Book Review: *Armageddon: What the Bible Really Says about the End* by Bart D. Ehrman
The book begins with a careful overview of the text of Revelation. Ehrman highlights the intensity of its imagery—the seals, the trumpets, the bowls of wrath, and of course the climactic battle at Armageddon. He makes clear that Revelation is not some neutral or cryptic document; it is a text with an agenda, written by a Christian prophet named John in the late first century, who envisioned God’s dramatic intervention to overthrow Rome and vindicate the faithful. For Ehrman, Revelation is a book of vengeance. It promises destruction for the wicked and a bloody triumph for the righteous.
From there, Ehrman moves into what I think is the book’s greatest strength: his tracing of Revelation’s influence throughout history. He shows how various groups, from medieval millenarians to American evangelicals, have used Revelation to make sense of their world and to predict the future. Particularly insightful is his discussion of how dispensationalist readings of Revelation have fueled modern Christian Zionism, shaping U.S. foreign policy in the Middle East. Equally compelling is his chapter on Revelation’s ecological imagery, where he shows how the apocalyptic vision resonates with fears about climate catastrophe. These sections are excellent examples of Ehrman’s ability to make scholarship relevant to urgent contemporary issues.
Where I find the book less convincing is in its interpretation of Revelation’s core message. Ehrman insists that Revelation is essentially a violent book, without much room for irony or contrast. For instance, in Revelation 5, John hears about the conquering Lion of Judah but then sees a Lamb standing as if slain. Many interpreters have understood this as an ironic reversal—the true conqueror is not a lion at all but the lamb who was killed. But Ehrman resists this reading, instead suggesting that Christ is both lion and lamb, a paradoxical combination that affirms rather than undercuts the image of conquest. Similarly, in Revelation 7, John hears the number of the sealed—144,000 from the tribes of Israel—but then sees a countless multitude from every nation. Rather than reading this as another ironic contrast (the narrow vision of God’s people exploded into a vast, diverse reality), Ehrman takes both as valid affirmations: a militaristic Israel and multitude of martyrs from all nations, both included.
In both cases, I think Ehrman misses the rhetorical edge of the text. Revelation is a book that often says one thing and then dramatically subverts it with what John sees. Irony is not just an occasional feature but a central mode of communication. By downplaying this, Ehrman ends up with a reading that feels overly cynical: Revelation, for him, becomes little more than a revenge fantasy fever dream dressed in religious garb. While his interpretation is certainly plausible and, in places, quite brilliant, it strikes me as a failure to take seriously the subtle literary strategies at work in the text.
That said, I do not want to underestimate the value of Armageddon. For readers interested in how Revelation has shaped the world we live in, this is an essential book. Ehrman’s historical chapters are worth the price of admission alone, and his sharp writing ensures that the book will find a wide audience. But for those seeking help in actually interpreting the message of Revelation, I would recommend looking elsewhere. Ehrman offers an important perspective, but one that is too narrow, too dismissive of the possibility that Revelation is not only about vengeance but also about the surprising, ironic victory of the Lamb.
In sum, Armageddon is a good and important book. It deserves to be read, discussed, and debated.