these elements are to be found in the Bible. With Moses’ revelation of the new name of God, Yahweh the One of Sinai, the patriarchal religion6 set off on a new course.7 As Freedman puts it: The religion of Israel was shaped primarily by Moses and the wilderness experience, more so, in terms of theology certainly, than by the patriarchal traditions. In terms of nationhood and territory, political and social structures, and the land settlement, it was the other way around, since the tribal league antedated the exodus and wanderings and provided the basic polity for the nation in the land that it occupied.8

4 There is of course no doubt that the traditions and source materials were shaped and coloured by the concerns of the establishment as well as they were reused and rewritten to suit the interests of the inheritors and administrators of the legacies of the past. David Noel Freedman, “Who is Like Thee Among the Gods? The Religion of Early Israel” in Ancient Israelite Religion (eds.) P. Miller, P. Hanson & D. McBride 1987: 315–316. 5 Freedman 1987: 321. 6 So far as the evidence goes, the patriarchal religion shared many features with the neighbouring Canaanites, including a consort for El and other divine beings. Freedman 1987: 333. 7 Yahweh became identical with El. According to Freedman there are many reasons why this equation became possible. However, it is important to remember the ways in which the name ‘El’ came to be used all over the ancient world. Thus while El is a noun, the name of the chief god in the Ugaritic pantheon, it is also a general term meaning any god or the class of divine beings. Freedman 1987: 329–330. Cf. Helmer Ringgren, Forntida religioner i Mellanöstern 1987: xx. 8 Freedman 1987: 331.

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The city that has been cherished by Jews, Christians and Muslims was in its earliest times far from central in the growing civilizations of the ancient Near East.9 3.1.2

The Temples

The temple of Solomon was an enormous structure with interior courtyards of progressively limited access, in the midst of which stood a sanctuary. Outside it stood the altar for sacrifices, and within, in a curtained inner chamber, the Holy of Holies, was installed the Ark of Covenant containing the Tablets of the Law and other tokens of the Israelites’ deliverance from Egypt and sojourn in the wilderness of Sinai. There were reinstituted all the cultic acts commanded to Moses on Sinai, the daily sacrifices, the feasts of the New Moon and the New Year, the day of the Atonement, and the three great pilgrimage feasts of Passover, Shavu’ot, and Sukkoth, all performed and managed by a body of Aronite priests and ministering Levites.10 This temple was however destroyed by the Babylonians in 587/6 bce.11 This period, after the destruction of the first temple and the loss of the city to the enemy, is known as the Exile.12 The temple of Jerusalem had been the centre for sacrificial worship and had then been destroyed. Some years afterwards, in 538 bce, the Persian king Cyrus II and his Achaemenid successors allowed the exiled Jews to return to Jerusalem.13 The temple was then rebuilt, the priesthood was purified and the cult restored.14 Though the city had been in ruins, Jerusalem did not cease to give birth to new hopes for the future. The symbol of the city as hope grew even stronger after the destruction of the second temple in 70 ce.15 9

Karen Armstrong, Historien om Jerusalem. En stad—tre religioner 1998: 23. Peters 1987: 10. Cf. Karl-Johan Illman, “Juutalaisten historia” in Juutalainen kulttuuri (eds.) Tapani Harviainen & Karl-Johan Illman 1998: 12. 11 Laato 2002: 89. 12 Laato 2002: 88–89. The Exile was an important time during which the Old Testament or Bible tradition started to take shape. According to scholars in the field, only some of the Judeans were removed to Babylon. Cf. Karl-Johan Illman & Tapani Harviainen, Judisk historia 1995: 45; Armstrong 1998: 88; Peter R. Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah 2001: 6, 12–13, 41–42. 13 Scholars disagree whether the 2nd temple was rebuilt during the regime of Cyrus or Darius I. Cf. Bedford 2001: 85–111. 14 Peters 1987: 10; Illman 1998: 15; Laato 2002: 89. For more details of the rebuilding of the 2nd temple cf. Bedford 2001: 41–43, 85–87. 15 Armstrong 1998: 169–170, 173–174. When the first temple had been destroyed the Israelites found consolation in the Torah. After the destruction of the second 10

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In the early poetry of Israel one common theme is the march of YHWH, conceived as a warrior, from Sinai in an earth-shattering apparition. But in most of the poetic passages in the Psalms it is not from Sinai, but from Zion that he comes. The God of the Israelites came to be designated no longer as “the One of Sinai”, but as “he who dwells on Mount Zion”.16 According to Levenson, it was more than merely the name of the hill that changed. Zion, unlike Sinai, was a known site in Israel. The transfer of the divine home from Sinai to Zion meant that God was no longer seen as dwelling in an extraterritorial no man’s land, but within the borders of the Israelite community.17 In practice, this meant that the tendencies associated with the Sinaitic traditions were somewhat mitigated or modified within the Zion traditions.18 3.1.3

The Name of Zion

The origin of the name Zion is uncertain. In the Encyclopaedia Judaica we find a helpful account, with suggestions to explain the origin including: a rock, a stronghold, a dry place, or running water. The name Zion was first used for the Jebusite fortress (“the stronghold of Zion”), on the southeast of Jerusalem, below the Ophel and the Temple Mount. According to Graeme Auld & Margreet Steiner, ‘Sion’ is a name found frequently in the poetry of the Psalms and the Prophets, but very rarely elsewhere in the Bible. Zion is then mentioned in connection with “the stronghold of Zion, that is the city of David”.19 In poetry Zion was used by way of synecdoche for temple, the rabbis (tannaim) started to codify hundreds of years of oral tradition in interpreting the laws. This collection became the Mishna. Symbolically, it would become a New Jerusalem where the presence of God could be experienced. Later on, the following generations of rabbis (amoraim) would comment on the earlier interpretations. These comments were later to be summarized in the Talmud; Bedford has shown that the Jerusalem temple “was not only a “minor” shrine in the eyes of the early Achaemenid monarch, it also played no immediate role in the administration of the sub-province. The temple was a centre, but of a symbolic kind”. Bedford 2001: 303. 16 For the problematic relation between the concept of ‘dwelling’ and the prohibition of images cf. Tryggve N. D. Mettinger, Namnet och närvaron 1987: 17–21; Tryggve N. D. Mettinger, No Graven Image? Israelite Aniconism in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context 1995: 13, 17–27. 17 Helmer Ringgren, Israels religion 1986: 3, on the presence of God in the temple pp. 17, 93–94. 18 Levenson 1985: 91. 19 Graeme Auld & Margareet Steiner, Jerusalem I. From the Bronze Age to the Maccabees 1996: 14–16.

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the whole of Jerusalem. The name sometimes also refers to the people of Judea or the inhabitants of the city. Sometimes Zion referred simply to the Temple Mount. This usage had become the regular one by the Maccabean period,20 when the Temple Mount was called the ‘Mountain of Zion’, as opposed to the lower city, and Acra (on the southwestern hill of ancient Jerusalem). The establishment of the JHWH cult on Mt. Moriah incorporated in part earlier traditions. The historical sources we can refer to from this period are few. Scholars nevertheless argue that the name Zion is etymologically related to the Ugaritic god Baal’s house on Mount Saphon. The Ugaritic concept of the god El became incorporated with the Israelite tradition. The Jebusite descriptions of the god El were soon to be replaced by the Israelite tradition. El was to become identical with JHWH.21 By the time of the historian Josephus, the ‘stronghold of Zion’ was identified with the upper city and the upper agora, which included the sites presently identified with Mt. Zion, as well as David’s Tower near the Jaffa Gate in today’s Old City of Jerusalem. In the first century ce a small church was built at the southern end of the hill, and this was identified with the Coenaculum (“Room of the Last Supper”). In 1342 the Franciscans rebuilt it and this is substantially the building surviving to this day. The name Zion also lent itself in modern times to organizations connected with Judaism or Jews, for example, Zionism, and so forth.22 In the forthcoming chapter it will be seen how the name is also used among Christians.23 The name also occurs as a central concept in the Jamaican Back to Africa movement of Rastafarianism.24 Basically, Mt. Zion was a hill in Jerusalem between the Tyropoan and Kidron valleys, on the eastern side of the city.25 What is called 20 Around 160 bce. Karl-Johan Illman & Tapani Harviainen, Judisk historia 1997: 53; Armstrong 1998: 135–136. 21 Laato 2002: 278–277 on cult-poetry in Ancient Middle East, see also pp. 283–285 on cult-poetry parallels; Ringgren 1987: 152–153, 173–175, 177; Armstrong 1998: 79. 22 ‘Zion’ in Encyclopaedia Judaica (ed.) Cecil Roth & Geoffrey Wigoder et al. 1982: 1030–1031. 23 Cf. ‘Christian Zionism’ in chap. 4; Yona Malachy, “Christian Zionism” in Encyclopaedia Judaica (ed.) Cecil Roth & Geoffrey Wigoder et al. 1982: 1052–1055. 24 Cf. Leonard E. Barrett, The Rastafarians 1997 and Timothy White Catch a Fire. The Life of Bob Marley 1994. 25 Cf. Dan Bahat, Carta’s Historical Atlas of Jerusalem [1994]: 4.

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‘Mt. Zion’ today in Jerusalem is a hill to the southwest of the ancient Zion, and across the Tyropean Valley from it. The identification of this hill with the ancient site is in fact very late.26 In any event, most of the biblical references to Zion have in mind what is known today as the Temple mount, on which is sited the Dome of the Rock.27 Nevertheless, we know that the name Jerusalem long predates the Israelite conquest of the city. According to Levenson, we have letters (the Amarna letters) from the king of Jerusalem in the 14th century bce, over a hundred years before the conquest, to his liege lord, the Egyptian pharaoh. The diplomatic messages make it very clear that Jerusalem, under that name, was one of a handful of important city-states in Canaan in the Late Bronze Age.28 Within representations, the archaeological facts do not become significantly important. Archaeology, history and geography more or less blend or coalesce and, as such collaborate in the process of forming and creating meaning in various symbolic formations of Jerusalem. 3.1.4

The Cosmic Mountain

The particular mythic symbol that unlocks much of the power of the image of Zion is that of the cosmic mountain. John D. Levenson, in his analysis of Mt. Zion as a cosmic mountain, has discussed in detail the material from the Hebrew Bible and rabbinic midrash. Selected episodes of the Bible relevant to the study are discussed professionally. In his book Sinai & Zion Levenson examines the two traditions in the light of Richard J. Clifford’s The Cosmic Mountain in Canaan and the Old Testament (1972), a study of the cosmic mountain myth as it appears in the Hebrew Bible and in the culture of Ugarit,

26

“In the Old Testament period Sion was the eastern hill, David ‘captured the stronghold of Sion’, and it is now known as the City of David (2 Sam. 5:7). The name changed in the C4 ad [Byzantine period; my addition], and presumably on the basis of such passages as Mic. 3: 12 ‘Sion shall be ploughed as a field, Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the Mountain of the Lord [i.e. the Temple Mount] a wooded hill’. The prophet intended to say the same thing in three different ways but Christians, such as the Bordeaux pilgrim (333) who quotes the text, took it as a description of the two hills on which Jerusalem is built; if the eastern hill was the Temple Mount, Sion had to be the western hill”, op. cit. Murphy-O’Connor 1992: 109–110. 27 The Dome of the Rock was built in 691 ce during the reign of the Caliph Abd-el Malik. His son, Caliph el-Walid, built the al-Aqsa Mosque. Bahat [1994]: 47; Sharon 1988: 228–229. 28 Levenson 1985: 92–93. Cf. Armstrong on ‘Rushalimum’ and ‘Salem’, 1998: 27.

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a city-state on the coast of Syria dating from the 14th century bce. According to Levenson, Clifford actualizes four points within the Near Eastern context: the cosmic mountain as meeting place of the gods; the battleground of conflicting natural forces; the meeting place of heaven and earth; the moral and the physical capital of the universe, involved in the government and stability of the cosmos.29 In addition, Levenson discusses the phenomenon of the cosmic mountain in the sense used by Mircea Eliade, who found more or less the same notion of a cosmic mountain in several other cultures. Levenson’s critique of Eliade and Clifford mostly concerns errors in Eliade’s examples, but also the drastic comparisons that Eliade made. By a comparative method we may, however, be able to isolate and identify certain features of the cosmic mountain in Israel in relation to other, distant cultures.30 The concept of the ‘cosmic mountain’ is part of what is considered a ‘holy topography’. In the case of Jerusalem, the historical topography of ‘the holy’ has an impact even today on how the history of Jerusalem is interpreted and understood.31 Further, we need to pay attention to the term ‘cosmic mountain’ as it has been used in the study of religion. Clifford writes: Unfortunately, the term ‘cosmic mountain’, as it has been used in the study of Ancient Near Eastern religion, has been based in large measure on an assumed Mesopotamian Weltberg. [. . .] The Weltberg, as it has been understood by an earlier generation of scholars, does not exist.32

To keep the discussion brief: the idea of a holy land, which is startingly dominant in the religion of Israel at all periods, is most likely an extension of the universal idea of the holiness of the Temple or mountain. Even the Temple language itself referred not only to Jerusalem, or the land of Israel, but even the people of Israel can be designated as Zion. In this sense, Israel has become the ‘cosmic people’.33 29 Levenson 1985: 111–112; The ‘cosmic mountain’ as Weltberg in Richard Clifford, The Cosmic Mountain in Canaan and the Old Testament 1972: 1–8; Armstrong 1998: 70. As with the cosmic mountain, the temple was also a symbol of the reality which would maintain the cosmos. Though Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place. Towards Theory in Ritual (1987) makes some critical remarks on Levenson’s interpretation of Ezekiel (p. 61) he has not included Levenson’s Sinai & Sion in his study. 30 Levenson 1985: 114–115; Cf. Mircea Eliade, Patterns in Comparative Religion 1958. 31 Armstrong 1998: 27–28. 32 Clifford 1972: 2; Smith 1987: 16. 33 Levenson 1985: 136–137. Cf. Armstrong 1998: 51.

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When one then speaks of an ‘earthly Jerusalem’ and a ‘heavenly Jerusalem’, as is frequent in the rabbinic literature and implicit in the Hebrew Bible, it is then clear according to Levenson that we are dealing with a world picture, composed essentially of two tiers. The upper tier represents ultimate reality, i.e. the realm of God and his retinue. The lower tier is that of mundane reality, which is vulnerable or subject to history. In Levenson’s study Sinai represents the possibility of meaningful history, of history that leads toward an affirmation. Zion, then, represents the possibility of meaning above history, outside history, through an opening in the realm of the ideal. Mount Zion together with the Temple on it and the city around it, is a symbol of transcendence.34 In the Jewish tradition Zion has been interpreted as: [T]he place from which the world was created, as the point from which the primal ray of light emanated, and as the only mountain to stand above the deluge, is also the highest point in the highest land, the center of the center, from which all the rest of reality takes its bearings.35

In short, Levenson found that Mount Zion registers in the Hebrew Bible and even more so in Jewish tradition, in rabbinic literature, the Talmud, and the midrash, many of the qualities found in cosmic mountains almost everywhere.36 It is the centre (or navel, tabbur) of the world, the junction of heaven, earth, and the underworld, and a point of communication in between. On Mt. Zion itself, according to Levenson, there is a paradise in which the primal reality of creation, the Garden of Eden, serves intact and untarnished by the passing of time and not affected by the threats of chaos. In this type of discussion it is easy to move from talk of Zion to talk of Jerusalem, and even the land of Israel.37 This is an important feature to bear in mind when we enter further into the discussion about the relevance of Jerusalem to the apocalyptic imagination. The theories of the cosmic mountain might shed light on the question of why people feel a religious attraction towards Jerusalem. In

34

Levenson 1985: 141–142. Levenson 1985: 135. 36 Cf. Zion in Jewish Literature (ed.) Abraham S. Halkin 1988, where seven scholars present different interpretations in tradition: Zion in biblical literature, in rabbinic literature, medieval prose, and in modern literature both poetry and prose. 37 Levenson 1985: 135. 35

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Eliade’s words on the temple or ‘sacred city’ is held to be “a point of junction between heaven, earth, and hell” and the place “through which the axis mundi (the axis of the world) passes”.38 The mountain is then the prime place of communication between transcendent and mundane reality.39 In other words, this is how many religious persons have conceived the notion of Zion as an analogy to Jerusalem in history. Even more so, the Jewish image of the simultaneously immanent and transcendent city of God has given rise to several interpretations in European Christianity too. The Christian apocalyptic imagination of the sacred place nevertheless also had forerunners in the Jewish tradition of messianic expectations. 3.2

The Christian Impact

Christianity is considered to be the daughter religion of Jewish revelations, and Jesus of Nazareth was ‘a messiah’ or prophet within the Jewish tradition. The Revelation of John is regarded as a source of the Christian apocalyptic imagination, but there is also a long trail of Jewish prophecy preceding John’s visions of the future. Hard times, defeat, persecution, and insecurity often generate compensatory fantasies that bring comfort in distress and assurance of divine intervention. It has been emphasized that the Jewish apocalyptic genre has had an enormous impact on the formation of Christian messianism and millenarism. The Old Testament prophets and others as well talked about a coming deliverer and restorer, possibly interpreted as a Messiah, under whose glorious rule the Israelites would live in peace. John’s Revelation was addressed to his first century contemporaries, who understood his images and expressions, including the millenarian visions of a time of justice and plenty to follow tribulation. These images were to become easy to pick up in later times.40

38

Eliade 1958: 375. On Smith’s critique of Eliade, cf. Smith 1987: 14–15. Levenson 1985: 122. Places become of importance when actualizing a meeting between the divine and human. The place then becomes a centre, not in a geographical but in a spiritual sense. The place has then become marked on a “spiritual map”. Armstrong 1998: 29. 40 Eugene Weber, Apocalypses: Prophecies, Cults and Millennial Beliefs through the Ages 1999: 41–42; McDannell & Lang 1990: 1, 19, 23–32. 39

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The Early Christian Church

Before John, the followers of Jesus of Nazareth had expected the imminent coming of God’s kingdom and the beginning of a new golden age. According to the early Christian tradition, Eugene Weber writes, after resurrection of Jesus “hopes of a prompt return survived and grew apace. Over the centuries foreign wars, internal conflict, and the everyday misbehaviour of fallible folk triggered dire predictions”.41 During these times, Romans were fighting Romans, Jews were fighting Jews, and Jews were fighting Romans and losing. By this time prophecies were being made that the time was ‘nigh’ and the Messiah was ‘coming soon’. The Jewish apocalyptist known as IV Ezra, a contemporary of John, was just as sure that times were closing in. He envisioned a picture of the end where the few survivors “would rejoice in the Messiah’s light for 30 or 400 years or (as John preferred) 1000 years”.42 Christians, who, like the Jews, knew plenty of worldly woes, had predicaments of their own. Probably the most important of these was the delay of the Parousia, which most of Jesus’s early followers expected to take place within their lifetime, or just after. The early followers of Jesus predicted that sufferings and depravities would get worse, but the return of Christ would bring all that to an end. The delay of Christ’s return caused confusion, which led them to do what Christians, according to Weber, have done since then: “some adjusted to a new timetable for long-term process, others kept expecting the Parousia from one day to another”.43 Late in the second century around 156/7, an Anatolian prophet named Montanus emerged. For him the ‘Last Judgement’ was at hand and the ‘New Jerusalem’ would soon descend from heaven near a Phrygian town. Montanus himself claimed to be the incarnation of the Holy Spirit.44 In preparation for the end, according to Montanus, Christians should cut themselves off from the corrupted world and live ascetic lives. Montanism, which reacted against the growing institutionalization and secularization of the church by returning to original fervor, won converts from one end of the Mediterranean 41

Weber 1999: 42. Weber 1999: 42. 43 Weber 1999: 43. 44 Miika Ruokanen, Milloin maailma loppuu 1999: 34. Ruokanen’s book though popular, it contains relevant history. 42

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to another. Tertullian, a church father form Carthage, embraced fervent apocalyptic expectations that had also inspired Montanism. “Its ecstatic prophesying would resurface in centuries to come”.45 Montanus expected an imminent overthrow of the political order.46 Whatever Jesus himself may have had in mind when he talked of the “imminence of the kingdom of God”, according to Cohn it is certain that many Christians of the first to the fourth century, including church fathers like Papias, Irenaeus, and Lactantius, all: . . . expected a dispensation in which the earth would without cultivation produce unheard-of abundance of wine and corn and milk and in which the heathen would be handed over to servitude under the faithful.47

Early in the third century, St. Hippolytus, a major Roman theologian, wrote a commentary on the Book of Daniel that was meant to discourage this sort of eschatological expectation. An Egyptian contemporary of Hippolytus, Origen, provided the crucial argument against apocalypticism. If Tertullian spoke for the millennial kingdom, Origen put an end to it.48 The Scriptures, Origen wrote, could be interpreted literally, morally, or allegorically. Of these he preferred the last. Origen argued that the prophecies should be interpreted figuratively or allegorically.49 His allegorical interpretations, according to Weber, went a long way to exploding literal readings of problematic stories like that of Eden and its tree of knowledge, or Noah and his ark.50 Origen was against a literal interpretation. In his opinion, the message of the Scriptures was to be understood symbolically. A century after Origen, St. Jerome who had translated the Bible into Latin, also agreed upon Origen’s idea that sensible folk avoided literalness. He dismissed chiliasm (the theory that Christ would return to rule on earth for a thousand years before the final consummation) by telling they were Jewish fables. Origen’s challenge

45

Weber 1999: 43. Champion 1994: 319. 47 Norman Cohn, “Medieval Millenariansim: Its Bearing on the Comparative Study of Millenarian Movements” in The Year 2000: Essays on the End (eds.) Charles B. Strozier and Michael Flynn 1997: 32. 48 Robert Wilken, The Land Called Holy 1992: 66–70. 49 Adela Yarbo Collins, “The Book of Revelation” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Christianity (ed.) John J. Collins 1998: 409–410. 50 Weber 1999: 44. 46

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was to find meaning in a scripture, which focused on God’s relations towards the Israelites. In Gal. 4:26 and Hebr. 12:22, for example, Origen points out, that the texts do not refer to the specific geographic Jerusalem, but to the heavenly Jerusalem. In opposition, Irenaeus and Tertullian referred through Gal. 4 to the future, coming Jerusalem, which would take shape in the already existing city.51 Two men, Cyril and Eusebius, are important in the history of the church as representing the two opposite relations toward Jerusalem in Christian thought. In this respect they stand almost, but not quite, at opposite ends of the spectrum, Eusebius being largely negative and dismissive of Jerusalem’s continuous significance, whilst Cyril is overwhelmingly positive. According to Eusebius, who was a disciple of Origen, and represented the predominant view of the Christian Church throughout the preceding three centuries, Christian identity was to be founded not on a physical city, but upon the ‘Living Christ’ and the future hope of the earthly Jerusalem.52 Christ, who was their typological fulfilment, had eclipsed Jerusalem and its Temple in importance. The Old Testament, with its apparent teaching on the special nature of both Jerusalem and the Temple, could not therefore be read in a straightforward and monolithic manner. Instead, it needed to be read retrospectively in the light of the coming of Christ and the calamity of ce 70.53 For Eusebius, these important events revealed two things. First, the Temple had a special and holy status in God’s sight, but that it was a temporary phenomenon that had come to an end. Second, the Jews had been wrong to extend this special status to include the city as well: Jerusalem had never been a ‘holy city’. For Eusebius, therefore, it was not just ‘Jewish Jerusalem’ that had been wrong, but the problem went far deeper. It had been wrong to give Jerusalem a special status at all. The whole question of a holy city was in itself wrong, according to Eusebius. Furthermore, with Jerusalem as a predominantly pagan city within a pagan empire, it was in any case quite impractical for Christians to foster religious designs on the city. But with the coming of Constantine such views needed re-examination.

51

Weber 1999: 44, op. cit. Leon Gry, Le millénarisme 1904; Wilken 1992: 66–70. For more on the impact of Eusebius’s theology on the religious culture of OldWürttenberg, cf. Laurence Dickey, Hegel: Religion, Economics, and the Politics of Spirit, 1770–1807 1997: 46–47. 53 Peter Walker, Holy Places, Holy City 1992: 311–312; Wilken 1992: 78–81. 52

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For the city of Jerusalem could become a powerful tool for the Christianization of Constantine’s empire. Jerusalem with its wealth of history and religious associations was probably too potent a symbol for the Christian emperor to ignore, and Eusebius found himself in a dilemma. Peter Walker suggests that it nevertheless was Eusebius’s theology, not his need for political favour, which won the day. In the years after ce 325 Eusebius obviously gave this subject much attention and became clear on the issues at stake. He still, however, favoured a Christ-centred exegesis. Christian identity needed to be located not in Jerusalem but in the universal Church, and the concept of the present ‘holy city’ was evidently to be dismissed. But on the question of Jerusalem, it was his theological principle, not the imperial prince that triumphed.54 After the Council of Nicea in ce 325, Eusebius wrote down some of his thoughts concerning Jerusalem. The Christians are, following Eusebius view, the ‘true Israel’ and a spiritual communion. Jerusalem is for Eusebius something connected with the future. Pilgrimage to Jerusalem during his time had negative associations. If one travelled to Jerusalem, it was to see the ruins, but the pilgrimage to Bethlehem was a totally different thing. Eusebius writes: . . . gather from all parts of the world, not because of the glory of Jerusalem, nor to worship in the ancient temple of Jerusalem, but that they may know that the city was occupied and devastated as the prophets foretold, and that they may worship at the Mt. of Olives opposite the city.55

Later on, according to Smith, Eusebius changed his mind: the centre of Jerusalem was no longer situated in heaven, but in the Tomb of Christ in Jerusalem.56 Cyril, who later became bishop of Jerusalem, had a case for a positive Christian attitude towards Jerusalem. The notions of judgement and rejection were to be lifted from Jerusalem and placed instead upon the head of the Jews. He reasoned that Jewish Jerusalem might well have been judged in ce 70 for its treatment of Jesus, but the new Christian Jerusalem, which now ‘worshipped Christ’ could rightly inherit with confidence the former biblical accolade of being a ‘holy city’ eternally special to God. 54 55 56

Walker 1992: 311–313. Wilken 1992: 81. Wilken 1992: 81. Smith 1987: 78–83.

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Three factors were central to Cyril’s understanding of Jerusalem. First, although Christian Jerusalem was the legitimate inheritor of the best of biblical Jerusalem, it was to be thought of as quite distinct from Jewish Jerusalem: distinctiveness and continuity needed to be balanced. Second, it could rightly be designated ‘holy’ not only by virtue of its past associations but also because of its enduring specialness in God’s sight; it had continuing theological significance. Third, it could claim a legitimate priority within the Church and indeed was the true centre of the entire world. Jerusalem held primacy of place. Christian Jerusalem for Cyril was thus distinct, holy and pre-eminent. Cyril did not approach Jerusalem from a distance nor with an established theological system. He spoke and lived in its very centre and the fascination of a new Christian Jerusalem easily dictated his theology. With Cyril, we mark the beginnings of Christian religious aspiration combined with political consequences. For the monks who made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem and stayed there were the first Christians from outside the Middle East who settled in the city. Jerusalem became the holy city where Jesus had actually lived, died, and risen again and ascended to heaven. If the Jews had waited for the city to be rebuilt, now the Christians were waiting for their Messiah to return and establish the Kingdom of God in the very same place.57 The man who effectively solved the philosophical problems of the anti-apocalypticists was a Roman intellectual who became bishop of Hippo. Aurelius Augustinus, better known as St. Augustine, had been troubled by contradictions between the accounts of Jesus’ origin given by Luke and Matthew. He had solved the problem by treating the texts as not literally but symbolically true. He applied the same method to John’s Apocalypse and interpreted it not in a material but in a spiritual sense. A metaphor is a figure of speech, and allegory is then often the extension of a metaphor. Now, the biblical apocalypse was to be read allegorically, as a discussion of good and evil, the latter being part of time and of the history whose end would necessarily see the end of evil. But the struggle between good and 57

Walker 1992: 314; Wilken 1992: 63. On the impact of Jesus’s grave, cf. Smith 1987: 76. Smith also notes that the term ‘holy places’ is a common one and by no means confined to Palestine. The term ‘holy land’ [terra sancta] is not part of Christian discourse until the twelfth century, although the notion of Jerusalem as the ‘holy city’ [civitas sancta] is older. Smith makes an important notice: civitas sancta is “most used in an eschatological context”. Smith 1987: 76–77.

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evil was even now unfolding. For Augustine, a literalist reading of prophecy, millennialism, Armageddon, and the rest were to be avoided, as well as end-of-time speculations. The City of God was not of this world or for this world. Augustine applied the Trinity to human affairs and divided all human qualities and studies into three components. He came to the conclusion that the prophets spoke of three political entities, the earthly Jerusalem, the heavenly city and a combination of both. This type of trinitarian analysis was then applied to a threefold scheme of history: the 1st period under the Law; from Adam to Moses, the 2nd period under the Law; from Moses to Christ, the 3rd period under Grace; the period after Christ.58 Christians would struggle towards it by restraining violence and injustice, but millenarian perfection could only be attained in another life. If history had failed to end on time, that was because the Kingdom of God was already present.59 Parousia had come with Christ and his Church, which represented humanity and forgiveness—it was the Kingdom of God on earth, St. Augustine explained. The things to come had not yet come, Christians knew how the story would end but they did not know when.60 According to Norman Cohn, millenarianism remained powerful in the Christian church as long as Christians were an unpopular minority threatened with persecution. When, in the fourth century, Christianity attained a position of supremacy in the Mediterranean world and became the official religion of the Roman Empire, the church set out to eradicate millenarian beliefs.61 In 431, one year after Augustine’s death, the Council of Ephesus made this approach official. The notion of collective salvation on 58 Cf. Jakob Balling, “Det himmelske Jerusalem og dets jordiske udtryk i den gamle kristenhed” in Det ny Jerusalem. Guds by og de skiftende forventninger (ed.) Anna Marie Aagaard 1989: 12, 14. For more on Augustine’s theology, cf. Champion 1994: 320–327. For Augustine’s response to millenarian theology in his City of God, cf. Robert E. Lerner, “Millennialism” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism 1999: 328–329. 59 The polemics of Augustine’s The City of God cf. James Dougherty The Fivesquare City. The City in Religious Imagination 1980: 23–53. 60 Weber 1999: 46–47. For more about the Church Fathers Eusebius, Hireonymus, Augustine, and his disciple Orosius and their fight against the literal interpretation of the Revelations of John, cf. Tuomas Lehtonen, “Lopun odotusten kesyttäminen ja keskiajan historianteologian synty” in Lopun leikit. Uskon, historian, ja tieteen eskatologiat (ed.) Tuomas Lehtonen 1999: 61–62. 61 Norman Cohn, “Medieval Millenarism: Its Bearing on the Comparative Study of Millenarian Movements” in The Year 2000. Essays on the End (eds.) C. B. Strozier & M. Flynn 1997: 32.

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earth was regarded as error and fantasy. Apocalyptic promises applied not to mankind in some earthly Garden of Eden, but to individuals and their life after death. Henceforth, talk of last things would be only partly about the end to come, for the end had begun and Christians already lived in an eschatological age. The end was no longer imminent it had become immanent. The issue had been solved, or had it? Distinctions are for scholars; confusions for ordinary folk. Later on, even scholars confused belief in Christ’s Second Coming with speculations about the swiftness and manner of his coming; experience of all manner of tribulation around them with signs of apocalyptic beasts and Antichrists. When the Christianity of a Pauline church marginalized the Apocalypse, it forgot or tried to forget the immoderate, enthusiastic nature of old fashioned Christianity. Materialistic conceptions, visions, impossibilities, paradoxes, incoherencies, contradictions, and self-contradictions continued to flourish. Apostles and Church Fathers changed their minds, mixed their metaphors, and borrowed from their opponents many notions or implications they had once decried. A religion that regarded the natural and supernatural realms as divinely interlaced could only confirm mentalities that made no distinction between the natural and the supernatural.62 According to Dickey, Augustine had made eschatology a ‘function of organized religion’. In this way it was to remain until Joachim of Fiore and his followers recovered the principles of an evolutionary eschatology and developed a ‘realised eschatology’.63 3.2.2

Living Close to the End

From the above review, one might imagine that the speculations about the end would have ceased. But this was not the case and imagination flowered among Christians during this time. The environment inspired calculations about the coming end, and there are numerous exemplars of this in the early history of modern Europe. To mention only a few examples of such visionaries: Bishop Gregory of Tours, who died in 594, suggested the end would come between the years 799 and 806, which allowed mankind a spell breathing for prayer. But in 589 an earthquake ravaged Antioch, killing thousands of people. In the same year, floods devastated Gaul and Italy, after 62 63

Weber 1999: 45–47. Cf. Franc Kermode, The Sense of an Ending 1967: 25. Dickey 1997: 51–52. Cf. chap. 3, pp. 99–100.

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which plague killed thousands more, including Pope Pelagius II. No wonder his successor Gregory I drew the conclusion that the end was a good deal closer. In 596, another St. Augustine, the Archbishop of Canterbury was part of the preparations for the coming end. The historian Eugen Weber draws the conclusion that the conversion of England, like the voyages of Columbus, were heavily influenced by the anticipation of end times.64 ‘The millennium’ fever of the year 1000 has been much disputed among scholars in the field. To count centuries and millennia from the uncertain date of the birth of Christ is anachronistic. Chronology remained an uncertain art, but the obsession with anniversaries and commemorations made scholars, preachers, and those whom they taught or preached to aware of dates, even when these events were not precisely dated. Expectation of the end did not wait on the year 1000. Seventh-century documents turned out by princely and ecclesiastical chancelleries refer to “evident signs announcing the early end of the world”.65 In 793, Elipand, bishop of Toledo, accused Beatus, abbot of Liebana, of having prophesied the end of the world as coming on Easter eve. In the late ninth century, the fall of the Roman Empire restored by Charlemagne brought more confirmation of an imminent end, predicted not by Apocalypse alone but also by the environment. It was no coincidence that the coronation in 996 of Otto III66 was decorated with scenes from the Apocalypse.67 The Church Father Augustine had insisted that the signs and wonders of the day should not be related to the apocalyptic prophecies of Daniel and the book of Revelation. Prodigies, he had warned, are deceptive. But the times teemed with prodigies, prophets, monsters, earthquakes, storms and eclipses, all of which induced apocalyptic panic in armies and congregations. In 989, Halley’s Comet swept through the skies, regarded as proof that not much time was left.68 Likewise, there was a rumour that the End would come when 64 Weber 1999: 48. Cf. Richard Landes, “Apocalyptical Expectations” in The Use and Abuse of Eschatology in the Middle Ages (eds.) W. Berbeke, D. Verhelst & A. Welkenhysen 1988: 166–168; Bernard McGinn, Visions of the End 1979: 62–64. 65 Weber 1999: 49; Richard Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, and the Deceits of History 1995: 295. 66 For more about messianic emperors, cf. Richard Landes, “The Apocalyptic Year 1000” in The Year 2000. Essays on the End (eds.) C. Strozier B. & M. Flynn 1997: 13–24. 67 Weber 1999: 49–50; Landes 1997: 19–20. 68 Hedberg 1990: 280–285.

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the feast of the Annunciation coincided with Good Friday. This happened in 992, and eager calculators established that the world would end before three years had passed. The three years passed and not much happened in 995, or in “the millennium of the birth of the all-vivifying world”.69 Then in the hopes, or fears, of those who cared about such things, the monk Raoul Glaber shifted to the thousandth anniversary of the Passion, when Augustine’s millennial countdown had begun. For 1033, premonitory signs, like the famine, appeared more satisfying. But, “yet once again, the end did not come on time”.70 Radulfus (or Raoul) Glaber is one of the historians who describe the millennial fever during the year 1000, an atmosphere he depicts in the following poetic terms: “It was as if the whole world had shaken off the dust of ages and covered itself in a white mantle of churches”.71 Although numbers of texts from the late tenth and early eleventh centuries witness the continued strength of apocalyptic traditions, it is by no means clear that the fears of the end would have been more general around 1000 than at other periods in the Middle Ages. In Bernhard McGinns words, an “exaggerated emphasis on the turn of the millennium . . . tends to minimize the pervasiveness of apocalypticism throughout these centuries”.72 The historian Richard Landes, criticizes last-century historians and argues that the capstone historians who dismissed 1000 as a ‘year like any other’ overlooked a key variable: the end is not merely paralyzing terrors, it is also extravagant hope, hope to see an end to the injustice of suffering in this world, hope for a better life of ease and delight, hope for the victory of truth and peace. The massive effort and success of imperial missionaries from Germany and Byzantium to convert the pagan peoples, Scandinavian, Slav, Hungarian, is ‘proof ’ enough, Landes argues, that people did not merely freeze in terror. It is, on the contrary, an illustration of millennial enthusiasm, at once massive in scope and successful in endeavour.73

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Weber 1999: 51; Landes 1997: 20. Weber 1999: 51; Cohn 1997: 21–22. 71 Landes 1997: 13. Laber Radulfus, Quinque libri historiarum, 3.4.13. The translation used by Landes, op. cit. France John, Rodulfus Glaber, opera omnia 1989: 114–117. 72 Bernhard McGinn, “Apocalypticism and Church Reform 1100–1500” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. Apocalypticism in Western History and Culture (ed.) Bernhard McGinn 1999: 74. 73 Landes 1997: 15–17. Cf. Richard Landes, “Year 1000” in Encyclopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements (ed.) R. Landes 2000: 446–448. 70

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chapter three Christian Conquest of Jerusalem

Let us consider the year 1000 and its aftermath. In 1009, Jerusalem’s Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and Christ’s tomb inside it, were destroyed by order of Caliph Hakim. Twenty years later, the battles along Mediterranean coastlines struck fear. In 1066, the Normans conquered England. In 1071 the Seljuk Turks conquered Armenia and most of Asia Minor, including Syria and Palestine. The Turks then posed a particular menace to Byzantium.74 In 1095 Pope Urban II proclaimed the First Crusade, and armed a pilgrimage rally, designed to help Christianity flourish again, in what was called ‘these last times’, so that when Antichrist begins his reign in Jerusalem, he will find there enough Christians to fight.75 This ‘apocalyptic fervour’ culminated in the first Crusade (1095–99).76 During the era of the Crusades and even two hundred years after it, events in contemporary Jerusalem were interpreted with full apocalyptic imagery. The recovery of Jerusalem from the Muslims was seen as corresponding to the fulfillment of biblical endtime prophecies.77 Two hundred years later, when the Crusades properly speaking were over, crusading ideas that had spurred the Christian conquest of the Muslim-occupied Iberian Peninsula would help to shape Spanish and Portuguese expansion overseas. The myths of a holy geography did not appeal to European Christians as it used to. Instead, the journeys of discovery opened an era of a new earthly paradise and the theories of the Enlightenment observed the religious symbols critically, leading to diminished interest in Jerusalem as a geographical place.78 For these medieval Christians, Jerusalem was not only the scene of the passion and resurrection of Christ, it was also the symbol of heavenly Jerusalem “like unto a stone most precious”, which, according to the Book of Revelation, was to replace it at the end of time. Even the learned referred to it as “the navel of the world, the land fruitful above all others, like another paradise of delight”; and people were not always able to distinguish between the celestial

74 Paul Boyer, “The Middle-East in Modern American Popular Prophetic Belief ” in Imaging the End. Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America (eds.) Abbas Amanat & Magnus T. Bernhardsson 2002: 320. 75 Weber 1999: 51; Boyer 2002: 320. 76 Boyer 2002: 320. Cf. Armstrong 1998: 289–291. 77 Boyer 2002: 320. 78 Weber 1999: 51. Cf. Armstrong 1998: 357.

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and the terrestrial city. This fantasy of a miraculous realm, Cohn states, abounding both in spiritual and in material blessings, played a large part in many of the Crusades that were launched between the end of the eleventh and the beginning of the fourteenth century. Not so much, however, in the official Crusades of professional warriors under the auspices of the Pope, as in the unofficial crusades of the poor. Ideologically, many of these movements owed much to the works known as the medieval Sibylline Oracles,79 with their prophecy of a great emperor who was to arise before the Second Coming, massacre all Muslims, establish a golden age of plenty and make his way to Jerusalem. At least some of the leaders of the Crusades assumed this role, but their hordes, seldom able to reach the Muslims, massacred Jews and Christians instead, and by the thousands.80 At the approach of the year 1033 things did not, according to Landes, return to ‘normal’. Criticizing the capstone historians, who tend to look for relief, Landes searches for traces of hope and its ‘postapocalyptic sister’, called ‘disappointment’. The apocalyptic disappointment is pregnant with activity—the first and vigorous stirrings of a popular Christian culture of vast movements, of radical dissent and reform, of widespread pilgrimage, of collective actions. Rather than a church filled with quaking and superstitious people, we find the advent of the millennium energizing the entire culture, leading them to a full-hearted acceptance of a Christian covenant with God. This marks the moment, according to Landes, when the commoners became genuinely enthused about Christianity. It was the moment when Europeans first thought of themselves as God’s new Chosen People, the covenant at Mount Sinai; the Peace, in its two millennial decades of the 990s and the 1020–1030s, constituted the defining moment in European cultural identity. It was evidently the key moment, according to Landes, when European Christians first developed a sense of mission and religious unity.81 During these years pilgrimages arrived to Jerusalem to wait for Jesus to return, and they also expected an Antichrist to emerge. The Europeans were experiencing desperation and were looking for a New Jerusalem to 79

‘Sibylline’ oracles are Jewish and Christian peseudepigrapha, oracles composed in Greek hexameter verse and attributed to the ancient seeress. Birger A. Pearson, “Indo-European Eschatology in 2 Peter 3” in Kontinuitäten und Brüche in der Religionsgeschichte (ed.) Michael Strausberg 2001: 540. 80 Cohn 1999: 32. Cf. Armstrong 1998: 290. 81 Landes 1997: 21–22.

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redeem them from misery. The pilgrimage was, however, peaceful in its origins. By the eleventh century Christendom itself had been transformed.82 The descriptions of those called the ‘travellers of Divinity’ blended soon into stereotypified accounts and a genre littéraire with its own typology. These pilgrims brought to Europe a spiritual vision of the Holy Land, devoid of reference to the realities of the age. In a similar fashion, Aryeh Grabois argues, art based on pilgrims’ descriptions became an important channel of popularisation of the image of the Holy Land in the West, while the legend became part of European folklore. In this way, the Holy Land became an integral part of the cultural heritage of European civilisation.83 Following the theory of Richard Landes, we can trace from the millennial generation onward the continuous, periodic presence of widespread apocalyptic expectations that repeatedly ignited European culture and often, as in the millennial generation, are linked to an eschatological date: 1065, 109–1100, 1147–1150, 1166, 1179–1186, 1200, 1212, 1233, 1260, 1290, 1300–1304, 1333, 1356–1360, and so on. Landes’s theory suggests that each century’s end is marked by an apocalyptic generation that stretches from the final 90s to the 30s. Once we have paid attention to these moments, Landes argues, we will begin to restore a vital dimension to our own history. In the process, we will find that much of what we call modern is actually a phenomenon that started out as apocalyptic and, in mutating to adjust to the failure of expectations, took on its more stable and recognizable forms.84 Flourishing at first on “the shadowy margins of orthodox Catholicism”, the popular crusades did, according to Cohn, turn in the thirteenth century against the church, which was “condemned for its wealth and worldliness”. All this pointed forward to a new wave of millenarianism, the movement known as Joachimism.85 Cohn describes events during the previous century, the twelfth century, as follows:

82 For more on pilgrimage during the time of the Crusade see Simon Coleman & John Elsner, Pilgrimage. Past and Present in the World Religions 1995: 94–95; Armstrong 1998: 284. 83 Aryeh Grabois, “Medieval pilgrims, the Holy Land and Its Image in European Civilisation” in The Holy Land in History and Thought (ed.) Moshe Sharon 1988: 74–75. 84 Landes 1997: 22–23. 85 Cohn 1997: 33.

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. . . a rapid increase in the economic prosperity of Western Europe, which affected the way of life of the higher clergy. Abbots had turned their monasteries into luxurious establishments, while bishops built palaces in which they could live in the same magnificent style as other great feudal lords. The greater circulation of money and the revival of trade enabled the papacy to develop a vast fiscal system, which in turn enabled it to fight political battles, to hire armies, and to maintain a court of the utmost splendor. In fact, to behave just like a particularly powerful secular monarchy. Joachimism developed as a protest against this state of affairs.86

3.2.4

Anticipation of the Antichrist

In Italy, a Calabrian monk was about to renew apocalyptic thinking. The catastrophes and persecutions that John of Patmos envisaged made sense to persecuted first-century Christians and could only be escaped by personal salvation or catastrophic conclusion. Joachim of Fiore (c. 1130/5–1202)87 envisioned history moving through purifying catastrophes from one stage to another, always a better one. History had not been very relevant to salvation, since salvation would only come at the end of time. Joachim suggested that salvation could come within history, through history, as the church reformed and purified itself and the world around it.88 In 1202 a Pisan mathematician, Leonardo Fibonacci (c. 1180–1250), introduced IndoArabic numerals and the number zero, which facilitated calculation.89 Though Joachim died the very same year, he had always been a great numerologist in the traditional vein, and divisions into sevens and threes patterned his history.90 Seven ages, inspired by Jewish lore, placed his own time near the end of the sixth age, which would be followed by a Sabbath of repose and peace between the coming of the Antichrist, expected

86

Ibid. According to David Katz & Richard Popkin, Messianic Revolution. Radical Religious Politics to the End of the Second Millennium 1999: xix Joachim of Fiore was born in 1132, whilst his dates are 1132–1202 in Boyer 2002: 320. But in Weber 1999: 52 the year of his birth is 1135. The year 1135 is also referred to in Lehtonen 1999: 77 op. cit. from Carozzi & Carrozzi C-Taviani 1982: 215 and Annala 1988: 404–411. Cf. Lerner 1999: 346. 88 Dickey 1997: 52–57. Cf. pp. 57–76 for Joachimism and Protestantism. 89 Boris Sjöberg, Från Euklides till Hilbert. Historien om matematikens utveckling under tvåtusen år 2001: 9, 91–92, 96–98. 90 Weber 1999: 52. 87

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around 1260, and the Last Judgment.91 This was called the three states, inspired by the New Testament and the Trinity. History, in Joachim’s opinion, could be suitably divided into three: the age of the Father, of the Old Testament and Law; and the age of the Son, New Testament and Grace; and the age of the Spirit, proceeding from both, when new religious orders would convert the whole world, and a new human race would lead free, contemplative lives in a purer and better universe.92 Joachim and his followers expected the Third Age to begin around the 1260s, after a brief regin of the Antichrist, who would probably be followed by a new Adam or a new Christ. The Joachimite periodization of a progressive history was to influence or confirm many secular millenarians right up to the beginning of the nineteenth century, if not later.93 In one form or another, the Joachimite faith persisted down to the Reformation and even beyond, and it provided the ideology for various millenarian movements.94 Inevitably, the Joachimite Spirituals were condemned as heretics and persecuted accordingly. In response to this, there was increased fury against the institutionalized church, which they came to see as the Whore of Babylon. At the same time they came to expect a saviour from their own ranks to mount the papal throne as the ‘angelic Pope’ chosen by God to convert the whole world to a life of voluntary poverty.95 When Richard I Lionheart, passing through Italy in the 1190s on his way to the Third Crusade, asked to meet the great prophet, Abbot Joachim of Fiore, the king’s first question is said to have been about where and when Antichrist would be born.96 91 Joachim was influenced by the depredations of the contemporary Muslim leader, Saladdin, who recaptured Jerusalem in 1187. By offering a partly futuristic and partially historic reading of the Apocalypse of John, “Joachim concluded that Muhammad had been the fourth head of the seven-headed dragon described in chapters 12 and 17, and Saladdin the sixth and last before the ultimate satanic ruler, the Antichrist”. Boyer 2002: 320. 92 For more about the trinitarian division of history and the five phases of history in Joachim of Fiore see Champion 1994: 374–379 and Lerner 1999: 346–354. 93 Weber 1999: 52–53. 94 Cohn 1999: 33–35; Katz & Popkin 1999: xix–xxv. For more on the influence of Joachim of Fiore in later history, cf. Catherine Keller, “The Beast, the Apocalypse, and the Colonial Journey” in The Year 2000. Essays on the End (eds.) C. Strozier & M. Flynn 1997: 52–53; Champion 1994: 372, 428. 95 Cohn 1997: 34. 96 Weber 1999: 53. Cf. Roberto Rusconi, “Antichrist and Antichrists” in the Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, vol. 2. Apocalypticism in Western History and Culture (ed.) Bernhard McGinn 1999: 302.

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The abbot then “foretold the Muslim ruler’s defeat by Richard—a prophecy that failed”.97 The church was the chief agency traditionally charged with the task of regulating relations between men and the powers ruling the cosmos—but it was not the only one, for its supernatural authority also pertained to the national monarchy. Medieval kingship was still to a large extent a sacred kingship. Restricted in his political powers, the monarch was still a representative of divinity, an incarnation of the moral law and the divine intention, a guarantor of the order and rightness of the world.98 Before long, however, Joachimite notions were to influence the followers of Francis of Assisi (1181–1226), whose thinking sanctified poverty and humility in the service of active charity. In 1297 Petrus Olivi, a spiritual leader of the Franciscans, opined that Antichrist would surely surface between 1300 and 1340, after which the world would enter the age of the Holy Spirit, due to end around the year 2000 with the war of Gog and the Last Judgement. The Spiritual Franciscans were dedicated to poverty and strict observance. Their apocalyptic sense of mission was reinforced by reference to Joachim and by the dissemination of pseudo-Joachimite prophecies exalting poverty, austerity and expectations of the End.99 One French fellow-traveller of the Spirituals, Jean de Roquetaillade, published a guide to tribulation, entitled Vade Mecum in Tribulatione, in 1356. Since he also insisted on evangelical poverty and the imminent coming of Antichrist, he was imprisoned for most of his adult life. Roquetaillade expected Antichrist in 1366, to be followed by a millennial Sabbath in 1369 or 1370. Jerusalem under a Jewish king would become the centre of the world—but the king of France would finally inherit the imperial crown. An eloquent prophet of an apocalyptic future, the Dominican St. Vincent Ferrer (1357–1410), called himself the Angel of the Apocalypse. The signs of a Second Coming that Jesus had once indicated on the Mount of Olives were clear for all to see: wars, and rumours of wars, nation rising against nation, betrayals, hatreds, false prophets, iniquity abiding, and love waxing cold. Faith lay in ruins, and Antichrist was already born and would 97

Boyer 2002: 320. Cohn 1997: 34. 99 Weber 1999: 54. On the colorful history of the Franciscans in Jerusalem, cf. Armstrong 1998: 333–337; Lerner 1999: 349–354. 98

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soon meet St. Michael in mortal combat in the skies. That would be the end of days, which only a faithful few would survive, writes Weber about the visions of St. Vincent Ferrer.100 The millenarian fever had become overwhelming. Even the pilgrims that Felix Fabri saw in Jerusalem in 1480 affirmed that western Christianity’s affection for the city had turned into ‘hysterical’ endtime expectancy.101 John Wycliffe (1330–1384) was sure that the Antichrist could not be far off and was perhaps already present. The English scholar explained in one of his pamphlets, De Papa in 1379, that the Pope was the Antichrist here on earth. Much influenced by Wycliff ’s writings, some of which were translated into Czech, John Huss (1372–1415) made the University of Prague, whose rector he was, a centre of “Wycliffite doctrines critical of clerical morals” and what he had regarded as “Roman anarchy”.102 Many in that day saw the Great Schism as a preliminary advent of Antichrist, but Huss proved a little too specific: one of the reasons why he was burnt on the stake was his equation of the Pope with Antichrist. To use Weber’s words: Huss’s [. . .] martyrdom sparked off fifteen years of Bohemian wars in which the Hussites, fighting for ecclesiastical reform, communion of both kinds (bread and wine), and a vernacular liturgy, prefigured many aspects of the Reformation.103

The more extreme among the Hussites professed radical social doctrines, rejected churches and feast days, oaths, courts and worldly dignities, and sought to spread the kingdom of God by force of arms. A mountain stronghold was set up not far from Prague and they called it Mount Tabor, after the biblical site of Christ’s transfiguration. The Hussite Tabor was a symbol of Christ’s messiahship and earthly return in glory. According to Weber the Taborite priests preached that, “with his Second Coming, the enemies of truth would be exterminated and the good preserved”.104 The parousic prestige of Mount Tabor had also inspired Pope Innocent III to urge its capture on the warriors of the fifth crusade. But Innocent died in 1216, before the last crusade had floundered to an inglorious end, as would the Taborites two centuries later.105 100 101 102 103 104 105

Weber 1999: 55–56; Lerner 1999: 350–351. Armstrong 1998: 336. Weber 1999: 57. Ibid., op. cit. Weber 1999: 57. Weber 1999: 248.

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The Taborites preached the Second Coming of Christ sometime between the 10th and 14th February, 1420, when all the cities and villages would be burnt by holy fire—with only a few cities, including Mt. Tabor, being saved. When the prophecy failed, the Taborites became more aggressive. They started to preach that Jesus had already returned and started to fight in secret the enemies of his kingdom. In the end, the Bohemian army fought the Taborites in 1452.106 The Taborites strongly believed they had access to an eternal Jerusalem. Almost a century later, Martin Luther took up the fight against the Roman Church, but before that he had identified Antichrist with Islam.107 In his opinion, confession and absolution could not save from sin, only trust in God could do that, and those who claimed otherwise were deceivers. According to Luther, Christians should live by faith, and faith came from the gospels and the grace of God, not from priests and sacraments. This personalization was an exhilarating simplification of religious life. In this perspective, the church stood for galling complications and the Pope represented the Antichrist. Although Luther was also convinced that his times were the last days, he considered the book of Revelation “neither apostolic nor prophetic”, and placed the book to as appendix to the new Bible. Calvin did not even bother to comment on it. In 1530, the Lutheran Confession of Augsburg denounced millennialism as a ‘Jewish doctrine’. Yet apocalyptic terminology filled the reformers’ attacks on Rome, as did their references to the fearsome Turks, who were taking over the eastern Mediterranean and working their way through the Balkans to Hungary. According to Weber, Luther’s break with Rome in itself spurred eschatological expectations. Peter Stearns, in his study of millennialism, suggests that millennial language had declined by Luther’s time and avers that “mainstream millennial forecasts did die down by the sixth century”.108 Gutenberg’s age of print, which gave an extraordinary boost to the reformers’ arguments, was also the age of woodcuts. Both Luther

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Ruokanen 1999: 35–36. “As late as 1530 . . . Luther identified the Turks as Gog . . . During the centuries when the Ottoman empire dominated the Middle East and parts of Eastern Europe, prophecy interpreters routinely treated Islam as a forerunner of the Antichrist and identified the Ottoman realm as Gog”. Boyer 2002: 320–321. 108 Weber 1999: 68. 107

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and Melanchton believed that the end of time was imminent, certainly no further than 1600. On Luther, Weber writes: Luther seemed to preach the priesthood of all believers, but believers who follow their inner light can easily mistake sparks of imagination for inspiration from on high. It was not easy to tell the two apart when some Anabaptists ran naked through the streets of Amsterdam crying “Woe, woe, woe, the wrath of God”109 and when the small Saxon town of Zwickau spawned a brood of prophets forecasting the purification of the church and the imminent end of the world.110

In Thomas Münzer (1489–1525), who believed that souls needed to be purified by suffering and tribulation, the socialist rebellion of German peasants recognized the struggle of the saints of the Last Days.111 After the peasants’ disastrous defeat and Münzer’s execution in 1525, Hans Hut announced the end of the world and Christ’s return for the year 1528. Hans Hut was executed in 1527, but his disciples attempted to hasten the predicted coming by using force of arms. Although nothing extraordinary occurred in 1528, 1533 was, however, perilously close. Centenaries of the Saviour’s Passion have always offered a fascinating focus for enthusiasts: 1033, 1233, 1533, 1733, 1834, and 1933. When the year 1000, for all its excitements failed to bring the awaited end, contemporaries referred to 1033, triggering the second wave of peace councils, pilgrimages and reforms. The period between 1000 and 1033 mark a particularly apocalyptic millennial generation. According Richard Landes, we may see some resemblance with the period 2000–2033. As with most eschatological target dates, the ‘failure’ of 1000 to produce the millennium did not put an end to speculation; on the contrary, contemporaries’ retargeted to the date of 1033. These two generations before 1000 and 1033 are steeped in an eschatological culture that historians have recently begun to explore. In history we can observe the patterns of a bimillennium, every since the establishment of the Church.112

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Weber 1999: 66, op. cit. Bax (1903) 1970: 19, 36. Weber 1999: 66. 111 Münzer had a career as a millenarian revolutionary. He had been associated with the Zwickau prophets, who attempted to establish the rule of those predestined for salvation first in Zwickau and later in Wittenberg. For more on Münzer’s millenarian interpretations, cf. Champion 1994: 366–367 and Frank E. Manuel & Fritzie P. Manuel, Utopian Thought in the Western World 1997: 183–202. 112 Landes 2000 on Center for Millenarism Studies Internet homepage http://www. mille.org (10.05.2000). 110

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In 1433, Nicholas of Cusa, though well aware of human ignorance, had predicted the Great Judgement for 1533. In 1534 John of Leiden, after gaining more influence and power established a new divine order in Münster. As a follower of Jan Matthys he also believed in an Anabaptist leader, Melchior Hoffmann, who had predicted that the world would come to an end in 1533. His followers, the Melchiorites, abandoned the world, some sold their property and believed that the New Jerusalem to which Jesus would return would be established in Strasbourg. Even though the year 1533 passed, they continued to preach the coming of Jesus.113 John of Leiden, predicted the Lord’s vengeance for the same year and started in Münster to prepare for the New Jerusalem. M. Hoffmann who had been influenced by prophets from Strasbourg thought in 1526 that it would last seven years before the end would come, and that people could only be saved if baptised. Because of the persecution in Holland baptism was postponed, but in 1533 when Jan Matthys presents himself as a prophet of the endtimes, baptism becomes reinstalled. Due to failure of the Strasbourg-prophecy, Müster becomes the new city of salvation. During Easter 1534 Jan Matthys is slain, and his position as prophetic leader is replaced by John of Leiden, who in 1534, when the Anabaptists had successfully defended the city against assaults of the troops of the bishop, proclaimed himself king of the New Jerusalem.114 In his proclamation to become the king of Münster, the people were to live in poverty and prepare themselves for the coming of Christ. The story of Münster did not have a happy end since this paradise on earth led by a messianicking did not last for long. It is worth noticing, however, as Cohn puts it, that the aims of the millenarian group in each case corresponded not to the objective social situation and the possibilities it offered, but to the salvationist fantasies of a handful of freelance preachers; and they were accordingly limitless. The point here is that millenarian revolt never formed except around a prophet—John Ball in England, Martinek 113 Ruokanen 1999: 36–37. According to Lammert G. Jansma, Jan Matthys prophesised that the New Jerusalem would emerge in Münster on the 5th of April, 1534. Lammert G. Jansma, “Eindtijdverwachtingen en de wederdopers” in Maar nog is het einde niet. Chiliastische stromingen en bewegingen bij het aanbreken van een millennium (eds.) Lammert Gosse Jansma and Durk Hak 2000: 38–43. 114 Weber 1999: 65–76; Jansma 2000: 43–44. Special thanks to Lammert G. Jansma who kindly contributed with comments on the Anabaptists.

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Hauska in Bohemia, Thomas Münzer in Thuringia, first Jan Matthys and later John of Leiden at Münster.115 Just as religious beliefs bind communities together, they also help to set them apart by inspiring, justifying, and emphasizing social, political, and tribal conflicts. In 1550, Nostradamus published his famous annual almanacs, and the Protestants rejected Pope Gregory XIII’s calendar reform of 1582. The Julian calendar instituted by Julius Caesar in 46 ce had fallen ten days behind. To make the calendar correspond to the period that the earth takes to go around the sun, Gregory decreed that the day of October 4th in 1582, should become October 15th.116 Catholic Europe followed this praxis, but the Protestants had reason to mistrust a pope who had instituted the Counter Reformation’s Jesuit militia and the Index of Prohibited Books. One of the Protestantism’s stronger arguments against the Gregorian calendar, which the English accepted only in 1752 and the Protestant Swiss in 1812, was that it queried calculations of the end. The recreant pope did not believe in the end of the world. In the years to come, Baptists and Anabaptists, Levellers, Diggers, Socinians, Ranters, Quakers, Muggletonians, and all sorts of popular utopian millenarians were all busy in preparing for the ‘Kingdom of God’.117 We are sometimes told that, by the 1660s, English millenarism had exhausted itself, but it would soon recover.118 Continental millenarism, meanwhile, burst fourth in the bloodbath of the Thirty Years’ War, widely regarded at first as the great struggle that was supposed to mark the Last Days. The Early 1620s and 1630s teemed with prophecies and revelations of approaching Armageddon. Gustavus Adolphus, the first Protestant King of Sweden, took on messianic proportions and the names he was given—Lion of the North, Elias, and Gideon—carried biblical and sometimes apocalyptic overtones. But Gustavus died in the battle of Lützen in 1632, and no Armageddon resolved this issue. One apocalyptic figure who made an easy transition from medieval to modern times was Antichrist. It was easy to pass from historical figures of unjust persecutors and usurpers to the eschatological figure of Antichrist. Wild ‘barbarians’—Goths, Huns, Tatars—had often been denounced as 115 116 117 118

Cohn 1999: 36. Weber 1999: 71. Weber 1999: 73. Weber 1999: 74, 86.

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Antichrists, or at least as his acolytes. And in due course, Turks and Saracens would also be so identified. Antichrist’s identity altered from generation to generation, according to circumstances and needs. There were numerous variations, ranging from the detailed to the substantial, in the biographical portrait of the Antichrist.119 The Presbyterian John Milton (1608–1674), the Quaker George Fox (1624– 1691), the Baptist John Bunyan (1622–1688) and the conforming churchman Isaac Newton (1642–1724) were all convinced that the pope and Antichrist were one. Isaac Newton, for example, “believed in the return of the Jews to the Holy Land, the restoration of Jerusalem and of the temple there, and ‘in the coming of the kingdom for which we daily pray’”.120 3.2.5

Paradise Within Reach

There are many persons—such as Descartes, Bacon or Newton—in whom the intellectual history of the modern period can bee seen originating. But no single event, at least according to Catherine Keller, better combines in its force-field the politics and economics, the eros and animosity, the spirit and spatiality of the modern Western era as the invasion of the Americas. Following Keller’s line of argumentation, we identify the beginning of the modern period with the journeys of Cristobal Colon, the name later anglicized as Christopher Columbus. In so doing, Keller dates the modern era from the Renaissance, the Reformation and the “discovery of the New World”.121 Columbus referred to the newly encountered land as otro mundo122— the other world. That world across the seas turned out to be populated with ‘others’. The voices of those others, refusing their alterity, refusing to remain objects of the colonial subject, have, with the passing of the fifth centenary of Columbus’s first voyage, turned the narrative around, exposed by its own ‘otherness’. Columbus was convinced that the land he found was in fact the lost Eden: “I am completely persuaded in my own mind that the Terrestrial Paradise

119

Rusconi 1999: 289. Weber 1999: 97; Frank Manuel, Isaac Newton, Historian 1963: 165. 121 Keller 1997: 42; Keller is referring to G. Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of History 1956: 442. 122 Keller 1997: 43 otra mondo, the ‘other world’ (the nomenclature ‘new world’ came later), cf. p. 54. 120

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is in the place I have said”.123 And Columbus admits that his reason for leaving was fear of entering paradise itself without a directive from God. In his letter to Torres, Columbus writes: Of the New Heaven and Earth which our Lord made, as St. John writes in the Apocalypse, after He had spoken it by the mouth of Isaiah, He made me the messenger thereof and showed me where to go.124

Columbus was, in Keller’s opinion, no biblical illiterate, as his correct alignment of Isaiah and John demonstrates. According to Keller, Columbus has collapsed the expectation of the new creation into the tradition of the abandoned paradise: “[T]he garden east of Eden denied to humanity since the fall”.125 The identification of a historic geographical discovery with the ‘Terrestrial Paradise’, and at the same time with the new creation, turned the apocalyptic pattern to unprecedented use. To accomplish his ends, Columbus drew deeply on an old tradition. Keller writes: In his possession was Pierre d’Ally’s fanciful Imago Mundi. This text intertwines legends of Eden and of the adjacent land of blessed peoples with the eleventh-century chiliast prophecies of Joachim of da Fiore.126

Columbus had, when he read this book, made at least 848 marginal notes and calculations in his copy. He had constantly underlined and annotated the Joachimite prophecies of a new age. Columbus concluded that “the world will come to an end” around 1650. For him the new heaven and the new earth had already been created, contrary to the Joachimite view, according to Keller, this apocalypticism seems to have meant for Columbus that little time reminded for the Christianization of the earth, “of which he would understand himself, with some justification, as the indispensable agent”.127 In his letter to Ferdinand and Isabella, Columbus writes:

123 Keller 1997: 49, op. cit. Sale, Conquest of Paradise p. 140. Cf. Manuel & Manuel 1997: 60. 124 Keller 1997: 51; In Katz & Popkin 1999: 17 the quotation goes: “God made me the messenger of the new heaven and the new earth of which he spoke in the Apocalypse of St. John after having spoken of it through the mouth of Isaiah; and he showed me the spot where to find it”. B. G. Spotorno Memorials of Columbus, 1823 p. 224: repr. in P. M. Watts, “Prophecy and Discovery: On the Spiritual Origins of Christopher Columbus ‘Enterprise of the Indies’” American History Rev. 90, 1985: 73. 125 Keller 1997: 51. 126 Keller 1997: 52. 127 Ibid., op. cit.

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Not unworthily nor without a reason, Most Splendid Rulers, [. . .] do I assert that even greater things are reserved for you, when we read that Joachim the Calabrian Abbot predicted that the future ruler who would recover Mount Sion would come from Spain.128 Jerusalem and Mount Sion are to be rebuilt by the hands of the Christians, as God has declared by the mouth of his prophet in the fourteenth Psalm. The Abbot Joachim said that he who should do this was to come from Spain.129

Columbus’s messianic self-concept, as he believed that his discoveries were proof of a dawning millennial age,130 blends with a vision of the ‘breast of Paradise’. This fantasy of feminine abundance writes itself with the purity of a text, like the New Jerusalem, only already there, available as the land and the women of the unveiled, the discovered (uncovered), continent of those who are heroic enough to possess them. Keller continues with a comparison from the mythic past, finding in the holy warrior mythology the premodern roots of colonizing man and the corollary subjectivity of conquest and control, expelling body from consciousness and abjecting the loathsome, fascinating and overwhelmingly feminized bodies of the colonized. Keller submits that the anti-imperialist impulses of apocalypticism could be transformed into energies of colonization and its subsequent missions precisely because of its spiritual warrior-fixation.131 According to Keller, Columbus’s apocalypse not only gathers to itself a massive European mood of the fifteenth century, but also announces, like a dream, the hope for rebirth, or renascence, for Europe itself. Columbus’s personal myth changes the collective myth structures of the Western world. The motif of the Crusade against un-Christian people, of the reconquest of Jerusalem served as means to the New Jerusalem. There were aspirations to sponsor another crusade to recover Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple by using gold from the New World to usher in the millennium.132 According to Alain Milhou, it would seem more reasonable to think that for Columbus, as for many others, the reconstruction of the Temple, 128

Katz & Popkin 1999: 17, op. cit. Katz & Popkin 1999: 18, op. cit. For a slightly different quotation, cf. Bernhard McGinn “Apocalypticism and Church Reform: 1100–1500” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, vol. 2. Apocalypticism in Western History and Culture (ed.) Bernhard McGinn 1999: 102. 130 McGinn 1999: 102. 131 Keller 1997: 54. Cf. Manuel & Manuel 1997: 61, 269. A categorization which falls well into what has been called ‘Gender Apocalypses’ in chapter 2, pp. 71–73. 132 Boyer 2002: 320. 129

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evidently changed into a church, was an eschatological sign of the bringing together of all peoples converted to Christianity into God’s house.133 These old medieval myth themes underline the new conquest. The sense of an earthly paradise took over the apocalyptic aspirations for a heavenly paradise, since it had over the years proven unattainable. For David Katz and Richard Popkin Columbus’s messianism is not therefore a demonstration of intellectual deviation by a partially self-educated sailor, but as they see it, part of a much larger world of Spanish millenarianism, which continued at least until the middle of the next century. The colonial version of millenarian thought would later be consumed by the newer model, mystical variety of apocalyptic thought.134 Katz and Popkin have found it odd that modern histography has underestimated the millenarian dimension of Columbus’s voyages. Indeed, but Keller’s study shows the potential that lies beneath the surface of Columbus’s travels over seas. In her study, we can find not only traditional apocalyptic traces, but also a sort of gender apocalypse. Here the gender apocalypse refers not to the female ‘whore of Babylon’ but to the ‘breast of Paradise’.135 3.2.6

Science and Redemption

We tend to read history of science forwards, for its premonitions of where what happened led. History is also red backwards, and if we do that, we discover the intimate connection between science and theology. Much of progress in mathematics and in the natural and physical sciences is related to the religious quest for wisdom, and ‘God’s intentions’. To quote Weber, “piety and learning went together, and science followed. Compatibility with the Scriptures long remained a criterion of scientific proof, as of common sense”.136 According to Weber, in the seventeenth century, visions and miracles were held as facts, just like trees that could speak, horses that could fly and other prodigies. The cosmos was seen as a network of magical forces that men could manipulate if they only knew how. This magic linked 133 Alain Milhou, “Apocalypticism in Central and South American Colonialism” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, vol. 3. Apocalypticism in the Modern Period and the Contemporary Age (ed.) Stephen J. Stein 2000: 4–6. 134 Katz & Popkin 1999: 27; Keller 1997: 55–56. 135 ‘Gender Apocalypses’ and the concept of the ‘Whore of Babylon’, cf. chap. 2, p. 71. 136 Weber 1999: 84.

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astrology, alchemy, cryptology, and dreams. Early modern scientists were magicians, intent on discerning, mastering, and harnessing supernatural powers: the occult quality of numbers, the applied astronomy we call astrology, and the applied understanding of correspondences between the world of spirits and the world of men, what was called alchemy.137 Alchemists, for example, thought that the physical world corresponded to some aspect of the spiritual world, and the great quest for these people, among other scientists, was perfection. “Alchemists were practical scientists interested in developing experimental and applied mathematics to public and private advantage”.138 Alchemy was a study which brought man nearer to his creator.139 According to Katz and Popkin, nowhere is the turn of the mind more apparent than in the theories of Paracelsus. “Philippus Aureolos Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim (1493–1541) was a German alchemist, physician and mystical philosopher who took the name Paracelsus since he claimed to be greater than the classical Greek physician Celsus”.140 Paracelsus was a rebel in his time, and his basic thesis was no less than that he had discovered the building blocks of the universe, the keys to which were chemistry.141 Katz and Popkin point out that Paracelsus had reasoned in the following way: [I]f the beginning of the world was a chemical operation, [. . .] then the end would be as well. Joachim of Fiore had cited Malachi 4:5 “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord”. And Paracelsus claimed that fiftyeight years after his own death [. . .] Elijah would return as “Elias Artista”, Elijah the Alchemist.142

Elias Artista would show us how to transform iron into gold, thus bring forward the end of the world. Contrary to popular opinion, Paracelsus asserted, there would be no Armageddon and no Second Coming. Paracelsus’s end of the world would be “[c]reation in reverse: a chemical act of separation. The millennium would be a chemical 137

Weber 1999: 85 from Yates, Art, Science and History, p. 259. Weber 1999: 87. 139 Weber 1999: 87, op. cit. Cornish physician in 1794 from Thomas Religion and the Decline of Magic, pp. 269, 271. 140 Katz & Popkin 1999: 29. 141 Katz & Popkin 1999: 29–30; Mansikka 1999: 60. 142 Katz & Popkin 1999: 30–31. 138

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millennium, a sort of alchemist’s utopia”.143 In Paracelsus’s philosophy God was no longer the Judge, as he had appeared in the Old Testament, nor was he the Phytagorean Great Mathematician, but had now become the Great Alchemist.144 Paracelsus’s teaching flourished during the following years. In his journeys from Italy to Scandinavia, from Alsace to Bohemia, he is said to have proclaimed that “our millennium lay within science, that if only we understood the actual structure of the universe, we could reproduce the process of Creation and prophecy of the End of Days”.145 According to Katz and Popkin, he was convinced that a great scientist, Elias Artista, who would know how to unleash the power that could bring us full circle would bring the last days forward.146 The age of enlightenment, which sought to apply reason to all things, dismissed Revelation as obscurantism, and not only revelation. Religious beliefs, once resting on broad consensus, had become so diverse that they found room even for disbelief. Good-natured scepticism affected believers too. In earlier years, plumbing the mysteries of nature had always been a religious quest. Used in conjunction with scientific observation, mathematics helped to reveal cosmic harmonies, the secret necessities of relations between the creator and creation: God and man, man and nature. Of such cosmological visions, astrology was an integral part. The astrologers brought new precision to the observation of heavenly bodies, the calculation of their movements, and the measurement of time. Much of it, like before, revolved around great events, of which none could be greater than the world’s ending.147 The idea of correspondence between the shapes of the lower and the upper worlds was fostered, according to Frank E. Manuel and Fritzie P. Manuel, by Christian thinkers from antiquity well into eighteent century. One of its last great proponents being Isaac Newton.148 As James W. Davidson puts it: . . . tantalizing obscurity of numerical predictions, interrelationships between the Revelation and other apocalyptic writings . . . provided

143 144 145 146 147 148

Katz & Popkin 1999: 30–31; Mansikka 1999: 62. Mansikka 1999: 61. Katz & Popkin: 31. Ibid. Weber 1999: 91, 90, 99. Manuel & Manuel 1997: 162.

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challenge sufficient to engage minds as great as those of Mede, Newton, Whiston and Edwards.149

Apocalyptic numerical predictions involved many others as well. One cannot agree more with what Nicholas Champion writes, that the “history of science has then never shaken off the legacy of millenarian histography”.150 According to Weber, in 1712, William Whinston, Newton’s successor as professor of mathematics at Cambridge, predicted that a comet would soon destroy the world. In 1755, the ‘divine seismic’ struck again. In 1763, “when the Peace of Paris ended the Seventy Year’s War, a pious Methodist, George Bell, prophesied the end of the world for February 28th” and John Wesley, “who had long surmounted an early belief in the imminent coming of Christ”, preached “that the world was to end that night”.151 Many were afraid that “if the world would not end, at least an earthquake would swallow London”,152 as Lisbon had experienced only eight years before. Visionaries and prophets continued to perform. Weber argues that the apocalyptic heirs of the mid-seventeenth century sectarians of Cromwell’s day, with their beliefs that the kingdom of God was at hand, were still preaching and praying a century later, ready to seize on untoward comets, eclipses, and earthquakes that bolstered their expectations.153

According to Weber, “their ilk had shifted allegiance to the evangelical movement that the preserving piety of the Wesley brothers and . . . preaching of George Whitefield turned into Methodism”.154 Even John Wesley was, to quote Weber, “liable to entreat God to send down the New Jerusalem as if it were a sluggish elevator, it is not surprising to find chiliasm in revivalist chapels and meetings”.155 Religious enthusiasm was discovered in polite society too. When not working on nebular and magnetic theory inspired by Sir Isaac Newton, a member of the Swedish Board of Mines, Emanuel

149 James W. Davidson, The Logic of Millennial Thought. Eighteen-Century New England, 1977: 255. 150 Champion 1994: 407. 151 Weber 1999: 102. 152 Ibid. 153 Weber 1999: 102–103. 154 Weber 1999: 103. 155 Ibid., op. cit.

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Swedenborg (1688–1772) had also dedicated himself to showing that the physical universe was constructed of a spiritual structure.156 In his conversations with angels and spirits Swedenborg was convinced that the New Jerusalem had descended from heaven in 1757 (as predicted in Revelation 21:1–2) and that the Second Advent would be on its way. This was not obvious, since, according to Swedenborg, everything happened in the spiritual realm. It had to be interpreted in terms of correspondences between the angelic realm and the visible world, to which divine truths were being progressively revealed. Swedenborgianism attracted the critical attention of Immanuel Kant, who had inveighed against eschatological interpretations of earthquakes, and who in 1766 attracted the dreams of a visionary (Träume Einer Geistersehers). Such a quest for spiritual regeneration also fascinated several Wesleyan ministers who were determined to build a Jerusalem here on earth. A view that the famous apocalypticist, William Blake,157 also adopted. In 1787, the New Jerusalem Church did not affect much the urban situation in Palestine; “but the conjunction of early Methodism and intellectual spiritualism almost inevitably veered toward popular eschatology”.158 The New Jerusalem Church was later developed by Swedenborg’s followers. During his life, Swedenborg’s religious designs attracted only a few. Swedenborgianism never actually flourished as a religion, but did fascinate diverse philosophers, writers and artists in the nineteenth century.159 Other contemporary figures of interest for this study include JeanBaptiste Ruery, who (in 1785) regarded himself a descendant of King David, and who claimed that heavenly sources assured him he was destined to rule as king in Jerusalem. He likewise predicted kingdoms to be overthrown, revolutionary outbreaks, the Jews returning to the Holy Land, and Jesus returning to launch something called the Third Age.160 In Forez, in 1780, a similar message was preached: it accounted for the prophet Elijah’s coming, an early conversion of the Jews, Christ’s Second Coming bringing forth his new kingdom. In Weber’s words:

156

McDannell & Lang 1990: 181–182; Weber 1999: 104. William Blake’s apocalypse re-printed in Minna Doskow William Blake’s Jerusalem. Structure and Meaning in Poetry and Picture 1982: 175 pp. 158 Weber 1999: 104–105; McDannell & Lang 1990: 182. 159 McDannell & Lang 1990: 182. 160 Weber 1999: 107. 157

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The French Revolution proved that the curé spoke true, but before Christ’s reign of a thousand years could be established, the old world had to be destroyed, materialism abolished, churches closed, and priests eliminated in order to usher in the new era of peace, love, happiness, and fraternity.161

In 1794, as reported by the authorities in Forez, villagers of the Montbrison district were abandoning their “fields and farms to await Elijah’s coming in the nearby forests, before moving on to found the Republic of Jesus Christ in Jerusalem”.162 The famous poet, writer and artist, William Blake (1757–1827), expected the world to be consumed by fire, and saw the French Revolution as a portent of the Apocalypse. Blake’s thought, inspired by esoteric Christian tradition and Platonic belief in endlessly rotating cycles, a longing for an imagined past purity was to find many echoes throughout the nineteenth century.163 Even the French Revolution had been characterized with millenarian ingredients. While some expected regeneration to come when reason was applied to human affairs, others hastened the fulfillment of God’s plans by using all available means. Henri Grégorie (1750–1831), a priest from Lorraine, member of revolutionary assemblies, and constitutional bishop of Blois, combined Enlightenment and chiliasm. He believed that Jews had to convert before the Second Coming. He was convinced that equal rights for Jews would hasten the millennium. Equal treatment for everyone, including both Jews and blacks, would advance God’s plan for mankind and prepare all humans for the millennium.164 As we have seen, protestant England had long been familiar with the image of the pope as the Antichrist. A revolution that overthrew the Catholic Church in France and threatened it elsewhere was interpreted by many as one more sign that the ‘last days’ were closing in. The revolutionary events that included the fall of the papacy, the destruction of the Turkish Empire and the return of the Jews to Palestine created an enthusiasm for missionary activities. The 161

Weber 1999: 108. Ibid., op. cit. 163 Champion 1994: 482. 164 Weber 1999: 110. Grégorie was active during a time when there were radical changes regarding freedom of religion and civil rights for Jews in Europe. In line with the Enlightenment, religious intolerance was understood as being against reason and an enlightened society. The Jewish enlightenment (haskala) worked for similar goals, and some political events, like the French Revolution, speed up developments. Cf. Illman & Harviainen 1995: 128. 162

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expected end inspired the evangelistic spirit to the foundation of a host of missionary societies: Methodist in 1786, Baptist in 1792, the London Missionary Society in 1795, the Church Missionary Society and Religious Tract Society in 1799, the British and Foreign Bible Society in 1804, the London Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews in 1809 and several others as well.165 By the end of the Napoleonic Wars, in Protestant countries, a total of forty-one missionary societies were propagating the gospel in 141 languages and these missionary endeavours were thought to hasten the expected end.166 The novel Jerusalem (1902) by Selma Lagerlöf is based on the true story of the 37 persons (half of them children) who, in 1896, migrated from Nås in Sweden to Jerusalem for religious reasons. They were members of a religious group and were waiting for God’s appearance in the Holy Land, where they joined the American group led by Anna Sprafford who held a colony, a community, The American Colony, in the city. Anna Sprafford (also known as Mrs Gordon) and her followers were all convinced that they would live to see the return of Jesus to Jerusalem. Hilma Granqvist, a Finnish anthropologist in the early 1900s, made several field trips to Palestine and met with members of the American Colony. Her travels to Jerusalem and her critique of Lagerlöf have been neglected by scholars to this day.167 Today, the American Colony is a famous hotel, especially popular among visiting journalists, situated on the East side of Jerusalem. Another example of a group of people heading towards Jerusalem for the sake of the imminent Kingdom of God at the beginning of the 1900s was the leader of a Finnish prophetic movement, Maria Åkerblom and her followers. The Åkerblom movement did not get to Jerusalem from Finnish Ostrobothnia and its journey ended in Helsinki. Maria Åkerblom was a controversial person, but she remained

165 The Finnish Missionary Society was founded in 1895, cf. T. Saarilahti Lähetystön läpimurto 1989 and the Mission Covenant Church of Sweden in 1878. Hans Andreasson, Gripenhet och engagemang 2002: 13, 426. 166 Weber 1999: 112. 167 Selma Lagerlöf Jerusalem (1901–1902). Cf. Vivi Edström, “Utvandrarromanen— en vedskuta” pp. 35–52 and Inger Larsson, “Marken är som kaffesump—några brev till släkt och vänner i Sverige”, pp. 77–107 in Bron mellan Nås och Jerusalem. Om Nåsbrödernas utvandring till Jerusalem i verklighet och dikt (eds.) V. Edström, Inger Larsson & Margareta Jonth 1996.

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convinced of her divine authority.168 Besides this kind of religious establishment even scholars raised issues which would call them to establish archaeological enterprises in the region and trace for the ‘origins’ of religion in Palestine. Most studies agree that the nineteenth century was a heyday of secularism: science, technology, reform, and education banished, or at least marginalized, superstition. But secularization had its limits. What one called superstition, another called belief, and the marvels of modernity often served to spread and publicize marvels familiar to pre-modern days. Besides the Christians longing for a concrete earthly paradise or New Jerusalem, there were others who focused on spiritual kingdoms, whilst there were later on even famous theologians169 who did not accept standard Christian views on such concepts. According to David Nash, progress after the years of Enlightenment became associated with liberation. The early modern secular millenarism is by Nash described as utopian, in the sense that it comprised attempts to construct a nontheistic and materialist lifestyle. In this respect ‘progress’ replaced or became ‘faith’. This type of secular millenarism fostered an alliance between science and religion.170 3.3 3.3.1

Coming Deliverance

The Meaning of Jerusalem to Jews and Christians

As mentioned in the introductory chapter of this book, there are holy cities as distinct from holy places, cities that acquired their holiness as a result of historical circumstances and events, or cities that are holy because either in theory or in fact they were constructed so as to reflect cosmic reality, a kind of microcosmic spatial reflection of the cosmos and its underlying divine ground as conceived and spelled in mythological tradition. There are cities that are holy because they harbour and possess an object or a shrine which is regarded as holy. We can think of Mecca, Varanasi (Benares), Rome and 168 For Maria Åkerblom, cf. Gustav Björkstrand, Åkerblom-rörelsen. En finlandssvensk profetrörelses uppkomst, utveckling och sönderfall (1976) 1990: 321–326. 169 To mention but a few, Reinhold Niebuhr, Paul Tillich, and Rudolf Bultmann were all inspired by the symbolist interpretation of the central Christian themes such as eternal life, heaven, Last Judgement. Cf. McDannell & Lang 1990: 326–332. 170 David S. Nash, “Secular Millennialism” in Encyclopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements 2000: 374–375.

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many other cities.171 Societies as well as individuals have a compelling need to structure space with an inside and an outside, identified as centres and peripheries.172 According to Werblowsky, the Christian tradition has preserved much of the amplitude and many of the biblical resonances of the word Jerusalem, although these have been muted by “de-territorialization” of the concept, a shift from a geographical to a personal centre, and more generally, an orientation towards universal categories of persons and communities. In history, as has been illustrated earlier in this study, the spiritual emphasis came to be focused on the heavenly Jerusalem, with the earthly Jerusalem being not much more than a memento of the holy events enacted there.173 The case is slightly different in Islam. The sanctity of Jerusalem (al-Quds) in Islam is a fact and, together with the traditions of the miradj, is firmly rooted in the heart of Muslim belief and piety. But since Islam is not discussed in the context of this study, we may move on directly to Jewish concepts.174 Werblowsky writes that, for the Jewish people, Jerusalem is not a city containing only holy places or commemorating holy events. The city as such is regarded as holy and has for a long time served as the symbol of the historic existence of a people, haunted and massacred, but never despairing of the promise of its ultimate restoration. Jerusalem and Zion have become “the local habitant and name” for the hope and meaning of Jewish existence, and for its continuity. In understanding the symbolic function of Jerusalem in Jewish tradition, we come to see that even secularists use the symbol as a measure of legitimacy. In addition to Werblowsky’s argument, I would maintain that, on the international and political level, Jerusalem is 171

R. J. Zwi Werblowsky, The Meaning of Jerusalem To Jews, Christians and Muslims 1983: 1. Scholars have traditionally considered every pilgrimage shrine as an archetype of a sacred centre which is marked off from the “profane space surrounding it” and where “heaven and earth intersect” and time freezes, thus allowing people to enter into the “realm of the transcendent”. Mircea Eliade Patterns in Comparative Religion (1958) 1987. Eliade’s rarefied generalization suppresses important differences in the ways holy places are conceptualized in various contexts. John Eade & Michael J. Sallnow, “Introduction” in Contesting the Sacred. The Anthropology of Christian Pilgrimage (eds.) J. Eade & M. J. Sallnow 1991: 6; Smith 1987: 14–15. Cf. chap. 1, p. 84. 172 Werblowsky’s keynote speech at the Jerusalem conference on Eschatological Thought in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, held at the Hebrew University, in December 1998. 173 Werblowsky 1983: 14. 174 Ibid., cf. chap. 1.

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still connected with the symbol of holiness and of peace, and it is the city’s eschatological character which draws the attention of the television viewer. Jerusalem is still today reflected on by many Christians as the hourglass of forthcoming apocalyptic events. The point is clear. Jerusalem is more than a city or even a national capital; it is an idea. And it is safe to say that it is a biblical idea. As the Bible unfolds, one can easily follow the progressive identification being drawn from the people of Israel, or the Land of Israel, and Jerusalem and its Temple. People, city and temple become one, linked in destiny and “God’s plan”, also slightly transformed or apotheosized into a Heavenly Jerusalem. Jesus saw in his vision the eschatological destruction of Jerusalem, and John’s Book of Revelation saw its restoration as a heavenly city. In Islam, the Ka’bah itself will travel from Mecca to Jerusalem for the Day of Judgement.175 ‘Israel’, and Jerusalem as well, has at least a twofold meaning. On the one hand, it refers to a certain stretch of land on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean where modern Israel is located. On the other hand it is an idea, a thought in relation to the tangible place, as its earthly manifestation.176 Also in Christian history there is a long tradition “which acknowledges that glimpses of heaven can be experienced on earth”.177 According to Colleen McDannell and Bernhard Lang, this type of presence of heaven is experienced in meditation, in the beauty of art (painting and sculpture), in the drama of the religious rituals, or the fellowship of the Christian community. But heaven is not only present in nostalgia. The Social Gospel Movement and religious socialism “were early twentieth-century attempts to argue that God’s goal for humankind is nothing less than total liberation of the world”.178 In the late twentieth century, liberation theology, black theologians, feminist theologians, and Latin American Liberation theologians raised voices for a Christianity to come, “an eschatological religion based on hope and promises of the future”.179 However, “with emphasis on the revealed, supernatural nature of the Bible and Christian doctrine, fundamentalism represents the most conservative school within 175

Peters 1987: 10–14. Gideon Aran & Zali Gurevitch, “The Land of Israel: Myth and Phenomenon” in Reshaping the Past: Jewish History and the Historians (ed.) J. Frankel 1994: 195. 177 McDannell & Lang 1990: 332. 178 McDannell & Lang 1990: 334. 179 McDannell & Lang 1990: 334–335. 176

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Protestant thought”.180 In these circles, heaven, the new earth, and the New Jerusalem are understood as real, literal places. One argument, however, is that no one can actually know what Zion or the New Jerusalem is really like, but it is understood for sure that the Jewish state in Palestine plays an important role in the apocalyptic drama. 3.3.2. The Foundation of the State of Israel in 1948 In December, 1917, Jerusalem was taken by General Allenby, commander of the British forces in the campaign in Palestine against the Turks. Palestine remained under British military rule until 1948. After the First World War, when the Turks had sided with Germany and lost, Britain obtained a mandate to govern in Palestine in the name of the League of the Nations. Able administration gave the country a modern infrastructure, which facilitated rapid development. Increased Jewish migration to Palestine led to ethnic conflict, which grew in intensity to the point where the British could no longer control the situation. They turned the problem over to the United Nations, which, in 1947, recommended that Palestine should be divided between the Jews and the Arabs.181 Zionism is generally defined as the movement dedicated to restoring the land of Israel, the land of the Jewish people. Since the destruction of Jerusalem’s second Temple, the desire of the Jewish people to return has been preserved in folklore and in religious liturgy.182 The modern Zionist movement was organized in 1897 at the First Zionist World Congress, held under the leadership of Theodor Herzl, with the stated aim of “establishing a home for the Jewish people in Palestine”.183 Although Zionism has been seen as the solution to the problem of anti-Semitism,184 many orthodox Jews

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McDannell & Lang 1990: 334–336. Murphy-O’Connor 1993: 6–7; Joan Comay 1975: 238–24; Arie Lova Eliav, Land of the Hart. Israelis, Arabs, the Territories, and a Vision of the Future 1974: 43. 182 Cf. Eliav 1974: 3–4, 11–12, 27–36. 183 Dan Cohn-Sherbok 1995: 199; Theodor Herzl, Der Juudenstaat 1896. In Herzl’s utopia there was nighter room for world wars nor bloody socialist revolutions. Eliav 1974: 27, 35; William D. Davies The Territorial Dimensions of Judaism 1982: 110. 184 Karl-Johan Illman defines anti-Semitism as “despise for Jews, because they are Jews, and that they are despised for the reasons the anti-Semite attributes to them” [My translation]. In short: Anti-Semitism is an attitude of hostility towards 181

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have felt that Zion would only be restored in the messianic era and many Progressive Jews believed Zionist aspirations would call into question their future in the Diaspora.185 British support was given nominally in the Balfour Declaration (1917), but the Holocaust is regarded as the force which finally persuaded public opinion that a Jewish homeland was necessary. The history of Palestine and modern Israel is too complex to discuss in detail at this stage, but reference should be made here to Ehud Sprinzak, who has focused on the problem of rising rightwing politics and terrorism during the time before and after foundation of the State of Israel in 1948. Sprinzak argues that ultranationalist thinking and activity are long forgotten phenomena in Zionist history.186 For the ultranationalist camp, Zionism is not only the foundation of the national experience of the activist-believers, but also a source and focus of their religious experience.187 Traditional Jewish sources generally speak in terms of two polar concepts: exile and redemption. After the destruction of the Temple, Jewish existence could not be conceived in any other terms, writes Aviezer Ravitsky. This should be borne in mind when the two case studies are presented in chapter 4. The concept of redemption is colourful among different Jewish conceptions of faith, but we will see that the foundation of the State of Israel also had consequences for Christian, not to mention Muslim thought, however, the foundation of the state of Israel in 1948 turned out to signal a shift of paradigm in the response of European Christians to the notions of ‘Israel’ and ‘Zion’. The year 1948 marked, and still continues to mark, “the winding down of the prophetic clock”. Charles B. Strozier’s study allows an entry to the use of endtime rhetoric. Though the theological basis differs endtime themes seem to be understood and shared by participants. While American Christian fundamentalists “feel no special guilt about the Holocaust, and treat it as something

the Jews. K.-J. Illman, I Jobs tecken. Europa och Judarna 1996: 41–42. Cf. Gavin I. Langmuir, Toward a Definition of Antisemitism 1990: 311. 185 Aviezer Ravitsky, Messianism, Zionism and Jewish Religious Radicalism 1996: 6–9. 186 Ehud Sprinzak, The Ascendance of Israel’s Radical Right 1991: 23; On the ultranationalist camp, cf. Armstrong 1998: 395–404; Yaacov Shavit, Jabotinsky and the Revisionist Movement 1925–1948 1988: xv–xvi. For a complete description of the Zionist history, cf. David Vital, The Origins of Zionism 1975, Zionism: The Formative Years 1982 and Zionism: The Crucial Years 1987. 187 Aran 1994: 265–332; Eliav 1974: 10; Davies 1982: 111.

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perpetrated by other people in a distant land”,188 Finnish fundamentalists know what happened and perhaps feel guilty about it. 3.3.3

Independent State and Growth of Religious Extremism

The status quo of the Temple Mount or Haram esh-sharif and the Western Wall did not survive the end of the British Mandate. The Palestine Mandate made special provisions for religious interests. Under Article 13, the mandatory power was responsible for “preserving the existing rights and of securing free access to the holy places, religious buildings and sites, and free exercise of worship, while ensuring the requirements of public order and decorum”.189 The League of Nations reminded the final authority in these matters, but it proved to be impossible to obtain agreement among all concerned. In Palestine, the administration was left to deal with each dispute that arose and to keep peace among the different parties. In doing so, the administration clung to one formula, the status quo. Historically, the status quo referred first and foremost to the struggle for the Christian shrines—the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and Church of Nativity. The rival Christian camps were Orthodox (Eastern) rites, which had been associated with the Byzantine Empire, and the Catholic (Latin) rites, subject to the authority of the Pope in Rome. The main eastern churches were the Greek Orthodox, the Armenian, the Syrian Orthodox, and the Coptic. Aware that religious issues tended to become highly political, the administration of the British Mandate authorities sought to apply to the Western Wall the principles of status quo relating to the Christian shrines. Later on, what started as a minor dispute about the ‘appurtenances of worship’ at the Western Wall had developed into widespread disorders and bloodshed, and a major political conflict.190 The status quo was also further swept away by two Israeli-Arab wars, the War of Independence in 1948–1949 and the Six Day War in 1967. After the Six Day War, for the first time in nineteen cen-

188 Strozier 1994: 196, 200; Robert K. Whalen, ‘Israel’ in Encylopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements (ed.) Richard A. Landes 2000: 195. Cf. James D. Tabor “Patterns of the End: Textual Weaving from Qumran to Waco” in Toward the Millennium. Messianic Expectations from the Bible to the Waco (ed.) Peter Schäfer & Mark Cohen 1998: 413. 189 Comay 1975: 239. 190 Comay 1975: 238–241.

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turies, the city of Jerusalem and the Temple site were in the hands of a Jewish state. A wave of intense excitement swept through Israel and the whole of the Jewish world. In the reunited city complete freedom of access to their holy places was ensured for the adherents of the three monotheistic faiths. This included access to the Holy Sepulchre and the Haram esh-Sharif for the Israeli Arabs, both Christian and Muslim, and unrestricted access to the Western Wall for the Jews.191 Some years later, in 1969, an incident occurred on the Temple Mount. The fire in al-Aqsa Mosque illustrated how deeply the Temple Mount issue reminded embedded in the politics of the Israeli-Arab conflict. The Australian-born tourist Dennis William Rohan, a member of a ‘fundamentalist’ religious group called the Church of God, had declared when setting the fire to the mosque that he wanted to become what he referred to as “the King of Jerusalem”. The status quo on the Temple site has often evoked mixed feelings. And in some cases, individuals have taken the matter into their own hands and tried to change things. To mention another example, the American-born Alan Harry Goodman, a Jewish follower of the extremist Rabbi Kahane, entered the Haram and opened fire with an automatic rifle. The consequences of his actions were catastrophic. When Goodman was arrested, he declared that his purpose had been to “liberate the Temple Mount from the Muslims and become the King of the Jews”.192 The Temple Mount area still continues to draw attention. As history has shown, the suspicion towards visitors to the Haram area is based on past experiences. The latest clash on the mount, in September 2000, drove the issue of Israel-Palestine to the point where the significance of Jerusalem was once again at centre-stage. To whom does it belong and who has the right to possess it? This question is far too complex to dwell upon in this study, but my point may be

191 Comay 1975: 247–259. Rav Kook (the elder), who’s theology is constitutive for the Gush Emunim’s ideology, needed no Six Day War to reach his prophetic visions of the land. He saw signs of redemption already in the rise of the Zionist movement in the late nineteenth century, in the Balfour Declaration and in the success of the Zionist venture in Palestine. Sprinzak 1991: 110. 192 Martin Gilbert, Jerusalem in the Twentieth Centry 1996: 328–330; Comay 1975: 260–263, cf. Ehud Sprinzak, Brother Against Brother. Violence and Extremis in Israeli Politics from Altalena to the Rabin Assassination 1999: 1–3 for Baruch Goldstein’s Hebron massacre in 1994.

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made clear here: the opinions of individuals do matter and should be taken seriously in the quest for peace in the Middle-East. In chapter 4, I will present two groups to whom politics and religious quests seem to be the same, and the issue at stake is identical, namely, Jerusalem. 3.3.4

Apocalypse Interpreted in Finland

In his book Apocalypse Interpreted, Anssi Simojoki has studied different types of interpretations of the Book of Revelation emerging in Finland between the years 1944–1995, from the Second World War to the Post Cold War period. Although Simojoki has focused on the interpretation of the biblical text, with its hermeneutical structure, different semiotic characteristics and so on, we can still trace in his material discourses that tell us something about Finnish Christians’ view of Jerusalem. Rapture is a notable term, since it does not occur in the Apocalypse of John, yet seems to dominate the interpretations of many popular authors writing on the Book of Revelation or on eschatology in general. In rapture theology and in the political theology of Christian Zionism (see chapter 4) the role of the Jews and Israel are central. But as we have seen, the idea of the restoration of Israel, or conversion of the Jews, is not a nineteenth century idea. It is in fact an extremely old tradition in English religious thought and literature. In today’s Christianity, it is a mixture of different Christian interpretations. Judging by the law of supply and demand, the Darbyite concept is widespread among the Pentecostals, Free Church Christians and Evangelic Lutherans in Finland. The rapture-type interpretation continued radical novelties in the relation to classical Christianity, even to classical Lutheranism and Protestantism. Within the frame of Simojoki’s study, the rapture-type literature comprised the largest single group, with around 60 titles, which is almost the half of his total source material.193 Simojoki has chosen Vilho Hartonen’s book,

193 Anssi Simojoki, Apocalypse Interpreted. The Types of Interpretation of the Book of Revelation in Finland 1944–1995, from the Second World War to the Post-Cold War 1997: 67. Simojoki 1997: 97–98. For more about John Nelson Darby see Kent Keaton, “Beware the Trumpet of Judgement: John Nelson Darby and the nineteenth-century Brethren” in The Coming Deliverer. Millennial Themes in World Religions (ed.) Fiona Bowie 1997: 119–155. For a ‘dispensationalist perspective’ cf. McDannell & Lang 1990: 338–339 and ‘process theology’s eternity’, pp. 345–348.

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first published in 1949, to represent a paradigmatic interpretation of the Apocalypse of John. Basically identical structures of interpretation, allowing for some variation, can be found in a great many books. And again, the themes are the same in all the different Christian publishers in Finland.194 According to Simojoki, the standard-bearer of p eschatological political Cold War theology in Finland is Leo Meller, a free-lance evangelist and mission director with his own publishing company, Kuva ja Sana, where Hal Lindsey with his numerous best-selling books is no doubt the leading international writer. The conflict between the NATO countries and the Soviet Union was confidently expected to become highly intensified. The paramount outlet for aggression was supposed to be the republic of Israel, which was surrounded by hostile Arab allies of the Russian Communist Empire. After 1917, when the weakened Ottoman Empire collapsed and the Bolsheviks came to power in Russia, Islam was downgraded and Russia became centre stage as a sinister actor in this endtime drama. Referring to Russia and the Soviet Union as representing the Antichrist in the Finnish context includes a historiccultural dimension. The eastern neighbour is understood as the ‘traditional’ enemy of the Finnish nation.195 The Soviet Union was supposed to fulfill the Gog-Magog prophecy of Ezekiel. However, the belief that the Soviet Union/Russia represents the Gog and Magog goes back far beyond the Cold War. It can be found in Begel’s Gnomon, published already in 1741. A nuclear war, a Third World War, was supposed to break out and the Soviet Union was expected to be defeated by Israel and the NATO countries. Antichrist was then predicted to appear in the victorious Western countries to betray Israel by making a covenant with her. The main idea behind this kind of rapture message, according to Simojoki, is rescue from the Third World War and its nuclear horrors. The present European Community, according to political rapture theology, is the embryo of the empire of the Antichrist. The idea of Roma rediviva is thus resuscitated in a new political and eschatological sense.196

194

Simojoki 1997: 79. The publishing companies are: Ari-Kustannus, Suomen Raamattuopisto (Lutheran), Finnish Missionary Society (Lutheran), Kuva ja Sana (cf. chap. 4) (interdenominational), Päivä (Free Church), Ristin Voitto (Pentecostal), Uusi Tie (Lutheran), to mention a few. 195 Boyer 2002: 321. 196 Simojoki 1997: 80–81.

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In Israel, the Six Day War of 1967 and the international oil crisis in the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur war were important in encouraging political rapture theology, although the apocalyptic concept of the Jewish State does not belong to rapture theology alone.197 It is nevertheless in Simojoki’s terms a commune bonum. Hence, the Jewish state has stimulated numerical speculations concerning the coming of the Messiah, or the Second Coming of Christ. The State of Israel is envisioned as the fig tree in Mark 13:28–30. From the day of the independence of the republic of Israel in 1948 there has been one generation of 30–40 years, seen from the apocalyptist point of view, fulfilling Jesus words: “Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away before all these things take place”. According to such speculation, the 1980s were the high season of apocalyptic expectations. In any case, the end was to come before the year 2000, during the years of what is called the ‘fig tree generation’.198 Simojoki makes an important observation about the group who identify themselves as ‘Christian Zionists’. Christian Zionism, which follows the wake of eschatological political theology, seems to be growing from the soil of Christian Zionism rather than from an interpretation of the Book of Revelation. But, the idea of a massive exodus from the Soviet Union to Israel, a migration of millions of Jews, has found a solid place in the books of Kuva ja Sana, a fertile publisher of rapture theology. The concept of an unprecedented Jewish exodus can be likened to the trail of the Zionist bulk of political theology, which is preoccupied with the idea of the secret rapture. It may also be a way out of the impasse, in which political rapture theology found itself at the beginning of the 1990s, when 197 A similar study to Simojoki’s has been done by Göran Gunner, När tiden tar slut. Motivförskjutningar i frikyrklig apokalyptisk tolkning av det judiska folket och staten Israel 1996. Gunner analyzes the role ascribed to the Jewish people and the state of Israel in endtime scenarios found in the Swedish Free Church literature. Simojoki has, however, not included Gunner’s book into his research. 198 Simojoki 1997: 81. Note that Meller, in 1978, counts with 30 years and predicts that the year 1978, 30 years after Israel’s independence is the decisive eschatological turning point. Lindsley in 1979 illustrates his interpretation with a political map of the Near East. A summary of Lindsley’s endtime calculations subscribes to similar traditions of ‘Christian Zionism’, even though his argument is older: Israel is the clock of history. In this view, “the Time of the Gentiles” reached its last landmark in 1917, when General Allenby marched into Jerusalem. Jews will return to Palestine, but their conversion will take place only when Christ destroys Antichrist. Hagner in 1955 predicts that the Temple will be rebuilt and ‘Old Testament worship’ restored.

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quite unexpectedly, the Soviet Union was dissolved on relatively peaceful terms. This seems to have been a turn of events, which was not foreseen.199 The flexibility of political rapture theology can be seen by looking how the events of history are interpreted. When Saddam Hussein attacked Kuwait and started the Gulf War, with him came the symbolic restoration of ancient Babel. After the rapture, the United States would collapse; the European Community would produce Antichrist, with Iraq becoming the Great Whore of Babylon. Roma Rediviva is still present, but the literal Babylon, the town in Mesopotamia, has taken over the role which was earlier reserved to Rome alone. According to this view, Jerusalem stands between Rome and Iraq, since Moscow is no longer as important as it was during the height of the Cold War. Hand in hand with the shift from Rome to Baghdad, the rapture is toned down and removed more or less into the background. The future Jewish Exodus and the pattern of Saddam Hussein’s swift assault on Kuwait were in 1997 more predominant. But Islam has a long history in Western Christianity as being referred to by Christians as a forerunner of the Antichrist.200 At the turn of the year 2000–2001 we were again confronted with new conflicts in the Near East. And the political, “no longer rapture inspired”, theology was ready to mutate into new forms. The consequences of United States current presence in Irak, and the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime are still world events that wait to be interpreted by endtime enthusiasts into the rich body of apocalyptic history, which has been presented here.

199

Simojoki 1997: 81. Cf. Gunner 1996: 338–339. Boyer 2002: 321. According to Boyer, demonic images of Islam have pervaded interpretations of Bible prophecy since early Middle Ages, particularly in response to Muslim expansion into Christian regions. Boyer 2002: 319. Cf., p. 96. 200

For Zion’s sake I will not keep silence, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will speak out, until her right shines forth like the sunrise, her deliverance like a blazing torch, until the nations see the triumph of your right and all kings see your glory. —Isaiah 62:1 CHAPTER FOUR

THE ETERNAL KINGDOM OF GOD— TWO CASE STUDIES Case studies in comparative religion can be carried out in many different ways. As a general rule, it is desirable for scholars doing field research to describe the religious groups in a proper manner, enabling them to cover most aspects of the groups in question. The elements of a research agenda for the study of religious movements, including information related to the movements’ organizational history and context, mobilization, organization, governance and outcomes should all be covered.1 This, however, is not always possible to carry out in practice. In some cases, the description of the groups in question remains incomplete and gaps in the information may still remain. There may sometimes be practical obstacles that will not allow the researcher to carry out the research as planned. This was the case when I started gathering my own empirical material. Instead of ‘going native’, or pretending to be interested in membership, I stated clearly, from the first contacts established, that my interest was purely academic, which naturally had some consequences for the gathering of information. Instead of focusing on sufficient statistical materials and developments within the two groups, I focused on thematic issues in their beliefs. I am aware of the remaining gaps in this presentation, but am equally aware that the material presented in this chapter can actually shed light on the different meanings that the city of Jerusalem holds in certain strands of contemporary apocalyptic thinking.

1 Pitchford Susan, Bader Christopher & Stark Rodney, “Doing Field Studies of Religious Movements: An Agenda” in Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 2001: 379–391.

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As stated many times already, the notion of Zion is very often linked, today and in history, to the geographical spot on earth, Jerusalem, that functions as a symbol of war and peace. As a city, Jerusalem plays an important role in many scholars’ attempts to explain religious belief. For the two religious2 groups presented in this chapter, Zion is the ultimate goal for their religious adherence and social evolution. Therefore, it is essential to examine further the significance these collectives as groups ascribe to Jerusalem. The following presentation illustrates how the interpretation of Zion emerges in the two groups in the light of the research underlying the empirical part of this study. The presentation of contemporary religious groups in Jerusalem, The Temple Mount and Land of Israel Faithful Movement (TMF) and the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem (ICEJ), allows us to explore some of the contemporary visions of the coming world.3 This imagined paradise on earth is also referred to as a heavenly kingdom on earth. In many cases, this kind of imagery is not clearly envisioned or thought through dogmatically, in which case it is only fragments of the visions of the coming world that can be dealt with in a study like this. We have to bear in mind that the scholar’s attempt to apprehend the imaged visions of the future does not go beyond scholarly theorizing, while at the same time the phenomenon under study is far too complex to be described exhaustively by any theory. What the researcher can do is to use the tools, i.e., apply theories in a meaningful way in trying to grasp the many speculations about the coming end and new beginning. Using theories of apocalyptic thinking, theories of messianism and additional theories of millenarian thought usually achieves this. In most cases, these theories only manage to grasp certain dimensions of people’s visions of the imagined world to come. Some elements of these beliefs, perhaps, seem to slip through the cullender of theories. The researcher can only hope to obtain a pic-

2 Here ‘religious’ stands for a definition which implies the characteristics of the two groups discussed. The International Christian Embassy is in its characteristics clearly religious, but the Temple Mount Faithful is not considered a religious group by Israelis themselves. It is often referred to as a nationalistic movement, since the criteria for what is ‘religious Judaism’ are not strictly met and the leader of the movement, Gershon Salomon, is often regarded in a secular light. Secular or religious, however, within the realms of comparative study of religion it is preferable to describe the movement, from a scholarly point of view, as a religious one. 3 I will use the abbreviations TMF and ICEJ for the groups.

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ture of what is actually going on and she or he can, thanks to theoretical propositions, perceive the situation clearly enough to describe the result in an intelligible way. 4.1

The International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem

I have posted watchmen on your walls, Jerusalem, who shall not keep silence day or night: ‘You who invoke the LORD’s name, take no rest until he makes Jerusalem a theme of endless praise on earth’. Isaiah 62:6–7

4.1.1

Christian Zionism—a Background Story of the ICEJ

Zionism is generally described as a settlement movement to rebuild Israel, the ancient country of the Israelites. Naturally, as a movement of returns, it has evoked both national and religious emotions.4 ‘Religious Zionism’ is, both in Judaism and in Christianity, often regarded as an apocalyptic sign or as an ancient biblical prophecy come true. As far as Christian Zionism5 is concerned, there are many opinions among Christians themselves regarding this issue. The perspective considered here is the one represented among members and adherents of the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem. Glenn Bowman describes Christian Zionists as having organized themselves around readings of several Old and New Testament books . . . which, they believe, call on them to bring God’s chosen people (the Jews) back from the distractions of diaspora to rebuild the kingdom of Israel within its biblically mandated boarders . . . and to re-establish the Salomonic Temple and its ordained rituals. Christian Zionists believe that this work, which—‘because we are now living in the “final” days’—is to be done now, will bring Christ back into the world where he will engage in battle and destroy the Anti-Christ . . . and thus bring about the millennium and the rule of God in the word.6

4 For Zionism, cf. David Vital 1975, 1982 and 1987; Getzel Kressel, ‘Zionism’ in Encyclopaedia Judaica (eds.) Cecil Roth & Geoffrey Wigoder et al. 1982: 1031–1051. 5 As a term or definition of a group or movement, it is hard to find ‘Christian Zionism’ in any theological encyclopedias. For ‘Protestant Zionism’, cf. Robert K. Whalen, ‘Israel’ in Encyclopedia of Millennialism and Millennial Movements (ed.) Richard A. Landes 2000: 195 and Yona Malachy for ‘Christian Zionism’ in Encyclopedia Judaica (ed.) Cecil Roth & Geoffrey Wigoder et al. 1982: 1052–1055. 6 Glenn Bowman, “Christian Ideology and the Image of a Holy Land: The Place of Jerusalem Pilgrimage in the Various Christianities” in Contesting the Sacred. The Anthropology of Christian Pilgrimage (eds.) John Eade & Michael J. Sallnow 1991: 118.

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In approaching Christian Zionism, I will make use of a publication of the International Christian Embassy, which hosted the third Christian Zionist Congress in 1996: Christians and Israel. Essays on Biblical Zionism and on Islamic Fundamentalism.7 Joel Baker, who also served on the ICEJ staff as a coordinator of the 2nd Christian Zionist Congress has written an article on Christian Zionism in this book. In his article, Baker writes, . . . the term ‘Christian Zionism’ has been adopted to indicate Christian activity in affirming the Word of God regarding His eternal covenant with the Jewish people and their return to Zion.8

The term is also equated with ‘Biblical Zionism’. By ‘Zion’ is understood the place which is referred to in the Bible as the land of Israel or Jerusalem, and also as the birthplace of the Jewish nation. By ‘Secular Zionism’, in turn, is meant the national liberation movement of the Jewish people, and its expression of rebuilding Israel after Rome “put and end to Jewish independence in the first century”.9 According to Baker, Zionism is the ongoing effort, through political means, to re-establish and secure the Jewish people’s national existence in the Land of Israel. Where Christian Zionism is concerned, this must, according to Baker, by definition be first of all biblical in its motivations and goals. Valid humanitarian, historical and political factors are therefore listed, but only in support of what is called a basic ‘biblical perspective’. The use of the term ‘Christian Zionism’ is motivated on the grounds that it is the term that comes most naturally to such Christians when they seek to describe their support of Israel. Theodor Herzl and other Jewish Zionist founders originally used the same term at the turn of the nineteenth century. Christian Zionism is regarded as supporting the right of Jewish people to a re-gathered national existence in what is believed to be at least a partial fulfillment of God’s promises to them, recorded in the Bible.10 Halvor Ronning 7 This book is published by the ICEJ after the Third Christian Zionist Congress held in Jerusalem 1996 and edited by Matt Johnson & Nicola Goodenough. 8 Joel Baker, “Christian Zionism” in Christians and Israel (eds.) Matt Johnson & Nicola Goodenough [1996]: 1. 9 Baker [1996]: 1. 10 Barker [1996]: 2. For more details on leaders like Jehuda Alkalai, Zvi Hirsh Kalishcer, and Moses Hess in the early Zionist movement, and later on Leo Pinsker and Theodor Herzl, see for example Svante Lundgren, “Juutalainen sosialismi ja sionismi” in Juutalainen Kulttuuri (eds.) Harviainen & Illman 1998: 196–206.

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presented a definition of Christian Zionism in his article ‘Kristillinen siionismi’ [Christian Zionism] in a booklet published by the Finnish branch of the ICEJ in 1992 under the title of Lohduttakaa minun kansani [Comfort My People], edited by Alli Brummer. The definition is as follows: ‘Kristillinen siionismi’ on kristittyjen keskuudessa vaikuttava liike, joka tukee juutalaisten olemassaolon oikeutta Siionissa. ‘Kristityt sionstit’ ovat kristittyjä, jotka uskovat että nykyinen juutalaisten paluu Siioniin on osa Jumalan suunnitelmaa, joka koskee hänen valittua kansansa. Kristityille siionisteille Raamattu on ohjekirja, jonka avulla he ymmärtävät Jumalan suunnitelmia maailmanhistoriassa . . .11 ‘Christian Zionism’ is an influential movement among Christians, which supports the right of the Jews to an existence in Zion. ‘Christian Zionists’ are Christians who believe that the present return to Zion is a part of God’s plan concerning his chosen people. For Christian Zionists, the Bible is a guide which helps them to understand God’s plans in world history . . . [My translation]

Even before the advent of the modern Zionist movement, Christians were in the vanguard of the struggle to establish a Jewish state in the ‘Holy Land’. As modern Zionism took root among Jewish leaders, there were also eager Christians to assist in the Jewish return.12 Matt Johnson, who worked as coordinator for the Third Christian Zionist Congress held in February 1996, writes in his article “Early Christian Zionists” that, if we look closely at the background of great Zionist leaders, such as Theodor Herzl, David Ben Gurion, or Ze’ev Jabotinsky, one will find their influence on Christian Zionists. During a time when millions of Christians turned a blind eye, or even contributed, to the suffering of the Jews, the early Christian Zionists “made it a chief endeavor to support and protect the Jewish people, often at the cost of their own lives, and to prepare the way for the establishment of a Jewish homeland”. Johnson has listed some accounts of early Christian Zionists, e.g. the Reverend William H. Hechler (1845–1931), George Gawler (1796–1869), William E. Backstone (1841–1935), Laurence Oliphant (1829–1888), Jean Henri Dunant (1828–1910) and Orde Charles Wingate (1903–1944).13 11 Halvor Ronning, “Kristillinen Siionismi” in Lohduttakaa minun kansani (ed.) Alli Brummer 1992: 31. 12 Matt Johnson, “Early Christian Zionists” in Christians and Israel (eds.) M. Johnson & N. Goodenough [1996]. 13 Johnson [1996]: 29–39. These men were active in the movement according

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David Parsons, a doctor of jurisprudence from the United States, today working as head of the public relations for the ICEJ, writes in his article “Jerusalem, Thy Years are Determined” that there can be no higher priority for Christian Zionists “at this critical hour than to engage those who would separate the Jewish people from their holy city Jerusalem”.14 For Zion is a hilltop, situated in Judea, in the very midst of Jerusalem, where the Lord tenderly chose to place His name. Here was located the stronghold of Zion which King David entered 3,000 years ago and began to build Jerusalem as the capital and the heart of the Jewish nation and people. It is here that the Lord promised the redeemed of the Lord would return, and come with singing unto Zion, and everlasting joy would be upon their head[s]. And that when the Lord shall build up Zion, He shall appear in His glory.15

Baker argues for Christian Zionism with quotations from the Bible, Psalms 137:1–6, Jeremiah 23:7–8, and Amos 9:15, writing: Beyond what the Bible states, Christians may certainly act with others in support of Israel’s right to exist and defend herself over the demands of her neighbors that she cease to exist. However, this is not as much a matter of confessional faith as it is of politics and historical justice [. . .] Nevertheless, Christian Zionism remains the term best suited for to clarify what otherwise should certainly be a tenet close to the hearts of all Christians. Christianity is by biblical nature ‘Zionist’, and does not require a qualifying term, except to distinguish it form segments of world Christianity that have found no room yet for a regathered Israel in their understanding of Scripture.16

In conclusion, therefore, Christian Zionism could be regarded as a type of Christianity that focuses on the existence of Jewish Israel and especially the Jewish presence in Jerusalem and on the Temple Mount. However, among Christians there are numerous variations in interpretations of the Bible, here both the Old and the New Testament, and views of how these arguments should further be interpreted.

to Johnson, but there are also others who shared their ideas in earlier history as well. On W. Henry Hechler’s eschatological theology cf. Sture Ahlberg, Jerusalem/AlQuds. The Holy City of War and Peace 1998: 40–41. 14 David Parsons, “Jerusalem, Thy Years are Determined” in Christians and Israel [1996]: 45–49. 15 Parsons [1996]: 46–47. 16 Baker [1996]: 2–3.

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In the section where the different interpretations of the Revelation of John in Finland are discussed, this very same topic is raised. For Christians who focus on Israel, the emphasis is frequently laid on redemption and consequently often linked to the eschatological views, to which I will get back later on. For the ICEJ, Christian Zionism is only one aspect of their following Jesus: it is seen as motivated by the love for God, and attempts to act in accordance with His Word and priorities. Almost in a paradoxical way, Baker states that Israel and the Jewish people are not the ultimate goals of Christian Zionism: “For to focus short of Him is idolatry”.17 Another Christian Zionist, David Allen Lewis, points out the importance of the Abrahamic Covenant. He writes in Christian Zionist Theses that, when it comes to God’s plan for Israel, this includes the habitation of the land of Israel. This opinion is motivated by the following biblical quotations: Genesis 15:18, Genesis 17:8, Revelation 21:1. ‘New earth’ is real estate. What is important, according to David Lewis is that in the Bible, “the word land is mentioned 1533 times, earth 906 times, world 248 times, heaven 678 times. Yes, God is interested in earth and all its lands”.18 The following quotation describes the Christian Zionist eager for the Land of Israel and is also representative of the foundations of the ICEJ: ‘Land for peace’ schemes have seldom worked. Israel possesses less than one half of one per cent of the landmass of the Middle East. The Arabs already have 99, 5 percent of the land. The radicals will never rest until they have it all. This cannot be tolerated. To work with God in His determined plan calls for prayer and action on Israel’s behalf. Israel may take actions that seem to be suicidal. We cannot interfere with the political process, nor do we wish to do so. Even if Israel makes mistakes, we follow the principles of Biblical Zionism and continue to stand by Israel in her struggle for survival.19

When it comes to the literal interpretation of the Bible, both Christian Zionists and the ICEJ often emphasize that they have nothing in

17

Baker [1996]: 3. David Lewis “Christian Zionist Theses” in Christians and Israel. [1996]: 9. The word ‘Zion’ is mentioned 162 times, and combined with other names referring to Jerusalem almost a thousand times. Only words like God, David and Israel are mentioned more often. Ronning [1996]: 31. 19 Lewis [1996]: 9. 18

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common with Replacement Theology,20 which, according to the adherents of the ICEJ, was founded by the Church Father Origen in the 3rd century ce. His allegorical method of interpretation is said to have laid the foundation for Replacement Theology, the idea that the Christian Church has replaced Israel, and that there is no prophetic future for the Jewish nation. It is true that Origen was critical towards the Jews, but it is important to note that he wrote in an apologetical manner, and that actual Replacement Theology can be found already in the New Testament.21 In Lewis’s article, Origen’s view is described as follows: He taught against the concept of a future millennium when the Messiah shall regin over and through both Israel and the Church. He is the father of amillenialism (no millennialism), which usually embodies replacement theology. Amillenialism is the view that there will be no literal 1,000 year millennial reign of Christ [see Revelation 20].22

Origen’s view of the millennial kingdom with reference to Israel and the Jews is what we could call ‘spiritualized’. This kind of spiritualized interpretation of the Bible is not practised with among the Christian Zionists. They interpret the word of the Bible literally. In this literal sense, every symbol in the Bible has a literal meaning 20 The Jerusalem Report 19.02.1998 “Warning! Millennium Ahead” by Gershon Gorenberg. Gorenberg writes “Parson says that his institution’s goal is ‘to convey to the Jewish people that you have seen Christian anti-Semitism in the past, but we represent a different attitude, that this time it is to favor Zion’. Parson’s strongly rejects ‘the die or convert scenarios’ for Jews. ‘It’s a repulsive thing’”. 21 A polemic attitude towards the Jews is already found in the New Testament. It is true that the first Christians were Jews and considered Jesus of Nazareth as their Messiah. The early apologetical writings tell us that there might have been critics of the Christian community. The critics considered first of course the question of the Messiah, and second, the Christian abandonment of Jewish monotheism and, third, the ‘false’ interpretation of the Torah. Also the idea, or the Christian claim, of being ‘the True Israel’ was considered to conflict with the fact that they did not keep the Jewish Torah. As regards Paul, the Christian apostle, scholars have not yet reached any consensus about his attitude towards the Jews. The question remains of whether it is a matter of literal rather than rhetorical interpretation. Whether or not Paul wrote to Jews or Christians, however, his writings have contributed to the negative picture of Judaism, as well as of Jews in Christian theology, but the Gospels also make their contribution to the issue. In Matt., for example, we can find explanations of why the Church and the Synagogue went separate ways. This is naturally Jewish-Christian polemic, since Matthew was still a Jew. One other point should be made clear: it was not necessarily Origen who founded Replacement Theology, for similar ideas are also found expressed by Justinus the Martyr in 165 ce. Illman 1996: 50–58, 60. 22 Lewis [1996]: 10.

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and must therefore be understood by internal biblical concepts, never interpreted by means of ‘external data’. Origen criticized the Jews for having abandoned Jesus as their Messiah, and therefore thought that it was only right that they should be punished. He also thought that the Jews were characterized by an implacable hatred towards Christians, and that the Jews had falsified Scripture.23 Among Christian Zionists, Replacement Theology is generally considered as theological anti-Semitism, since it transfers the blessings of Israel to the ‘new Israel’ which is the Church. This is also seen as a replacement that led directly to the Holocaust, the persecution of the Jews under Hitler’s Nazi regime. In response to the doctrine of replacement, the Christian Zionists offer the words of the Apostle Paul in Romans 11:26 “And so all Israel shall be saved, as it is written: ‘there shall come out of Zion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob’”. Lewis presents this theological interpretation in the following way: Since the Church is comprised of only saved, redeemed individuals, and since Jacob never refers to the Church, but always to natural Israel, this prophecy must be recognized as God’s determination for the nation of Israel.24

When some Christians say they are Christian Zionists, this reveals something about their faith. A Christian Zionist believes that God is the owner of the whole world, that God is sovereign and can give any portion of the world to whoever He wishes. In Lewis’s opinion, faith in God and His Word demands this kind of belief. A Christian Zionist experiences a great love for Israel and the Jewish people, and will undertake legitimate action to protect Israel and to combat anti-Semitism. The Christian Zionists’ love for Israel is described as unconditional. Lewis also takes a stance against missionary work when he writes on conversion: Some will love a Jew only if he converts to Christianity, but we have no such prejudice. Our love to [sic!] the Jewish people is based on the Word of God, and the teaching of our Jewish Savior, Jesus.25

The Christian Zionists speak of a third covenant, which was established through Jesus Christ. This covenant established by Jesus is a 23 24 25

Illman 1996: 60. Lewis [1996]: 11. Lewis [1996]: 12.

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new covenant with the gentiles, between them and God. Jesus did not preach to the gentiles. Preaching to the gentiles did not begin until first after the Pentecost, when the Apostles, according to the Gospels, were filled with the Holy Spirit. For them it was clear that God had established a new covenant with the gentiles, since the Jews rejected the teachings of Jesus. From the Christian Zionist perspective, it is regarded as sad that, as large numbers of first century gentiles entered that Jewish household of God, as Paul described it, the triple bound of God, Jew and gentile was loosened and eventually cut by the Church. By the 4th century, leading bishops in the Church fostered contempt for the Jews and the Jewish understanding of God. Bishops and theologians at this time claimed that the Jews worshipped the devil and that synagogues where brothels and dens of thieves.26 In trying to understand how the Christian polemic against the Jews could go so far, it must be considered that the early Christians thought that the destruction of Jerusalem was evidence of the Jews being wrong. Through this, the Jews were to be punished by God himself. It was on the basis of the Gospels and the early Church Fathers that Replacement Theology was formed: as the name implies, Christianity took the place of Israel in the history of man’s salvation. Naturally, the early Christians had a hard time dealing with the Jews: Jesus Christ was a Jew, and their Messiah. There should have been no problem, although neither group was willing to accept the other— but these kinds of reactions are typical of a minor group to break out from a larger one.27 This division between the Jews and the early Christians led to competition and abandonment between the two religious groupings. As the border line between the groups grew stronger, the Church sought and argued theological and dogmatic reasons for why Jews and Christians could not mingle. Christian Zionists point out the Crusades in later history, and the anti-Jewish decrees of the 4th

26 Margaret Brearley, “The Triple Bond: God, Jews and the Gentiles” in Christians and Israel [1996]: 19. On the early Latin theologians against Jewish literature, see also Anni Maria Laato, Jews and Christians in De duobus montibus Sina et Sion 1998. According to the author, we encounter in De duobus montibus an example of a vernacular, yet thoroughly theological study on the subject of the relationship between Jews and Christians. There the two faith traditions are compared and contrasted in order to clarify the true character of the latter. A. M. Laato 1998: 163. 27 Illman 1996: 56–57. For the sect-church typology, cf. Wilson 1990.

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Lateran Council in 1215, which instituted the badge of shame for Jews and put them into ghettos. This destroyed the final bonds between the Jews and Christian believers. The Reformation in the 16th century is regarded also having ushered in new waves of philo-Semitism and was later inspired by Christian Restorationism. The latter involved a deep belief in the return of the Jews to the Promised Land as being imminent, desirable, and a blessing to humanity as prophesied in Scripture. The movement sprang up in Britain with the writings of Sir Henry Fince. His book The World’s Great Restoration, published in 1621, spread across Europe to North America. According to Brearley, herself a Christian Zionist, many Anglicans, Huguenot, and Protestant clergy fostered the movement at a more popular level in the 19th century, by specific denominations, including also Plymouth Brethren mentioned earlier. This is also the case with Finnish interpretations of the Apocalypse of John, as well as that of Seventh Day Adventists, also including other personal accounts of Palestine. The theological idea of Restorationism had one of its basic motivations in a belief in the imminent or eventual conversion of the Jews to Christianity. This ‘ideology’ or religious theological view enabled the Jews to return to Zion. Some Christians became strong supporters of Jewish emancipation, some became close friends of Jews, while many in the late 19th century, including engineers and scholars of the Palestine Exploration Fund and writers such as Lawrence Oliphant, helped to prepare the ground by actually tilling the soil for what became the first and second aliyah. Christian Zionists also like to point out that, during the Holocaust, some Christian and non-Christian gentiles acted bravely to save Jews from certain death. Three well-known names mentioned in this context are Raul Wallenberg, Corrie Ten Boom, and Oscar Schindler.28 The most commonly used phrase about the mission of the Christian Zionists, as well as about members of the ICEJ is as Lewis writes: “We are called to be a comfort to the Jews and to Jerusalem”.29 There are quotations from Isaiah 40:1–2 “‘Comfort ye, comfort ye my people’, saith your God. ‘Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the

28 29

Brearley [1996]: 21–23. Lewis [1996]: 12.

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Lord’s hand double of all her sins’”. It is not Israel that is called to comfort Israel, but a people not yet in existence, and that people is the Church. This is followed by an argument with supporting quotations form Hosea 2:23 and 1 Peter 2:10. Another central theme is “God will bless those who bless Israel ”. By this it is meant that, as individuals and as a nation, everybody (i.e. Christians) should bless Israel, for God promises to bless those who bless and curse those who curse Israel. Activities among the Christian Zionists are often combined with the statement “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem”, a ‘commandment’ found in Psalm 122:6. This requires prayers for the peace of the nations around Jerusalem and for a normalization of the relations between Israel and her neighbors. Lewis contributes in his article Christian Zionist Theses with the following: The end of the age will come in due season, but as long as the believers are here, our mandate is to pray and believe for peace in Jerusalem. Pray for the leaders of Israel. Pray for the Arabs and their leaders. Pray for the leaders of our own nation, that their decisions relating to Israel shall be divinely inspired. God does hear and answer prayer.30

4.1.2

Foundation of the ICEJ

It is often emphasized by the ICEJ that the Christian Zionists are not against the Arabs31 even though they sympathize with Jews in Israel. According to the ICEJ, Christians should accordingly manifest love and concern for all people. The issue acquires a slightly different meaning when speaking, not about Arabs, but of Islam, since Islam is generally understood as an enemy to both Christians and Jews.32 Regarding actions, the Christian Zionists, including the ICEJ, urge the nations to move their embassies to Jerusalem, the capital of Israel. This is an important factor for these Christians, since every nation in the world chooses its capital city, except Israel. In other nations, foreign powers set up their embassies in the designated capital. This is not the case in Israel, writes Lewis.

30

Ibid. The word Arab here refers to the Arab population in Israel/Palestine, including both Christian Arabs and Muslim Arabs. 32 Cf. chap. 3.3.4, p. 127. 31

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Almost all nations have bowed to pressure, and have placed their embassies in Tel Aviv. This is an intolerable insult to our one reliable ally in the Middle East, and should be corrected as soon as possible.33

The foundation of the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem is built on this very same idea. The group was founded in 1980 as a protest to the removal of international embassies from Jerusalem to Tel-Aviv after the Israeli Parliament had declared the city to be the undivided, eternal capital of the State of Israel, in the context of the so-called Jerusalem Bill. Some Christians living in Israel at that time were hosting a Christian celebration during the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles and they decided as a response to the international condemnation to open up a Christian Embassy for all Christians around the world who sympathized with their ideas. The following quotation is from an interview with David Parsons and it describes how the political situation was felt: There was a lot of international condemnation. There was an Arab oil boycott and there were 13 Embassies in Jerusalem, which joined the other Embassies in Tel-Aviv. In the midst of this isolation and protest, Christians here who had gathered to Sukkoth, the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles said we are going to open our own Embassy here, because we want to stand with the Jewish people in their claim for Jerusalem.34

Christian Zionism has not been a very popular subject among scholars of religion. There are, however, some scholars who have given this subject some attention. One that has written extensively on Christian Zionism is Yaacov Ariel. Contemporary Christian Zionism is, as Ariel correctly points out, in fact mostly referred to as an expression of the Evangelical Christian attitude towards Israel and Jews. Most importantly, Christian Zionism as Evangelical Christianity is not a united or uniform camp, but is composed of hundreds of different denominations, as well as of thousands of independent churches.35 This distinction is important to bear in mind when discussing the theological treaties of different Evangelical groups. 33 Lewis [1996]: 13. The author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998/64–65 R. Cf. ICEJ’s Embassy Initiative on the Internet http://www.icej.org.il. 34 Author’s interview with David Parsons 11.03.1998. IF mgt 1998/64–65 R. Cf. quotation from Lewis [1996]: 12–13. 35 Yaacov Ariel, “Philosemites or Antisemites? Evangelical Christian Attitudes toward Jews, Judaism and the State of Israel” in Acta 2002: 2.

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Jan Willem and Widad van der Hoeven moved from the Netherlands to Israel in 1967 and before the foundation of the ICEJ, worked at the Garden Tomb just outside the Damascus gate in East Jerusalem. During the year 1980 they were helping organize for the first time a Christian celebration during the Feast of Tabernacles. After van der Hoeven’s idea of organizing a conference under the name of “Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem”, the Embassy was founded on this initiative.36 According to Sture Ahlberg, it was not until 1985 in Basel that Christian Zionism was formally established as a worldwide movement.37 Later on, as the spokesperson of the ICEJ van der Hoeven travelled and informed people and politicians all over the world about the concern of Jerusalem.38 As the chief spokesman for the ICEJ he published Babylon or Jerusalem (1993), a book that deals with the question of Jerusalem. He has also published small booklets translated into Finnish; Jerusalem varoittaa Suomea [ Jerusalem warns Finland] translated into Finnish by Leo Meller (1980), Koska Lähi-itä räjähtää? [When does the Middle-East Explode?] Leo Meller, Ulla Järvilehto & Jan Willem van der Hoeven (1980), Siionin sanoma Suomelle [Zion’s message to Finland], Finnish edition by Alli Hyytiä (1981), and Uusi päivä Suomelle [A new day for Finland] by Jan Willem van der Hoeven & Aril Edwardsen (1982). Today Jan Willem van der Hoeven is the chairperson of another Christian Zionist group, the International Christian Zionist Center (ICZC),39 which he founded after breaking with the ICEJ in 1997. Among many other things, the tall enthuastically-preaching minister speaks about Christian antiSemitism over the ages and takes a stridently right-wing view of Israeli politics. His outspokenness is, according to the Jerusalem Report journalist Gershon Gorenberg, a key reason for his split with the Christian Embassy.40 Gorenberg’s book is recommended reading

36 Gunner 1996: 339–340; Yaacov Ariel, “A Christian Fundamentalist Vision of the Middle East. Jan Willem van der Hoeven and the International Christian Embassy” in Spokesmen for the Despised. Fundamentalist Leaders of the Middle East (ed.) R. Scott Appleby 1997: 363–397. 37 Ahlberg 1998: 43. 38 Brummer 1992: 21–27. 39 A monograph where Mr. van der Hoeven’s theology and contemporary Christian Zionism in Jerusalem is presented in more detail is currently under construction by the author and will be published in 2006–2007. 40 Gorenberg 2000: 161–162; the author’s interview with Mr. Jan Willem van der Hoeven in Turku, Finland at the Livets Ord congregation IF mgt 2000/95 R. His standpoint has also been confirmed several times after this interview. According

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for anyone trying to form a view of endtime anticipants in the city of Jerusalem. In Jerusalem, however, there is space enough for many different opinions and Christian Zionists are so many that they will easily suffice for many groups. Although Mr. van der Hoeven is chairperson of another Christian Zionist group, let me here briefly reflect on his rhetorical strategy, as we will later on return to rhetoric and symbols. In Turku, in July 2000 he preached as follows to the Finnish Christian Livets Ord [the Word of Life] congregation: I believe the Lord has brought you here for two purposes: to bless you and set you free, and two, to become warriors with him for the purposes of him on earth today. And I all want you to become, after I finish with you, by the grace of God, whether you are women or men—Davids of God. For David was a warrior and a worshipper. Most charismatics are only worshippers, and they think when they worship, God will do the warring. But I am here to announce to you that if you allow yourself to be freed of the blood of Jesus and by the Spirit of God that is why I believed God led me to this singing team. Your worship will become swords and we in this very crucial week [. . .] can do something for Israel, what Israel cannot do for herself for they are not yet in the Holy Ghost.41

Charismatic Christianity42 is hard to measure. It combines members from different congregations all around the world. Basically it is defined as a marginal phenomenon when taking into account the large church families of Christianity (Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant). What separates them from the larger family is the anticipation of the apocalypse. For these Christians the coming of the ‘End of Days’ is regarded as very concrete and central in their preaching. For their view of redemption it is very essential to focus on what is happening in the State of Israel today. The domestic and foreign policies of the State are viewed as a kind of TV-monitor for measuring on which stage the redemptional process is currently being played out.

to Gunner, there is a newer interpretation within Christian Zionism which combines both political Zionism with apocalyptic themes. This type of religious interpretation is maintained by the ICEJ and the Livets Ord congregation. Gunner 1996: 341. 41 Jan Willem van der Hoeven, 13.07.00 in Turku, Finland. Author’s interview with Mr. van der Hoeven IF mgt 2000/95 R. 42 One type of fundamentalist activity, characterized by a literal interpretation of the Bible and where the preachers often appeal to the emotional ties of their listeners.

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Many Christian Israel-lovers do not necessarily take redemption into their own hands, but leave it to ‘God’. Even though they use a rhetorical discourse which includes such intense words such as ‘war’, ‘warriors’, ‘weapons’ and ‘battle’, this need not be interpreted as an actual threat. Until it takes concrete actions, this is just one form of expressing concern about the future and need not always to be taken literally—although it is extremely serious for the believers. These charismatic Christians do not actually want to confront Muslims with violence—they will wait that for politicians to do that. They are only encouraged to pray to make things change, as Mr. van der Hoeven puts it in his article: . . . through prayer and praise, bring down the wall of Islam and see the freedom for God’s word forth to all those people for whom He died and rose again. Not by reading books on prophecy and waiting for our self-centered raptures, but by getting into the act. Then, just as we saw the wall of commmunism [sic!] come down, so shall we see the wall of Islam crumble. We do not need bombs. We need the prayers and praise of our God to finish every obstacle that stands against Him fulfilling His word to His people.43

Most people just follow the course of events; some are more radical in their interpretations. As stated above, what unites these charismatic Christians are two things: first, love for Jerusalem because of what according to them will happen there in the future; and second, the sharing of a common enemy with the Jewish population of Israel, Islam. How many of you have heard about the Feast of Tabernacles? [. . .] It is God’s biblical time to come to Israel. You know, it says in the Bible that we have to praise God for seven days. [. . .] Let’s go to Zion! Don’t come as a tourist to Israel, it is finished. I don’t read in the Bible: come and be a tourist [. . .] You are sons and daughters of the living God of Israel. Come as Levites, walk before the army. These coming weeks as Israel is facing maybe a war, we don’t know, it might well be. You will praise God as the Levites before the God.44

43

Jan Willem van der Hoeven “The Weapon of Praise” in Christians and Israel (eds.) Johnson & Goodenough. [1996]: 139. 44 Author’s interview with Mr. van der Hoeven IF mgt 2000/95 R, cf. Maria Leppäkari, “Protestant Pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Preparations for the Kingdom of God in Apocalyptic Rhetoric Strategy” in Ritualistics (ed.) Tore Ahlbäck 2003: 134–135.

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Christian Zionists encourage Christians to travel to Israel, to make a pilgrimage. The meeting with Mr. van der Hoeven in Turku also challenged the audience to travel to Israel, to express their faith in this way. The Livets Ord congregation in Turku later on made a trip to Israel. According to the ICEJ, the organization does not represent any particular government, political party, church organization, denomination or business group. It was founded “only to provide Christians worldwide with a focal point in the State of Israel, and to represent the Christian (Zionist) concern for the Jewish people”. Among Christian Zionists, religious tolerance, when it comes to Islam, is not regarded with kindness. Islam has often been criticized. Some Christians at the ICEJ have been very active in propagating for Christians at large about what they see as false Islamic teaching about faith and history.45 The ICEJ does not accept the idea that Allah is the God that Christians and the Jews worship. Islam is seen as having a pagan origin. Some of these ideas have been printed in the above mentioned book Christians and Israel. Essays on Biblical Zionism and on Islamic Fundamentalism. David Parsons summarizes the whole issue in his conclusion: There are so many things in Islam that are so totally unacceptable, so I just question the whole faith, and the whole religion. I think they are in error.46

As Christians, the ICEJ adherents are naturally concerned about the Muslims. The Christian concern and love for all people includes even Muslims. But at the Christian Embassy the Muslims are seen as having a darkened understanding through having been deceived by the errors of Muhammad and later tradition. According to the ICEJ, Muslims need deliverance from this mistaken view and should be taught the Gospel to see the ‘truth’ of what the Bible says about

45 The terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York on September 11th, 2001, greatly affected the ICEJ’s picture of Islam. This could be read about in the ICEJ-newsletters on e-mail the following months. In Finland, the Finnish branch of the ICEJ had invited a respected Israeli scholar, Moshe Sharon, to speak about Islam and its relationship to Judaism and Christianity as well. On 19th September at the Free Church in Turku, he took up a position against Islamic propaganda, and in doing so urged the listeners to sharpen their attitudes towards the Islamic faith. In this case, a Jewish scholar was brought to a traditionally fundamentalist congregation where a Christian endtime audience smoothly absorbed the use of symbolic rhetoric. 46 Author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998/64–65 R.

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Israel and the Jewish people. As Parsons says: “. . . if you hate and curse the Jewish people you’re gonna be cursed. We’d like to see this lifted from them”.47 The ICEJ is not a violent group bent on actions against the Muslims. It only encourages Christians to pray to make things change. 4.1.3

Activities of the ICEJ

One of the Christian Embassy’s trademarks is the Feast of the Tabernacles, which also characterizes the whole movement. Every year, during this Jewish holiday, the Christian Embassy hosts a Christian celebration. According to Parsons, this is the largest single tourist event held annually in Israel. Thousands of Christians gather in Jerusalem to take part in a week-long act of worship. In this gathering the anticipation of future time is crystallized when the hope that God’s promises through the prophet Zechariah (chapter 14) will be fulfilled. During the week, a variety of events are organized for the Christian pilgrims who gather there from all over the world. The Feast of Tabernacles is a pilgrimage festival, the Sukkoth, which is connected to the harvest of cereals and fruits and is celebrated in the Jewish month of Tishri, which approximately coincides with the month of September in the Western calendar. The Feast of Tabernacles originates in Leviticus 16:34–36. As an end to the serious days it is an event of celebration and happiness. During the celebration one should recall how the Israelites at that time were told by God to live in houses made of leaves. The very same celebration is known in the Torah as the ‘harvest feast’, since it was connected to the harvest of the grapes and olives. The first harvest was brought to the Temple to be sacrificed. Even today, people build small cottages of leaves in their gardens and on their balconies in memory of the event.48 The celebrants may take part in a feast hosted by the ICEJ in the desert, in Qumran, just outside Jerusalem. Other gatherings are held in Jerusalem. The ICEJ also arranges large meetings with speeches49 and prayers, while music and sacred dance are also part of the programme. For many Christian Zionists this is an event in

47 48 49

Ibid., op. cit. Illman 1998: 67–69. Cf. Bowman 1991: 118–119.

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which they participate year after year.50 Also many Finnish Christians come to Jerusalem to take part in these celebrations, some even if they are not members of the ICEJ. The travel agencies Toiviomatkat and Israela have included the ICEJ programme in their organized tours. At the feast held in 1998, there were about 5000 participants from over 100 countries.51 Another part of the Christian celebration of the Feast of the Tabernacles is the Jerusalem march where Christians gather to march for peace and the future of the city. They start from the Mount of Olives and walk up to the Lion’s gate in the old city and continue along the Via Dolorosa through the old city.52 The Christian Embassy is also engaged in social assistance programmes. In their opinion this is the way in which they express their love for Israel and its people. They do this by channeling finances, medicine, food, clothing and other material assistance to those in need. The intention to ‘comfort God’s people’ has a practical aspect. The Social Assistance Programme is staffed by volunteers and funded by donations from friends of the ICEJ worldwide. According to one of the information bulletins, this ministry reaches out to Jews, Arabs both Christian and Muslim, and other Christians throughout Israel, including Samaria, Judea, and Gaza. The projects include the following: support of orphanages; buying food, clothes, and personal items for the needy and new immigrants; security systems in settlements; computer parts for computers placed in schools and other institutions, or organizations or used for job training; assistance dogs for the handicapped; sewing machines. The ICEJ has several subsidiary enterprises in different places, including Finland, the United States, Canada, Norway, Sweden and many other countries. The Finnish branch was founded in 1984 and

50 The Feast of the Tabernacles is inspirational in that it serves to reveal to participants that the ICEJ’s work is divinely ordained and is, as Bowman puts it, “despite the demonic opposition of other churches, secular humanists, communists, and Arabs, succeeding in transforming the world”. In Bowman’s study of Christian pilgrimage to Jerusalem he points out that this type of religious inspiration does not entail visiting the sites of Christ’s historical life and death, but “in seeing the way that Christ, through his workers in the contemporary world, is preparing the way for his return”. Bowman 1991: 118. 51 ICEJ’s homepage http://www.icej.org 16.03.2000; K. Lindh in Sana Jerusalemista (A Word From Jerusalem, bulletin) November–December 1998; author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998; 64–65 R. 52 Bowman 1991: 118; The Jerusalem Post 09.10.1990 “Joy not marred by Temple Mount violence. Thousands throng Jerusalem March” by Norm Guthartz.

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spreads knowledge about the Embassy in Jerusalem to the Finnish people. The Finnish branch publishes a bi-monthly magazine called Sana Jerusalemista, basically the same as the magazine A Word From Jerusalem published by the head office in Jerusalem. Like the ICEJ at large, Ulla Järvilehto, the director of the Finnish ICEJ-branch, points out that news about Israel in the world media is one-sided and misleading. TV news is considered to be influenced by the oil business, politics and fear.53 Different kinds of Christian gatherings are arranged all across the country with domestic and visiting preachers from abroad. These events take part in different Christian denominations; during the spring of 2000, for example, representatives of the ICEJ visited Baptist congregations, Pentecostal congregations, Free Churches and Finnish Lutheran congregations.54 For the Finnish branch, the Jewish immigration from Russia to Israel is one of the primary concerns. This exodus work is carried out together with other organizations such as the Jewish Agency, Gesher Hjetsian, Karmel-yhdistys, and Israelin Ystävät ry. During the last 10 years, the Finnish branch has got about 12 000 Russian Jews to Israel. The costs of air tickets, coaches, passports, and visas have all been taken care of by “the Finnish friends of Israel”. In 1999, Israelin Ystävät r.y. separated from this team, but a branch of them continued to work together with the others. This exodus work is seen as a part of God’s plan for Israel. The spokesperson of the Finnish branch, Ulla Järvilehto, relates the work done to the prophecy of Isaiah: “You have made a prophecy become reality . . .”55 53 Ulla Järvilehto, “Jerusalemin Kansainvälinen Kristillinen Suurlähetystö” in Lohduttakaa minun kansani (ed.) A. Brummer 1992: 16–17. 54 On Church meetings, cf. http://www.icej.fi 21.03.2000. There is also a booklet about the ICEJ and its activities in Finland, Lohduttakaa minun kansani [Comfort My People] (ed.) Alli Brummer and published by the ICEJ branch in Finland 1992. 55 Ulla Järvilehto The spokesperson’s column on the Internet: http://www.icej.fi. 11.01.2000. Israelin Ystävät ry—Israels Vänner rf is the oldest organization in Finland for the concerns of the Jewish people. The organization was officially founded in 1908 by Naphtali Rudnitzky, a Jew who believed Jesus was the promised messiah of the Jewish people. The roots of this organization are to be found in Germany, England and Sweden in the mid nineteenth century. This organization had members in different cities across the country. In the beginning, Israelin Ystävät ry was an organization that wished to distribute the Christian message among the Jewish people in Israel. In the annual report from 1935 it says “Eikö meidän olisi tunnustettava osavastuumme näihin Israelin kärsimyksiin, siihen välinpitämättömyyteen ja rakkaudettomuuteen, jota jopa uskovaiset suuressa määrin ovat osoittaneet juutalaisia kohtaan” as a response to the persecution of the Jews in Germany. Tapio Puolimatka Siionin Tähden 1983: 18, 29–31, 77. Today the organization publishes a

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Christian Struggle for the Chosen City

Finally, what then do the Christian Zionists believe? The following statements formulated by Margaret Brearley illustrate the belief system guiding the Christian Zionists. When gentiles become aware that they are part of the household of God together with the Jewish people they need first to learn, and then to remember the many acts of kindness towards the gentile world by Jews throughout history. The Jews did not only give the Christians the Bible, the Sabbath, the Ten Commandments, an exemplary moral law, access to the Holy God of Israel, and above all, Jesus our Jewish Messiah.56

In addition, Brearly continues to list other items, such as spices, silks, furs, sugar, rice, apricots, oranges, slippers, mattresses, jasmine and lilac. In the Middle Ages, Jewish rabbis gave Christian theologians a new appetite for Bible study and later Jewish merchants brought coffee, tea, tobacco and tomatoes. Later on the Jews introduced cures for many diseases, medicines and technical inventions such as the automobile, the airship, the telephone, the microphone, safety matches and other things. One in 10 of all Nobel Prize winners have been Jews.57 Brearly urges readers to ask themselves: How can I help to establish more closely that biblical triple bond of mutual blessing between God, Jew, and gentile? First she suggests reading and study. Christians cannot afford to be ignorant, they should learn Jewish history since, he writes: [T]heir God has become our God and this people is becoming our people, then their history should become part of our inner lives.58

The second way is to listen to the traditions of rabbinical teaching. Brearly does not encourage conversion, but suggests that Christians should keep listening to rabbinical wisdom, since the Church has always looked at the Jews in triumph or contempt—and never listened to them: monthly magazine for its members, Shalom-lehti. Israelin Ystävät ry has about 7000 members, of which a number are also engaged in the ICEJ. They, too, organize tours to Israel. According to the present spokesman, T. Vakkuri, their work differs somewhat from the ICEJ—even though they still co-operate. Cf. Brummer 1992: 10–13. 56 Brearley [1996]: 23. 57 Brearley [1996]: 25. 58 Brearley [1996]: 23.

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chapter four We have been cut off for many centuries from teachings about the Old Testament, except in some Christian denominations. Jewish wisdom is biblical, it is full of insights and is backed by many centuries of practical experience.59

The ICEJ has clearly structured the aims and goals of Christian Zionism in the book Christians and Israel. Essays on Biblical Zionism and on Islamic Fundamentalism, which I have used here in order to clarify what constitutes the group. The aims of Christian Zionism are identical with those of the ICEJ. In the following section I wish to introduce the reader to the most central ideological points of Christian Zionism, principles which naturally also influence the activities of the group. Pointing out proclamations from the Third International Christian Zionist Congress in 1996 will here illuminate the central ideological themes. The selected topics are discussed in greater detail in the latter part of this chapter. The Christian Embassy’s concern for Jerusalem is based on the religious beliefs held by the members and sympathizers with the group. In my interview with him, Parsons noted the following: “The Jewish connection with Jerusalem is something we feel strongly about and it is based on biblical belief and biblical faith more than politics”.60 For these Christians, the meaning of Zion is considerable. It is the place where Jesus came into existence, where he died, rose again, ascended to heaven and the place where he will return.61 On the Internet Homepage of the ICEJ the following statement about the Christian concern for Jerusalem and the Jewish people can be found: Did you know the Bible is very clear about the destiny of the Jewish people? The Scriptures say that, after the destruction of Jerusalem and worldwide scattering of the Jewish people, God would first bring them back to the Land of Israel from the four corners of the earth, after which He will spiritually restore them to Himself. It is in their land that they will receive a new heart and a new spirit (Ezekiel 36:26–27), and it is in their land that they will confess, as a nation, that the Lord will be their God, and they will be His people ( Jeremiah 32:3). God has His own plan and purposes for the land and people of Israel from the very beginning. He offers Christians, as children of

59 60 61

Brearley [1996]: 26. The author’s interview with David Parsons, IF mgt 1998/64–65 R. Ronnig 1992: 30.

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Abraham by faith, the chance to take an active role in the outworking of His redemptive process. It is a plan so great in significance that it encompasses the future of the whole earth. As Paul states: “If their transgression means riches for the world, and their loss means riches for the Gentiles, how much greater riches will their fullness bring? [. . .] For if their rejection is the reconciliation of the world, what will their acceptance be but life from the dead?” (Romans 11:12, 15).62

The same Internet site offers the following statement about the role of the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem: We believe that it is God’s desire that Christians across the world be encouraged and inspired to arise to their prophetic role in the restoration of Israel. The Bible says that the destiny of the nations of Christians and of the Church is linked to the way they respond to this work of restoration. Israel is the target of hostility from many quarters. We believe that Christians must take a stand against anti-Israel and anti-Semitic prejudices, and counter lies with truth. As such, our approach may at times involve political stands, but these ultimately arise from biblical principles and convictions. We are compelled by our faith to help to protect the Lord’s people and to help preserve them for that time when the Lord will fulfill all of His promises to them.63

For the ICEJ, religion and politics becomes intertwined. In the following section I will cite examples from the book Christians and Israel to illustrate the Christian Zionist views on the key issue with regard to Israel, the people and the land. As we can see, these examples provides evidence for the fact that opinions and values stated here are equal to the thoughts expressed on the ICEJ’s homepage, and also found in the book Christians and Israel published by the ICEJ. The examples are introduced as following: Example 1 The Proclamation of the Third International Christian Zionist Congress, 25th–29th February 1996 We, the delegates to the Third International Christian Zionist congress, have assembled in Jerusalem on this 29th day of February 1996. This congress coincides with the 3,000-anniversary celebration 62 63

The Homepage of the ICEJ on Internet, http://www.icej.org. 16.03.2000. The Homepage of the ICEJ on Internet, http://www.icej.org. 16.03.2000.

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of the Jewish presence in Jerusalem, the Holy City of God. Confident in the favor of God upon our endeavors, we have convened for the following purposes: To join in the celebration of “Jerusalem 3000”; To pray for the peace of Jerusalem and to declare our firm position on the future status of the city; To demonstrate Christian concern for Israel and the Jewish people; To commit our fervent efforts to instruct and persuade Christians and people everywhere of the revealed truths pertaining to Israel and the Jewish people in the Testaments of God as enlightened by the Holy Spirit; To deliberate on the positions and measures which we must take to assist Israel and the Jewish people in facing the challenges before them, particularly in response to the agreements and final-status talks with the Palestinian Arabs, the bilateral talks with Syria, and the need for continuing aliyah; To express our deep concern with and to seek to address the increasing threat posed by radical Islam to Israel, to Christian minorities in the Middle East and to the world, while offering compassionate prayer for those millions of people now in the Islamic faith; and To determine priorities for Christian Zionist efforts in the future.64 Example 2 Affirmation of Christian Zionism After careful consideration and prayer, we join with one heart and mind to declare and decree our firm belief that: 1. The Bible is the inspired Word of God and the basis of our faith as Christians following the teachings of our Lord and of the Apostles, and is the source of our motivation as Zionists. 2. God the Father, Almighty, chose the ancient nation and people of Israel, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to reveal His plan of redemption for the world. They remain [the] elect of God, and without the Jewish nation His redemptive purpose for the world will not be completed.

64

In Christians and Israel [1996]: 143–144. Brackets added by me.

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3. Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah and has promised to return to Jerusalem, to Israel and to the world. 4. It is reprehensible that generations of Jewish people have been killed and persecuted in the name of our Lord, and we challenge the Church to repent of any sins of commission or omission against them. 5. The scattering of the Jewish people throughout the centuries of the diaspora was ordained by the Lord as corrective, as were previous exiles, and redemptive, bringing the knowledge of the one true God of Israel unto the gentile nations. 6. The modern ingathering of the Jewish people to Eretz Israel and the rebirth of the nation of Israel are in fulfillment of biblical prophecies, as written in both Old and New Testaments. 7. Christian believers are instructed by Scripture to acknowledge the Hebraic roots of their faith and actively assist and participate in the plan of God for the ingathering of the Jewish people and the restoration of the nation of Israel in our day. 8. The Lord in His zealous love for Israel and the Jewish people blesses and curses peoples and judges nations based on their treatment of His chosen people, Israel. 9. Concerning Jerusalem: It is the Holy City of the Jewish people and those of biblical faith. At the time appointed by God, Messiah will return to sit on the everlasting throne of David in Jerusalem and will reign over all the world in righteousness and peace. 10. According to God’s distribution of nations, the land of Israel has been given to the Jewish people by Him as an everlasting possession by an eternal covenant. The Jewish people have the absolute right to possess and dwell in the land, including Judea, Samaria, Gaza and the Golan. 11. Christians should oppose all forms of discrimination and prejudice (anti-Semitism) against the Jewish people and the Jewish state and should actively seek to be a comfort and a friend to them. 12. God’s choice of Israel was a means to reach the world with His love, Word and redemption. Therefore, fulfilling the Great Commission is vital and flows out of our commitment to Israel.65

65

In Christians and Israel [1996]: 145–146. My italics.

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Example 3 Congress Statements and Resolutions 1. Because of the sovereign purposes of God for the city, Jerusalem must remain undivided, under Israeli sovereignty, open to all peoples, the capital of Israel only, and all nations should so concur and place their embassies there. 2. As a faith bound to love and forgiveness, we are appreciative of the attempts by the government of Israel to work tirelessly for peace. However, the truths of God are sovereign and it is written that the land which He promised to His people is not to be partitioned. It is our moral sense that Israel and the nations err in according favor and status to the current leadership of the Palestine Liberation Organisation and placing in their hands land and people that are precious to God. It would be further error for the nations to recognize a Palestinian state in any part of Eretz Israel. 3. To the extent the Palestinian Covenant or any successor instrument calls for the elimination of Israel or denies the right of Israel to exist within secure borders in Eretz Israel, it should be abolished. 4. The Golan is part of biblical Israel and is a vital strategic asset necessary for the security and defense of the entire country. No bilateral or multilateral aggreements [sic!] with Syria should give consent, whether expressely or by implication, to Syria’s continued occupation of Lebanon and oppression of its Christian community. 5. Israel has the clear and lawful right to defend itself. 6. Regarding Islam, we express the following concerns with Muslim attitudes towards Jews and Christians out of a sense of compassion for the millions of people who believe that they may follow in the faith of Abraham by way of Islam, and with a commitment to intercede for them, that the Spirit of Truth will reveal to them the true nature of the faith of Abraham: A. We are convinced from a biblical standpoint that the Muslim concept of ‘Allah’ is an anti-Jewish and anti-Christian distortion of how God revealed Himself to the patriarchs, kings and prophets of Israel, and how God has revealed Himself through our Lord. We find these attitudes have their source in portions of the Koran which accuse Jews and Christians of having falsified the revelation of God given in Scripture. B. Those elements within the Islamic faith which promote hatred of Israel and of Jewish peoples bring spiritual bondage, evil and confusion upon themselves, their followers and their nations.

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Christian compassion demands all Christians actively seek to free them from such hatred towards Israel and the Jewish people. C. The Islamic claim to Jerusalem, including its exclusive claim to the Temple Mount, is in direct contradiction to the clear biblical and historical significance of the city and its holiest site, and this claim is of later religio-political origin rather than arising from any [K]oranic text or early Muslim tradition. D. We condemn that radical view now ascendant within Islam which, by its own tenets, advocates violence and jihad (holy war) as a legitimate means to spread the Islamic faith and advance the Islamic world view. We find the most pernicious expression of such radical views is the belief that a Muslim who sacrifices his very life to kill a Jew receives the reward of instant entry to paradise. The practice of such beliefs poses an increasingly unacceptable to peril to Israel and a grave threat to both Muslim and non-Muslim peoples throughout the world. These threats must be opposed and challenged by all. 7. While Gentile believers have been grafted into that household of faith which is of Abraham (the commonwealth of Israel), replacement theology within the Christian faith which does not recognize the ongoing biblical purposes for Israel and the Jewish people, is doctrinal error. 8. Regarding aliyah, we remain concerned for the fate of imperilled Jewish people in diverse places, and seek to encourage and assist in the continuing process of the return of the exiles to Eretz Israel. To this end, we commit to work with Israel and to encourage the diaspora to fulfil the vision and goal of gathering to Israel the greater majority of all Jewish people from throughout the world.66 Example 4 Biblical references used for argumentation: We rely on the following specific Scriptures, among others, as the basis for our firm beliefs:67

66 67

In Christians and Israel [1996]: 147–149. In Christians and Israel [1996]: 150.

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Affirmation 1. Deuteronomy 8:3; Psalms 119:103, 105; Matthew 4:4; Acts 2:42; 2 Peter 1:20–21; 2 Timothy 3:16. Affirmation 2. Genesis 12:1–3; Matthew 24:33–35; Romans 11:1–2; Romans 11:28. Affirmation 3. Psalm 22; Isaiah 7:14; Isaiah 9:6, Isaiah 53; Zechariah 12:10; Romans 15:1. Affirmation 4. Matthew 26:52; Luke 24; 47; John 16:2. Affirmation 5. Jeremiah 31:10–28; Luke 21:24; Romans 11:28–30. Affirmation 6. Jeremiah 23:3, 7, 8; Jeremiah 31:8–10, 23; Amos 9:13. Affirmation 7. Psalms 83; Isaiah 40:1; Isaiah 49:22–23; Isaiah 60:10–12; Romans 11:17, 25–31. Affirmation 8. Genesis 12:1–2; Isaiah 60:2; Joel 3:1–2; Matthew 25:36, 40. Affirmation 9. Isaiah 2; Isaiah 11; Jeremiah 3:17; Daniel 9:24; Zechariah 14; Romans 11:26; Revelation 2:26–27. Affirmation 10. Genesis 17:1–8; Joel 3:1–3. Affirmation 11. Isaiah 40:1; Zechariah 2:8; Matthew 5:1–12. Affirmation 12. Genesis 12:3; Romans 9:4–5; Romans 11:14–15. Those who sympathize with the ICEJ are mostly Evangelical Christians. For them, the holiness of Jerusalem concerns not only the holy sites, but also the historical and future significance of the city. This is because it is written so in the Bible. According to general views in Christianity, God does not dwell in buildings built by men, but Jerusalem has according to the ICEJ been set-aside for a ‘divine eternal purpose’. This is justified by quotations form the Old Testament, such as Nehemiah 11:18, Isaiah 52:1, Psalms 46:4, Daniel 9:24. God has chosen Jerusalem for a purpose. There are still purposes for Jerusalem that God wants to accomplish. And we (the ICEJ) believe that involves the Jewish people here. [. . .] Jerusalem is holy because God still has sovereign purposes and plans here and that man has to be careful what they say would happen with this city.[. . .] but what is important to note, that they (prophecies) are tied to the Jewish people and to Jerusalem. And it is a kind of time clock to certain events here and certain things here are the measure of the end of the age(s). God is going to accomplish certain things and then you know. You can look at your watch and time’s about up. This is what we need to understand. This is what makes it a holy city.68 68

Author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998/64–65 R.

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Since Jerusalem is considered holy, men are not supposed to divide the city. This is why the ICEJ is against a political division of the city: You don’t say divide it. You don’t say no Jews can live in the east Jerusalem or the Old city. It ( Jerusalem) is a holy city to God. He’s brought them ( Jews) back to the midst of Jerusalem, not west—to the midst, to the whole city. [. . .] You need to be careful when you touch something God has called holy.69

To summarize, the ingathering of the Jewish people and the building up of Jerusalem are considered prophetic signs, leading to the coming of the Messiah. There is first the physical ingathering and then there will be a spiritual ingathering. The Christians who sympathize with the ICEJ believe we are now living in prophetic endtimes. According to Parsons, the ICEJ does not speculate about dates and years when the Messiah will come, but do believe that it will eventually happen. One of the recent activities of the ICEJ which shows the importance of Jerusalem for the believers was the Jerusalem petition released to Israeli authorities during the fall of 2000 with a total of 110 282 signatures and total endorsements by ministries of 14 498 303. In Finland, on December 10, 2000, the Finnish branch of the ICEJ organized a march in the capital city Helsinki to show Christian support for Israel and to protest against a series of United Nations resolutions condemning Israel since the start of the Palestinian uprising in September 2000. The Finnish Christians called on their government to re-assess its recent UN votes. According to the ICEJ Meid (electronic newsletter), over 5 000 demonstrators wanted to state their opinions (according to Finnish newspapers 3 000). Timothy King, a member of the ICEJ’s Executive Committee, expressed the hope that this march in Helsinki would stir Christians in other countries to “come forward and be counted on behalf of Israel at this crucial time”.70

69

Ibid., op. cit. ICEJ News December 11, 2000 (ed.) David Parsons (electronic news to subscribers). 70

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Apocalyptic Events and Second Coming of Christ

Regarding the visions within the ICEJ of the futuristic Jerusalem, it may be said to begin with that the Bible, including both the Old and the New Testament is regarded as a holy Scripture. Jerusalem is considered to be a window to the authority of God’s word and his loyalty, and he faithfully fulfills his promises.71 Zionism is seen as a sign of God’s intervention in the history of mankind. Therefore Israel and Jerusalem are vital symbols in the group’s eschatological visions of the endtimes. Although the eschatological orientation is very evident in the beliefs of the ICEJ, they do not wish to make calculations (set days, months and years) for the second coming of Christ. Among the Christian Zionists the endtimes are assumed to have already begun with the ingathering of the Jewish people. The war between good and evil is expected to begin any time, if it has not already started. Those who are in favor of Israel are seen as being in favour of God and therefore the redemption of the world depends on whether people are in favour of the state of Israel. This particularly concerns the Christians: Christ the Messiah is going to return to Jerusalem. According to the beliefs of ICEJ all nations will be judged on the basis of how they treat Israel and the Jewish people. Those who will be saved in this drama of the endtimes will have access to the ‘new Jerusalem’, the future centre of the universe and also the capital of Christ. The world will continue to exist, but in a new way, in a spiritually more advanced form. We at the Christian Embassy come in for a lot of criticism that we are not for peace. According to what the Bible says, which so far is proven true, the ingathering has happened and it is happening. What else does the Bible have to say? It is talking about the nations all coming up against Jerusalem. It says there’s gonna be trouble ahead but God’s gonna deliver the Jewish people out of all this. And that the Messiah is going to come back to this city to rule and reign for a period of a thousand years in peace. The environment will be clean, the lion is going to lay down with the lamb, it is going to be a whole different world. [. . .] We look forward to (this) and the whole world needs this. [. . .] There are certain things that are just bound to happen. People are going to be bound to hate Israel and the Jews. [. . .] God also chooses negatively. [. . .] There are certain things and orders for the prophecies to be fulfilled. There have to be people who

71

Järvilehto 1992: 14–15.

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are willing to come up against the Jews in Jerusalem. Some one has to do it whether it is the Muslims or others. God have mercy and grace upon all the people on earth, and we (ICEJ) believe there is good in the end.72

The expectations of Jesus coming back to Jerusalem are high. His divine interference in earthly matters is in the focus of adherents of the ICEJ. It is believed that Christ will reign in Jerusalem for a period of 1000 years, during which period the world is going to go through changes.73 In this heavenly kingdom there will be peace among nations. Even the social construction of the world is going to change. The environment will be clean, all pollution will be gone and people will have gained more understanding on a spiritual level. All this is to happen after the battle with evil, which according to the ICEJ, is represented by Islam. When God has conquered the evil powers on earth He can establish His kingdom in Israel. All the efforts man is making to bring peace to the Middle East are therefore of no use. The ICEJ still prays for the peace of Jerusalem, but men will never achieve this peace. Only a divine intervention can bring a final solution to the peace agreements to Israel. All nations are going to have a role in the future of Israel. The Christians, according to the view of the ICEJ, will to have to decide if they are going to come up against Jerusalem, whether they will try to take away Jerusalem from the Jews or not. Finally, all nations will be judged on the basis of how they will treat Israel and the Jewish people. On the question of whether it is believed that the Antichrist will arise from Europe, Parsons’ answer on the behalf of the ICEJ is that the prophetic view could easily be fulfilled by a conspiration of Arab Muslim leaders. The concept of the Third Temple is closely linked to thoughts concerning the Antichrist. A temple needs to be rebuilt, and that prophecy can only be fulfilled if there is a temple built before Jesus comes. Whether the ICEJ advocates for the building of a third temple is not clear. According to Parsons, the Embassy, right now, would just like to see Jews and

72

Author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998/64–65 R. A 1000-year regime according to Parsons, but among the supporters of the ICEJ may be found diverse interpretations. Some believe in a thousand year regime, others believe in an eternal kingdom of God. In the publications of the ICEJ one cannot find anything which refers literally to a 1000-year regime of Christ. In this sense, the 1000 years here are just a symbolic expression for “an eternal kingdom”. 73

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Christians able to pray up on the mount. On the issue of the Temple Mount Parsons states the following: A temple needs to be rebuilt that prophecy can only be fulfilled if there is a temple built before Jesus comes. [. . .] Right now the Embassy, we, just like to Jews, Christians be allowed to pray up there.[ . . . ] . . . temple which stood there and the rebuilt one is for all people to come and pray there, not just Muslims. So this exclusive claim to the Temple Mount is false and it is wrong. And the Jews [. . .] should have their right to rebuild the temple.74

It is clear, however, that Christian Zionists expect a Jewish temple to be rebuilt in Jerusalem. This is seen as a stage in the prophetic endtimes, for this temple should be rebuilt before the Second Coming of Christ. As Mr. Van der Hoeven writes in Babylon or Jerusalem, a statement to Israel’s ambassador to the UN at that time, Mr. Benjamin Netanyahu: The International Christian Embassy [in] Jerusalem fervently hopes and prays, that the day will soon come that the Temple Mount—or as Bible call it, the Mountain of the Lord—will no longer be a reason for religious divisiveness, but a place where all mankind will unite in worship to God according to His declared purposes. [. . .] It is against biblical and historical truth for the Muslims to demand that the Temple Mount is their sole property—only allowing the adherents of their faith to pray there. [. . .] We welcome you with open arms and blessing and thank you for your vital support and efforts on the behalf of the Jewish people, Israel and Zionism to realize the prophecy of Isaiah, Chapter 2: And it shall come to pass in the end of days that the mountain of God’s House shall be established at the top of the mountains and shall be exalted above the hills: and all nations shall flow into it . . . for out of Zion shall go forth the Law and the Word of God from Jerusalem. And he shall judge between the nations and decide for many peoples and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. And nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.75

When it comes to apocalyptic patterns in the vision of the future events in Israel, we can find some similarities in the beliefs among adherents of the ICEJ and the Temple Mount Faithful (TMF). These apocalyptic patterns are to be analyzed and discussed in more detail in the following chapter.

74 Author’s interview with David Parsons IF mgt 1998/64–65 R. Cf. the Zionist Congress Statements and Resolutions listed above # 6 C. 75 van der Hoeven 1993: 169–177. Brackets added by me.

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The Temple Mount Faithful

And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow to it. And many people shall go and say, Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord . . . for from Zion shall go forth Torah, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among nations, and shall decide for many people; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor shall they learn war any more. —Isaiah 2:1–5

4.2.1

Foundation of the TMF

The Temple Mount and Land of Israel Faithful Movement, also called Temple Mount Faithful (TMF), in Hebrew N’emanei HarHabait, was founded in Israel in 1967 by Gershon Salomon and some of his friends76 as a protest in response to the political decision by then Defense Minister Moshe Dayan to leave the Temple Mount under the control of the Moslem Religious Council (Waqf ) following the Six Day War. Salomon and his friends considered this act a terrible sin and, as a result, the movement was founded in protest against this political decision. According to Bernard Wasserstein, in the course of the 1970s a number of radical groups were formed who made Jewish claims on the Temple Mount.77 During the 1967 war Israeli troops entered the Temple Mount and took control over it. It was then for the first time in nineteen centuries that the city of Jerusalem and the Temple site were in the hands of a Jewish State. These were exciting times for Jews all over the world. A wave of excitement swept through Israel and the whole of the Jewish world. One week after the capture of the old city there occurred the Jewish pilgrim festival of Shavuot, the Feast of the 76 According to Bernhard Wasserstein, Stanley Goldfoot split a way from the group. He later set up the Jerusalem Temple Foundation. Bernard Wasserstein Divided Jerusalem. The Struggle for the Holy City 2001: 334. 77 Wasserstein 2001: 334–336. Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon 14.05.1998; cf. Ulf Carmesund Two Faces of the Expanding Jewish State: A Study on How Religious Motives Can Legitimate Two Jewish Groups Trying to Dominate Mount Moriah in Jerusalem Old City 1992: 62; the movement’s homepage on Internet: http://www.templemountfaithful.org. According to Salomon Rabbi Ariel, the leader of the Temple Institute was also involved in the founding of the TMF movement. See also on the cultural radicals in Sprinzak 1991. According to Ahlberg, the TMF was first part of the Jerusalem Temple Foundation but later parted. Ahlberg 1998: 44.

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Weeks. From all over Israel people came to Jerusalem in a spontaneous mass pilgrimage. Some prayed in rapture, others, even the non-religious felt this was a hallowed day. Among the ‘orthodox Jews’ the majority held that they should refrain from entering the Temple compound for religious reasons. Not long after the Six Day War, in 1969, the fire at the al-Aqsa Mosque illustrated how deeply the Temple Mount remains embedded in the politics of the Israeli-Arab conflict.78 The TMF is a group which provides the researcher with many possible discourses. By this I do not only mean the link with politics, but also the reactions people show when one merely mentions the group. Among academic scholars this group has not been studied much. One study to mention is Ulf Carmesund’s Two Faces of the Expanding Jewish State (1992). Some research has been done, but this group should be studied even for its own sake and from a comparative phenomenal perspective without the simultaneous emphasis on a political idea, as has generally until now been the case. The question of whether this group should be regarded as a ‘genuine’ religious social unit, or not, is not a matter that will be discussed in this study. As has so often been pointed out, religion and religious groups are defined in different ways in various scholarly fields, depending on the material and the methods, reflecting something of the individual researcher’s basic worldview and his or her comprehensive theoretical propositions. This applies to comparative religion, anthropology, social science and other fields dealing with various aspects of the subject of ‘religion’. This is also what emerges when one approaches the definition of the TMF as a group, one obtains many different descriptions and characterizations. Among scholars in the social sciences in Israel, the TMF movement is mostly regarded as meriting no more than a footnote in the religious-political schema of the Middle East.79 Ehud 78 Comay 1975: 259–260.The status quo on the Temple site has evoked many mixed feelings. In some cases individuals have taken the matter into their own hands and tried to change things. See also Gilbert 1996: 327–328; Wasserstein 2001: 334. On the reactions of the TMF cf. Jerusalem Post 13.04.1982 “Early district court trial for Temple Mount gunman” by Abraham Rabinovich, Mr. Salomon states “We never heard his name before and we condemn his action”. 79 Sometimes the material includes value judgements. Carmesund argues based on newspaper articles that Salomon is not a religious person. Ulf Carmesund 1992: 65. Heilman argues that the TMF is a non-religious group with ‘quasi-religious’ goals. S. C. Heilman, “Quiescent and Active Fundamentalisms: The Jewish Cases” in The Fundamentalist Project. Accounting for Fundamentalism (ed.) Martin E. Marty &

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Sprinzak, one of the leading scholars on religious terrorism, puts the movement into a category which he calls the cultural radicals. In this category, Sprinzak states that, even though many of the adherents of such a group are religious, the group’s ideology can be called primarily national and secular.80 As recalled earlier, the notions of religion and politics are much closer to each other in the Middle East than, for example, in Western Europe, in general, although we can also identify a similar close relationship in contemporary Europe in those countries that are striving for national identity. From within the phenomenon, known as the Radical right in Israel, it is possible to distinguish a group of radicals consisting merely of individuals who ideologically and politically lie somewhere between Gush Emunim and Rabbi Kahane. These are, according to Sprinzak, the ‘cultural radicals’. They rarely act as a homogeneous group, but share the conviction that only a spiritual revolution of the people can save Israel as a nation. They do not as a group fit in with Gush Emunim, which is considered to be a radical pioneering settlement organization, a powerful pressure group, and a wild extra-parliamentary movement both messianic and ‘fundamentalist’ in character. Nor do the cultural radicals get on well together with Rabbi Meir Kahane,81 a religious fundamentalist and the leader of the Kach party. For the cultural radicals the most important common link is to bring about a cultural revolution in the country. Examples of this group are the ideologists of the Jewish Underground, Yehuda Etzion and the Redemptionist movement with a theology of active redemption, the Tzfia (Looking Ahead) association and Rabbi Israel Ariel, as well as critics of Gush Emunim, and Yoel Lerner and other former Scott R. Appelby 1994: 189. According to E. Don-Yehia a part of the groups adherents are non-observant Jews who are to be considered as ultra nationalists to whom the Temple Mount is nothing but a national symbol. E. Don-Yehia, “The Book and the Sword: The Nationalist Yeshivot and Political Radicalism in Israel” in The Fundamentalist Project. Accounting for Fundamentalism (ed.) Martin E. Marty & Scott R. Appelby 1994: 280. But the ‘national symbol’ is a very powerful factor shaping peoples’ views. Take for example the para-military groups in the USA, they regard the constitution as a ‘national symbol’, yet, constitution has received almost a religious status in their ideology. In their case the ‘national symbol’ functions as the testimony to a new world order. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), Project Megiddo 1999, page 11. 80 Sprinzak 1991: 227, 280–281. 81 Kahane was shot dead in 1990. The theology of Meir Kahane, the origins of Kahanism, and its socio-cultural influence, cf. Aviezer Ravitzky, “Roots of Kahanism: Consciousness and Political Reality” 1986: 9–38.

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Kahane associates. In Sprinzak’s study it becomes clear that the cultural radicals all contribute to the intensifying struggle over the Temple Mount in one way or another.82 Especially as a scholar of comparative religion, I find it useful to note the conclusion drawn by Sprinzak, namely, that while the cultural radicals may not have a large following or organized political power, they do play an important role in the collective consciousness of the Radical right. One might feel attempted to add that the cultural radicals are crucial not only to the Israeli Radical right, but also, to the consciousness of certain Christian religious groups.83 Many of the cultural radicals come from the ‘extremist’ circles of the settler communities in Judea, Samaria and Gaza; others are former Kahane associates, largely in Jerusalem; some come directly from the tradition of the pre-state ultra-nationalist underground in Palestine. The group also includes several rabbis and lay persons who have independently come to Halakic conclusions similar to that of Meir Kahane’s.84 The approach of the cultural radicals is not the product of a single authoritative school, and it has not been theoretically worked out into a coherent system. It is basically, according to Sprinzak, an outcome of a reactionary mood created by the crisis of Camp David, the struggle in Yamit and the ‘failure’ of the Israeli government to protect the settlers from Arab violence and terrorism—the outbreak of the Intifada in 1987 having confirmed them in their convictions. The few cultural radicals who studied in Yeshivat Merkaz Harav are seen as dissenters, graduates who have drawn extreme and incorrect conclusions from the ‘Kookist’ theology.85 82

Ahlberg 1998: 33. Spirnzak 1991: 7, 251. For more about radical religious Zionism, Gush Emunim and Rabbi Kahane, see also Ravitsky 1996: 80–144; Sprinzak 1999: 11–12, 147–179, 180–215; Ahlberg 1998: 44. 84 Jonathan Peste, Religion och terrorism. Mellan samvaro och radikalism 2003: 89–94. 85 Gershon Salomon and some of the members of the TMF were students of Rabbi Zvi Yehuda ha-Cohen Kook (1891–1981) who was a basis of inspiration for their cause of redemption. http://www.templemountfaithful.org/rabbi.htm 31.08.1998. Rabbi Kook and his followers viewed the history of Zionism as “an inevitable and decidedly messianic process, leading to the realization of prophetic predictions [. . .] the traditional religious categories of holiness, redemption, and repentance have now assumed concrete form in the Zionist endeavor itself ”. Ravitzky 1996: 79–80. On Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook’s theology cf. Rune Lindblom “Ett land att dö för—rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kooks religiösa sionism som fundamentalistisk ideologi” in Rune Lindblom & Malin Lindblom Landet och missionen; Två studier över aktuella israeliska teman 1999: 47–55; T. Fishman Torat Eretz Yisrel, The Teachings of HaRav Tzvi Yehuda HaCohen Kook 1991: 278; Peste 2003: 80–82. 83

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These groups reject unnecessary compromises with the secular government of Israel and emphasize those sacred scriptures that describe war against the enemies of the nation as obligatory. Hence, what distinguishes the cultural radicals from rabbi Kahane’s view is not theory, but practice. Most of the cultural radicals share Kahane’s fundamental convictions regarding three critical issues: the need to expel the Arabs from the State of Israel, the rejection of Israeli democracy and the need to wrest the Temple Mount from Muslim control.86 In a way, we could view the cultural radicals as religious or even political radicals, rather than cultural ones. Maybe it is right to maintain that they have a culture based on religion in mind when they act with the help of politics to obtain results. But Sprinzak has put this all into its context: in Israel, you do not have any ‘real political power’ if you are not directly involved in the Knesset. Since the cultural radicals are not organized into a coherent front, Sprinzak draws the conclusion that it is hard to assess their real power within the Radical right or their impact on society. However, their claims of orthodox purity and their learned interpretations of scriptures do lend them some authority and respectability within the highly ideological Radical right. The prestige and fame of several members of this group, especially the rabbis, provide legitimacy for the extreme ideas and plans among many younger followers. There are indications that the cultural radicals may, in times of crisis, opt for extreme anti-government action. If such action is sanctioned not just by the successors of Rabbi Kahane, a religious ‘fundamentalist’ of the Kach party, but also by other prestigious rabbis, the cultural radicals could become a very important component of any extralegal programme.87 The cultural radicals have largely steered clear of the growing politics of the Radical right, but, according to Sprinzak, there is still one issue in which they have made a political difference, and that is the issue of the Temple Mount. By examining the significance of the Temple Mount, the TMF can easily be described. Scholars in Western Europe should nevertheless bear in mind the relation between

86 Sprinzak 1991: 251–252. These groups regard the history of Zionism and the State of Israel as a clearly messianic process: the State is inherently holy. They are not forcing the end, but rather being propelled and guided by it to act on the plane of history. Ravitsky 1996: 8. Cf. Wasserstein 2001: 334–336. 87 Sprinzak 1991: 252.

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state and religion in Israel. The custom of ‘Western scholars’ has been to separate religion from politics, but in the Middle East these two elements of society often—if not always—seem to flow into each other. 4.2.2

The Cultural Radicals’ Activities

The most important issue on the TMF agenda is naturally the Temple Mount. The group regards the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa mosque as specific signs of Islamic conquest and domination, since according to them, they are placed on the Jewish, biblical holy site. It has even been suggested that the shrines should be removed, or transferred and rebuilt in Mecca. The adherents of the movement want the Temple Mount to become the moral and spiritual centre of Israel, of the Jewish people, and more widely of the entire world— hence—according to the words of the Hebrew prophets. All this is envisioned by the consecration of the Temple Mount. The Temple itself will focus on fulfilling the vision and mission given at Mt. Sinai for Israel, to be a people separated unto God, a holy nation, and a nation of priests. According to Mr. Gershon Salomon, by becoming the light of all nations, the biblical way of life is to be propagated throughout the whole world.88 A comprehensive list of the TMF’s activities is listed in Ulf Carmesund’s study.89 At the very top of the agenda stands the hope of rebuilding the Third Temple, again in accordance with the prophetic promises. The Temple is seen as a house of prayer for the people of Israel and all nations. This includes automatically the idea of making the biblical Jerusalem the “real, undivided capital of the State of Israel”. The TMF rejects all ‘peace talks’, regarding them as only dividing the land and breaking God’s covenant. Relying on the promise that was given to Abraham, the TMF sees the borders of Israel as eternal and argues that land cannot be divided and given to others. They also support the settlements in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the Golan Heights, because these, too, are considered holy. The movement has been perambulating (symbolically or not) around Mount Moriah, trying to gain access to the mount itself. There are yet other activities in the group, to which we will come to shortly. 88 89

Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon IF mgt 1998/62–62 R. Carmesund 1992: 47–56.

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The leader of the TMF-movement is Gershon Salomon, an elderly man and a third generation Jeruslamite who fought in the wars. In some studies, as mentioned earlier, he is considered a ‘non-religious person’ and the leader of a ‘non-religious radical group’ establishing ‘quasi-religious’ goals.90 This type of pejorative definitions is, however, not applied here. And I therefore regard Mr. Salomon as a religious individual, based on what he related about his personal religious experiences: I was wounded in the Golan Heights, I was wounded terribly, I was dead and only God gave back my life. He gave me this mission. He appeared in the field of Betel—God and His Angels saved my life. Solders picked me up and they thought they were taking me as a dead body, and I came back to life.91

After reading some newspaper articles about this man, I became fascinated by the group’s views on redemption and their concept of Jerusalem.92 During my first extended visit to Israel I got in touch with Salomon, and only a day before I was about to leave the country, we managed to set up a meeting—at half past one in the morning. In this study attention is paid to that part of the group’s ideology which reflects or entangles religion; religious thought and action, especially in relation to apocalypticism. It is quite easy to form an idea of the Temple Mount Faithful Movement’s activities and worldview. The activities of the movement are presented in information leaflets and also on the Internet, with pictures included. But the activities can also be traced through a number of newspaper articles and magazine features, for example, in The Jerusalem Post, The Jerusalem Report and Ha’aretz. It appears on the basis of such articles that the group has been walking round Mount Moriah, trying to get access to the mount.93 There are also other activities which are not 90 A conclusion drawn by Carmesund from a The Jerusalem Post Magazine article 29.03.1991 “Moving up to the Temple Mount” by Barbara Sofer and a Jerusalem Post article 19.10.1990 “The march on the holy mountain” and “We take them seriously” by Dan Izenberg. Carmesund 1992: 65; Heilman 1994: 189. 91 Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon IF mgt 1998/62–63 R. 92 The Jerusalem Post Magazine 29.03.1991 “Moving Up To Temple Mount” by Barbara Sofer. 93 Carmesund 1992: 47–56; Jerusalem Post 06.03.1983 “Planning the Third Temple” by Haim Shapiro; Ha"aretz 13.08.1997 “‘Faithful’ march on the Temple Mount” by Jonathan Tepperman; Ha"aretz “Faithful vow Pessah visit to Mount, despite seder ban” by Aryeh Dean Cohen.

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mentioned in the press. These activities have a more ritualistic nature. They are listed in the movement’s newsletters and also for general knowledge on the Internet homepage. The activities are centred on certain religious holidays according to the Jewish calendar; the following are the most important among these: Sukkoth:94 One of the Pilgrim festivals which begins on the 15th day of the month of Tishri and ends with Shemini Atzeret and Simhat Torah (the eighth day of Sukkoth). During these eight days, the Jewish community is ordered to ‘dwell in booths’ to commemorate the Israelites wandering in the wilderness before they reached the Promised Land. At the time of the Second Temple, a ceremony of water libation was held during the festival. On Tishri 15 (and Tishri 16 in the Diaspora) the lulav (a palm branch) is waved in every direction in the synagogue and the congregation walks in procession round the bimah (the platform in the synagogue from where the Torah Scroll is read). The seventh day is celebrated as Hoshana Rabbah (traditionally regarded as the day when God’s decrees are finally sealed), when harvest prayers are recited. Sukkoth is clearly a harvest festival. For the TMF, this festival is connected with the Temple Cornerstone for the Third Temple, which was brought for the first time to the gates of the Temple Mount by the followers of the TMF in October 1989. A year later, when the TMF again asked permission from the authorities to lay the cornerstone on the Mount Moriah 5000 Moslems gathered in the area to prevent this from happening. All this resulted in a riot on the Mount; about 17 Palestinians were killed when the Police lost control.95 The cornerstone was brought to the mount during the same feast at which, according to tradition, King Solomon first brought the Ark of the Covenant to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. The TMF’s cornerstone weighs 4, 5 tons and was brought from Mitzpe Ramon in the desert. This marble stone was not, according to the Faithful, cut or polished by any metal. It is said to been found in a mirac94 Lavina & Dan Cohn-Sherbok, A Popular Dictionary of Judaism 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998. 95 Carmesund 1992: 61; Continuous attempts to prayer on the Temple Mount see, for example, Ha"aretz 25.07.1996 “Netanyahu won’t change Temple Mount status” and “Court upholds prayer ban on Temple Mount” by Bill Hutman; The Jerusalem Report 10.10.1991 “Temple Mount: Could It Happen Again” by David Horovitz and Isabel Kershner.

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ulous way, a natural stone similar to the stones of which the Second Temple was built. The story of the stone continues: By this we fulfilled the godly biblical law in Exodus 20: 25 not to profane the stone by hewing it with an iron tool. Also in the building of the Temples an iron was heard on the building site (1 Kings 6: 7). This stone was given to us by a Jewish family, named Alafi, who returned to the land of Israel from [the] Babylon almost 50 years ago. They have a tradition in their family that they were the builders of the First Temple. They even started preparing for the Third Temple.96

The march with the cornerstone of the Third Temple is an event which takes place every year during the feast of Sukkoth. This gathering has acquired an almost ritualistic character. The same prayers and the same routes are walked every year. In the morning the cornerstone is placed on a flatbed truck covered with Israeli flags and a Chuppah coveres the stone. The truck brings the stone to the Southern gates of the Old City of Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. The southern gates were the gates through which the pilgrims entered the First and Second Temples. In 1997, members of the TMF and their ‘friends’ joined together near the Western gate of the Mount. Together with them were ‘priests’ (sympathizers from the Temple Institute in Jerusalem), one of whom wore the original priestly garments that were prepared in Jerusalem in the last years according to the biblical prescriptions. ‘Levites’ with musical instruments and shofars were also ready to take part in this event. Then vessels reconstructed in Jerusalem for the Third Temple in over recent years (by the Temple Institute) were brought to this event.97 The following words describe the feelings of the crowd: When we were ready to march with the cornerstone to the Temple Mount, the officer responsible told us that the government had decided not to allow us to lay the cornerstone on the Temple Mount because of fear for the Arab and international reaction. The weakness which again appeared at this big historical moment caused another opportunity for the start of the rebuilding of the Temple to be missed by the government of Israel. Again it was fear of the enemies of G-d and Israel and not the fear of Almighty G-d and His promises [. . .] We 96 Lee Underwood, “A cornerstone for the Third Temple was laid in Jerusalem on 20th October, Sukkoth 1997/5758” article found as a link to the TMF Internet homepage http://www.templemountfaithful.org/marsweb.com/~cornerstone.html. 22.06.1998; 09.09.1998 97 Events described by Lee Underwood on the TMF Internet homepage.

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chapter four decided to march with the stone to the City of King David and to say to everyone in Israel and all over the world that even though the cornerstone was not laid on the Temple Mount, in any case we started the process of the rebuilding of the House of G-d [. . .] During this march we felt the presence of G-d and even the spirits of kings David and Solomon blessing and encouraging us.98

This threat to lay a cornerstone for the Temple sparked bloodshed and the opening of a tunnel that goes under the holy site nearly undid the peace process. Such experiences show how much less than a bomb can cause conflict at the Mount. Attempts by Jewish activists to worship on the Mount spur ‘Islamic fundamentalists’ to dig and build and renovate, feeding fear among Jewish messianists that the Mount is slipping out of their grasp. Any incident at the site can spin out of control.99 Hanukkah:100 The winter festival of lights. Hanukkah lasts for eight days beginning on Kislev 25. It commemorates the Maccabee victory over the Hellenists and the miraculous lasting of the holy oil for eight days rather than one. The festival goes back earlier in history. In the days of the Temple, torches and lamps were kindled in the Temple courts and water poured out so it reflected back the lights. Today it has become a major festival with similarities to the Christian Christmas, which occurs at much the same time. All observant households have a menorah for eight candles and one is lit on the first day, two on the second and so on. It is a particularly important holiday in Israel as it symbolizes the survival of the Jewish people against enormous odds. Usually the followers and friends of the TMF drive out to the tombs of the Maccabees at Modiin, 25 miles from Jerusalem. There they light a torch and the Hanukkah Menorah at the tombs of the Maccabean heroes. Among the TMF it is felt that they are the spiritual descendants of the Maccabees and that God has chosen the Temple Mount and Land of Israel Faithful Movement to do at this time what the Maccabees had done in their time. That is in their opinion, to ‘purify’ the Temple Mount of the foreign, ‘pagan’ Arab, Islamic presence and 98 Ibid. Internet homepage http://templemountfaithful.org/marsweb.com/~watcher/ cornerstone.htlm. 22.06.1998. It is typical for the TMF to write ‘G-d’ instead of “God”. Whenever quotations from the TMF are involved I will use “G-d”. 99 Gorenberg 2000: 230–231. 100 Cf. Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998.

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rebuild the House of God. The event is described on the movement’s Internet homepage 22.06.1998 and in the newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998: The youth of the movement ran with the torch of the Maccabees to Jerusalem. Our goal was to bring this torch to the Temple Mount. Everyone along the way blessed us and called on us to continue this important campaign. In Jerusalem we protested against the PLO murderers at Orient House in the midst of Jerusalem. We symbolically buried the idea of establishing a foreign “Palestinian” state in the midst of the land, which G-d gave to Israel. As the Maccabees did we burn [burned] the flag of the enemy, the PLO, to state very clearly that such a flag will never fly in the midst of Jerusalem or any other place in the land which G-d promised to Israel. We also lit the Hanukkah Menorah with the torch of the Maccabees. At midday we again lit the Hanukkah Menorah at the Damascus Gate of the Old City to demonstrate the sovereignty of G-d [. . .] We sang and danced along the main road of the city to the Temple Mount with the Hanukkah Menorah and the flags going ahead. [. . .] When we came to the Temple Mount the gates were closed to us. [. . .] After we . . . lit the Hanukkah Menorah near the western gate. We had a deep feeling that the G-d of Israel will soon come. [. . .] In the afternoon we continued to the American Consulate in Jerusalem. We demonstrated against the pressure applied by President Clinton on Israel to give away parts of Judea, Samaria and Gaza to the murderer, Arafat [. . .] This special day ended outside the residence of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. We called on him to be strong and to resist yielding to Clinton, Albright and the other “friends” of Israel.101

Tu B’Shevat:102 The festival celebrating the New Year for trees (there are four different new years in the Jewish tradition: Nisan I is the beginning of the religious calendar; Elul I is the new year for the tithes; Tishri I and the Rosh ha-Shanah traditionally the day of judgement; and) Tu Bi-Shevat is celebrated on Shevat 15 and, among the Ashkenazim, it was usual to eat fifteen types of fruit. Since the State of Israel was established in 1948, the festival has become an occasion for rejoicing in the land and its fertility. The feast coincides with the month of February and the importance of planting all kinds of trees is stressed. On Tu B’Shevat the TMF plant trees on Har Chomah: 101 TMF-newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, pp. 4–5. Cf. newsletter spring 1999. 102 Cf. Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998.

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chapter four We are here forever and none of the enemies of G-d will ever again cut our roots and the roots of our trees in this country. We shall again make Jerusalem the most beautiful city in the world filled with trees and gardens.103

Pesach:104 is the Passover, the feast of unleavened bread. Pesach is one of the three pilgrim festivals and takes place in spring. It begins on Nisan 15 and lasts for seven days in Israel and eight in the Diaspora. It is a festival of freedom; the story of the Exodus is remembered at the Seder meal, which is generally eaten at home. In the days of the Temple, the paschal lamb was sacrificed on Passover eve commemorating how the Israelites killed a lamb and smeared its blood on their doorposts so that the angel of death would ‘pass over’ their houses. At the Seder, a particular order of service is followed which is found in the Haggadah. During the days of the festival, no leaven bread (hamez) must be kept in the house and no leaven products may be eaten. After the destruction of the Second temple the Passover rituals changed.105 Today in Israel even the multinational McDonald’s corporation has bowed to the religious requirements. During Pesach in Jerusalem you can order a Pesach-meal, which is made of a kind of bread that is allowed to be consumed during the feast. Traditionally, it is believed that the prophet Elijah, as the herald of the Messiah, will return during the Passover season and the Seder looks forward to the messianic redemption. Rabbi Tukochinsky, who lived in the 20th century wrote, that once a Pesach sacrifice has been performed on the Temple Mount, Mashiach ben David will immediately come. The TMF points out that the Pesach sacrifice, which is a private family sacrifice, is one of the sacrifices that can be performed even if the Temple is not built as long as an altar is prepared. This sacrifice has to be eaten before midnight on the first night of Pesach celebrations. Today Jewish families hold a symbolic sacrifice. This will continue, according to the TMF, until the Pesach sacrifice is renewed on the Temple Mount. When that happens, all the Jews must eat the sacrifice in Jerusalem. The Faithful hope and pray that by, the 103 TMF-newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, p. 5, cf. newsletter spring 1999. 104 Cf. Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998; Nils Martola Kommentar till påskhaggadan 1988: 1–13. 105 Martola 1988: 5.

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coming Feast of Pesach, the Temple Mount will be purified from foreign presence and will be under Israeli control. Since 1998, the TMF, together with other cultural radicals like Yehuda Etzion, has performed a Pesach sacrifice. On the movement’s Internet homepages photos from the earlier gatherings are shown. Also a harvest sacrifice is celebrated in connection with this feast. According to the word of G-d in the Torah, the Pesach sacrifice should be performed on the Temple Mount. Our goal this Pesach [year 2000] is to perform this sacrifice on the Temple Mount [. . .] The Pesach sacrifice can be performed on the Temple Mount even before the Temple has been rebuilt, but it has to be performed by a priest done on an altar which we shall have built [. . .] In the case that we are only allowed to do it on the hill of Hananiah, it will be only a symbolic sacrifice and will be performed without an altar. [. . .] We decide to perform this sacrifice in any case, firstly, to fulfill the commandment of G-d Who [sic!] commanded the people of Israel to perform this sacrifice especially when they are in the land. Secondly, we want to say to the people of Israel and all the world that G-d expects Israel to perform this sacrifice . . . [. . .] Thirdly, we decided to renew all forms of worship which are connected to the Temple in preparation for it being rebuilt. [. . .] We know that in this way we shall open the gates of the Temple Mount for the key event of the rebuilding of the Temple and the renewal of the worship of the G-d of Israel in this most holy place.106

In spring, on the 23rd of April in the year 2000, Jom Ha-Shoa (the Holocaust Memorial Day) was celebrated. It is a memorial day for the 6 million Jews, including 1,5 million children, who were killed in the Holocaust. On this day, the Faithful members go up to the Temple Mount to remember those innocent Jews who were killed in all kinds of cruel ways just because they were Jews. The TMF lights six candles, each one representing a million victims and called: We shall pray for their pure souls. We shall pray for G-d’s judgement and at the same time we shall state—Never Again.107

Memorial Day of the Fallen, April 29th is the Memorial Day for the almost 20,000 Israeli soldiers who have fallen in the wars since the establishment of the state in 1948. On the Memorial Day, the Faithful 106

http://www.templemountfaithful.org/pesach-00a.h. 11.04.2000. TMF newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, p. 5. See also newsletter spring 1999. 107

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go up to the Temple Mount to commemorate their sacrifice. Israel’s Independence Day (April 30th in 2000) and the Jerusalem Day (May 24th in 2000) are also celebrated with events by the Faithful.108 Lag B’Omer:109 a holiday celebrated on lyyar 18. It commemorates the thirty-third day of counting the Omer (an offering brought to the Temple in Jerusalem on Nisan 16, to ensure a safe harvest) and it is sometimes known as the scholars’ feast because a plague among the pupils of Rabbi Akiva was halted on that day. It is also remembered as the day when Simon bar Yochai passed away. Today bonfires are lit, bows and arrows are played with and three-year-old boys have their first haircut. The Faithful light bonfires around the Temple Mount and the Old City to thank God for what he did in those days.110 Shavout Pilgrimage:111 is a festival of the Pentecost celebrated on Sivan 6, fifty days after the first day of Passover. Originally it was an agricultural celebration, marking the end of the barley and the beginning of the wheat harvest. Subsequently, it became the anniversary of giving the Torah to Moses. The TMF make a pilgrimage and bring with them the first fruits from the fields of Israel to the Temple Mount in order to honour God. ‘Priests’ take the first fruits up to the mount after they have been brought to the Old City in a special procession.112 Tisha B’av:113 is the Fast Day commemorating the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem in 586 bce and 70 ce. The Three Weeks (the period between the fasts of Tammuz 17 and Av 19—a solemn period where there is no music or entertainment) lead up to Tisha b’av. This day coincides with the month of August. The TMF emphasizes that on this day, according to the Jewish tradition, the Mashiach

108

Ibid., op. cit. Cf. Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998. 110 TMF newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, p. 5. Cf. newsletter spring 1999. 111 Cf. Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Harviainen & Illman 1998. 112 TMF newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, p. 5. Cf. newsletter spring 1999. 113 Lavina and Dan Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Cf. Harviainen & Illman 1998. 109

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ben David will come and the Temple will be rebuilt. This religious feast involves demonstrations for rebuilding the Temple.114 The most active years of the Faithful were the years of the 1980s. In the years 1998–2000 the movement seems to have calmed down and retreated. The political events and terrorist actions in 2001 did, however, engage the TMF in more activities. The Faithful are organized as a group. They call for meetings and demonstrate to the Israeli public that the cause they are working for is important for them and in their message to other citizens, they urge them to follow their path. Their work is closely connected to the other groups who also have the Temple Mount and Jerusalem on their agenda. The importance of this team-work—if we wish to call it that—can be seen in the united struggle against the archeological excavations on the Haram esh Sharif or the Temple Mount, as well as in trying to prevent the Pope’s visit to the mount. Symbolically or not, the Temple Mount Faithful has found a red heifer for their future purification ceremonies. The Book of Numbers 19–22 describes how the red heifer must be slaughtered and burned and its ashes combined with spring water. This solution was used for purification on the third and seventh day after the defilement. After the destruction of the Temple, red heifers could no longer be offered in sacrifice and, although the Talmud discusses the laws of the red heifer, the ritual died out.115 Red heifers have rarely been born in Israel, sometimes only once in a generation. When one was born, it was considered a miracle. In the TMF newsletter for spring 1999, Salomon tells the reader about red heifers being born. Nine red heifers were born during the time of the Tabernacle and the two Temples. The tenth according to a tradition will be born in the endtimes for the Third Temple. Since the destruction of the Second Temple no red heifers have been born. After the godly rebirth of the State of Israel in 1948, and especially after the miraculous liberation of the Temple Mount in 1967, the call for the rebuilding of the Temple started. [. . .] At the same time efforts were initiated to discover ashes which had been hidden by the priests before the destruction of the Temple. Archeological digs were undertaken in the area of Jerusalem and Qumran . . . At the same 114 TMF newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1998, p. 5. Cf. newsletter spring 1999. 115 Cohn-Sherbok 1997; Ahlberg 1998: 31.

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time, news of red heifers began to appear. One was born in northern Israel. Less than a year ago another red heifer was born in the Ayalon valley where David defeated Goliath. Not only have red heifers been born in Israel but also in the United States on the ranches of Christian Zionists.116

A year ago, a red heifer was born in Texas to a member of the TMF. The very same rancher came to meetings where Salomon spoke about the visions and the activities for the rebuilding of the Temple. In the meetings I felt a deep need to ask him whether a red heifer had been born on his ranch. It was G-d who stirred me to ask the question. I knew that a red heifer would soon be born on his ranch. About a year ago I received a letter from him with the exciting message[,] ‘A red heifer has been born on my ranch’[.] At the same time, I received a phone call from another member, Sam Peak, who also brought to me this joyful message. He asked how to handle the heifer and how to raise her according to the godly, Jewish law. [. . .] I understood this as a clear message from G-d to His people, Israel, that the time for the rebuilding of the Temple has come.117

The two red heifers were dedicated by the TMF for use when they are three years old. According to Salomon, they have continued to be perfect red heifers for the preparation of the ashes of the red heifer for the Third Temple. When the Third Temple is completed, the ashes are necessary for the renewal of worship in the Temple: first, to purify the priests and Levites who will worship in the Temple, and then, the Israelis who will come to worship. Gershon Salomon himself and his friend Ze’ev bar Tov, also a member in the movement, have seen the red heifer in Texas. He writes about the encounter: It was again an obvious godly message to us that the birth of the red heifer on this ranch was not an accident. It was one of the most exciting moments in my life. I felt the presence of the G-d of Israel on this ranch and in this family. I immediately knew that G-d had brought me to the United States and to that place to see His miracles.118

The red heifer born in Texas was named Geula, meaning redemption, and the one born in Israel was named Tsiona, meaning ‘to 116

Gershon Salomon in the TMF newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring

1999. 117 118

Gershon Salomon in The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1999, p. 5. Gershon Salomon in The Voice of the Temple Mount, spring 1999, p. 5.

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Zion’. When the red heifer from Texas is ready, she will be brought to Israel and handed over to the TMF. Now some years have gone and no red heifers have yet been sacrificed, although a new one has been found. 4.2.3

Sympathizers

The TMF has no documented membership records. But, according to Salomon, the movement has a board of 18 members and an executive committee consisting of 51 members.119 The board meets every week and the executive committee meets every second month. It can be said that the movement has a democratic structure, but a strong spokesperson serving as head and founder of the movement. Gershon Salomon is the leader and the spokesperson of the group, which, according to him, has around 7000 sympathizers. There is also a women’s group called Deborah’s Battalion, with its leadership and headquarters in Texas in the United States, and a youth group functioning in Israel. According to Salomon, a Gallup poll showed support for the movement’s ideological goals reaching as high as 58% among Israelis.120 Although the TMF is a Jewish group, it has many Christian supporters from abroad, mainly the USA, but also from Europe. The group finances its activities by collecting donations from members and sympathizers from abroad and in Israel. The TMF movement’s members meet every month in their localities on Hyrkanos street in Jerusalem. In Salomon’s office can be seen pictures taken of the group’s activities and vessels, designed according to the models of those which were used in the Jewish Temple. This shows how the “cultural radicals” work together over the borders of the different movements. In this case, the Temple Institute, another religious group in Jerusalem which also focuses its activities on building the Third Temple, designs the Temple vessels. As an example of ideological 119 According to Wasserstein the TMF has a fluctuating estimated membership of around 1500. Wasserstein 2001: 334. 120 Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon IF mgt 1998/66–67 R. In the movement’s newsletter The Voice of the Temple Mount, Spring 1999: 4 it says: “Polls conducted in Israel show that the majority of Israelis want to renew the worship on the Temple Mount. Millions of people from all over the world have a desire to see the Temple and the renewal of the worship in the Temple in their lifetime. These are the fruits of the activities of the Temple Mount and Land of Israel Faithful Movement”.

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teamwork, we may mention The United Association of Movements for the Holy Temple, founded in March ce 2000. At the beginning of the year 2000 the movements that work for the cause of advancing the concept of the Holy Temple decided on the establishment of an organization that would unify their efforts, the above-mentioned United Association of Movements for the Holy Temple. According to the Temple Institute, this association was born in the wake of the destruction being waged by the Moslem Wakf in the archeological excavations on the Temple Mount. These efforts, according to the Temple Institute, aimed at eradicating Jewish history from their holiest site and rewriting the history of Jerusalem, in a fervent attempt to sever the city from the Jewish people. The various groups’ combined efforts will be coordinated through, and administered by, the Temple Institute, Rabbi Menachem Makover, and the Temple Institute’s General Director, serves as the association’s spokesman. Rabbi Chaim Richman, Director of Public Affairs for the Temple Institute, is the association’s English-language spokesman and representative to the Diaspora. The new forum is headed by Prof. Hillel Weiss, professor of Hebrew Literature at Bar Ilan University, a well-known Temple activist who has campaigned to deepen public awareness of the significance of the Holy Temple. He has been joined by various Temple movements, organizations and persons that have chosen to participate in this initiative: The Temple Institute, The Movement for Establishing the Temple, Chai Vekayam, El Har HaMor, Zo Artzeinu, and Women for the Holy Temple.121 Although this united movement now exists, each body involved continues with its own work. The new association will focus on central, community-oriented schemes that revolve around the Holy Temple. These will include advancement of educational projects, and broad-based, community-wide initiatives. The new association has called for unity for the sake of the Holy Temple, and has embarked upon a commemorative ‘half-shekel’ campaign for the year 5760 in the Jewish calendar (2000). The association presides over a newly established public fund, “the Holy Temple Treasure”, which collects

121 An e-mail letter to the author from the Temple Institute 02.03.2000. According to Mr. Salomon, the TMF is not directly part of this association, but agrees that they are striving for the same cause, althoug in slightly different ways. Cf. Gorenberg 2000: 158. Orthodox Jews do not want to join an organization led by a person who is not ‘religious’.

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funds designated for the rebuilding of the Third Temple. Contributions to the half-shekel campaign are thought to give strength to the new association, and count the donors among those who support the cause of the Temple. The coin is therefore . . . another step on behalf of the Temple, and those who acquire it will merit to be numbered among those in the forefront of the renewal of the ‘half-shekel’ commandment. This is the vision that we rise to meet, born of desire to unite each one of Israel with the desire towards the Holy Temple.122

The casting of this silver coin is regarded by the association as being cast as the first step on the way towards fulfilling the mitzvah of the ‘half-shekel’ in Ex. 25:2, but the coins will not carry the last connotation of hekdesh, which is considered forbidden in our time. The letter ends with the following words: If, Heaven forbid, we turn our backs towards [sic!] the Temple Mount, we will not be worthy of retaining the Land of Israel. The Temple Mount is the heart of the nation, and the heart of the Land. All the parts of this land are like limbs of the body, and all those limbs are dependent on the heart . . . and from the heart, they are sustained.123

The Pope’s visit to Israel during the spring of 2000 also provoked reactions among the United Association of Movements on Behalf [of the Temple Mount and] For the Holy Temple. In their letter to the Prime Minister, the Judges of the Supreme Court and Members of the Knesset about the Pope’s visit to Jerusalem and the Temple Mount, representatives of the Association write in agony of “an action that will never be forgiven by the Jewish people”.124 The Pope’s visit was seen as the apex of the religious pressure on the Mount: This visit is intended to validate, on the backs of the Jewish people, the agreement signed last month between the Pope and Arafat . . . that very agreement which established that Jerusalem shall be divided!125

The association called the official leaders of the country to cancel the agreement on the Papal visit. The Pope’s apology for the crimes committed by the Church against the Jews is regarded as “null and void in the face of the itinerary he plans for his visit”. At the end 122 123 124 125

E-mail letter to the author from the Temple Institute 02.03.2000. E-mail letter from the Association 19.03.2000. My italics. Ibid., op. cit. Ibid., op. cit.

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of this letter, the association states that it expects an announcement from the government of Israel that Israel’s sovereignty over the Temple Mount is still alive and well. There is also a call for the government to implement the sovereignty as policy and praxis until the building of the Third Temple, “speedily and in our days”. The letter is signed by eight well-known temple activists: Professor Hillel Weiss (Chairman of the Association), Rabbi Yisrael Ariel (The Temple Institute), Moshe Feiglin (Zo Artzeinu), Yehuda Etzion (Chai Vekayam), Rabbi Yosef Elbaum (The Movement for the Preparation of the Temple), Rabbi Yehuda Kroizer (The Yeshiva of the Jewish Idea), Yisrael Meidad (El Har Hashem) and finally, Rabbi Dovid Dudkevitch (El Har HaMor). For these temple activists it is typical to view Israel through an analogy with the body. Jerusalem and the Temple Mount are regarded as the heart of the nation, and all the cities and the borders of Israel are regarded as holy since they are mentioned in the Torah. Therefore, there can be no peace agreements with the Palestinians, or with the Syrians. As far as I know, the TMF is not directly involved in the association mentioned above, but the two organizations do work together on certain issues. This association is a typical example of how different movements and groups come together when the issue of the Temple Mount is at stake. Even though ‘action’ is the slogan often used here, the TMF movement could be described, in comparison with other ‘cultural radicals’ like Yehuda Etzion’s Redemptionist Movement and the Israeli Radical right, as a more passive group.126 They differ from most of the Radical right in their legality. The TMF’s leaders have always been determined to obey the law and all the instructions of the Jerusalem police. The group’s most ‘extreme’ act of defiance has been passive resistance, and it has never clashed with the police. One reason for group members’ non-violent approach has been their desire to influence the general public on the Temple Mount issue. According to State Law in Israel, the Holy Places Bill guarantees the worshipper’s full freedom of access to all holy sites. Therefore, the TMF is convinced that the Defense Minister’s ruling restricting the Jewish presence on the mount is illegal. In the movement’s appeals to Israel’s Supreme Court, the ‘Faithful’ have tried to show that the ban of prayer in the holy place has no legal basis. This is

126

Author’s interview with Yehuda Etzion IF mgt 1999/87–88.

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a claim enhanced by the TMF’s reputation for abiding by the law.127 The TMF understands ‘action’ in this context as a force that will bring forth a new age, as is also considered to be the case with Zionism. Zionism is regarded as having introduced a new epoch in time called the endtimes and group members believe they are living in this now. According to Sprinzak, however, foregoing extralegal activity has its drawbacks, specifically ineffectiveness. For years no one took the TMF very seriously, and most Israelis still consider them a small circle of ‘crazies’ making symbolic gestures with no political consequences, merely a footnote to the ‘real action’, that is the Radical right in Judaea and Samaria. Sprinzak’s comment reflects how the group is regarded among scholars, since they are of no political interest and have no ‘real’ political power, they are not worth studying.128 This only shows how interests in the various academic fields differ. Within the field of comparative religion, any group—no matter how large or small, how important or negligible— is worth studying. 4.2.4

The Apocalypse and Future Jerusalem

The movement presents its long-term objectives in their information leaflets and on the Internet. From there it is possible for everybody to see what the group works for. Since the focus of my study remains the TMF’s visions of the future, I concentrate on the parts of their ideology that contain soteriological and apocalyptic ingredients. The first and foremost topic on the agenda is naturally the “liberating of the Temple Mount from Islamic or Arab occupation”. According to Salomon, the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa mosque were placed on the Jewish or biblical holy site as a specific sign of Islamic conquest and domination. Further, he argues that the Temple Mount can never be “consecrated to the Name of G-d without removing these pagan shrines”. Among the members of the movement, it has been suggested that the mosques could be removed, transferred, and rebuilt at Mecca. As we have seen in the chapter describing the geographic history of Jerusalem, the Temple Mount has figured as a symbol for the

127

Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon, cf. Sprinzak 1991: 280–281. A different opinion is put forward by Gershon Gorenberg: “It is a dangerous mistake to dismiss them as harmless kooks”. Gorenberg 2000: 142. 128

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longings and aspirations of many generations for a better future in coexistence with the presence of godhead. Attempts to analyze the religious-political significance of the very spot where the Jewish Temples once stood have been made in a whole range of literature. Here I wish to emphasize the symbolic importance of the mount, not only in the political sense in the Near East, but in a larger frame of reference: an existential one. The very spot has a religiously oriented significance not only for Jews, but, as we have seen, also for Christians. To go a step further, it could be argued that the question or problem mentioned above concerns not only the geographic spot, the Temple Mount, but far more since it is linked with the concept of Jerusalem as a city per se, and as the city which is the capital of Israel. Not only does Jerusalem have this rather concrete geographic-political-religious significance, but there is also to be found another kind of significance, which may be regarded as linked with more existential matters of individuals and groups, a matter to which I return in the final chapters. The second item on the working agenda of the TMF is the task of “consecrate[ing] the Temple Mount to the Name of G-d,129 so that it can become the moral and spiritual center of Israel, or the Jewish people and of the entire world”. According to the words of the Hebrew prophets, it is envisioned that the consecration of the Temple Mount and the Temple itself will focus Israel on the following themes: fulfilling the vision and mission given at Mount Sinai for Israel to be a chosen people separate unto G-d, a holy nation, and a nation of priests; becoming a light unto all the nations so that the Name of G-d may be revered by all nations; and the Biblical way of life may be propagated throughout the world. This is naturally to be followed by the rebuilding of the Third Temple in accordance with the words of all the Hebrew prophets. According to Salomon, this new Temple will be a house of prayer for the people of Israel and all nations. The rebuilding of a temple is necessary for providing a biblical point of assembly in order that all Israel may fulfill the commandment to assemble three times annually at the times of ‘G-d’s festivals’ and at the “place were G-d established His Name forever”. Making the biblical Jerusalem the real, undivided capital of the State of Israel involves the rejection of “false

129

For the TMF it is praxis to write G-d instead of God.

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peace-talks that will only result in the dividing of Israel and the breaking of G-d’s covenant”. This is argued by using the following statement: G-d promised to Abraham and to his seed that the land and the borders of Israel are eternal, and cannot be divided and given to other people and nations.130

By supporting the settlements in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and on the Golan Heights as they are considered as holy no one is allowed to break the ‘Word and the Will of G-d’ by commanding the settlers to leave. In the biblical era, TMF argues, G-d commanded the people of Israel to settle the land completely. For the TMF this command is applicable even today. Finally, everything is put into place since the “holy connection and covenant between G-d, the People of Israel and the Land of Israel is eternal”. The special spatial importance of the land is highlighted by Salomon in an interview: . . . you have to see what is going on, on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and all the events of the rebirth of Israel in this context. The rebirth of Israel, if you read in the Bible you will find it in every place and the people in the state—same land. Not in Russia, as they tried to, not in Argentina, Uganda. No other place but here. The covenant of God is eternal . . . the eternal connection between God, the Land and Israel cannot be divided, never.131

In the agenda there is no mention of the Messiah, but I would argue that the concept of the Messiah is important in connection with the TMF’s way of describing futuristic events, as it is within all religious groups which are waiting for a redeemer figure. In the religious part of the TMF’s ideology there are certain elements that figure in their description of the world today. In contemporary Israeli society the following issues are often discussed and reflected on: the land of Israel; and the status quo agreement on the Temple Mount. Israeli state policies are often criticized by the members of TMF, whilst the Arabs/Palestinians are considered to be the root of the evil pressure on Jerusalem. According to the members of the movement, the world is now living in endtimes, which indicates that the end is very close at hand. This could all

130 131

Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon IF mgt 1998/60–61 R. Author’s interview with Gershon Salomon IF mgt 1998/60–61 R.

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be summarized in what contemporary Zion means for the TMF. Their view of redemption can be analyzed through the information leaflets and official statements of the movement where the views and opinions are stated. The TMF regards Israel as being part of the final events in world history. The foundation of the State of Israel in 1948 is interpreted as a divine intervention in history. This is also the case with Zionism, which has contributed to the immigration of Jews from all the corners of the earth. Both the foundation of the State and Jewish migration are regarded as apocalyptic signs. The Zionist rebuilding of the country has contributed to the final stages of history on its path towards the new humanity. Through Zionism, the world has launched a new phase in world history, the endtimes in which, according to members and adherents of the TMF, we now are living. The approaching redemption will be achieved gradually, by first creating the modern State of Israel and afterwards by the ingathering of the Jews. Next comes the liberation and sanctification of the Temple Mount, followed by the rebuilding of the Jewish temple, the Third Temple. After the rebuilding of the Temple, the fifth phase is entered, which includes the coming of the Messiah. It is typical for the group to believe that the Temple is to be rebuilt any day now, during the lifetime of the group leader. When trying to ascertain the significance of Jerusalem for this group, it is important to see what role is given to Zion. For the TMF, Jerusalem is a holy city both in a geographical and a spiritual sense. In part, Zion is linked to the very geographical spot, the city of Jerusalem. On the other hand, there is a specific spot which has been separated from the rest of the city, namely, the Temple Mount. The Temple Mount is regarded as ‘holy’, and the very spot of the Mount where the new Temple is to be built has further emphasized the sacredness of the place. It is through this shrine, sanctified to JHWH, that the rest of the world is to be fulfilled or completed. This vision of the future is closely linked to the pictures and metaphors to be found in the Torah. It can therefore be said that ancient Israel functions as a model and a goal according to the TMF, and thus represents the future Israel and city of Jerusalem. When mapping the group’s concept of reality and world of ideas, it can be noted that TMF, like many other exclusive religious groups, makes claims, which result in a privileging of their own dogma over that of others. The researcher must therefore often confront exclu-

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sivist claims and statements which reflect an attitude saying, “our way of viewing the issue is the only right way to do so”. 4.3

Representations of Jerusalem in the ICEJ and the TMF

When grasping the image of Jerusalem in the two groups presented above, we can clearly point out some of the representations, or significance, which is given to the city as a symbol. In the previous chapters I have tried to explain the complex structures of existence and understanding it generates. This has been clarified by explaining symbolic universes. In these we polarize ourselves and give meaning to our lives, in private lives and social lives. Not only does the symbolic universe limit itself to personal conceptions of life but, it also includes history and future as well. This has been done in the manner of clarifying or decoding religious conceptions of the future world, what we sometimes refer to as utopias. The key question here is, how these imaged visions of the futuristic Jerusalem get people to perform according to the visions they have in mind. Religious ‘fundamentalists’ would naturally argue that they do this because it just is so, according to the ‘revealed truth’. In the two groups, the ICEJ and the TMF, we can to begin with find a three dimensional image of Jerusalem (or Zion): a Jerusalem in the past, a Jerusalem of today, and a Jerusalem of tomorrow. For the groups presented above, the visions of Zion (or Zion as a symbol or representation of the coming deliverance) functions as a source of inspiration, since the city of Jerusalem is attributed with a certain significance and purpose. The attractiveness of the endtime story is then found partly in the story’s dualistic character: the good versus evil that in the end will bring ultimate ‘goodness’. This is the dynamics of the story which continues to fascinate the believers and causes them to act for its cause. And yet the believers are aware of the fact that no on can foretell, or set a date, for the end to come. Such speculations, in the case of the ICEJ and the TMF, are doomed to fail. The images relating to ultimate death then bring forth a religious hope. This hope will ultimately prove to be the redemption of those who favoured Israel and the Jewish Jerusalem. The apocalyptic end then brings forth a New Jerusalem, a paradise with closeness to God. The groups share a common view of the contemporary society in

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Jerusalem. When speaking of today’s Jerusalem, it refers to the city in the State of Israel (founded in 1948). Jerusalem is viewed as holy, but the city is not yet as holy as it will become. Though the city is regarded as holy, it has many negative attributes connected to it. These negative aspects are, to only mention a few, domestic politics in Israel, the Muslim presence and international politics. It can therefore be said that contemporary society is seen as something negative. This is understandable when we consider the apocalyptic interpretation of history. But this negative understanding of Jerusalem today has simultaneously an opposite pole. According to the believers, all the negativeness will eventually lead to the end of time and to the very goal. The goal is the fulfilled vision of Zion actually emerging in the city of Jerusalem, following the horrors of the apocalypse, the final battle between the righteous and the unjust, and the coming of a Messiah. All these models of thought have been inspired by the biblical tradition, the Torah and the Old and New Testaments. The models or roles of the future have been formed by an interpretation of literature which is regarded as holy, combined with an old tradition of interpretation which creates a model for a future society. The negativeness of the contemporary world therefore urges the believers to work for a better future. The religious aspirations for a better world give the believers a motive for acting, and also provide them with a positive attitude towards the imagined society of the future in general. It is therefore up to the ‘lovers of Israel’ to become involved in the process of creating a better future, a kind of future that has, as they regard it, been promised. World history is seen as a continuum to God’s plan of creation, and Zionism is held as a sign that the end of our age is closing in. Zionism has actually begun the last phase of history, the end of time, and the world will witness at any moment the apocalyptic drama which will take place in the Middle East. Certain events, especially in politics, are interpreted as signs of the End. In connection with this, the Messiah will appear. With his divine powers, the messianic figure will transform today’s Jerusalem into a capital of the world, or in other words, bring forth the New Jerusalem that will be the fulfilled vision of Zion, where he will dwell as king. This transformation of Jerusalem into the capital of the world will in turn affect the whole world. Those who survive the apocalyptic war and find a place in the future paradise will be those who sided with Israel during the war. When the visions of the ICEJ

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and the TMF are fulfilled, the earth will then become a paradise and time as we know it, reality as well, will not exist anymore. The issues of the Temple Mount play a key role in redemption. For both groups, the politics of the day can interfere with the redemptional process. If politicians decide to divide, or allow the Muslims access to, the Temple Mount area, the redemption of mankind will be postponed or even abandoned. The demonization of Islam and the Palestinian Arabs is presently due to cultural differences and rivalry between the religions. According to the beliefs of both groups, as long as the Temple area is under Muslim control there will be no final redemption for either individuals or nations. In this sense, the Christian Zionists are supporting the Israeli right-wing politics. While, for most Israelis, the TMF appears marginal for many of Israel’s evangelical supporters, the same group is the ultimate expression of what Zionism is supposed to do.132 It is then also understandable why the building of the third temple by the Jews becomes of interest to Christian supporters as well. Here, the symbols more or less dance, the relationships to diverse issues become mutual expectations. Finally, some reflections on the rhetorical strategy used by religious groups like the charismatic Christians. The principles of rhetoric have been used, for example, in the study of New Testament texts, where rhetoricians seek to discover the purpose of any discourse together with the means used to achieve to this end.133 When studying rhetoric (especially in a literary object), we first try to determine what kind of situation the speaker (author) appears to have in mind and where he stands, i.e. the nature, according to his assumptions, of the audience’s attitudes, values, and needs in the specific situation that invites him to give a speech or produce a text. Second, we need to understand what the speaker seems to want to do in relation to these attitudes and values, what in other words, are his goals. All these questions are included in the rhetorical situation, and to identify this situation is the task of rhetoric. We should also trace the means utilized in the speech, together with the techniques of argumentation that are being used.134 The language of the apocalypse 132

Cf. Gorenberg 2000: 157–161. Lauri Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy of 1 Peter: With Special Regard to Ambiguous Expressions 1990: 43; O’Leary 1994: 15; Leppäkari 2003: 133. 134 Thurén 1990: 43; were comp. Bitzer 1968, Kennedy 1984, and Wuellner 1987. On the contribution of rhetoric to the study of meaning of the apocalyptic discourse, see O’Leary 1994. 133

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is, for the participants, a matter of life and death. Even more so, apocalyptic rhetoric is important since it is in this dualistic sense connected to the individual’s most crucial life concerns.135 By studying millenarian religious groups we can actually shed some light on religion in general. Very often, what we could call marginal expressions of religious adherence are regarded as something dangerous, or as abnormal behaviour. But this need not to be the case. Millenarians—those who anticipate the end of days and long for the coming of God’s kingdom—are often from a societal point of view, regarded as a threat. But most ‘Christian lovers’ of Israel could be defined as ‘passive millenarians’. They do not necessarily take redemption into their own hands, but leave it to God. Even though they use a rhetorical discourse which include such heavy words as ‘war’, ‘warriors’, ‘weapons’, and ‘battle’, this need not to be taken literally. Until concrete actions occur, this is just one way of expressing their concern, though this concern is extremely serious for believers. The TMF can also be described as a passive millenarian group.136 Let me illustrate this with an example, for the charismatic Christian, ‘Jerusalem’ is equated with redemption. Through analyzing what Jerusalem stands for in their rhetoric we may trace the meanings of the apocalyptic language being used. We need to observe that apocalyptic rhetoric is a matter of life and death, and in this sense connected to the individual’s most crucial life concerns. Jerusalem is then a symbol creating meaningfulness for believers and thus becomes one of the most important factors in an individual’s symbolic construction of life. In order to understand this, we need to look for the different apocalyptic representations, which we find in the believer’s expressions of religious adherence. My intention in doing this is to trace what believers understand by the concept of ‘Kingdom of God’ and how it can be understood as a synonym for Jerusalem. By studying apocalyptic rhetoric we actually shed some light on the problem of how to understand the goals of religious adherence with regard to Israel and Jerusalem. The preacher’s means of achiev-

135

Leppäkari 2003: 134. The charismatic Christians do not actually want to confront Muslims with violence. These Christians are only encouraged to pray to make things change, as Mr. J. W. van der Hoeven puts it: “We do not need bombs. We need the prayers and praise of our God to finish every obstacle that stands against Him fulfilling His word to His people”. van der Hoeven [1996]: 139. 136

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ing his goal are constantly present in the discourse of his sermon;137 it is therefore safe to say that, in our example, Mr. van der Hoeven is not speaking of real warfare, but of an imagined one, or what he believes to be a spiritual one. Basically, his message was: come to Israel on an organized tour during the Feast of Tabernacles. But in order to conceptualize the broader reasons for the Christian Zionist interest towards Jerusalem, we need to look further and not stop at the rhetorical perspective. For millenarians, ‘the end’ is always present. Behind such words we find personal engagement motivated by, I would argue primarily, representations of Jerusalem. And in all this, apocalyptic-millenarian rhetorical strategy plays an important role in the believer’s way of expressing his or her expectations. Human beings are storytellers. Even more so, Gorenberg argues, they are story dwellers. In particular, they live in stories passed down, written and preserved by long cultural tradition. As a story acted out by people seeking great political change, millennialism is likely to end in despair—this is true with millennialism, but millenarian thought without connection to a millennium will continue to flourish, always allowing new interpretations and explanations. For strict millennialism, as history has shown, total transformation does not come, and those who seek it may feel that politics itself is a deceiver, or that the dream of a better world is inherently treacherous.138 From a rhetorical perspective, then, the ICEJ and the TMF seem to share certain features regarding the past, present and future Jerusalem. However, it is important to notice that the significance of the themes discussed here is slightly different in content. They share a similar symbolic language through which it is easy for the members of the two groups to identify their shared interest in the city of Jerusalem. The cognitive make-up of these symbols immediately appears identical, but they in fact have slightly different meanings since they are constructed and affected by different religious traditions.

137 138

Thurén 1990: 43. Gorenberg 2000: 247.

Jerusalem: it is not one but, many. It is a place in which people actually live; it is a place that lives in them. It is a fragment of the imagination, an idea. It is visible, open to discovery; it is unseen, hidden to all but insiders. It is constructed of mortar and stone and inhabited by flesh and bone; it is formed of spirit and faith and filled by belief and memory. —Samuel Heilman, A Walker in Jerusalem 1995: 15 CHAPTER FIVE

THEORETICAL APPLICATION To illustrate the complex imagery connected to the city of Jerusalem, I have in the previous chapter referred to two contemporary religious groups working in today’s Jerusalem and thus offered an understanding of present day Jerusalem. It seems to me that the contemporary understanding of Jerusalem includes a three dimensional image: a Jerusalem of the past, a Jerusalem of the present and a Jerusalem of the future. In order to understand the image of “Jerusalem in the past” I have traced the city’s significance in history and I have come to the conclusion that history does indeed matter. As I have shown in chapter three, the image of Jerusalem has been an important factor not just within Judaism, but also in the development of Christianity—and Islam of course, although the latter has not been included in this study. While the city for some has signified a future spiritual kingdom of God, others have envisioned Jerusalem as a paradise regained on earth. The two groups’ relation to Jerusalem is hence related to the latter. I now wish to demonstrate how the characteristic understanding of Jerusalem expressed in the ICEJ and the TMF can be described and understood in the light of the theoretical perspectives discussed in chapter two. I proposed a theoretical model drawing on implications of Sperber’s representation theory in combination with theoretical aspects of Berger and Luckmann’s theory of social constructionism and symbolic interaction, together with aspects from Holm’s integrated role theory with its more psychological emphasis on the working of experience and interpretation. It is argued that a complex theoretical approach is needed in order to provide a description of contents and functions involved in attitudes like those finding expression in the

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two groups’ visions of Jerusalem. With the intention of showing how the representations of the two religious groups can be related to theory, I describe here the various representations the symbol of Jerusalem gives rise to from the point of view of the interpretive frame outlined in chapter 2. I use representations as tools of interpretation— along with theoretical views of how representations are evoked in human life, how they are expressed, shared and transformed socially, as well as internalized again with the help of symbols, always slightly changing in forms and modes—but basically still the same. The theoretical approach provides a tentative insight into the way in which sympathizers of the ICEJ and the TMF relate their visions and aspirations to Jerusalem as simultaneously a sacred place and a symbol invested with far-reaching interests. The combination of Sperber’s representation theory, aspects of Berger and Luckmann’s theories on social constructionism and symbolic interaction theory, with an additional contribution from Holm’s psychological theory, can hopefully enrich the description of what here is called apocalyptic representations and provide a more articulated theoretical account of the use of such representations. As initially indicated, this study should be seen as a contribution to the academic study of messianic and millenarian features. Theoretically, messianism has been regarded here as a force which brings forth the religious-millenarian vision, with the apocalypse described as having the most important active role in such a worldview. The apocalypse is then understood as marking the actual shift of paradigm, an event in which all humans take part. As such an event, the apocalypse (disaster) easily becomes the factor in the spotlight. For social human beings organized in groups and sharing an apocalyptic-millenarian vision of the forthcoming future, the apocalypse is only a means achieving the goal: the fulfilment of a millenarian-dream of better times. In this study I have focused on apocalyptic representations in order to emphasize the dynamic meaning of the position Jerusalem has in a millenarian framework, within the diverse interpretations, motivations and hopes connected with the city. My theoretical account of Jerusalem as a symbol which gives rise to apocalyptic representations implies that these apocalyptic representations simultaneously include both a physical, geographical place and mental images of a spiritualized city. This interaction between an actual physical place and an idea attached to the place has legiti-

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mized the combination of the earlier mentioned theoretical approaches. Let me now demonstrate how the images of the physical city (or contemporary Jerusalem) affect mental and public apocalyptic images of the city and how in turn, mental and public apocalyptic images affect people’s attitudes and views of the contemporary city. I will do this by referring back to the empirical part of my study regarding the two groups, the ICEJ and the TMF, acting in today’s Jerusalem. This does not, however, account for the whole picture of the motives and functions of their orientation. My discussion in this chapter is divided into four parts: first, I will consider the image of Jerusalem as it is conceptualized in the ICEJ and the TMF, emphasizing their use of apocalyptic representations involving Jerusalem and give account for mental, public and cultural apocalyptic representations of the city. Second, I will highlight the use of representations as a tool of research. Third, I will trace apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem in what here has been identified as the experienced reality of the two groups. Fourth, I will relate the apocalyptic representations to the discussion of ‘sacred’, where they become important when seen from within a larger crisis perspective. 5.1

Contemporary Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem

In chapter four a more detailed description of the ICEJ and the TMF was presented. The images of Jerusalem both past and present are important for the understanding of the two groups’ attitudes towards the city and for understanding the motives behind their arguments and activities. It is, however, important to notice that the ICEJ is defined as a Christian group, while the TMF is defined here as a Jewish group. Neither of these groups should be regarded here as typical representatives of either religious tradition, but only as groups as such. The focus of the empirical part of my study has been to explore how the interest in Jerusalem is expressed in the religious or ideological agendas of the two groups: how Jerusalem is referred to as both a physical place and a religious hope. The following short presentation should therefore be seen as an account with examples of how religious apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem are embedded in, and give expression through, the images or orientations that religious group-members as social human beings create of the city. What can actually be identified as apocalyptic

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expressions related to Jerusalem in the lives and activities of these two groups? In order to conceptualize representations of Jerusalem in the two groups, their references to Jerusalem need to be clarified. I here construct a model which illustrates how the groups relate to the contemporary city. This model is limited to what I have identified as apocalyptic themes in chapter 4. To analyze or even mention all the relevant themes would be impossible. My account is therefore deliberately idiosyncratic here and does not purport to be either definitive or complete. In the case of the ICEJ and the TMF, the references to present-day Jerusalem relate at the same time to visions or plans for a future Jerusalem. When they relate their understanding of a present and physical Jerusalem to religious symbols that hold and mediate motions of a coming Jerusalem, a vision of redemption is being actualized. This model then illuminates the relevance of a physical place and the relation of this to a future dream. To make my point clear let me list some specific apocalyptic endtime associations regarding Jerusalem, which the two groups advocate: A model representing apocalyptical themes relating a place to a dream: Contemporary Jerusalem thematic in the ICEJ: Activities in today’s Jerusalem Work against anti-Semitism Encouraging Zionism Critical positions towards: Islam Terrorism The Media World politics

Correspondence to religious symbols: Biblical references Antichrist The second coming of Christ Armageddon The Kingdom of God

A vision of redemption in the ICEJ: Based on biblical references (Old and New Testament) History is understood as a continuation of God’s plan for humanity Zionism is understood as a sign of the endtimes A forthcoming battle between good and evil The second coming of Jesus Christ as the Messiah God will again dwell in Jerusalem (the presence of Christ) Israel and those who favoured it will be redeemed and partake in Christ’s regime The ultimate goal of history is revealed, as Jerusalem becomes a peaceful place, a paradise on earth and a Kingdom of God The New Jerusalem becomes the capital of the universe

theoretical application Contemporary Jerusalem thematic in the TMF: Activities in today’s Jerusalem Encouraging Zionism Critical positions towards: Domestic policy The status quo on the Temple Mount Arabs

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Correspondence to religious symbols: Biblical references Eretz Israel The Temple Messiah Ben David War of Gog and Magog Kingdom of God

A vision of redemption in the TMF: Based on biblical references (the Hebrew Bible) History is understood as being part of God’s divine plan Zionism marks the beginning of the endtimes There will be a battle between good and evil The coming of Messiah Ben David There will be a temple rebuilt on Mount Moriah and God will again dwell among his people Israel and its allies will survive and obtain access to God’s Kingdom on earth The Kingdom of God is seen as the completion of history and, as such, the ultimate goal of history is revealed The New Jerusalem will bring peace to all mankind The New Jerusalem will become the capital of the universe

The constructed models here are very similar to each other at first appearance, but there are some minor differences found in certain details that will be closer here elaborated. While today’s Jerusalem is understood as the foundation of the awaited heavenly city of peace, everything linked to it seems to be negative. The contemporary city is still viewed as holy, but it is not quite so holy as it will become. The contemporary negative characteristics of the city will eventually be turned into positive characteristics after a battle between good and evil. This negative view of contemporary Jerusalem has an opposite pole, which is constituted by the path that will bring forth the New Jerusalem. The positive characteristics of the city then motivate both of these groups to work for the realization of the totally transformed new city. Here, contemporary Jerusalem is being attributed with symbolic significance from the religious traditions. These symbolic significances function as models eventually leading to the ideal Zion. The visions of redemption not only account for a transformation of the actual city, but also for a transformation of mankind. The visions of a New Jerusalem (built upon the old one), as presented in the two groups, bring forth a vision of redemption involving the whole of mankind. The visions of a New Jerusalem indicate a completion of Zion, which is considered to be God’s plan for the universe.

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For the religious, the interpretive model of the Jerusalem of the ICEJ indicates that the State of Israel is a divine miracle in the world, but as such it is not yet completed. The completion of Zion is therefore something worth striving for. According to the ICEJ, anti-Semitism is understood as evil, and they encourage all Christians to fight against it. The worst enemy of Israel is Islam, and as such, Islam is also seen as the enemy of all Christianity. The world media are criticized by the ICEJ for giving a false image of what is happening in today’s Israel. This false picture is seen as being influenced by the supporters of the Palestinians and therefore the media, too, are seen as being influenced by evil forces. The ICEJ is not content with contemporary policies in Israel and therefore includes the question of peace in the Near East on their agenda. Living in contemporary society can be characterized by referring to it as “living in the endtimes”. While the world is seen as evil and ripe for destruction, the images from the religious tradition allow the group to provide its sympathizers with inspiring models for future events and trust in God’s promise. The interpretations of the religious symbols then allow them to link the past with the future and, in this process, the interpretations also accord with an interpretation of activities in present-day Jerusalem. For the TMF, contemporary Jerusalem is negatively influenced because of the status quo on the Temple Mount, the peace negotiations and the presence of Palestinians. Also knowing that Jerusalem is not what it could be strengthens the negative associations and the weight of the negative pole in the image of present Jerusalem. On the other hand, there is a religious tradition based on the Torah and traditions of interpreting it, where the significance of the Temple Mount is emphasized. The religious symbols then inspire the groups to work for a New Jerusalem. These images of a future Jerusalem in line with the image of the temple tradition constitute positive attitudes and provide the cultural radicals with hope for a better future. When the Temple Mount, according to the TMF, is once again liberated and the third temple is built, Jerusalem will become a place of worship for all nations and JHWH will again dwell among his people. Also in the TMF, Zionism is regarded as being a divine sign in history, which initiated the epoch of the endtimes. According to the apocalyptical-millenarian worldviews held by the ICEJ and the TMF, Jerusalem will become a Kingdom of God,

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which will include the whole world, God, time, nations and peoples, while the physical place will remain the same. In the eyes of the believers, time has ceased to exist and history is viewed as completed. Both groups feel that redemption is offered to all nations and individuals, provided they fulfil certain pre-conditions: that is to support the State of Israel in both prosperity and adversity. In spite of different views on the Messiah, the ICEJ and the TMF agree that the Messiah, or the parousia of Christ as it is called by Christians, should be hastened through territorial expansion, financial support and, in some cases, even the building of a third temple. Religious symbols referring to Jerusalem are selected to form one’s identity as both individual and as adherent of a group. In the two cases presented here, the idea of Jerusalem provides a model of constructing and interpreting the significance of Jerusalem. These interpretive models are linked to the city’s past, present and future. The activities of present-day Jerusalem are interpreted through models provided from the past. At the same time, the past also forms visions of an ideal society, which is still to come. This ideal Jerusalem is seen as the future, perfect society towards which the present one is heading. 5.1.1

Apocalyptic Representations of Jerusalem

My theoretical approach makes use of a model constructed to analyze what apocalyptic representations are and show how they are evoked and applied in the two groups involved in my study. It is evident that representations of Jerusalem are maintained, expressed, shared and socially transformed, and then internalized again. Jerusalem, as an important endtime city and symbol of an immediate future perfection, gives rise to various apocalyptic representations. Relating visions, motives and the aspirations of the ICEJ and the TMF to Jerusalem further illuminates the relationship between an actual physical place, conceived as sacred, and a symbol invested with even further-reaching interests. In this model, apocalyptic representations as such are identified and described mainly with the help of Sperber’s epidemiological representation theory. Hence it can be argued that apocalyptic representations do exist, that they can be studied and their distribution traced. Apocalyptic representations propagate effectively. They are easily remembered and publicly known. Sperber does not, however, say much about the contents of representations. In order to explain the

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apocalyptic representations related to Jerusalem, the contents of the representations do matter. Theoretical concepts such as symbolic universe and legitimation from the perspective of Berger and Luckmann help describe such contents more precisely, as well as the way the contents are introduced and maintained by tradition and through socially learned patterns of thought and behaviour. In my material these theoretical concepts suggest explanation for the way in which Jerusalem is pictured in apocalyptic representations of the two groups. In fact, these images are sanctioned by a shared meaning perspective, which also colours the worldviews of each group. In the light of theory, then, it is quite obvious that apocalyptic representations involving the image of Jerusalem do play an important role and that such representations of Jerusalem are not created in a vacuum. It is possible to see that these representations are socially learned and become decisive factors in people’s symbolic universes and views of reality. Berger and Luckmann’s concepts thus provide useful insights into the contents and functioning of apocalyptic representations within groups who have been socialized into specific religious interpretations of life. However, not only are the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem socially learned and transmitted patterns of thought and interpretation; they are also living images in the minds of people. As such intrapersonal images, they provide motivation for further interpretation and action, for meaning-giving strategies and retransmission of the symbolic language involving notions of an endtime Jerusalem. Such personal motivational aspirations (interpretations of symbolic universes) are further legitimized and reinforced through TV reports, demonstrations and pilgrimages (or journeys) to Jerusalem. Through the use of Holm’s integrated role theory, seen as a complex dialogue between socially learned symbols and mental symbolic expressions, the individual strivings (in a general sense) can be given a more accurate description. By examining the way in which contents and emotions involved in mental representations function as motivating factors and meaning-giving forces behind the widespread distribution of apocalyptic representations, or the correspondence between socially learned symbols (Holm’s outer existence space) of an endtime Jerusalem and very personal images of this city, it is possible to suggest how the experience of such correspondence becomes meaningful to the believer. When the symbolic language used in a person’s social environment finds a correspondence in emotional and mental

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images (inner existence space) this can result in the satisfying experience of things falling nicely into place. To summarize: apocalyptic representations stand for views on Jerusalem as a complex whole of a concrete endtime place and a vision of urgent and immanent future perfection. Apocalyptic representations become integrated in a person’s life on both the social and personal levels. As a symbol, Jerusalem receives meaning and value by simultaneously referring to both a physical place and a dream. I will now continue by presenting in detail the theoretical implications and how they are applied. I start with the images of Jerusalem on a personal level and then go on with a public level. 5.1.2

Mental Apocalyptic Representations

Individuals have mental images of Jerusalem, which include visions of Paradises and Heavens and the like. In the case of the ICEJ, the images related to Jerusalem motivate individuals to travel to Jerusalem, on a pilgrimage or just to actually see and experience the city. Among the activities of the ICEJ, for example, the Feast of the Tabernacles is a ritual occasion where images of Jerusalem are nourished. For believers, the city is experienced as important on an individual level— people create mental images of the city which correspond to their conceptions of a worldview. Believers might feel that Jerusalem has relevance both for themselves as individuals and for mankind, since Jerusalem in religious tradition is described as God’s City. A sympathizer of the ICEJ will probably feel strongly for Jerusalem and the things happening in the city today. The present images of, and activities in, the city are then interpreted in a larger context, within the body of a religious tradition where Jerusalem becomes utterly important, not just for one’s own sake but also for the sake of humanity. The multiple reasons why Jerusalem becomes important to a person are an issue which I have not been able to deal with in detail in this study. Such an inquiry accounts for deeper psychological case studies. What is important, however, is that the city, both as a place and as a dream, attracts people for personal reasons. While the ICEJ as a group has Christian redemption in mind, the TMF has in mind a redemption consonant with Jewish history and religion. Most members of, and sympathizers with, the TMF are Jewish, some of whom even took part in important Israeli wars. To

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the TMF, nationalism is an important factor. For the individual it is then a question of being a Jew, and an Israeli—a member of a community, which was chosen by God. The rich body of history and tradition then puts the individual member of the TMF into a much larger context, where Jerusalem is a marker for a nation’s identity. To live in Jerusalem, to demonstrate and to act for the group’s cause, then becomes important. The TMF wants Israelis and other people to participate, take up positions and act for the cause of the city’s redemption. The city is understood as unique since it is chosen by God. Take Mr. Salomon for example: he is personally engaged in the quest for Zion, since he experienced that his personal destiny was to become part of a larger calling. He also felt he was destined to work for the building of the third temple and to raise voices for the redemption of Jerusalem from ‘foreign powers’. On a personal level, the representations deal with people’s mental images and visions of the city. Let me here refer back to the example in chapter two (p. 54): the vision of John accounts for personal emotional attachment to the city. John, in our example, had a vision of a ‘New Jerusalem’ coming down from heaven. This image of Jerusalem was connected to a body of history, among some scholars referred to as a specific written genre, but religious individuals still today experience similar images to John’s. As such an experience of vision or dream, we cannot speak about genre in the sense referred to above, since these images are not always found as written pieces. As dreams, for example, they are found in people’s minds. The personal images and experiences of Jerusalem are then mental in character: mental in the sense that they are found inside people’s heads, and as such no one can actually obtain access to them. These personal images of the city are here called mental representations. Others get access to these intrapersonal images only when those who have them express them in forms of language, written pieces, art, behaviour and the like. These representations are then no longer mental; they become public, and may evoke new mental influences. 5.1.3

Public and Cultural Apocalyptic Representations

Jerusalem is not only about one person’s redemption, but the city is also described as a key to cosmic world events. These cosmic world events have been prophesized in both the Jewish and Christian religious traditions. The prophecies that are referred to in the case

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of the ICEJ and the TMF are found in the Hebrew Bible, and in the Old and New Testament of the Christian Bible. Not only do these prophecies contain information about what happened in the region in the past, but this past is also projected onto the future as describing symbolically what will eventually happen in the city of today. This interpretation of Jerusalem being important in coming world events, as an arena for endtime events, is not a new idea. On the contrary, there are several models of how to interpret events in history as Godly events. Zionism, in the case of both the ICEJ and the TMF, is viewed as such an event, launching the final stage in world history. If people do not pay attention to what God has revealed in his Book, then they will be forever lost. If attention is not paid to Jerusalem, the expected end might consequently again be postponed. Both the ICEJ and the TMF contribute to the creation of the public image of endtime Jerusalem. When they publish material and perform demonstrations, they actually bring to public knowledge their interpretations of why Jerusalem is important, and why world politics in the Near East pays a crucial role in mankind’s redemption. As groups, the ICEJ and the TMF then contribute to the creation and transmission of apocalyptic representations. These representations become public knowledge; other people acquire the information and further re-interpret it. Pictures, speeches, texts, TV reports, interpretations of world events, and so forth, all contribute to the formation of public apocalyptic representations. Not only contemporary examples of this, but also all previous imagery in poetry and art, contribute to maintaining the apocalyptic heritage in forms of representations that have been attached to the city through history. The apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem as a city have, over the course of time, become a theme generally and publicly known. Most people are familiar with this notion. These apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem are then so general and publicly known, that they can be referred to as cultural apocalyptic representations. The apocalyptical myth of endtime Jerusalem has become culturally recognized and, over the generations, has been further introduced into various cultural contexts. The transmission and transformation of the apocalyptic myth including Jerusalem has then survived in different cultural contexts, and is still today retold, re-interpreted and believed in. These mental, public and cultural apocalyptic representations traced in the empirical material can also be illuminated from a different

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perspective. This perspective is concerned with what I regard as commonly conceived apocalyptic imagination, described in chapter two (p. 58ff ). Among commonly conceived apocalyptic representations, I accounted for six varieties of apocalyptic representations in practice. I called these representations public and cultural since they are commonly perceived. These public and cultural representations do, however, give rise to mental representations, which in turn are further communicated. Some of these representations can also be traced and identified in the empirical material. I will now turn to the way in which my theoretical account allows for distinctions in the general apocalyptic representations in the empirical material and present these forms more closely below. 5.1.4

Commonly Conceived Apocalyptic Representations

The written apocalypse, with regard to the ICEJ and the TMF, is expressed in the selected items of biblical reference they use when speaking about Jerusalem. The apocalypse is further interpreted through the use of a specific (Christian and Jewish) religious tradition as a context and ideology. This overreaching tradition has, however, been modified through history. For this reason, interpretations are not formed in a vacuum. The core of a religious tradition is preserved, but details and specific indications are changed, added or omitted. For the ICEJ and the TMF the apocalypse is certainly contextual. But it is not only contextual in the sense that it refers to the physical city of Jerusalem; it is also culturally bound. In the case of the ICEJ, the interpretation of Jerusalem is dependent on Western Christianity, both present and historical, and, in the case of the TMF, the views connected with Jerusalem are culturally bound to Jewish notions of Jerusalem. The image of Jerusalem is also culturally bound to the sympathizer’s own culturally conceived concepts and shared within a common culture. The apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem in both the ICEJ and the TMF are of an existential type, to the extent that Jerusalem for believers is a matter of existence in relation to non-existence. The apocalyptic representations related to Jerusalem raise ethical questions, which do not seem to have been considered very much in the two groups’ presentations of themselves. But the consequences of the apocalypse are utterly clear in the formulations and statements of the two groups. Those who do not believe in the way proposed by

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the groups will not have access to heaven. For this kind of dualistic view of life, an opponent or enemy is always required. The apocalypse, however, is seldom seen as equal for all. Because of the dualistic nature of the apocalypse, not everybody can be saved from doom and disaster. According to the ICEJ and the TMF, the world’s Muslims and those not believing in Jerusalem’s special function will eventually meet with extinction. The question of gender is another matter which is not very relevant to the two groups mentioned here. Noteworthy, though is that there are only a few female leaders among the Christian Zionists, which perhaps is related to certain religious conservatism in relation to female preachers. Jerusalem in this apocalyptic frame is, however, symbolically described as representing the ‘bride of Christ’, or otherwise referred to as ‘she’ in religious language. Events in nature, disasters and threatening images brought to the fore by science are interpreted as signs of the endtimes. Such images have indeed throughout history been interpreted as representations of an imminent end and they are also understood as such in the case of the ICEJ and the TMF. Such environmental and technological apocalypses are indeed actualized in the empirical material, but they are merely interpreted as signs of the imminent final battle between God and the satanic powers. These apocalyptic representations are contextualized to relate to Jerusalem and typically include both reference to an actual physical place and a vision of a better future. Finally, in the material presented in this study the following basic apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem can be found: 1. Jerusalem as a physical representation: Jerusalem is a city in the State of Israel with about 500.000 inhabitants. As a city, it is a physical point of reference to a tradition of apocalyptic representations. Contemporary Jerusalem is prescribed with references from the past, and seen as such representing the future. 2. Jerusalem as point of reference in religious tradition: Jerusalem is mentioned as God’s city in the holy scriptures of the three monotheistic faiths, Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Each of these traditions has developed a rich body of references to the city. Especially important here is the significance of the city in endtimes belief as prescribed in the Jewish-Christian traditions of faith. 3. Representations of a perfect Jerusalem: With reference to the religious traditions, Jerusalem plays an important role in what is understood

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as the final history of mankind and the apocalyptic war between good and evil. These apocalyptic representations will eventually accumulate into a paradise, something so beautiful that we could never even imagine it: a state, which is often compared to the ancient ‘good old times’ of Zion. The image of restoration is more evident in the Jewish than in the Christian case. In Christian terms, ‘paradise’ here mostly represents the creation of something wholly new. 4. Representations of a spiritual Jerusalem: Jerusalem also represents a spiritual or heavenly city of peace, beauty, and righteousness: this city is completely disconnected from the physical city. This idea of a spiritual Jerusalem would not exist, however, if there were not a point of reference in tradition, or, even more so, if there had not been an actual physical reference. Representatives from the early Christian tradition onwards have referred to a ‘spiritual’ Jerusalem. 5. Physical expressions: Throughout history the idea of the future kingdom of God has evoked strong emotions. Artists have expressed their visions in works of art (painting, architecture, poetry, song, etc.). These expressions together with pilgrimages, maps, photos and TV-reports contribute to the further dissemination of the apocalyptic conception of Jerusalem. 6. Mental expressions: For religious individuals existential utterances are attributed to the city, both the geographical and the imagined one. The city in this way becomes important in the individual process of redemption, as well. As a symbol of both personal and planetary redemption, Jerusalem motivates people to act eagerly for the realization of a godly plan. 5.2

Representations as Tools for Interpretation

On looking back at the motives and activities of the ICEJ and the TMF, it may therefore be argued that the image of Zion can be seen as a factor in personal, as well as social, development and roletaking. This is a factor of great importance in the formation of people’s outlook on life. In the previous chapter I suggested that, in the case of the ICEJ and the TMF, the representations of Jerusalem produce a certain role-taking in relation to people’s religious longings. This is a process experienced both in social life and in the con-

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text of ideological commitment. Just as with each individual, these groups also learn collective symbols in the cultural context where they are active. The span between the emotional (personal) realm of experience and the social can be studied and explained in many ways. Here, this interaction is of importance. The interrelationships between social symbols and personal ones need to be further addressed. These social symbols in correspondence with personal symbols, and what the latter in turn re-present, can make people want something and perform specific actions either as individuals or as groups. In other words, it can be assumed that, for individuals and groups like the ICEJ and the TMF, Jerusalem or Zion provide a meaningful model for interpreting events in contemporary and future society. In their case, these models of interpretation are sanctioned by various, more or less selected, images in the Bible or the Torah, together with visions in hymns and other literary and oral sources associated with certain religious traditions. The attractiveness of Jerusalem is in this way sanctioned by specific religious traditions. What these social symbols stand for and point towards can also be understood as an analogy with what is conceived as the goal of personal development: Jerusalem then becomes meaningful for the personal life of religious individual. But understanding beliefs and the social reality that people inhabit requires a study of the manner in which a given reality is constructed. Methods from different sciences can be used to carry out such an inquiry. Whatever approach we choose, there will always remain gaps in the argument. The different sciences have not yet managed to patch up each other’s weak points. In this chapter I have used explanatory models from cognitive anthropology and cognitive psychology in order to illuminate how the two groups construct the reality they experience. This is not, however, an exclusive description of how the imagined apocalyptic reality is structured, or what it represents. It is merely just an attempt to shed new light on a theme, which has been well documented in various fields, including theology and comparative religion. “Interpretations and descriptions are representations”.1 In line with Sperber’s argument, the apocalypse is not understood as a twoplace predicate, where something represents something; it is rather 1

Dan Sperber, On Anthropological Knowledge. Three Essays 1987: 11.

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a three-place predicate, where the apocalypse represents something for someone. When describing the different apocalyptic representations of the city Jerusalem, I have suggested that we should, like Sperber, initially distinguish two kinds of representations: firstly, the internal or mental apocalyptic representations; and second, the external or public apocalyptic representations. But the public apocalyptic representations only acquire meaning by being associated with mental representations.2 Every day each individual builds thousands of mental representations; most of these are almost immediately forgotten, and are never transmitted. Very few mental representations are expressed, that is, transformed into public representations and thus transmitted to others. [. . .] A few representations, however, are retransmitted by their initial receivers who to new receivers who, in turn, retransmit them, and so on.3

In this sense, the apocalypse can be understood as an internal, mental representation in the minds of individuals, where they constitute the references of a personal religious view of life; but simultaneously it can be referred to as a public representation, since there are diverse materials about the character of apocalypses in past, present and future. Here I have focused more on the public representations of the endtime themes associated with Jerusalem as a geographical city, than on the different images the city creates in individuals’ minds. For describing mental images of Jerusalem I suggest a more psychological approach, something that has not been attempted in this study.4 To cover the various public images of Jerusalem associated with an apocalyptic future, selected examples from the past were presented in chapter 3. As I have pointed out, the notion of Jerusalem as a city enrolled in the destiny of the world’s future is not typically any new idea. The roots of the themes are to be found in a religious tradition where persons’ identities are intertwined with beliefs in how the world’s existence relates to God. The apocalypse, then, has a character that can be described as religious. But, as we could see in chapter 2, the apocalyptic features, even when they include

2

Sperber 1999: 78–81. Sperber 1987: 30. 4 For the intra-psychic symbols and the process relating them to socially conceived symbols and personal history, cf. Holm 2001: 79–84 and Strozier 1994, on Christian fundamentalism in America. 3

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an image of Jerusalem, do not need to be ‘religious’ in the strict sense of the word. Even contemporary culture feeds on apocalyptic themes. Some of these themes have been pointed out in this study, such as the environmental and technological apocalypses. I suggest that these types of apocalyptic representations should be understood as cultural representations of the apocalyptic myth. In these ‘secular’ public apocalyptic representations there is, however, a sort of redemption to be found. This redemptive image becomes attractive by including the notion of the promise of mankind’s survival. At the end, even in these ‘secular’ apocalypses we find reference to a new beginning. 5.2.1

Attractiveness of Apocalypses

Dan Sperber presents two types of belief represented in human minds, referring to them as “descriptions of states of affairs directly stored in the belief box”.5 Such states of affairs are defined as ‘intuitive ontologies’. These types of beliefs are intuitive in the sense that they coincide with spontaneous and unconscious perceptual and inferential processes and people do not need to be aware of holding them. Within this context of intuitive ontologies there are interpretations of representations embedded in the context. Sperber calls these representations ‘reflective beliefs’.6 In all human societies, traditional or modern . . . individuals acquire a rich body of intuitive beliefs about themselves and their natural and social environment. These include beliefs about the movement of physical bodies, the behavior of one’s own body, the effects of various body-environment interactions, the behavior of many living kinds, the behavior of fellow humans. These beliefs are acquired in the course of ordinary interaction with the environment and with others. [. . .] Even without teaching, these beliefs are easily acquired by everybody.7

Pascal Boyer has focused on “the relationship between religious ideas and the intuitive ontologies”.8 Intuitive ontology implies a theory or categorical scheme about things that exist in the world and how these things affect the conceptual traffic. Proceeding from the epidemiological model of Sperber, Boyer argues that an idea cannot be 5 6 7 8

Sperber 1999: 89. Ibid. Sperber 1999: 92. Lawson 2000: 78–80.

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transmitted unless it combines two aspects. First, the nature of the idea should be sufficiently familiar and should in most respects conform to our intuitive ontology. Second, the idea should be sufficiently attention-grabbing or fascinating for it to become easily memorable and readily subject to further transmission. According to Boyer, what makes an idea interesting is that it goes against our expectations of what the world is like. Interesting ideas, or ideas that we become attached to, are thus ‘counterintuitive’ in character. This would mean that ideas and images of gods and religious phenomena are sometimes to be understood as such counterintuitive ontologies, that is, when they attract us and we pay attention to them.9 Some intuitive beliefs are about particulars (particular locations, personal events), and are idiosyncratic or are only shared very locally; others are general (historical events and characters), and are widespread throughout a society. General intuitive beliefs vary across cultures, but they do not seem to vary greatly. [. . .] Intuitive beliefs are (or are treated as) the output of perception and unconscious inference, either the subject’s own perceptions and inferences or those of others in the case of intuitive beliefs acquired through communication. [. . .] It seems, both perception and communication are always involved in the construction of intuitive beliefs. [. . .] A great number of very widespread beliefs owe their distribution to the fact that all members of a society . . . have similar perceptual experiences. However . . . the resources for perception are themselves partly derived from communication. [. . .] Widespread beliefs owe theirs almost exclusively to communication.10

We still have to bear in mind that every individual has his and her own unique experiences that cannot be perfectly attained and thus fully explained. Now these implications certainly fit when we refer back to the apocalyptic idea. As a form of ‘belief ’, the apocalyptic myth, or idea of the world’s coming destruction, can be seen as the kind of idea that has attracted people through the ages. The apocalyptic representations involving Jerusalem might be understood as such a ‘counterintuitive belief ’. Theoretically, they can be seen as counterintuitive, but in practice, for the religiously motivated believer, they are of

9 Ibid., op. cit. According to Boyer, religious representations comprise claims (or statements) which “violate people’s ideas of what commonly takes place in their environment”. Boyer 1994: 35, 48. 10 Sperber 1999: 93–95.

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course not counterintuitive, they are as average and natural as can be, and therefore such ideas are conceptualized as intuitive. Religious symbols might allow a smooth transition between the realm of religion and everyday life. This kind of transition between conceived realities is very common among believers inhabiting an apocalyptic frame of reference. As experiences of such ‘general intuitive beliefs’, apocalypses are, for various reasons, shared by the human population. As we have seen, the apocalyptic idea is spread through time and space: the idea of the apocalypse is in a way part of a reflective attitude on the human condition in life. As a reflective matter, the apocalypse addresses the ultimate questions humans always seek to answer: who and why we are. I will shortly return to discuss the content of the apocalypse in relation to its attractiveness. A myth is an orally transmitted story, which is taken to represent actual events, including ‘supernatural’ events incompatible with intuitive beliefs. Therefore, for a myth to be accepted without inconsistency, it has to be insulated from intuitive beliefs: that is, held as a reflective belief. A myth is a cultural representation, which means that the story is told (given public versions) often enough to cause a large enough proportion of a human group to know it (have mental versions of it). For this, two conditions must be met. First the story must be easily enough and accurately enough remembered on the basis of oral inputs alone. Some themes and some narrative structures seem in this respect to do much better cross-culturally than others.11

As I have shown, the apocalypse and the myth of paradise, or the Kingdom of God, seems to be the type of myth that will survive, however, in various modified forms. According to Sperber’s theoretical implication, the “changing cultural background affects memorability” and the content of a myth “tends to drift over time so as to maintain maximal memorability”.12 Furthermore, in line with Sperber’s argumentation yet another condition has to be met: There must be enough incentives to actually recall and tell the story on enough occasions to cause it to be transmitted. These incentives may be institutional (e.g. ritual occasions . . .); but the surest incentive comes from the attractiveness of the story for the audience and the

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Sperber 1999: 95. Ibid., op. cit.

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success the story-teller can therefore expect. Interestingly . . . the very same themes and structures which help one remember a story seem to make it particularly attractive.13

In order to understand more clearly the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem it is important to reflect on the reasons for the attractiveness of the apocalyptic myth. Certainly, there are many reasons why it continues to fascinate. In the following section I will argue for one point specifically, that the attractiveness of apocalyptic representations, to some people, lies in their dichotomic characteristics. 5.2.2

Transformation of Apocalypses

The varieties of apocalyptic representations found in culture account for the transformation of the apocalypse as a theme. From being concentrated to an actual geographical place, Jerusalem has become a marker for the whole world. The apocalypse then involves all of humanity. From being a religious belief or idea, it becomes a culturally manifested notion of fear and extinction. The different apocalypses, environmental and technological ones in particular, mark the transformation of the apocalyptic representation to a more secular cultural sphere. A forerunner to this kind of representation can nevertheless be traced in the beliefs of those who saw earthquakes and other natural disasters (hurricanes, comets, floods etc.) as utterances of God’s displeasure with human affairs. In an apocalyptic framework, such events were and still are interpreted as warnings from God, intended to shock people and claim their attention. This is in line with religious interpretations of the Apocalypse in some groups in Finland, too. The Second World War offered a new discourse to the apocalyptic imagination. After the birth of the State of Israel, there was an actual place to refer to when reflecting on forthcoming apocalyptic events. The State of Israel stimulated numerous religious speculations about the apocalyptic end, this within the realm of religion. The birth of the State of Israel can then be understood as a shift of paradigm in the history of the apocalypse. If the apocalyptic imagination was attached to a geographical spot, it was loosened from its original context within the development of European Christianity. After the foundation of a Jewish State, the apocalyptic

13

Sperber 1999: 95–96.

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imaginations of a paradise on earth once again referred back to a geographical place: Jerusalem in the State of Israel. This recovered importance of a specific space entered into a rich body of history. Simultaneously, it offers many Jews and Christians an up-to-date apocalyptic discourse that became concrete and actually referred not just to a spiritual world, but to a physical one as well. Once again, the ‘New Jerusalem’ would not come down from heaven but would be built up from Zion, in Jerusalem. Contemporary Jerusalem then, was not only understood as representing the past, but it also created and contributed to the imagination of the future city. Historiccultural role models are thus projected onto contemporary Jerusalem, contributing to the process of forming cultural representations of the endtime city. If the representations of an apocalyptic idea were to be understood in the way proposed here, it would mean that we are dealing simultaneously with three types of apocalyptic representations in general. People carry mental representations that constitute the different images and interpretations created in our minds, whether short- or long-term representations, of the different images related to the apocalyptic themes or symbols. Apocalyptic symbols are being transmitted through public representations, texts, photos, maps, utterances and so forth. This physical emergence of the apocalyptic idea is to be found in our physical environments. There is simultaneously a dialogue or communication between these mental and public representations of symbols relating to apocalyptic themes. Now this study suggests, in the light of chapters 2, 3 and 4, that the idea of the apocalypse in relation to the city of Jerusalem is an idea that attracts people and therefore generates further new representations (or interpretations). In this way, we are dealing with a cultural representation consisting of a multiplicity of mental and public versions related to one another both by their ‘genesis’ and by the similarity of their contents. What is here called cultural representations of the apocalypse refers to those representations more widely shared within one or more populations. An effort has been made here to both explain and interpret the meanings of the socially shared apocalyptic motives in personal and public images of the divine city of Jerusalem in the ICEJ’s and the TMF’s way of understanding life in the light of ongoing events in the contemporary city. Representations were useful research tools for illuminating the complex imagery related to the symbol of Jerusalem. The theoretical formulations of

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the representation theory invites to a new understanding of the apocalyptic-millenarian phenomenon related to the city of Jerusalem. However, epidemiological representation theory does not really account for the essence or content of the apocalyptic idea, which, from my point of view does influence why and how the various apocalypses are re-transmitted and give rise to new interpretations. 5.3

Interpreting an Identified Reality

In the process of trying to find a theoretical description of “the whole view of life” in the context of the apocalypse, attitudes towards apocalyptic representation allow endless diversity. Notwithstanding this diversity, however, explaining cultural beliefs—whether intuitive or reflective—and if reflective, whether half or fully understood, involves looking at two things: first, how the apocalyptic representations are recognized by individuals and second, how they are further communicated within a group. To cover the views and motivations of groups like the ICEJ and the TMF one also needs to include concepts from social interaction theories, regarding both internalization processes and object relations (in this case Jerusalem). Words such as ‘truth’ and ‘reality’ occur frequently in our everyday conversation; and these words are particularly common among believers. They are difficult to explain, but I still feel the need to tackle them as the concepts of truth and reality do relate to the subject of the present study. Berger and Luckmann provide a slightly different explanation to Sperber for culture in relation to our consciousness. In their classic study, they argue that consciousness always intends, or is directed towards, objects. Here consciousness is related to the two groups, the ICEJ and the TMF, and the object on which they focus is Jerusalem. As argued by Berger and Luckmann, regardless of whether the object of consciousness is experienced as belonging to an external physical world, or apprehended as an element of an inward subjective reality, the focus is intended or directed towards an object, in this case, Jerusalem. For people and groups holding an apocalyptic view of life, the apocalypse is part of their experienced reality and Jerusalem is the object towards which their activity is concentrated.

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Reality Building-blocks

For the believers there is no doubt at all about the apocalyptical story’s truthfulness. Here the assumption is that the apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem, when understood through the mediation of symbols, actually construct the reality of everyday activity. These ‘symbolic’ representations not only function as building blocks of experienced reality, but also act as blocks through which reality is interpreted and experienced. As a symbol for a better future, the apocalypse is certainly a strong motivator for people to act and perform in accordance with the goals they preconceive. In fact, in line with Holm’s argument, when personal analogies are created between the structures of experience and those models acquired collectively, a type of role-taking occurs. An intense experience of such role identification can then lead either to greater maturity, or to a situation where the religious symbol worlds may end up in “destructive experience contexts”.14 Such a thought can easily be related to the revolutionary character of millenarian anticipations. Millenarian revolutions are understood to be hastened realizations of the prophesied millennial state.15 These imaged universal endings do somehow seem to be rooted in images of collective death and renewal, for in most millenarian beliefs apocalypse precedes redemption. In such a story, salvation actually requires violence. These endings do then, however, become beginnings.16 When most of us would consider a person to be acting abnormally or going mad, he has actually, according to Berger & Luckmann, ipso facto entered a world that is no longer the “common world of everyday life”.17 This kind of transition between different realities is very common for people living with an apocalyptic frame of reference. It is the religious symbols that make such transitions possible. Through language and images, it is possible for apocalyptics to actualize, or transfer between, the different “zones within the realm of everyday life reality”. The apocalyptic representations are understood as being no different from other things socially experienced. The millenarian belief in a ‘New Jerusalem’ is then understood to be just

14 15 16 17

Holm 1997a: 84. Davidson 1977: 215. Strozier 1997: 2. Berger & Luckmann 1968: 25.

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as real as when one conceptualizes, say, ‘a chair’, i.e. in terms of what it is or what you are supposed to do with it, etc. Put simply, through language an entire world (of symbols) can be actualized at any moment. They are located in one reality but might refer to another. Such themes spanning the ‘spheres of reality’ may, according to Berger and Luckmann, be defined as symbols, while the linguistic mode by which such representations are achieved may be called symbolic language. This symbolic language does not only refer to socially conceived models of thought and religious symbolic language, but corresponds to the concrete experiences of almost every individual. Hence, the use of a religious symbolic language legitimates the three-dimensional image of Jerusalem, as interpreted by the ICEJ and the TMF. The images of a Jerusalem of the past are made relevant for present-day Jerusalem. These representations further impregnate believers’ emotionally charged images of a future Jerusalem. Symbol and language soar into regions that are not only de facto, but also a priori, unavailable to everyday experience. To clarify this a little, we could argue that religion, philosophy, art and science are the historically most important symbolic systems of this kind. Symbolism and symbolic language become essential to what we recognize as the reality of everyday life and the commonsense apprehension of this type of reality.18 The apocalyptic representations with their religious symbols then allow such a transition between the different ‘spheres of reality’. Such reasoning may though be understood and used as a counter-argument for understanding the apocalypse as a ‘counterintuitive ontology’, when seen from the participant’s perspective. 5.3.2

Legitimating Everlasting Life

If we continue discussing the apocalyptic representations within the frame of symbolic universes, we will end up with the concept of death. Death and dying provides a strategic legitimating function of the symbolic universes for individual biography: The experience of the death of others, and subsequently, the anticipation of one’s own death posit the marginal situation par excellence for

18

Berger & Luckmann 1968: 40–41.

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the individual. [. . .] This legitimation of death is, consequently, one of the most important fruits of the symbolic universe.19

If we presume this state of affairs to be so, it would provide us with one explanation of why the apocalypse keeps on fascinating or attracting people.20 Surely, this would then be the apocalypse’s connection to the true ultimate questions in our symbolic universe. Here death, or its opposite, an everlasting life in a promised paradise, launches a survival instinct inside us. If we move from this personal level of conceiving images of death to a more general level, this will involve the planet earth’s destiny. How am I, or how are earth and mankind, going to survive? The concept for death and dying can then be seen as a key concept to what keeps the idea of apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem alive and feeding imagination. This concept of death is, however, related to its opposite, life and living. According to Berger and Luckmann, legitimations of death enable the individual to go on living in society after death: . . . of significant others and to anticipate his [or her] own death with, at the very last, terror sufficiently mitigated so as not to paralyze the continued performance of the routines of everyday life.21

Integrating the phenomena of death within a symbolic universe “provides the individual a recipe for a ‘correct’ [or an ideal] death”.22 It is in this type of a legitimation of death, Berger and Luckmann argue, that the ‘transcending potency’ of the ‘symbolic universes’ manifest itself clearly, and the fundamental “terror-assuaging character of the ultimate legitimations of the paramount reality of everyday life is revealed”.23 Not only does the ‘symbolic universe’ order history, but also locate all events in a “cohesive unity that includes past, present and future”.24 Somewhat rephrased (see quotation below), Berger and Luckmann notes that the ‘symbolic universe’ establishes

19 Berger & Luckmann 1968: 118–119. According to Berger and Luckmann: “the institutional world requires legitimation, that is, ways by which it can be ‘explained’ and justified”, p. 79. See also pp. 102, 111. 20 Hood, Spilka, Hunsberger & Gorsuch 1996: 157–158. Cf. discussion of death in chap. 2, pp. 50–51, 55. 21 Berger & Luckmann 1968: 119. 22 Ibid., op. cit. Brackets added by me. 23 Berger & Luckmann 1968: 98–101, 199. Quotation from p. 119. 24 Berger & Luckmann 1968: 119.

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a common memory which is shared within collectivities, and thus establishes a common frame of reference for those within this community. Representations as they become perceived within this collectivity are shared and link together humans, their predecessors and successors in what could be referred to as ‘meaningful totality’. With regard to the past, it establishes a [common] ‘memory’ that is shared . . . within the collectivity. With regard to the future, it establishes a common frame of reference for the projection of individual actions. Thus the symbolic universe links [human beings] with their predecessors and their successors in [what is experienced as] a meaningful totality, serving to give significance to individual existence and bestowing meaning upon the individual’s death. [. . .] [T]he symbolic universe provides [individuals with] a comprehensive integration of all discrete institutional processes.25

Jerusalem, in the apocalyptic-millenarian framework, is identified with, or seen as representing, both the pre-apocalyptic scenario of war between good and evil and simultaneously representing the postapocalyptic paradise on earth. As such, representations of Jerusalem are intertwined with the cognitive understanding of death.26 This symbol then comprehends the notion of time, life and death projected in the apocalyptic-millenarian visions of the world’s destiny. The dualistic character is therefore fundamental for the tension in the endtime scenario. This tension, or being kept on tenterhooks in expectation of the Messiah’s arrival and the outbreak of a new epoch, is characteristic of all apocalyptic themes. 5.4

The Significant ‘Sacred’ in a Crisis Perspective

On a symbolic level, interpretations of Jerusalem as a city of God, and thus described as holy, inspires the creation of meaning in the two the groups in question, the ICEJ and the TMF. The sacredness of Jerusalem gives rise to various representations. As a city of God, it proposes a scenario where fundamental lines of human history are drawn, explained and legitimated.27 Activities in the present-day city 25

Berger & Luckmann 1968: 120–121. Brackets added by me. Cf. the discussion regarding death in chap. 2.1.2, pp. 50–51, 55. 27 “Religious cognitive symbols . . . often involve contact with the first people in one’s environment, plus further experiences of good and evil, creation and death, sin and grace, as well as punishment and reconciliation or hope and despair. These 26

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are then interpreted with reference to the very same sacred tradition. The city’s past sanctions the models of coming events, in the sense that the faith of the city was predestined in its history. Those individuals and groups emotionally engaged in such a worldview often reflect their own mission and activity in this historic realm. It is then that the religious symbols begin to signify. The symbols sanctioned by religious tradition become a reality, effectively a divine reality, which simultaneously involves the experienced reality of a God actually performing his actions in today’s society. These divine actions are explained and understood as events taking place in today’s Jerusalem, events that will eventually affect the future of planet earth. On a personal level, these symbols (as disseminated through representations) evoke feelings, which is probably why strong emotions are invested in the city, and also giving rise to conflicts in matters of opinion. The representations of endtime Jerusalem then become involved in political and other issues. 5.4.1

Sacrality as primus motor

The category of experience has had a predominant role in explaining the sacrality of things, themes, times and places. They are consecrated because they represent and commemorate special events and experiences of personages sanctified by religious traditions. But the sacred is not a uniquely religious category, although its religious meanings and the history of its usage dominate popular as well as scholarly interest. Veikko Anttonen argues then that scholars of comparative religion should “not be out hunting for the religious sacred according to prototypes given by Jewish, Christian, and Islamic religious traditions.”28 We should, however, bear in mind, that the sacred is always culturally produced within cognitive structures of a specific context, as regards thought and behaviour and their metaphorical and metonymical communication of meaning. Therefore, the ‘sacred’ or the ‘holy’ as a category can never be distinguished from the underlying cognitive processes of knowledge, which constrain the formation of mental

are transformed into stories, legends, myths . . . which are then taken over by the social institution that supports the central life experiences. These are often codified and become sacred narratives in canonic scriptures. Mythology within a given religion may thus be seen as a collective reworking, on the symbolic level, of the central motives of inner existence space”. Holm 1997a: 82. My italics. 28 Anttonen 1999: 12.

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representations of religious entities in human minds.29 According to Anttonen, it is tempting to combine this with Lévi-Straussian concepts that the idea of the sacred is like the numerical value of zero: in itself it signifies nothing, but when combined with another number, it is filled with differential significance.30 This is important to bear in mind when considering the significance of Zion or Jerusalem. In the two groups presented in chapter four, the meaning of Jerusalem is closely related to what is considered by believers to be sacred. In the cases presented above, holiness not only applies to the very spot—namely Jerusalem, and Mount Moriah— but also to the people, the Jews, as a holy nation, and Israel as the land and people chosen by God. The sacred then forms a socially constructed ‘meta-category’ by which metaphoric and metonymic relations between categories of person, gender, kinship, marriage and nation, or between moral categories such as justice, liberty, purity and property are formed. Besides such a socially constructed category, we find that the ‘sacred’ also plays an important role for believers’ themselves.31 In addition to Anttonen’s definition of the sacred in scholarly usage, we find that in the cases of the ICEJ and the TMF, what is held sacred by believers also functions as a factor impelling them to work towards their envisioned goals. All religious life is influenced by social contexts. We may return to Kenneth Pargament’s definition of religion, presented in chapter one. According to Pargament, religion is “search for significance in ways related to the sacred”.32 Pargament further expands his definition into the concept that people are called religious when the ‘sacred’ is “part of their deepest values and when the sacred is involved in 29 Anttonen 1996: 215. Here the sacred is recognized within a specific cultural environment, i.e. how the sacredness of Jerusalem is apprehended within the ICEJ and the TMF. See also Anttonen 2000: 271. For a discussion of the sacred in light of the theory of Durkheim, cf. Jonathan Z. Smith To Take Place. Toward Theory in Ritual 1987: 106. Here the notions of Durkheimian sacred is understood as a ‘marker’, and as such ‘markers’ they are understood as “non-representational, that is to say, not natural”. On ‘sacred’, comp. Boyer 2001: 57. In addition to Boyer, my study shows how the ‘sacred’ (here Jerusalem,) is part in the process of creating and disseminating mental and public apocalyptic representations in the cases presented here, i.e. in history and in contemporary, both secular and religious, participation. 30 Smith 1987: 108; Anttonen 1999: 18. Anttonen refers to importance in the believers’ minds. 31 Anttonen 1999: 19. Cf. the discussion of religion in chap. 1 and chap. 2, pp. 15, 44. 32 Pargament 1997: 216.

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the way they build, maintain, and change these values”.33 In this study sacredness is associated with Jerusalem as a sacred city, in the way it appears in apocalyptic representations as the millenarian promise. Throughout history we have been able to trace different, though in many ways similar, associations to the concept of Jerusalem in religious belief. In the cases of the ICEJ and the TMF, Jerusalem and Israel as well, are prescribed with this notion of sacredness. This implies that things which happen in contemporary Jerusalem are seen in the light of the sacred,34 chosen city: Jerusalem is then transformed into something out of the ordinary, thus becoming ascribed with valuable in the process of individual and societal redemption. To summarize, Jerusalem acquires significance for those believing in the city’s redemptional powers. 5.4.2

Apocalypses as Survival Strategies

If symbols are understood as instruments for a religious orientation towards an experienced meaningfulness, they in a way become models of how to proceed and react. As such, they are models for religious people to engage in certain situations. Symbols then become vehicles helping the religious one’s to cope in ordinary life where everyday reality confronts a religious reality. The activities of the ICEJ and the TMF are certainly oriented towards a goal. In their work for the realization of the future dream, the apocalyptic myth then becomes in a sense a formula for how to handle a huge crisis. The apocalyptic story becomes a story of crisis management, but in larger proportions. The apocalypse further transmits the information for how to handle a crisis. In this perspective, the apocalypse is a crisis that involves mankind and is thus larger than an ordinary life-crisis. Seen from this crisis-perspective, the millenarian myth of a kingdom of God or paradise becomes a survival strategy for a global crisis that no one can actually do anything about. In other words, it is a survival strategy, or coping strategy, for religious individuals and groups having to tackle the unknown future with the underlying idea that time as we know it will eventually some day cease. This global apocalyptic

33

Ibid., op. cit. “. . . the idea of the sacred can be used as arguments for either opposing or approving legalization”. Anttonen 2000: 277. 34

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crisis-perspective simultaneously compels individuals. Within the apocalyptic interpretive frames each individual can understand that he or she is special and precious, and that she plays an important part in this greater ‘divine’ plan for humanity. When Jerusalem became the capital of Israel, the representations of Jerusalem changed character. Jerusalem then come to be more than just a city or even a national capital. It is prescribed with special features that define the city as holy, commemorating holy events. It has also served as a symbol of historical existence for a people, promising its ultimate restoration; and when trying to understand the city’s symbolic function, we have seen that Jerusalem, as the symbol of a divine city, is also a factor motivating the secular use of the image.35 As an idea (with reference to Zion), endtime Jerusalem embraces representations not only of a sacred place, but also of the Jewish people and the temple of God. For Zionists, for example, the idea of Jerusalem is also understood as a source and the actual focus of religious experience. On the one hand, the various representations of Jerusalem motivate nationalism, but on the other hand, the symbol creates multiple meanings, making the symbol significant for others as well. Combining this aspect of a sacred place and symbol, Jerusalem forms an apocalyptic representation of the divine city. In such cases, the ICEJ and the TMF indicate that the notion of contemporary Jerusalem is mutually important for realizing the New Jerusalem. Even further, realizing the importance of contemporary Jerusalem certainly motivates believers to work for the coming of God’s Kingdom on earth. In this sense, we find that the different re-presentations of the apocalyptic symbols still continue to inspire and motivate religious individuals actually carrying out work for this envisioned better future. The apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem can then be seen as a hope expressed for change, a positive attitude towards life in general. This, what could be called the ‘positive’ side of the apocalypse is often neglected. The belief in an imminent, change of the world through catastrophes can in fact be viewed as a positive life attitude, since groups holding apocalyptic representations believe that at the end there will eventually be a new beginning. At the same time, we should pay attention to the fact, as scholars have concluded, that

35

Cf. chap. 3, p. 118; Werblowsky 1983: 14.

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the disappointments of failed prophecies might indeed result in a totally different outcome. From a societal point of view, such individuals and groups then become labelled as ‘dangerous’ with the risk of playing out the apocalyptic drama in a negative sense.36 In addition to such scholarly observation, we also find a public interest in explaining, monitoring and understanding similar apocalyptic-millenarian religious manifestations. The analysis carried out by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), under the name of Project Megiddo,37 shed light on the concern among the authorities and the public for apocalyptic-millenarian groups at the turn of the millennium, as the year 1999 became 2000. Based on what we can see today, the rising trend of public interest in apocalyptic themes seems to be continuing.

36 Cf. David E. Kaplan & Andrew Marshall, The Cult at the End of the World. The Incredible Story of Aum 1996: 264–272. According to the authors of this popular book, the authorities wanted to find out if the cultists posed any terrorist threat. As this “psychopathic band of brilliant scientists, bent on indiscriminate murder and the world’s end—Aum’s story seems more at home in the world of science-fiction novels and TV thrillers”. Yet, as the authors point out, it happened in real life and might happen again. Kaplan & Marshall 1996: 289. Cf. Ian Reader, A Poisonous Coctail. Aum Shinrikyro’s Path to Violence 1997: 1–8, 80–81, when prophecies fail, p. 92. The Branch Davidians are another example of a religious group meeting with apocalyptic disaster. Charles B. Strozier. “Apocalyptic Violence and the Politics of Waco” in The Year 2000. Essays on the End (eds.) C. B. Strozier & M. Flynn 1997b: 105–106. Cf. Wessinger 2000, and comp. Walliss 2004. Violent outbreaks from groups described as apocalyptic has been largely studied within the field of New Religious Movements. During recent years there has been an increasing interest in the relationship between apocalyptic violence and terrorism motivated through the use of religious symbolisms. Cf. Mark Juergensmeyer, Terror in the Mind of God. The Global Rise of Religious Violence (2001), and Bruce Lincoln, Holy Terrors. Thinking about Religion after September 11 (2003). Meanwhile, in this study the apocalyptic violence is restricted to a symbolic level rather than real confrontation. There still remain academic challenges and questions to be asked in the study of apocalypticmillenarian groups and their societal responses. 37 Project Megiddo was an FBI strategic assessment of the potential for domestic terrorism in the United States undertaken in anticipation of, or in response to the arrival of the new millennium. In this report, the significance was based primarily upon apocalyptic religious beliefs or political beliefs regarding the New World Order conspiracy theory. Among other things, the report discusses how ‘extremists’ interpret biblical and other religious scriptures to justify their agendas.

. . . all who come there carry their own Jerusalem in their heads, and that whatever they bring to the city in the way of cultural or aesthetic or spiritual baggage, they are bound to find reinforced by what they see and experience there. —Bronwyn Drainie, My Jerusalem. Secular Adventures in the Holy City 1994: 44. CHAPTER SIX

THE END IS BUT A BEGINNING The quotation above mirrors some of the results of the inquiries made in this book. Bronwyn Drainie’s insight is important, and her reflections crystallize the key to this study: all of us carry our own ‘Jerusalems’ in our heads. These inner images of the city are personal but shared through the social processes of learning. We carry cultural, aesthetic and spiritual ‘baggage’ which reinforce apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem. The apocalyptic representations that have been accounted for in this study thus emphasize important functions, illustrate motivations and describe the substance of an endtime Jerusalem. The apocalypse as representation has been related here to what is perceived as reality and sacredness. Based on the theoretical assumptions made at the beginning of this study, I here attempt to summarize briefly the different apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem actualized throughout my enquiry. As humans, we have the ability to interpret symbolic expressions through art and language, and we make representations, both material and mental. This interpretation takes place in what has here been referred to as a ‘symbolic universe’. These symbolic universes are social products with a history, and combine mental and public representations. Death and life are a duality, and reflection on this has been a central issue for all humans through the ages. In myths we find various explanations for existence and non-existence. The symbol of Jerusalem has proved particularly important in discourse that expresses the hope of rescue from an eternal death, for both individuals and the whole planet earth. Although no one answer can be definitive, because these questions of life and death are among the most important ones in the symbolic universe, they shed at least some light on the question why the apocalypse continues to fascinate and attract

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people. Apocalyptic representations are not static entities, but give birth to new forms of interpretations, both in the religious and the secular spheres. Jerusalem, not only as a symbol for war and peace, but also as redemption for all mankind, has proven to be an outstanding example of how a certain idea combined with a specific place in a given context is used as a factor motivating certain ideological (both religious and political) matters. In this study, the image of Zion has been seen as an analogy for the symbol of Jerusalem, also with a particular reference to the physical city. Jerusalem is in many respects like any other city in the world, so why did it become so important? The answer is simply because of its history, and the enormous impact of the ancient Jewish longing for the land of Israel, especially for the almost paradise-like city of dreams: Zion. The same longing, as shown in this study, survived in early Christianity but adopted partly different forms. In many cases, Jerusalem provides a meaningful religious model with which to interpret the past, present and promised future. But again, history becomes an experienced reality when it is actualized through the use of symbols, and symbols again create meaning when they become present in mental, public and cultural representations. We can also see how the hope for a future or, as it has often been expressed, for the Kingdom of God, came to give birth to various forms of interpretations of the religious promise. In the most recent forms it is partly expressed in a different manner, underlining its apocalyptic status. Apocalyptic representations in contemporary thought are not necessarily interpretations of traditional religious apocalyptic writings, such as we find in scripture, and people who are not looking for a religious way of interpreting life also create such representations. In these contexts, it seems to be the dualistic aspect of ‘good’ versus ‘evil’ that continues to haunt them. To conclude, let me summarize what is understood by Jerusalem as a symbol and how the perspective of symbols as representations can be enlightened by theoretical approaches. In everyday life we use the term ‘symbol’ in many different ways in order to express different meanings. We can draw a picture which in turn represents something for the producer, and which is similar in its meaning for the receiver. But in social scientific studies the term ‘symbol’ is much more complex. In different disciplines such as linguistics, psychology, epistemology, comparative religion and anthropology, the word is

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used in various ways and, depending on the approach selected, we automatically employ several research traditions, including the use of specific meanings and formulations. For this study I have chosen to combine the anthropological usage of the word ‘symbol’ with elements borrowed from psychology. This can be seen in my use of Dan Sperber’s representation theory, which I chose to supplement with Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann’s theory of social constructionism and symbolic interaction, together with Nils G. Holm’s integrated role theory. The combination of these three theoretical approaches is referred to here as an apocalyptic representations theory. It can be said that the word ‘symbol’ in this study refers to Jerusalem as a culturally created phenomenon, which in turn is distributed and interpreted as representations in both religion and in secular culture. These mental, public and cultural interpretations are numerous in different religious traditions. I have shown in this study how Jerusalem as an idea has developed through history to become in its entirety a complex phenomenon, traditionally expressed above all by religiously motivated individuals. But Jerusalem as a symbol is pregnant with even more meaning. On the symbolic level I have searched for cultural representations: these are constructed by the combination of both mental and public representations. In everyday life there is a continuous process of communication between these different representations. This process of communication results in perpetual transformation and re-creation of the symbol. Jerusalem has been studied here as a cultural phenomenon. Instead of focusing on a single event, symbol or icon, I have studied different modes of expressing identical, or similar, representations of Jerusalem. As a cultural representation, Jerusalem signifies an image, a history, a city and a dream of a better future. In practice, this means that we cannot ignore the various individual representations that are formed in our minds. In the end, it is always individuals who interpret and re-transmit the different expressions of the symbol. In decoding this image of Jerusalem I have found that it is of most importance to deal also with public symbols, or, to use Sperber’s terminology, public representations. ‘Jerusalem’ has therefore been an outstanding example for studying the relationships between cultural, public and mental representations. Let me therefore summarize how these different representations become expressed in the use of the symbol ‘Jerusalem’ and how they in turn interact. As the title of this book suggests, I have focused on Jerusalem as

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an apocalyptic representation. I have done this in order to make the results clear and manageable. In doing so, I have left one question open: Is the symbol of Jerusalem always connected with an apocalyptic view of life? I would naturally feel tempted to answer yes, as my interpretation of the material allows. In the case of the ICEJ and the TMF, we may note above all that, when the image of Jerusalem at the personal and group levels has been attributed with apocalyptic ingredients, this becomes a dominating factor guiding believers and has an effect on all the other interpretations. The apocalypse, which, in short, is the ultimate struggle between good and evil, is connected with the relationship between life and death, and, as we have seen, in our symbolic construction of life, the question of life and death, endings and beginnings, is probably the most crucial one for us humans in interpreting our existence. As in the cases discussed, it is common in similar situations for everything happening around us to be interpreted from the apocalyptic perspective. In cases where the apocalypse is dominant, things that happen are seen in the light of personal religious experience, which, in turn, usually acquires its energy from different dualistic myths and images. Jerusalem is then given an existentially important role and the whole symbol becomes impressed with apocalyptic features. The different apocalypses that were identified and explained in chapter two illustrate how the apocalyptic character can also be met in a broader cultural context. The reason for this might be found in the explanation of the distribution of the ideas. The survival of a myth or a story on a cultural level depends on several different factors. In order to survive in culture, a story must be transmitted to new generations. Although it may undergo transformations, the apocalyptic myth with its elements of disaster and salvation survives as a theme. Modern environmental and technological apocalypses are just variations of the same old story. It seems as if the old apocalyptic combat myth, including the story of redemption (here Jerusalem), has throughout history also affected and characterized the cultural conditions connected with progress and development. The story of the city of Jerusalem has been transmitted through history in various forms: in Christianity it has come to signify life and death, development, heaven and a better future to long for. Since Western culture is penetrated to the core by Christianity, we can say that, on a cultural level, the symbol of Jerusalem represents crisis management and hope for a better future. In more recent

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times, the same theme can be traced in popular apocalyptical culture, such as film, popular music and fiction. These secularized apocalyptic representations are still very vivid, and draw stem from the religious idea of mankind’s destruction. These apocalyptic representations are often in the form of dystopias, and consist of representations of environmental catastrophes and the like but, if faithful to the original apocalyptic context, they depict in some way a paradise regained on earth. It was possible to trace the adherence of several different persons and groups to an experienced endtime Jerusalem in chapter three. History has also witnessed ‘Jerusalems’ found in geographical spots other than on the Mediterranean coastline. The Anabaptists of the 16th century, for example, sincerely believed that the ‘New Jerusalem’ to which Jesus would return would be established in Strasbourg. Soon after, John of Leiden, who urged his believers to prepare for the end and coming kingdom, relocated the holy city from Strasbourg to Münster. The search for islands that might be paradise was also an important stimulus to the voyagers of discovery from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries. Nostalgia for the ‘Garden of Eden’, the conviction of Christopher Columbus and Christian missionaries that the endtime was at hand, provided the impetus to bring religion to new lands and went hand in hand with the desire to find gold, precious stones and other rare commodities. These all contributed to spur travellers, missionaries, sailors, and conquerors on to new horizons. These cultures and their accompanying dreams (i.e. the representations formed), made people see, at least initially, in the strange lands opening up before them the characteristics of those blessed countries that had haunted the Western imagination since antiquity.1 The sense of an earthly paradise then took over from apocalyptic aspirations for a heavenly paradise, which had earlier motivated the re-conquest of Jerusalem and the creation of ‘New Jerusalems’.2 But we will surely find that the transformation of the ‘religious’ apocalyptic myth into a more general culturally received representation is found most clearly when we consider the age of the Enlightenment. Science was understood to be the replacement of the 1 Jean Delumeau, History of Paradise. The Garden of Eden in Myth & Tradition 2000: 109–110. 2 Keller 1997: 55; cf. chap. 3, p. 108.

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old religious conceptions of the world. Believers in science then transformed the apocalyptic myth to fit with the realities of a modern world;3 even the advancement of science can be seen as a contribution to transforming the apocalyptic myth on the cultural level. The ‘personified evil’ of the combat between evil and God was being replaced with the idea of progress in science. The outcome of this apocalyptic representation was not to be a religious ‘Kingdom of God’, but a paradise in terms of the belief in the power of human intelligence to uncover the natural causes of suffering, to understand the natural process in operation. Human creativity would devise the means to create this better world.4 In relating the notion of progress to a symbolic concept of Jerusalem as a city of God, Jamie S. Scott and Paul Simpson-Housley argue that “we must not consider just the city as a thing in itself . . . but the city as being perceived by its inhabitants”.5 Literary images of a city actually “become more than their built environment, more than a set of class or economic relationships; they are also an experience to be lived, suffered, undergone”.6 The authors further note that fictional writing of a city, any city, “is not always a matter of the sad but inevitable threat of Babylon; images of the New Jerusalem occasionally intrude”.7 These symbolically viewed images of a lost Eden, Babylon and a New Jerusalem blend together and account for the hope which is contained in the promise of a New Jerusalem, which is called “the hope of progress, and beyond this aspiration, the hope for perfection”.8 As a representation of the hope of progress and perfection, ‘Jerusalem’ within apocalyptic settings overlaps into much larger spheres, and as such the apocalyptic representations of

3

Cf. chap. 2, p. 117; Michael Schoepflin, “Apocalypse in an Age of Science” in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism. Apocalypticism in the Modern Period and the Contemporary Age (ed.) Stephen J. Stein 2000: 427–439. 4 What we call the Enlightenment was a time when many Western European intellectuals embraced the belief that, if they systematically applied reason to political and social problems, the world would become a better place. Given their faith in the scientific method, they believed that the world of human affairs would inevitably progress toward utopia—a heaven on earth. See Schoepflin 2000: 427, 430. 5 Jamie S. Scott and Paul Simpson-Housley, “Eden, Babylon, New Jerusalem. A taxonomy for writing the city” in Writing the City. Eden, Babylon and the New Jerusalem (ed.) Peter Preston & Paul Simpson-Housley 1994: 331. 6 Scott & Simpson-Housley 1994: 331. 7 Scott & Simpson-Housley 1994: 335. 8 Scott & Simpson-Housley 1994: 336.

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Jerusalem do not limit themselves to the contemporary physical city. As cultural representations they actually go beyond it: the apocalyptic phenomenon embraces multiple meanings, which transpose its themes into totally new discourses, religious and secular. On a public level we are dealing with representations which every one of us can partake of in one way or another. We find public representations of Jerusalem in the different forms of artistic expression, such as painting, poetry and literature, as well as in television news reports, to give only a few examples. In Sperber’s terms, these would originally be mental representations, which are distributed, transmitted and again subject to further interpretations. However, it is the public representations that are the kind we can all commonly see, hear and share. What we ultimately make of these is up to each individual, as he or she creates new mental representations. Public representations of Jerusalem are basically expressed in religious terms. The holy texts of the three monotheistic religions all have their own methods or traditions for expressing the symbol of Jerusalem. The image is naturally formed in the holy writings, but artists and poets have continuously reinvisioned the image, thus creating new images connected to the ‘original’ one. As an idea, Jerusalem has been described a symbol inspiring people to fight for justice and put their trust in God. The city itself is a public representation, which, as a physical manifestation, contributes to further retransmission of the apocalyptic imagination. In line with religious interpretations of the apocalypse, I have argued that the Second World War, and above all the birth of the State of Israel in 1948, offered a new discourse to the apocalyptic imagination. There was now a physical place to refer to when reflecting on forthcoming apocalyptic events; even some Finnish groups integrated the actual place into their apocalyptic discourse. The State of Israel then stimulated numerous religious speculations about the apocalyptic end, within the religious sphere. The birth of the State could then be understood as marking a new beginning, the beginning of the endtimes. If the apocalyptic imagination was now attached to a geographical spot, it had been separated from its original context in the development of European Christianity. The Jewish State allowed apocalyptic narratives to refer to paradise on earth by relating it all to a geographical site: Jerusalem in the State of Israel, which regained the importance of a specific space joined with a rich body of history.

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The new state offered many Jews and Christians an up-to-date apocalyptic discourse. Jerusalem became as concrete as it ever could and, as such, the city referred not only to a spiritual imagined world, but also to a physical one. Again the ‘New Jerusalem’ would not come down from heaven, but would be built up from Zion, in Jerusalem. Contemporary Jerusalem, then, is not only understood as representing the past, but also as creating and contributing to the imagination of the future city. Hence we find historic-cultural role models projected onto contemporary Jerusalem and contributing to the process of forming new cultural representations of the endtime city. In another context, the development of the nuclear bomb also contributed to the cultural representations of apocalyptic fear. Stephen O’Leary has demonstrated that many of the genres and themes of the contemporary popular apocalyptic have recognizable antecedents in the cultural products of earlier decades. In his essay “Apocalypticism in American Popular Culture: From the Dawn of the Nuclear Age to the End of the American Century”, he makes observations that are of interest when discussing the transformation of apocalyptic representations. According to O’Leary, different apocalyptic themes seem to fluctuate in the mass media, which can be explained by the linkage of particular historical preoccupations and crises. However, these ‘ebbs and flows’ are also internally driven. To quote O’Leary: . . . as genres rise to prominence, achieve an acme of commercial success, spawn a host of lesser variations and imitations, exhaust their possibilities, and are replaced by the next wave of generic innovation.9

As already noted, in popular culture (music, movies, art, PC-games and the like) the apocalypse is also present. By combining modern media technology and traditional or heterodox prophecies, with science fiction scenarios straight out of popular television and film, we have created a new blend of what O’Leary calls ‘cult followings’. These have been influenced by numerous Hollywood depictions of contacts with UFO’s, with arrivals of alien races supposed to rescue enlightened initiates from an imminent planetary catastrophe, as was the case with the Heaven’s Gate movement;10 further inspiration has

9 O’Leary 2000: 393–395. For modern times, it is typical that scientific scenarios of extinction by comet, asteroid collisions, and global warming blend seamlessly with televised dramas of planetary catastrophe. 10 O’Leary 2000: 394.

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come from Hollywood heroes’ attempts to rescue the planet from being destroyed by these aliens in, for example, the movies Independence Day and Men in Black. There are, however, numerous films that raise the notion of a post-apocalyptic society on earth: for example, George Miller’s Mad Max trilogy, starring Mel Gibson as hero; John Carpenter’s Escape from New York, starring Kurt Russell; and many more that could be added. Post-apocalyptic imaginings such as these were a popular movie theme in the 1980s, while the 1990s saw a change of emphasis from a post-apocalyptic world, to a pre-apocalyptic disaster. The numerous ‘fears over the millennium’ brought old religious-cultural themes back into Hollywood popular culture, and the traditional apocalyptic myth was rediscovered and put into context for the modern viewer. Arnold Schwarzenegger saving the planet from a personalized evil, Satan himself, is in fact, quite a peculiar perspective for the scholar tracing apocalyptic representations. Finally, on the mental level we find perhaps the most important representations. On this level every individual’s interpretations of the symbol of Jerusalem are unique; they all have a personal character. Mental representations are formed in our minds, depending on how we were brought up, when and where we have lived, and what we have experienced. According to psychologists, there are also other mechanisms that influence an individual’s personal development. Mental representations of Jerusalem are created in combination with the public and cultural images. In a way, each individual creates a personal painting where the different motifs are the products of public representations, whilst the colours are the products of mental ones. The whole painting comes to represent the symbolic universe, which includes both learned and experienced facts. This ‘painting’ is shaped and coloured in turn by each individual’s personal palette or colour samples. The symbolic universe then orders and thereby legitimates everyday roles, priorities and operating procedures by placing them in the context of the most general frame of reference conceivable. In addition to these cultural and mental representations, if we happen to have travelled to Jerusalem in the State of Israel, we also have personal experiences of the city. However, those who travel to Jerusalem often have mental baggage stuffed with stories about the city before they even arrive. In other words, we create mental representations of the city before we actually get there. And then, depending on how we experience our visit to the city, we re-shape our

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interpretations. We will find either that the city corresponds to our mental images, or that it does not at all resemble the ‘Jerusalem’ we pictured in our minds. Depending on what our associations are when we think of Jerusalem, we create either positive or negative representations of the city. Naturally, if we had a pleasant trip we remember Jerusalem as a nice place. But if, as children, we were told apocalyptic horror stories about the events that would take place there and were frightened by the horrific images, we might feel negatively about the whole area, and even about religion in general. In the end, it is the interplay of these different symbolic expressions of both mental and public representations that shape our present images of Jerusalem. Religious symbols in general, and especially those of Jerusalem, are known to allude, as we have seen, to fundamental experiences in the human struggle for life. This role-identification can be felt as a constructive and meaning-giving experience leading to personal satisfaction, or it can give rise to personal crisis. As an image of ultimate crisis, the symbol of Jerusalem evokes an endless number of reactions, arousing both positive and negative associations. In the case of Jerusalem we have both socially distributed patterns, with which we were all brought up, and inner patterns that are created through our experiences in connection with the working of our own minds. The symbols and the representations of Jerusalem these patterns create are manifestations that shape meaning in both our inner and outer space. For example, many of the Finnish sympathizers with Israel have never actually visited Jerusalem, but they still feel that the city is something out of the ordinary. For these religious individuals, Jerusalem, both the actual city and what it represents, is experienced as an identity-establishing phenomenon. Many feel that the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians is a religious matter connected with their own existence and therefore take political standpoints on the basis of religiously interpreted references. We can then observe how religiously motivated arguments and symbols are drawn into political conflicts, where they are often modified to serve other purposes beyond strictly religious ones. What happens in today’s Jerusalem is then attributed to expectations of the future city. The symbolic value ascribed to the city by religiously motivated persons and groups derives from the old biblical story. In religious terms, Jerusalem becomes the navel of the world where the forces of chaos still battle for world supremacy. What makes Jerusalem so

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special for religiously motivated individuals is the city’s connection with what could be called a dimension of holiness. It is important to notice that all these different representations interosculate. The symbol of Jerusalem could not be as vivid as it still is today were it not for the different apocalyptic representations that continuously give rise to new interpretations. Symbols simply intertwine and feed on each other. This complexity is part of a symbol’s character. And representations (or interpretations) of a representation (or symbol) are then always coloured by the interpreter’s own personality and cultural heritage. Even the present study, then, should be regarded as merely one interpretation of a phenomenon that embraces a multitude of meanings. But the apocalypse also includes an element of fear. When the apocalyptic representations in culture are taken out of their original context, which is hope for perfection, elements of fear take over. From a societal point of view, this is when the apocalypse becomes ‘dangerous’. Without the hope of a ‘Jerusalem’ or accompanying perfection, the destructive element grows too strong and people will end up with a catastrophe that from an outsider’s perspective might seem without any meaning whatsoever. The city plays a key role in understanding the meanings of these feelings and representations; if the different representations include a ‘Jerusalem’, or even just a shadow of hope, they are still by nature optimistic; if not, they tend to become destructive and seem pointless (although this need not be so). Conversely, the religious interpretations of Jerusalem embrace apocalyptic representations. Is there a case where we can have a ‘kingdom of God’, a ‘Jerusalem’ or a ‘Zion’ without apocalyptic engagement? I doubt it—but if there were, this would mean that we face a situation where the apocalypse has once again been taken out of its context. In this study I have tried to show how Jerusalem, as a real city, but also as a holy site for Judaism, Christianity and Islam, has assumed a symbolic importance and provided material for a wide variety of representations. So much is evident from the way in which people form representations of the city. The biblical narrative shows how Jerusalem has been central to Jews for millennia—captured by King David around 1000 bce, the temple built there by his son Solomon became the centre of Israelite worship. This temple was destroyed in 587 bce, but a few decades later saw the construction of a replacement by Jews who had never forgotten their dream of

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Zion, despite exile in Babylon. The destruction of this second temple in 70 ce only served to give Jerusalem an even stronger symbolic dimension People remembered the city’s holy past while emphasizing its future. The remnants of the temple, the Western Wall, became a holy site where Jews even today turn to mourn their loss. For Christianity, Jerusalem is the city where Jesus went to worship on special occasions, where he spent the weeks before his Passion and death, and where he was resurrected from the dead and ascended into heaven. The places where he performed his special acts have taken on a holy status for Christians all over the world. But most importantly Jerusalem also has a theological status, by being the place to which Jesus is supposed to return. For Islam, the sanctity of Jerusalem was based on the traditions of Ibrahim and Sulayman. Jerusalem is also referred to as the place where Muhammad went on his night journey, the Isra". Christians built a church to mark the sanctity of the resurrected Christ; Muslims built a shrine, the Dome of the Rock, and the al-Aqsa mosque on the top of Haram esh-Sharif, known to Jews as the Temple Mount. This city has fostered many kinds of aspirations over the years. Foremost among these are the symbols and representations connected with Jerusalem as the apocalyptic city. Apocalyptic representations might be coloured by the notion of the end of time; but contrary to what is generally supposed, the end of the apocalypse is a forerunner of the coming ‘Kingdom of God’. These apocalyptic representations may always have a specifically religious content or interest attached to them. However, the religious content seems to focus on the end, not for the sake of the end in itself, but for its potential to bring about, or re-create, a new start. ‘The end’ is never just an end, but also a beginning.

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INDEX OF NAMES Aagard, Anna Marie, 92 Abraham, 2, 5–6, 78, 151–152, 154–155, 166, 183 Adam, 2 Adolphus, Gustavus, 106 Ahlberg, Sture, 134, 142, 161, 163, 175 Ahlbäck, Tore, 16, 25, 144 Åkerblom, Maria, 116–117 Altizer, Thomas J. J., 68 Amanat, Abbas, 6, 54, 75, 96 Andreasson, Hans, 116 Anttonen, Veikko, 16, 45, 217–219 Appelwhite, Marshall H., 64 Appleby, Scott R., 142, 163 Aran, Gideon, 119, 121 Armstrong, Karen, 10, 80, 83–84, 86, 96–98, 101–102, 121 Asahara, Shoko, 64 Attridge, Harold, 60 Auld, Graeme, 81 Augustine, St, 91–95 Augustine of Canterbury, 94 Backstone, William E., 133 Bader, Christiopher, 129 Bahat, Dan, 82–83 Baker, Joel, 132–133 Ball, John, 105 Balling, Jakob, 92 Bar Cochba, 22, 82, 170–171 Bar-Illan, David, 13 Barrett, Leonard E., 82 Bar Tov, Ze’ev, 176 Bauman, Zygmunt, 48 Beatus of Liebana, 94 Beckford, James, 65 Bedford, Peter, R., 80–81 Bell, George, 113 Ben Gurion, David, 133 Berbeke, W., 94 Berger, Peter L., 19, 48–50, 56, 191–192, 198, 212–216, 225 Bernhardsson, Magnus T., 6, 54, 96 Björkstrand, Gustav, 117 Blake, William, 114–115 Bloch, Maurice, 45 Borofsky, Robert, 45

Bowie, Fiona, 24, 124 Bowman, Glenn, 131, 146–147 Boyer, Pascal, 18, 37, 43–45, 49; death, 55, 207–208, 218. See also counter intuitive Boyer, Paul, 96, 99–101, 125, 127 Braun, Willi, 15, 44 Brearley, Margaret, 138–139, 149–151 Broderick, Mick, 74 Brummer, Alli, 133, 142, 148–149 Bultmann, Paul, 117 Bunyan, John, 107 Caesar, Julius, 106 Calvin, John, 103 Cancik, Hubert, 60 Carmesund, Ulf, 161–162, 166–168 Carpenter, John, 231 Champion, Nicholas, 32, 88, 92, 100, 113, 115 Charlemagne, 94 Clifford, Richard J., 83–84 Clinton, Bill, 171 Cohen, Aryeh Dean, 167 Cohen, Mark, 122 Cohn, Norman, 20, 28–29, 62–64, 71, 88, 92, 95, 97–98, 100–101, 105 Cohn-Sherbok, Dan, 120, 168, 170–172, 174–175 Cohn-Sherbok, Lavina, 168, 170–172, 174–175 Coleman, Simon, 98 Collins, Adela Yarbo, 66, 88 Collins, John J., 60–62, 64, 88 Columbus, Christopher, 94, 107–110, 227 Comay, Joan, 120, 122–123, 162 Cullberg, Johan, 51 Cusa, Nicholas of, 105 Cyril, 89–91 Cyrus, 80 Daniels, Ted, 32 Darby, John Nelson, 124 Davidson, James W., 112–213 Davies, William D., 120–121 Dayan, Moshe, 161 Diamond, Larry, 12

250

index of names

Dickey, Laurence, 89, 93, 99 Don-Yehia, E., 163 Doskow, Minna, 114 Dougherty, James, 92 Doyle, Tom, 74 Drainie, Bronwyn, 223 Dudkevitch, Rabbi David, 180 Dunant, Jean Henri, 133 Dunderfelt, Tony, 64

Gregory 13th, 106 Gregory of Tours, 93–94 Gruber, Mayer, 4 Guariglia, Guglielmo, see Lanternari Vittorio Gullin-Hofstedt, Britta, 24 Gunner, Göran, 28, 126, 142–143 Gurevitch, Zali, 119 Guthartz, Norm, 147

Eade, John, 118, 131 Edström, Vivi, 116 Edwardsen, Aril, 142 El, 1, 79, 82 Elbaum, Rabbi Yosef, 180 Eliade, Mircea, 78, 84, 86, 118 Eliav, Arie L., 120–121 Elipand of Toledo, 94 Elon, Amos, 6–7 Elsner, John, 98 Esra IV, 87 Etzion, Yehuda, 11, 163, 173, 180 Eusebius, 89–90

Hak, Durk, 105 Hakim, the Caliph, 96 Halkin, Abraham S., 85 Hanson, P., 78, 79 Hartonen, Vilho, 124 Harviainen, Tapani, 80, 82, 115, 132, 168, 170–172, 174 Hauska, Martinek, 105 Hechler, William H., 133–134 Hedberg, Björn, 75, 94 Heilman, Samuel, 35, 162, 167, 191 Herzl, Theodor, 120, 132–133 Hippolytus, 88 Hinnells, John R., 32 Hjärpe, Jan, 5, 6 Hoffmann, Melchior, 105 Holm, Nils G., 20, 38, 48, 50–52, 57, 191–192, 198, 206, 213, 217, 225 Hood, John, 17 Hood, Ralph W. Jr., 15–16, 50–51, 215 Horovitz, David, 168 Hultgård, Anders, 32 Hunsberger, Bruce, 50–51, 215 Huss, John, 102 Hussein, Saddam, 126 Hut, Hans, 104 Hutman, Bill, 168 Hyytiä, Alli, 142

Fabri, Felix, 102 Feiglin, Moshe, 180 Ferrer, Vincent, 101–102 Fibonacci, Leonardo, 99 Fince, Henry, 139 Fiore, Joachim of, 93, 98–101, 108–109, 111 Firth, Raymond, 18–19 Fishman, Tzvi, 164 Flynn, Michael, 25, 92, 94, 100 Fox, George, 107 Francis of Assisi, 101 Frankel, J., 119 Frankfurter, David, 61 Freedman, David, N., 78–79 Gawler, George, 133 Gibson, Mel, 231 Giddens, Anthony, 48 Gilbert, Martin, 123, 162 Glaber, Raoul, 95 Goldstein, Baruch, 123 Goodenough, Nicola, 13, 132, 144 Goodman, Alan Harry, 123 Gorenberg, Gershon, 25, 136, 142, 170, 178, 189 Gorsuch, Richard, 50, 51, 215 Grabois, Aryeh, 98 Greil, Arthur L., 15 Grégorie, Henri, 115

Illman, Karl-Johan, 80, 82, 115, 120–121, 132, 136–138, 146, 168, 170–172, 174 Illman, Ruth, 52 Innocent 3rd, Pope, 102 Irenaeus, 88 Izenberg, Dan, 167 Jabotinsky, Ze’ev, 133 Jansma, Lammert G., 105 Jerome, 88 Jesus of Nazareth, 3, 26, 62–63, 86–87, 135–136, 138, 153, 159. See also parousia

index of names Johansson, Thomas, 48 Johannissson, Karin, 51 Johnson, Matt, 13, 132–133, 144 Jonth, Margareta, 116 Josephus, the historian, 82 Juergensmeyer, Mark, 221 Järvilehto, Ulla, 142, 148, 158 Kahane, Rabbi Meir, 123, 163–165 Kamppinen, Matti, 45 Kant, Immanuel, 114 Kaplan, Jeffrey, 32, 221 Katz, David, 99, 100, 108–112 Keaton, Kent, 124 Keller, Catherine, 100, 107–110 Kermode, Franc, 93 Kershner, Isabel, 168 King, Timothy, 157 Kook, Rabbi Abraham (the elder), 123 Kook, Rabbi Zwi Yehuda (the younger), 164 Koresh, David, 64 Kressel, Getzel, 131 Kroizer, Rabbi Yehuda, 180 Laato, Anni Maria, 138 Laato, Antti, 21, 60, 78, 80 Lactantius, 88 Lagerlöf, Selma, 116 Langmuir, Gavin I., 121 Landes, Richard, 27–29, 94–95, 97–98, 104, 122 Lang, Bernhard, 60, 64, 86, 114, 117, 119–120, 124 Lanternari, Vittorio, 25, 70 Larsson, Inger, 116 Lawson, Thomas, 44–45, 207 Lehtonen, Tuomas, 60, 92, 99 Leiden, John of, 105, 227 Leppäkari, Maria, 14, 144, 188 Lerner, Robert E., 92, 99, 100–102 Lerner, Joel, 163 Levenson, John D., 78, 81, 83–86 Levine, Lee I., 3 Levinson, David, 28 Lewis, David, 135–137, 139–141 Liljegren, S. B., 77 Lincoln, Bruce, 221 Lindblom, Malin, 164 Lindblom, Rune, 164 Lindsey, Hal, 66, 125–126 Loos, Amanda, 74 Luckmann, Thomas, 19–20, 48–50, 56, 191–192, 198, 212–216, 225

251

Luther, Martin, 103–104 Lundius, Jan, 28 Lundgren, Svante, 132 Makover, Rabbi Menachem, 178 Malachy, Yona, 82, 131 al-Malik, Abd, see Dome of the Rock Mansikka, Tomas, 14, 111–112 Manuel, Frank E., 104, 108–109, 112 Manuel, Fritzie, P., 104, 108–109, 112 Marshall, Andrew, 221 Martola, Nils, 172 Marty, Martin E., 162–163 Matthys, Jan, 105 Mayer, Jean-Francois, 75 McBride, D., 78–79 McCutcheon, Russel T., 15, 44 McDannell, Colleen, 60, 64, 86, 114, 117, 119–120, 124 McGinn, Bernhard, 6, 94–95, 100–109 McIntosch, Daniel N., 51, 56 Meidad, Yisrael, 180 Melanchton, Philipp, 104 Meller, Leo, 125–126, 142 Mettinger, Tryggve, N. D., 81 Meyers, Carol, 78 Miller, George, 231 Milhou, Alain, 109 Miller, P., 78–79 Milton, John, 107 Molendijk, Arie L., 14 Montanus, 87–88 Mromley David G., 15 Muhammad, 5–6, 100, 145, 234 Münzer, Thomas, 104–106 Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome, 5, 83, 120 Mäkisalo, Martti, 64 Nash, David, 117 Nettles, Bonnie, 64 Neusner, Jacob, 4 Netanyahu, Benjamin, 160, 171 Newton, Isaac, 107, 112–113 Nostradamus, 106 Niebuhr, Reinhold, 117 O’Leary, Stephen, 68, 230 Oliphant, Laurence (Lawrence), 133, 139 Olivi, Petrus, 101 Origen, 88, 89, 136–137. See also Church Fathers and replacement theology

252

index of names

Otto, the 3rd, 94 Otto, Rudolf, 38–39 Ozorak, Wlisabeth Weiss, 56 Paden, William, 15, 17 Palmer, Susan, 72–73 Papias, 88 Paracelsus, 111–112 Parfrey, Adam, 72 Pargament, Kenneth I., 15–16, 218–219 Parsons, David, 11, 13, 134, 136, 141, 145–147, 150, 156–157, 159–160 Pearson, Birger A., 32, 97 Pelagius II, 94 Pentikäinen, Juha, 70 Peste, Jonathan, 164 Peters, F. E., 78, 80, 119 Pippin, Tina, 67–69, 71–73 Pitchford, Susan, 129 Popkin, Richard, 99–100, 108–112 Preston, Peter, 228 Puolimatka, Tapio, 148 Pyysiäinen, Ilkka, 16, 45 Quinby, Lee, 71 Quinn, Naomi, 37 Rajalin, M., 51 Ravitsky, Aviezer, 121, 163–165 Richard I., Lionheart, 100–101 Richman, Rabbi Chaim, 178 Ringgren, Helmer, 64, 79, 81 Robbins, Thomas, 72 Robinson, Francis, 5–6 Rohan, Dennis, 123 Ronnig, Halvor, 132, 135 Roquetaillade, Jean de, 101 Roth, Cecil, 82, 131 Ruery, Jean-Baptiste, 114 Rudnitzky, Naphtali, 148 Ruokanen, Miika, 87, 103, 105 Rusconi, Roberto, 100, 107 Russell, Kurt, 231 Räisänen, Heikki, 60 Saarilahti, Toivo, 116 Sabbatai, Sevi, 23, 64 Salahi, M. A., 5–6 Sallnow, Michael J., 118, 131 Salomon, Gershon, 11, 13, 130, 161–162, 164, 166–167, 175–178, 181–183, 200 Sandelin, K.-G., 51 Sanders, E. P., 3 Schindler, Oscar, 139

Schoepflin, Michael, 73, 228 Scholem, Gershom, 20, 22, 32 Schwarzenegger, Arnold, 231 Schäfer, Peter, 122 Scott, Jamie S., 228 Selassie, Haile, 64 Shafranske, Edward P., 15, 38 Shapiro, Christian, 72 Shapiro, Haim, 167 Sharon, Moshe, 5–6, 83, 98, 145 Shavit, Yaacov, 121 Sihvola, Juha, 60 Simojoki, Anssi, 124–127 Simpson-Housley, Paul, 228 Sjöberg, Boris, 99 Sjöblom, Tom, 37, 45 Smith, Jonathan Z., 10, 84, 86, 90–91, 118, 218 Smith, Willfred, 38 Sofer, Barbara, 167 Sperber, Dan, 18–19, 33, 35–44, 46–49, 52, 54,191–192, 197, 205–210, 212, 225, 228 Spilka, Bernhard, 50–51, 56, 215 Sprafford, Anna, 116 Sprinzak, Ehud, 12, 121, 123, 161–164, 181 Stark, Rodney, 129 Stein, Stephen J., 68, 73, 110, 228 Steiner, Margaret, 81 Strausberg, Michael, 97 Strauss, Claudia, 37 Strozier, Charles B., 25, 88, 92, 94, 100, 121–122, 206, 213 Swedenborg, Emanuel, 114 Södergård, P., 51 Tabor, James D., 122 Talmon, Yonina, 20, 25–28 Ten Boom, Corrie, 139 Tepperman, Jonathan, 167 Tertullian, 88–89 Tillich, Paul, 117 Thurén, Jukka, 189 Tompson, Damian, 25, 32 Troeltsch, E., 16 Underwood, Lee, 169–170 Urban, the 2nd, 96 Vakkuri, T., 149 van der Hoeven, Jan Willem, 11, 142–145, 160, 188–189 Verhelst, D., 94 Vital, David, 121, 131

index of names Wallenberg, Raul, 139 Wallis, Wilson D., 70 Walliss, John, 75 Walker, Peter, 90, 91 Wasserstein, Bernhard, 161–162, 165, 177 Weber, Eugene, 86–89, 92–94, 96, 99–105, 110, 112–115 Weinberg, Leonard, 32 Weiss, Hillel, 178, 180 Welkenhysen, A., 94 Werblowsky, Zwi, 1, 20, 23–25, 118, 220 Wesley, John, 113 Wessinger, Catherine, 25, 27–30

Whalen, Robert K., 122, 131 Whinston, William, 113 White, Timothy, 82 Wigoder, Geoffrey, 82, 131 Wikström, Owe, 51 Wilken, Robert, 88, 90 Wilson, Bryan, 65, 138 Wingate, Charles O., 133 Wolf-Knuts, U., 51 Wolfsfeld, Gadi, 12, 13 Wulff, David, 16, 38 Wycliffe, John, 102 Zoroaster, 63–64

253

INDEX OF CONCEPTS AND PLACES al-Aqsa Mosque, 6, 83, 123, 162, 166, 181, 234 alchemists, 111, 112 aliyah, 139, 152, 155 al-Quds, 6, 118 Amarna letters, 83 American Colony, 116 amillenarism, 28, 136 Anabaptists, 104–106, 227 Antichrist, 6, 61–62, 93, 96–97, 99–103, 106–107, 115, 125, 127, 131, 159, 194 anti-Semitism, 120, 137–138, 142, 151, 153, 194, 196 apocalypse (general), 17, 36, 68, 181, 192, 202–203, 206–207, 209–210, 212, 214, 219, 223, 233; definition, 206, 226; discourse, 35; horrors of, 186; in Finland, 74, 124–125, 139; language of, see apocalyptic rhetoric; techno, 75. See also apocalyptic events apocalypses (as commonly conceived), 32, 35–36, 46, 53–54, 58–75, 142, 202, 212; analytic tools: culture-bound and contextual, 58, 66–68, 202; environmental and technological, 58, 73–75, 203, 207, 227; ethical and existential, 58, 68–72, 202; interpreted, 58, 65–66, 70, 202; gender, 58, 71, 110, 203; written or textual apocalypse, 58, 202; survival strategies, 219; transformation of, 210–212 Apocalypse of John, see Book of Revelation apokalypsis, 58 apocalyptic, 1; anti-apocalypticists, 9; apocalypticist(s), 114; apocalyptics, 213; apocalyptic-millennial, see millenarian; apocalyptic-millenarian, see millenarian; apocalypticism, 10, 32, 62, 68, 88, 94, 108–109, 167; aspirations, 110, 227; associations, 194; apocalyptic myth, 45, 55, 185, 199, 205, 208, 210, 215; beasts, 62, 93; beliefs, 44, 62–63, 224; city, 234; climax, 66; conception, 126,

204; crisis-perspective, 53, 220; enemy, 47, 96, 108, 127, 140, 144; end, 185, 210, 229, 234; events, 119, 158, 210, 229; expectations, 98, 126; expressions, 194; definition, 14, 17; disaster and fear, 221, 231, 233; discourse, 46, 67, 70–71, 211, 229, 230; drama, 62, 120, 186, 221; features, 206, 226; frame (of reference), 19, 33, 50, 209–210, 216, 220; future, 101, 206; groups, 66, 70, 75, 116, 221; heritage, 201; history, 127; homiletic, 22; ideas, 9, 17, 19, 62, 66, 208–209, 211–212, survival of, 35; imagery, 77, 96; imagination, 5, 58, 77, 86, 201, 210, 229; interpretation, 77, 186; landscape, 68; motifs; motives, 211; movies, see Hollywood; myth, 55, 74–75, 201, 207–210, 213, 219, 226, 227–228, 231, 232; patterns, 62–64, 67, 69, 108, 160, 181, 229, 232; perspective, 226; phenomena, 10, 35, 212, 229; popular, 68, 207, 227, 230; post-apocalyptic, 44, 56, 97, 216, 231; promise, 93; pre-apocalyptic, 216, 231; reality, 205; rhetoric, 72, 188–189, 198, 214, 220, 223 representations (in general), 9, 23, 29, 43, 55–57, 66, 192, 197, 199, 224, 233, types of, 33, 46, 58–75, 211; attractiveness of, 19, 207–211, 223, 229; commonly conceived, 58–75, 202–204, dissemination of, 204–205, communication of, 212; representations of Jerusalem, 33–35, 41, 45, 47, 54, 56, 57, 192–193, 206, 208, 210, 213, 220, 223, 229, model of, 194–195, 197, transmission of, 198, 200–204, 219, 225, 227 secularization of, see popular; settings, 228; signs, 131, 184, 203; status, 224; symbol(s), 67, 71–72, 211, 220; symbolization, 53; traditions, 57, 68, 95, 229;

index of concepts and places terminology, 103; tendencies, 62; texts, 59–66, 71, 86, 224; themes, 57, 194, 211, 216, 221, 230; violence, 221; visions, 22, 216; war, 186, 204; worldview, 19, 50, 61, 68–69, 99, 129–130, 196, 226. See also apocalypse, apocalypses, attractiveness, crisis management, representations (cultural, mental, public) and rhetoric archaeological enterprises, 10, 117, 178 Armageddon, 23, 111 artificial intelligence, 74 attract: attention, 8, 65; people, 33 axis mundi, 86 baggage, 223, 231 Balfour Declaration, 121, 123 beginning, 229, 234 Book of Revelation, 53, 55–57, 59, 61–62, 67, 69, 71–73, 86–87, 91–92, 94, 99–101, 108, 112, 114–115, 119, 124–126, 134, 136, 139, 199, 210 Branch Davidians, 64, 221 British Mandate, 120, 122 Camp David, 164 charismatic Christianity, 143–144, 187–188; leaders, 27. See also evangelical and Christian Zionism chiliasm, 27, 31, 61, 88, 113. See also millenarian movements Christian Embassy, see ICEJ Christian Zionism, 82, 124, 131–139, 141–143, 145, 160, 187, 203; activities, 146–147, 176; affirmation of, 152–156; beliefs, 150–151, 160; Congress, 132; early, 133; establishment of, 142; definitions of, 131, 133–134, 141; attitudes to Islam, 144–145; purpose, 139; prayer, 140; theology, 136–137, 149–155, 158–159. See also ICEJ, Israel and Jerusalem. Church Fathers, 3, 61, 87–95, 138 City of God, see Holy City cognitive: 8, 52, 217; categories, 16; element, 44; make-up, 198; models, 45, 216; science, 52; symbols, 51, 57, 216 Cold War, 124–125

255

colonialization, 109 combat myth, 63–64, 226, 228, 232 communication of ideas, 40, 51, 212 comparative religion, 10–11, 13, 45, 65, 141, 162, 164, 181, 224; methods, 14–15, 48, 127; theoretical application, 18, 20, 205, 217 contagious ideas, 35. See also apocalyptic representations, transmission of and representations, dissemination of. context(s), 9, 21, 56, 64, 66–68, 165, 181, 203, 205, 212, 217, 224, 226–227, 229, 231, 233 coping, 219. See also crisis cosmic mountain, 83–85 cosmic world events, 200 counter intuitive: agents, 28; ideas, 44; ontologies, 49, 208, 214 crisis, 26, 50, 71, 230; management, 219, 226, 232; perspective, 216–220 Crusades, 4–5, 96–97, 109, 138 culture, 36, 72, 104, 226, 227, 233; interpretation of 19, 42, 52; boundaries, 73; items, 37; phenomena, 38 cultural radicals, 163–166, 173, 180. See also TMF death, 33, 49–50, 55, 66, 139, 213–216, 223, 226, 234 Deborah’s Battalion, 177 dichotomies, 30. See also dualistic distribution of ideas, 226. See also representations Dome of the Rock, 1, 5, 83, 166, 181, 234 dualistic, 30, 44, 55, 65, 67, 69, 71, 185, 203, 210, 216, 226 duality, 223 dystopias, 73, 227 Edda, 64 Eden, garden of, 85, 88, 93, 227–228 endtime anticipants, 143; enthusiasts, 127 epidemic: metaphor, 19; epidemia, 36; model, 46; terminology, 37, 39 epidemiology of representations, 19, 36, 41, 56, 197, 207, 225. See also Sperber, Dan, representations Ephesus, council of, 92 Eretz Israel, see Holy Land eschatology, 32, 62, 93, 114, 124;

256

index of concepts and places

eschatological: age, 70, 93; character, 119; culture, 104; orientation, 158; sign, 109; theology, 125–126 European Community, 125, 127 evangelical, 141, 156. See also charismatic Christianity exegetic, 59–61 existence space(s) inner and outer, 20, 48, 51– 52, 57, 198–199, 232. See also Nils G. Holm, role theory, and symbol(s), correspondence Feast of Tabernacles, 12, 141–142, 145–147, 189–199. See also pilgrims Finnish Gallup poll, 75 French Revolution, 115 fundamentalism, 119, 121, 143, 145, 170, 185 Garden Tomb, 142. See also Tomb of Christ Gentile believers, 155. See also Christian Zionism Greek philosophy, 60 Gregorian calendar, 106 Gulf War, 127 Gush Emunim, 123, 163 half-shekel campaign, 178–180 Halley’s Comet, 73, 94 Haram esh-Sharif, 123, 175, 234. See also Temple Mount Heaven’s Gate, 64, 231 holiness, dimensions of, 233 Hollywood, 230–231 Holocaust, 3, 121, 137, 173 Holy City, 1, 6–7, 17, 18, 90–91, 117, 152–153, 156, 157, 184, 186, 216, 219, 220, 223, 227–228, 233–234. See also Jerusalem Holy Land, 98, 107, 114, 133, 135, 137, 139, 153–155, 179, 195. See also Israel Holy Nation, 166. See also Israel Holy Sepulchre, see Tomb of Christ Holy Places Bill, 180 Holy Temple, see temple House of David, 21 ICEJ, 11, 33, 130–160, 192–194, 196–197, 199, 201–205, 211–212, 214, 216, 218–220, 226; activities, 146–148; aims and goals, 140, 150;

members and symphatisers, 13, 136, 145–147; movement, 131, 145; Finnish branch, 12, 133, 142–143, 147–148, 157; foundation of, 140, 141–142; political influence, 12; relation towards Islam, 144–146, 154–155, 157, 187; representations of Jerusalem, 185–189, 195–205; theology, 149–159. See also apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem, Christian Zionism, Feast of Tabernacles, van der Hoeven, Jan Willem and Parsons, David ICZC, 142 identity-establishing phenomenon, 232 interaction, 33–34, 225 intuitive ontologies, 43–44, 207, 212. See also counter intuitive Islamic apocalyptic tradition, 6 Israel: ancient, 1, 2, 78–84, 86, 131, 154, 172, 184, 233; concept of, 135, 148, 151–152, 157, 166, 168, 185; God of, 21, 149, 153, 171, 173; contemporary, 121, 140, 145, 153, 160, 172, 177, 196, 210; State of, 2, 4–5, 121, 125–126, 132, 137, 140–141, 143, 145–146, 148, 150–154, 158–159, 161, 163, 165–166, 169, 171, 173, 175, 180, 182–184, 186, 196–197, 200, 211, 220, 229, 231; people of, 119, 132, 140, 144, 146, 150, 153, 158–159, 182–183, 200, 218, 220; replacement of, 138; restoration of, 21, 151, 153, 155, 157, 166, 184, 186, 204. See also Holy Land and replacement theology Israeli-Arab wars, 122, 162, 199, 232 Jerusalem: apocalyptic representations of, see apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem; Bill, 141; concept of, 9, 12, 182, 192, 202; contemporary, 5, 12, 14, 34, 58, 96, 119, 127, 154, 169, 179, 186, 191, 193–196, 217, 225, 229–230, 232; de-territorialization, 118; endtime, 11, 53–56, 198, 201, 217, 220, 223, 227; imagined, 8, 58, 77, 85, 87, 89, 96, 113–114, 117, 119–120, 172, 184–185, 188, 191–192, 198, 203–204, 214, 217; petition, 157; point of reference in religious tradition, 203; police, 180; progressive identification with Israel,

index of concepts and places 119; sacred city, see Holy City; spatiality, 4–5, 8–9, 58, 85, 90, 96, 116, 119–120, 130, 134, 152, 184, 203–204 symbol of, 29, 33, 48, 80, 119, 130, 199, 204, 220, 224–225, 232; symbolic function, 19, 203, 220, 224, 228–229, 231–233 syndrome, 75; theological status, 92, 234; three dimensional, 185, 189, 191, 193, 196–197, 214, 224, 230; terrestrial and celestial, 4, 96–97, 117–118, 224; topography, 7, 10, 58, 77–78, 82, 84, 89, 166; transformation of, 186, 195. See also Mount Moriah and Temple Mount Joachimism, see Fiore, Joachim of Julian calendar, 106 Ka’bah, 119 Kalevala, 64 Kanungu cult, 75 Knesset, the, 165, 179 Ku Klux Klan, 67 League of Nations, 120, 122 Liberation theology, 119 Maccabean, see Bar Cochba Mashiach ben David, see Messhiah ( Jewish) meaning-making, 8, 224–225, 232 mental baggage, 223, 231 Messiah (Christian), 126, 157–158, 197. See also parousia Messiah ( Jewish), 22–23, 86, 137–138, 149, 153, 172, 175, 183–184, 186, 195, 197 messianic: agent, 26; definition of, 14, 17; era, 120; event, 22; expectations, 86; features, 192; figure, 23, 186; future, 22; groups, 25, 170; hopes, 20, 21; ideas, 20, 32: kingdom, 22–23; leaders, 64, 105; motives, 32; movement, 23–25; phenomena, 29; self-concept, 109; significance, 70; vision, 21–22 messianism, 10; categorization, 23–25, definition of, 18, 20–22, 192; ideology, 23; Jewish, 22; Christian, 86

257

millenarian: anticipations, 213; beliefs, 30, 213; concept, 26, 29, 35; definition of, 14, 17–18, 30–32; dreams, 45–46; dimension, 110; features, 192; framework, 192, 216; groups, 25, 30, 66, 188, 221; histography, 113; imagination, 26, 30, 32, 54, 192; ingredients, 115; -ism, 92; kingdom, 77; millenarians, 106, 188, 198; movements, 32, 61, 100; typology of, 25–26; myth, 219; phenomena, 29, 54; promise, 219; revolt, 105, 213; themes, 25; traces, 110; visions, 19, 31, 32, 73, 86, 192, 216; violence, 29, 30; worldview, 66, 130, 189, 196. See also chiliasm millenarism, 10, 86; catastrophic, 29–30; definition of, 17, 31; English, 106; evolution of, 54; political, 32; post-millenarism, 28; pre-millenarism, 28; progressive, 29; secular, 117; Spanish, 110 millennial, 30, 31, 61, age, 109; groups 62; countdown, 95; enthusiasm, 95; fever, 95; generation, 98, 104; hysteria, 74; kingdom, 136. See also millenarian millennialism, 92, 103, 189, millennium, 31, 59, 73–75, 94–95, 109, 111–112, 115, 131, 189, 221; bimillennium, 104 missionary societies, 116, 227 monotheism, 1, 5, Mount Moriah, 2–3, 82, 166–168, 195, 218. See also Jerusalem Mount of Olives, 75, 101, 147 Nag Hammadi, 61 Napoleonic Wars, 116 NATO countries, 125 New Religious Movements, 221 New World Order, 221 Nicea, council of, 90 nuclear age, 73; bombs, 73 object of consciousness, 212 paradise: breast of, 110; earthly, 9, 31, 96, 105, 107–108, 110, 117, 130, 185–187, 191, 194, 209, 211, 227, 229: supernatural, 17, 55, 62, 69, 199, 209, 215, 219, 224, 227; science, 228. See also Jerusalem imagined

258

index of concepts and places

parousia, 87, 92–94, 97, 101–103, 105, 111, 114–116, 126, 131, 158–159, 197, 234 perceptual transformation, 225 personal development, 231 philo-Semitism, 139 pilgrimage, 1, 80, 98, 146, 168, 174, 198, 204, 231. See also Feast of Tabernacle PLO, 154 Plymouth Brethren, 124, 139 popular culture, 230. See also Hollywood pornography, 72 process of communication, see interaction Project Megiddo, 163, 221 progress, 226, 228 propagation: of ideas, 36; of representation, 39, of symbols see symbols. See also attractiveness prophetic signs, 157 Qubbat al-Shakra, 5 Radical right, 163–165, 180. See also cultural radicals and rightwing politics Rapture theology, 124–127 Rastafarian movement, 64, 82 red heifer, 73, 175–177. See also TMF Reformation, 103–104, 139 religion: in general, 7, 9; cumulative tradition(s), 7, 199, 205; definition of, 15–17, 30, 32, 162, 218, 219; expressions physical, 7, 8; ideas, 48; institutional models, 56; praxis, 7; phenomena, 44; representations, see representations; worldview and construction of, 44, 56. See also meaning-making and crisis religious: belief(s), 30, 33, 36, 40, 50, 106, 127; concepts, 56; experience, 56, groups, 12, 13, 162, 187; promise, 224; symbols, 19, 52, 57, 196–197 Replacement theology, 136–138. See also Church Fathers and Origen representations, 14, 216; as tools for interpretation, 204–216; communication of, 19, 43, 54, 225; content, 55, 198; cultural, 36, 38–40, 45–47, 53–56, 193, 200–203, 207, 209, 211, 224–225, 229;

cultural level, 226, 228; interconsulate, 233; mental, 19, 38, 40, 45–46, 53–56, 193, 199–200, 204, 206, 224–225, 229, 231; phenomenon, 47; propagation, distribution and dissemination of, 19, 43, 47, 53, 197, 204, 212, 229; public, 19, 40, 45–47, 53–56, 193, 200–203, 207, 224–225, 229, public level, 229; reconstruction of, 42, 53, 225; symbolic, 8, 9, 41, 47, 55; theory, see epidemiology of representations. See also apocalypses, commonly conceived, and apocalyptic representations, attractiveness of, contagious ideas, and Jerusalem Restorationism, 139 rhetoric: principles of, 187; rhetorical discourse, 143–144, 189; rhetorical strategy, 187, 189. See also apocalyptic rhetoric rightwing politics, 121, 142, 187. See also Radical right role(s), 51, 56–57, 211, 231, 233; models, 230; role-taking, 37, 52, 57, 204–205, 213; theory, integrated, 20, 51, 191, 198–199. See also existence spaces Roma rediviva, 125, 127 Russia, 75, 125, 148, 183. See also Soviet Union sacred, 7, 17, 193, 216, 223; definition of, 16, 218; place 8; significance of, 217–219. See also Holy City and Jerusalem Scandinavian mythology, 64 science fiction, 74, 230 Second coming, see parousia Seleucid, 59–60 sexual minorities, 71 Sibylline Oracles, 97 significance, 15, 219 Six Day War, 122–123, 126, 161–162 social-constructionism, 47, 52, 191–192. See also symbolic universe, Berger, Peter and Luckmann, Thomas. Social Gospel Movement, 119 Soviet Union, 125–127. See also Russia. status quo, 122–123, 183, 195–196 symbol(s), 8–9, 19, 59, 118, 170, 192, 197, 206, 225; as representations, 224; collective (and public), 57,

index of concepts and places

259

181–182, 225; correspondence and communication of, 51–52, 57, 198, 205, 209, 213; definition of, 14, 18, 41; impact of, 51, 196; Jerusalem of, see Jerusalem symbol; system, 16; meanings of, 7, 46; personal, 52; propagation of, 47; representation of, 18; transformation of, 19, use of, 18. See also apocalyptic representations, transmission of, and apocalyptic symbols, cognitive symbols, religious symbols, representations, and roles. symbolic: behaviour, see TMF activities; data, 41; dimension, 234; emergence, 19, 25; expressions, 52, function, 118, 226; importance, 233; information, 39; interactions and dialogue, 46, 91, 191, 192, 198, 205; interplay of, 233; language, see apocalyptic rhetoric; material, 18, 26; universe(s), 19, 48–49, 56, 185, 198, 214–216, 223, 231 symbolism, 18, 73, see also Temple Mount

theory of catastrophe, 22 Thirty Years’ War, 106 TMF, 11, 33, 130, 160–189, 192–197, 199, 200–205, 211–212, 214, 216, 218–220, 226; activities, 166–177; cornerstone, 168–169; foundation of, 161; members and sympathizers, 13, 177; political influence, 12; representations of Jerusalem, 185–189, 192–205; theology, 181–185; third temple see temple(s). See also apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem, cultural radicals, Israel, red heifer and Salomon, Gershon Tomb of Christ, 90, 96, 122–123, 142 tradition, 47 transformation, 41–42, 226–227, See also apocalyptic representations of Jerusalem

Taborites, 102–103 tabu, 35 temple(s), 7, 37, 86; activists and movements, 178, 180; cult, 80, 119, 131, 146, 170–171, 173; First, 2, 78, 80, 85, 169, 174, 182, 233; Second, 2–3, 80, 89, 120–121, 168–169, 172, 174–175, 177, 182, 234; Third, 109, 159–160, 166, 168–170, 175–180, 182, 184, 187, 195, 197; replacement of, 89. See also Salomon, Gershon, TMF and red heifer Temple Institute, 169, 177–178 Temple Mount, 81–82, 123, 134, 155, 160–166, 168–175, 179; symbolic importance of, 180–184, 187, 195–196, 234. See also Haram esh-Sharif and TMF

Western Wall, 3, 122, 234 World War One, 120 World War Two, 4, 124, 229 World War Three, 125

umma, 5 United Association of the Movements for the Holy Temple, 178 United Nations, 120, 157, 160 utopias, 20–22, 73, 112, 185

Y2K, 74–75 Yom Kippur War, 126 Zion, 73; analogy to Jerusalem, 9, 86, 118, 130, 194–195, 200, 223, 233; etymology, 81–83, 134, 185 Zionism: Zionist movement, 120–121, 126, 131, 184, 201; Biblical Zionism, 132; leaders, 132–133; modern, 133, 181, 185, 186, 194–196; Secular Zionism, 132. See also Christian Zionism