conversion and undertaking his life’s work of explaining the prophetic meanings that he found in the Bible. The so- called
Between Moody and Scofield, in fact, the newfangled idea of the Rapture and the various other theological innovations of John Nelson Darby achieved the status of received truth in the early years of the twentieth century: “My hope is built on nothing less,” went one parody of a gospel song, “than Scofield’s notes and Moody Press.”68 And Christian fundamentalism of the kind espoused by men like Moody and Scofield defined the skirmish line in a culture war against what they regarded as the minions of Satan at work in America—“the ultimate antidote for all infidelity,” according to Reuben A. Torrey (1856–1928), superintendent of the Moody Bible Institute and a far-ranging revivalist preacher, “and the impregnable bulwark against liberalism and false cults,” by which he meant all of the unwelcome phenomena of the modern world.69
“I don’t find any place where God says the world is to grow better and better,” insisted Moody himself. “I find that the earth is to grow worse and worse.”70
What the rest of the world celebrated as the march of civilization, the fundamentalists condemned as the secret workings of a diabolical conspiracy. “Satan has organized the world of unbelieving mankind upon his cosmic principles of force, greed, selfishness, ambition and pleasure,” ranted Scofield in his annotations to the book of Revelation in
Just as the author of Revelation detested the buying and selling of goods in the Roman marketplace and distrusted the pagan guilds that a Christian craftsman might be tempted to join, for example, some Christian fundamentalists in America decried the “congested wealth” of big business—“a whirlpool of mad and maddening excess,” according to one evangelical preacher72—and saw union labels on factory goods as “the mark of the beast.” And, just as John was deeply offended by the pleasures of Roman civilization, the fundamentalists denounced the entertainments and diversions of popular culture in modern America. The Reverend Torrey, for example, was willing to concede that “dancing was not a sin—as long as men and women did not do it together,” but certain fashionable dances, including the fox-trot, the shimmy, and the Charleston, were regarded as “nothing less than obscene.”73
“Many of the couples performing these dances should have a marriage license before stepping out on the ballroom floor,” complained one outraged Christian observer, “and if they had a marriage license, there would be no excuse for committing such acts in public.”74
Still, the Protestant fundamentalists in America always looked on the sunny side of doomsday. Back in the Old World, an ardent Catholic reader of Revelation like the French nun Therese of Lisieux thrilled at the prospect of the Tribulation: “When thinking of the torments which will be the lot of Christians at the time of Anti-Christ, I feel my heart leap with joy and I would that these torments be reserved for me.”75 But here in America, some Christians preferred to believe that they would be spared all such torments when they were first “raptured” to heaven and then restored to earth to reign over the millennial kingdom alongside the King of Kings.
“Let us remember one thing,” John Darby had announced back in the mid–nineteenth century, “we Christians are sheltered from the approaching storm.”76 And Reuben Torrey affirmed the same reassuring message in the opening years of the twentieth century: “The storm will be brief,” he declared, “and beyond the storm there is a golden day, such as philosophers and poets never dreamed of.”77
Curiously, and even rather touchingly, some of the apocalyptic enthusiasts who were delighted at the prospect of watching the Tribulation from on high were also troubled by the fate that would surely befall those benighted souls who still clung to what John calls “the synagogue of Satan.” Attentive readers of Revelation were reassured that 144,000 male virgins from the tribes of Israel would be “sealed” in the end-times, but what about the rest of the Jewish people? Here, too, John Darby offered a startling new way to understand the story of Revelation and, especially, the special fate that was reserved for the Jewish people in the end-times.
Of all the ironies that have come to be attached to the book of Revelation, none is quite so strange as the love-hate relationship between its fundamentalist readers in America and the Jewish people. The author of Revelation, as we have seen, condemns his Jewish contemporaries for rejecting the messiahship of Jesus of Nazareth and suggests that Jews will spend eternity in the company of pagans and lukewarm Christians in a lake of fire. And yet some of the most ardent readers of Revelation in America proudly call themselves Zionists—and they are inspired to do so by their most cherished apocalyptic beliefs.
“Christian Zionism” sometimes seems like an oxymoron precisely because the Christian apocalyptic tradition has always carried an ugly stain of anti-Semitism. Starting in late antiquity, as we have seen, the folklore of the Apocalypse came to include the scandalous notion that the Antichrist will be a Jewish man sired by the Devil and a Jewish harlot in a Babylonian brothel. At best, some otherwise anti-Semitic readers of Revelation held out the faint hope that at least some Jews would spare themselves the fires of hell by belatedly embracing Jesus Christ as the Messiah.
Joachim of Fiore, author of a tract frankly titled
Apocalyptic legend and lore imagined that the Jewish people would return to the land of Israel at the end of days—but only with deadly consequences. For example, a text titled
A much brighter picture was painted by the apocalyptic preachers of the New World. Increase Mather predicted in
But, like the Rapture, the repatriation of the Jewish people took on a new degree of power and authority in the teachings of John Darby. He came away from his study of the Hebrew Bible with a new idea about the role of the Jewish people in the end-times, a notion that has been called one of the “most distinctive and controversial features” of his doctrine.81 To sum up Darby’s elaborate theory, he taught that God has devised one fate for the Jewish people and a different fate for the Christian church—but the two phases of the divine plan for the end of the world are interrelated, and so the final salvation of Christians depends on the destiny that God has assigned to the Jewish people.
Since Darby was convinced that all biblical prophecy must be fulfilled, including the prophecies in the Hebrew Bible that were addressed to the Israelites, he concluded that God will keep his promise to restore the land of Israel to the Chosen People and rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem
By a fateful coincidence, the divine plan for the Jewish people in Darby’s scenario of the
