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John Martin

The Fall of Babylon, 1831, Mezzotint with etching, 464 x 719 mm, The British Museum, London, Mm,10.6, ©️ The Trustees of the British Museum

Endre Rozsda

The Tower of Babel (La Tour de Babel), 1958, Oil on canvas, 82 x 100 cm (?), ©️ 2022 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris; Photo: Courtesy Atelier Rozsda

Nicolas Bataille

The Second Angel Announces the Fall of Babylon, no.50 from The Apocalypse of Angers, 1373–87, Tapestry, Musée des Tapisseries, Angers, France, Musee des Tapisseries, Angers, France / Bridgeman Images

A Curious Kind of Hope

Comparative Commentary by

The book of Revelation is a dramatic expression of hope in exile. Christian tradition holds that John was exiled to the island of Patmos and, while asleep, received a tour of heaven and things to come. The narrative that plays out for John is a great cosmic battle between God and the heavenly hosts on one side and the forces of evil on the other. The sequence is full of symbols and strange imagery. A new heaven and a new earth ensues.

One of the principal images of evil used in this text is that of Babylon. Babylon was for the Jews what Patmos became for John: it was a place of exile. In the Hebrew Bible, the Neo-Babylonian army destroyed the  city of Jerusalem and brought the people back to the city of Babylon as captives.

The devastation of this historical event was the source of great mourning for the Jews. But the subsequent fall of Babylon to Cyrus the Great and the Persian army opened an opportunity for their return to Jerusalem, to reclaim their land, and to rebuild. The fall of Babylon signalled a turning point in this ancient story.

In Revelation 18, an angel shows John the fall of Babylon, but this is not the historical event from the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible. Instead, this Babylon represents a new collection of evils and combines themes of the apocalyptic destruction of cities from multiple other Hebrew Bible texts. Revelation 18 describes this city as being haunted by demons (v.3), as having grown rich from luxury (v.3), as being a place of pride and excess (v.7) where prophets and saints were murdered (v.24). As a result, the angel tells John that Babylon will experience numerous plagues in a single day, bringing pestilence, grief, famine, and fire as a sign of God’s judgment (v.8). Just as the fall of Babylon was a turning point in the ancient story, so is the fall of Babylon a turning point in this apocalyptic story.

Elaine Pagels has commented on the constancy with which Christians throughout their history have compared their enemies to figures of evil in Revelation (Pagels 2012). Different biblical interpreters from different historical periods have identified Babylon as a symbol for a multitude of evils in their own times. Whatever the specifics of their particular associations, the drama and pathos of the fall of Babylon have provided commentators, artists, and readers, with an appealing way to criticize their enemies.

Embedded in this exhibition’s three visual representations are different kinds of challenge, which typically centre on the notion that human achievements—represented in the image of the city—are ephemeral follies that will eventually be destroyed by human or divine action (or both).

The unnamed medieval artist of the Angers Apocalypse tapestry imagines the Fall of Babylon in Revelation 18 as the crumbling and decay of a corrupt city—though this seems to be more by human neglect than any divine action, supernatural earthquake, or demonic attack. It is a city hollowed out from within.

Focussing on the book of Daniel, on which Revelation 18 also draws, John Martin’s The Fall of Babylon inserts more detail and drama into the destruction of the ancient city. The viewer is invited to contemplate the vastness of the building programmes in the metropolis and the destruction wrought on it by the Persians. Here, the natural elements and the invading army are part of God’s plan to restore the Jewish people to Jerusalem and remember God’s covenant with their forebears. Martin revels in both its grandeur and its devastation.

Endre Rozsda’s painting of the Tower of Babel is markedly different from the other two works shown here. Its abstract style suggests human and architectural forms without ever fully committing to them. The tone of this painting is one of chaos—perhaps born out of Rozsda’s experiences of fleeing political violence—and the Tower of Babel is used as a vehicle for commenting on greed, power, and humanity’s sowing of its own demise.

These representations of the Fall of Babylon remind viewers that humanity’s achievements are not permanent and do not grow in a linear fashion, but are ephemeral, subject to the limitations of human greed, powerless in the face of nature and the divine, and deceptive in appearance.

Yet in both the Old Testament and the New Testament accounts, the Fall of Babylon serves as a turning point, and offers a curious kind of hope. Whether by natural consequence or divine action, those who celebrate greed, luxury, and deception will fail.

Within the larger story of Revelation, this failure paves the way for the descent of the Heavenly City (Revelation 21:9–27), where justice and good governance will prevail.

 

References

Elaine Pagels. 2012. Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation (New York: Viking), pp. 1–36

Next exhibition: Revelation 19:11–21