near Acmonia in Phrygia is the epitaph of one of those pagan philosophic zealots, not an official of the

Empire, but a leading citizen and priest in the Province. He is described in his epitaph as having received the

gift of prophecy from the gods. His very name Athanatos Epitynchanos, son of Pius, Immortal Fortunate,

son of Religious, quite in the style of the Pilgrim's Progress, marks his character and part in the drama of the

time. His pretensions to prophetic gift were supported, we may be sure, by signs and marvels.

Less is known about the second last persecution, 249-51 AD, in which Decius attempted in a similar way to

seek out and exterminate the Christians. But another inscription of Acmonia is the epitaph of a relative,

perhaps the grandfather or uncle of Athanatos Epitynchanos. His name was Telesphoros, Consummator,

and he was hierophant of a religious association in Acmonia; and his wife and his sons Epitynchanos and

Epinikos (Victorious) made his grave in company with the whole association. This document is a proof that

a similar religious pagan revival accompanied the persecution of Decius in Acmonia; and Acmonia may be

taken as a fair example of the provincial spirit in the persecutions. It is evident that, in those great

persecutions, a strong public feeling against the Christians stimulated the Emperors to action, and that the

Emperors, in turn, tried to urge on the religious feeling of the public into fanaticism, as an aid in the

extermination of the sectaries.

In the two last persecutions official certificates of loyalty were issued to those who had complied with the

law and taken part in the ritual of the Imperial religion. These certificates form an apt parallel to the "mark of

the Beast," and prove that that phrase refers to some real feature of the Flavian persecution in Asia.

Those three persecutions stand apart from all the rest in a class by themselves. The intermediate Emperors

shrank from thoroughly and logically putting in practice the principle which they all recognised in theory --

that a Christian was necessarily disloyal and outlawed in virtue of the name and confession. All three are

characterised by the same features and methods, which stand clearly revealed in the Apocalypse for the first

of them and in many documents for the last.

The analogy of the official certificates in the time of Diocletian suggests that in the Flavian period the mark

of the Beast on the right hand may have been a similar official certificate of loyalty. A provincial who was

exposed to suspicion must carry in his hand such a certificate, while one who was notoriously and

conspicuously loyal might be said to carry the mark on his forehead. In the figurative or symbolic language

of the Apocalypse hardly anything is called by its ordinary and direct name, but things are indirectly alluded

to under some other name, and words have to be understood as implying something else than their ordinary

connotation; and therefore it seems a fair inference that the mark on the forehead is the apocalyptic

description of a universal reputation for conspicuous devotion to the cult of the Emperor.

The shadow of the Imperial religion lies deep over the whole book. But the remarkable feature of the book--

the feature which gave it its place in the New Testament in spite of some undeniable defects, which for a

time made its place uncertain, and which still constitute a serious difficulty in reading it as an authoritative

expression of the Christian spirit --is that the writer is never for a moment affected by the shadow. He was

himself a sufferer, not to death, but to what he would feel as a worse fate: he was debarred from helping and

advising his Churches in the hour of trial. But there is no shadow of sorrow or discouragement or anxiety as

to the issue. The Apocalypse is a vision of victory. The great Empire is already vanquished. It has done its

worst; and it has already failed. Not all the Christians have been victors; but those who have deserted their

ranks and dropped out of the fight have done so from inner incapacity, and not because the persecuting

Emperor is stronger than they. Every battle fought to the end is a defeat for the Empire and a Christian

victory. Every effort that the Emperor makes is only another opportunity for failing more completely. The

victory is not to gain: it already is. The Church is the only reality in its city: the rest of the city is mere

pretence and sham. The Church is the city, heir to all its history and its glories, heir too to its weaknesses

and its difficulties and sometimes succumbing to them.

The most dangerous kind of error that can be made about the Apocalypse is to regard it as a literal

statement and prediction of events. Thus, for example 18:1-19:21 is not to be taken as a prophecy of the