Day 259. Daniel 10-12

It will be no secret from you by now, beloved, that apocalyptic literature is difficult to understand. It not only runs counter to the expectation of the modern reader for clarity and transparency in writing, it is deliberately obscure, and intentionally unclear to those who do not know its secret codes. If you approach it without expecting to completely understand it, its images will be luminous and its symbolic language dramatic. It is great poetry electrically charged with spiritual meanings. It is intended to give strength and hope to the helpless and oppressed, and it does. But it also exerts an endless fascination for certain people—sometimes a dangerous fascination, as the history of both Judaism and Christianity demonstrates with abundant examples. It encourages crazy and violent interpretations. It has the power to unhinge and fanaticize. It arms the unbalanced, the angry and the ignorant with the weapon of revelation about the future, and
nothing is more dangerous than that. Enough said.
Our reading for today delivers to us one last climatic vision before the Book of Daniel ends. Daniel, sage and hero, stands "on the bank of the great river (that is, the Tigris)"; and confronted with the most frightening apparition thus far—"a man clothed in linen" (10:5. Although the angel is not named, only lavishly described, he is in all probability the "prince" Gabriel, the LORD's secretary of state and ambassador extraordinaire. At the angel's appearance, Daniel's companions flee in fear, and so he is "left alone to see this great vision" (10:8).
And indeed so tremendous and terrible is the sight that that his strength leaves him and Daniel "[falls] into a trance, face to the ground" (10:9) But an angelic hand touches him and rouses him to consciousness (10:10), and then Gabriel explains, almost apologetically, why he is so long delayed. He has been engaged in a struggle with another "prince." Ancient people believed that every nation and people has its own personification—its "prince,"—a spirit expressed their own corporate personality. Gabriel tells Daniel that "the prince," the guardian spirit, "of Persia opposed [him] twenty-one days" (10:13). Seven times three is a holy number, in divine time awhile--but not forever. No nation, no matter how strong, lasts forever. But the Persian "prince" is indeed redoubtable. Finally Michael the archangel, "one of the chief princes"--the guardian spirit of the people of Israel and the LORD's commander in chief—has to be
brought in to "help" Gabriel. The struggle is, however, unconcluded. Gabriel has left Michael to handle "the prince of the kingdom of Persia," and has comes to Daniel to help him "understand what is to happen to [his] people at the end of days." His people are in need of additional revelation "for there is a further vision for those days" (10:14).
But Daniel is too shell-shocked by Gabriel's appearance to absorb his message. Twice more the angel has to touch him and speak words of encouragement—"Do not fear, greatly beloved, you are safe. Be strong and courageous!" Only then is Daniel able to collect his wits enough to say, "Let my lord speak, for you have strengthened me" (10:19). But Gabriel is in a hurry. His has great business to attend to. He must oppose "against the prince of Persia" on the battleground of history, and when he is through with Persia "the prince of Greece will come" (10:20). They are mighty adversaries he must fight one after another with only the archangel Michael, the warrior and the "prince" of Israel to help him (10:21).
But before hastening away to these battles Gabriel announces the future to Daniel—and to the persecuted Jewish people. The angel's revelations to Daniel represent the past for the writer and for his contemporaries. He is recounting what is history to them when he says that three more kings would arise from Persia, and during the reign of the fourth, from Greece "a warrior king" would appear (11:3). This is, of course, Alexander the Great, who extended his dominion across much of the then-known world. But at Alexander's early death his vast empire was separated four ways-- "divided toward the four winds of heaven"-- partitioned among his generals, rather than inherited by "his posterity" (11:4), since Alexander died without issue. Alexander's successors in Egypt, the kings of the Ptolemaic dynasty, began a long struggle with the Seleucid dynasty in Syria for control of Palestine—the "beautiful land" (11:16). There is no reason
for us to linger over all of this—it was interesting to the Book of Daniel's first readers as background to their own political situation. In our text it is the meaning of the protracted conflict between the "king of the south"—Egypt—and the "king of the north"—Syria, and it occupies chapter 11:5-39.
Again all this is past history to the writer and his readers, until he reaches the account of how a usurper, "a contemptible person on whom royal majesty had now been conferred"—Antiochus IV Epiphanes-- comes to power "through intrigue" (11:21). For the writer of the Book of Daniel, Antiochus is the present ruler of Palestine and the dangerous reality with which the Jewish people are now dealing.
Having established his authority over Palestine and "swept away" the Jewish high priest—"the prince of the covenant" (11:22)—Antiochus sets about an ambitious—and from the point of view of the writer, sacrilegious--program for "reforming" Jewish worship. His "heart [is] against the holy covenant" (11:28), and he lavishes enormous funds in fostering a syncretistic blend of Jewish and Greek religious practice. This proceeds by force, when necessary; the Syrian king occupies and profanes the temple and the fortress of Jerusalem. He then sets about abolishing "the regular burnt offering" and installs "the abomination that makes desolate" (11:31) in the sanctuary. This "abomination"—to which the writer has referred earlier--was the statue of Olympian Zeus which Antiochus orders erected in the temple. Some Jews, especially among the upper classes, collaborated with the king, "but the people who are loyal to God . . .
stand firm and take action" (11:32). This action means armed revolt, and it is met with bloody repression. The faithful "fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder" (11:33). Some of the "wise"—the unblemished, righteous ones-- are also killed, but by their martyrdom the vision promises that they will "be refined, purified, and cleansed, until the time of the end" (11:35).
And that is not yet—"there is still an interval until the time appointed" (11:35). Here the vision is less specific because we are now in the "true future." But this much is certain—the worst is yet to come. Antiochus' pretensions know no bounds. He considers "himself greater than any god"—his own gods or "the God of gods" (11:36)—and he offers to make those who "acknowledge him" wealthy (11:39). But the righteous will endure in their struggle against this incarnation of evil, and in the end his forces shall be scattered and exhausted, and he shall "come to his end, with no one to help him" (11:45)
But what of those who die in that "time of anguish"?—that is the final question the writer of the Book of Daniel considers. And his answer is in Old Testament terms, truly revolutionary. The angel Gabriel reveals to Daniel the truly amazing fact that at the end of time a general resurrection shall take place—"Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake," he says, "some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt." There is hope beyond death for the faithful—"Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever" (12:2-3). This is the clearest statement about the general resurrection of the dead to be found in the Old Testament. But it is linked to the ancient belief in God's absolute justice. It is the answer to Job's relentless question—Why to the good suffer? The doctrine of the resurrection says that
beyond history justice will triumph over injustice. There is no reason to fear the sword of tyrants like Antiochus because they have no control of our ultimate destiny. God is in control.
But questions remain—more questions than answers. The author tells both Daniel, the hero of the story and us what we want to know--When will this happen? When will justice and life triumph over the forces of death? How will long will it be until the anguish and wonder of present time give place to the glorious end? An angel "clothed in linen" gives him a typical cryptic apocalyptic answer—The tribulation will last "for a time, two times, and half a time" (12:7)—a time is a year in apocalyptic language—so in three and a half years it will be over. But what happens then?
Daniel does not understand—How can he? How can anyone? Some the things must remain a secret even from the wise—"sealed until the time of the end" (12:9). Some things must be spoken in riddles to protect them from the wicked. The language of apocalyptic is a secret language, a code—but those "who are wise shall understand" (12:10), the prophet is assured. When the wicked king takes away "the regular burnt offering" and "the abomination that desolates" is set up in the temple, the wise can start counting—it will be 1290 days till the end (12:11). And those who persevere to see that end are called blessed. It will be all right—that is the message conveyed to the faithful. And Daniel himself, hero and sage, is promised rest by the angel after his terrible visions and disturbing dreams, and the reward of resurrection with the wise "at the end of days" (12:13), when all that is obscure will be revealed.