The Beast

The Beast August 23, 2016

In an 1881 article, F.W. Farrar examined the case for Nero as the sea beast of Revelation 13. Many contemporary scholars dismiss this because they believe that Revelation was written decades after Nero. Farrar makes a circumstantial and exegetical case for the identification, and in the process provides a vivid portrait of the turmoil of Rome, circa 64 AD.

Nero’s reign as emperor took place in the middle of a period of political chaos: “one after another [emperor] perished by assassination and suicide—Augustus perhaps poisoned, Tiberius perhaps smothered, Caligula assassinated, Claudius poisoned, Nero by his own hand, Galba assassinated, Otho by his own hand after defeat in battle, Vitellius by the hands of the multitude, Domitian assassinated.” Nero’s family and upbringing didn’t stabilize him: “His father was a man exceptionally worthless, and exceptionally wicked. His mother, the second Agrippina, was not only a woman of passionate temper and imperious will, but was one of the most abandoned characters of an abandoned age. His tutor, Seneca, no doubt did his best, but circumstances were too strong for him; and there was a certain insincerity in his own character which gave a hollow sound to his elaborate and sententious aphorisms.

His dissolution as emperor was the stuff of constant gossip, and Farrar believes that Christians in and around Rome would have been familiar with his various scandals:

by what arts he usurped the throne from his step-brother Britannicus; what aversion he shewed towards his wife, Octavia, the sister of Britannicus; and how before he had been a year on the throne he had poisoned Britannicus at the age of fourteen. The rumors of his friendship with the bad Otho; of his marriage with Poppooa, Otho’s wife; of the banishment and murder of Octavia; of the horrible plots by which he had at last succeeded in murdering his mother Agrippina; of the unworthy follies, the disgraceful orgies, the nameless abysses of iniquity and abomination into which the undisputed master of the world had sunk, would soon be flying from lip to lip.

Nero’s reign marked a critical turning point in Rome’s relationship with the burgeoning Christian church. Prior to Nero, Christians had found Rome to be a protector:

The grand and saving virtue of the Roman people lay in their respect for Law, and the majesty of Roman law had many a time protected Christians from the indiscriminate fury and recklessness of Jewish and Gentile mobs. The conduct of the little provincial “pretors” at Philippi had been quite exceptional. The “politarchs” of Thessalonica had dealt equitably towards St. Paul. The authority of Proconsuls had been invoked to protect him from mob-violence at Corinth and at Ephesus. He had himself, with some confidence, appealed to Nero at Cresarea. Up to this time, the Christian—as he observed how the imperial institutions of Rome helped him to disseminate the Gospel, and protected its missionaries from violence, and how it was along the straight roads hammered by “the gigantic hammer of the legionaries” that the feet of the messengers of peace were able to pass to all parts of the civilized world—saw in the existence of Roman Empire a proof of the Providence of God, and waited peacefully for the coming of the Kingdom of Christ.

It was a shock, then, when Nero scapegoated Christians for the disastrous fire at Rome in 64 AD. Nero was himself blamed for the fire, and stories circulated about him reciting Homeric verses about fall of Troy while watching flames consume ten of sixteen districts of the city. Farrar discounts these rumors, if he doesn’t entirely dismiss them. The turning point for Nero (as for Diocletian later) came when he tried to appeal to Rome’s gods for deliverance from the disaster: “The Sibylline books were consulted; the matrons of Rome walked in long processions to propitiate Juno, whose temple and statue were lustrated with sea water. Public banquets were given in honor of the gods and goddesses of Rome. . . . when Nero found that sacred ceremonies were as unavailing as profuse largesses to dissipate the dark clouds of sullenness and fury which were beginning to endanger even his colossal power, that he conceived, or had suggested to him by others, the diabolical purpose of throwing the blame upon the innocent.”

Farrar argues that Nero was egged on by Jewish allies who were intent on wiping out the Christian sect:

If anything could have added yet deeper horror to that which the whole life and conduct of Nero excited in every Christian breast, it was the sense that his unutterable heathen vileness was but the instrument secretly wielded by Jewish hatred. The Romans did on this occasion draw that distinction between Jews and Christians which had no significance for them till nearly a century later, when the Jewish false Messiah Barchocba persecuted the Christians with implacable hatred. . . . [In Nero’s time] the Jews had insinuated themselves into the noblest Roman houses, often by the most questionable arts. By such arts they had even gained a secret but powerful influence in Nero’s palace. The Empress Popprua, if not actually a proselyte, was at any rate very favorably disposed to the Jewish religion, and had about this very time given a friendly audience to Josephus, at whose instigation she had used her influence for the liberation of certain Jewish priests.

Farrar’s account doesn’t amount to proof, but he describes a historical situation that fits neatly with the prediction of Revelation 13, of an imperial beast who would make war on the saints and overcome them, allied with a land beast (= a Jewish figure) who propagandized for the empire.


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