Stupid Question ™
Oct. 20, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: Who is the best modern candidate to be the Antichrist, based on the old “666” clue?
—Still Waiting, Columbus, Ohio
A: A few points: 666 in the Biblical Book of Revelation specifically identifies a bizarre “beast” that is not called “the Antichrist” (a generic term not used in the book), though it has the attributes we mean by the term today. Also, 666 was meant to be an obvious code, not a deep mystery or prediction. It quite possibly refers to no one in particular.
Revelation is a feverish apocalyptic vision probably written around A.D. 65-70. It describes two beasts. One, a perversity of Christ, will survive a fatal wound and temporarily rule the world. The other will be the first beast’s false prophet.
The main beast should not be easy to miss. He has the body of a leopard, the paws of a bear and the mouth of a lion, plus seven heads (all with blasphemies written on them) and 10 horns, each bearing a small crown.
One head will take a seemingly fatal wound but miraculously recover, resulting in his near-universal worship.
After describing all of this, Revelation 13:18 says, “[A]nyone clever may interpret the number of the [first] beast; it is the number of a human being, the number 666.” [New Jerusalem Bible version.]
Early Christians were big on numerology, and six was the number of imperfection; three sixes emphasize the beast’s flawed nature. (Six is one less than the “perfect” number seven—perfect for reasons too involved to go into here.)
Many scholars think 666 may also be a numerological code for the Roman Emperor Nero (A.D. 37-68), the infamous persecutor of Christians. He was “Kaisar Neron” in Revelation’s original Greek, which in Hebrew letters—which also serve as numerals—adds up to 666.
Also, Nero killed himself with a dagger to the throat, but was the subject of rumors and hoaxes that he wasn’t really dead. This could be the source of the “head wound” bit.
However, many scholars also point out that the number isn’t as important as that it stands for a person, not a god. The whole point is to beware false prophets and self-proclaimed messiahs.
A major theme of Christianity is that the world-ending good-vs.-evil battle is coming any minute now. During what has proven to be a very long wait, various Christians have applied, almost hopefully, the “666” identification to their enemy of the moment. Contrived numerology is usually the basis for the ID.
Nearly every modern world leader has proponents today, as does Microsoft’s Bill Gates. Some think bigger—and meaner—and say 666 is Jewish people (with their six-pointed Star of David) or even all of humanity.
Heads of rival Christian sects are also popular, including the all-time top contender: any or all of the popes, or the Roman Catholic Church itself.
This claim, originally made by Protestants as the Reformation got underway, involves some of the worst numerological acrobatics.
All of these claims are dwarfed by the mountain of evidence against Baywatch actor David Hasselhoff, as seen on the Web site www.esquilax.com/baywatch/index.shtml.
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
March 29, 2008
March 27, 2008
Hair Shirt
Stupid Question ™
Feb. 22, 2001
By John Ruch
© 2001
Q: What’s a hair shirt?
—Jim Kelley
A: An extremely uncomfortable garment, the hair shirt was the last word in fashion among self-punishing Christians for centuries.
Misunderstandings of the term “hair shirt” has led to a popular misconception that they were something like animal hides worn inside-out, with the bristling fur irritating the skin.
In actuality, the original hair shirts were cut from (and named for) haircloth, a rough fabric woven from the fur of camels or mountain goats. Like modern canvas or burlap, haircloth was extremely common in the ancient Near East and was used for making sacks, tents and the like. It was also worn as foul-weather gear because it was tough and water-resistant.
Very early on, Christians began using haircloth as an instrument of self-torture by wearing it directly against the skin, which rapidly would be rubbed raw. Such hair “shirts” (sometimes cloaks or shawls) were worn both by penitents publicly repenting their sins and by ascetic hermits who sought to purify themselves through self-mortification.
Extremely devout ascetics would wear their hair shirts all the time, for years on end. Regular folks would only don one for a special observance, such as Lent. As time went on, these hair shirts weren’t always made of classic haircloth, but of any rough fabric (and in some extreme cases, fine wire).
Haircloth gained symbolic status—used for banners and altar cloths—and hair shirts eventually became symbolic, too. By around 1500, laypeople got away with wearing only token strips of haircloth.
While Christians developed the hair shirt to its peak of discomfort, they were neither the first nor the last to wear it. The Hebrew Bible refers to the penitential wearing of “sackcloth.” And the popular name of the Sufis, the Islamic ascetic sect, probably means “woolen”—a reference to the hair shirts they wore in imitation of Christians. Today, the monks of the Carthusian and Carmelite orders still occasionally wear hair shirts.
While hair shirts have their glamour—worn by St. Louis and Charlemagne under their robes—it must be understood that for hardcore wearers, they went far beyond mere discomfort.
A graphic picture emerges from a brief review of the hair shirts of the stars. Thomas More, the Catholic saint and author of “Utopia,” wore his hair shirt only on special occasions and Fridays—also the days he scourged himself. According to More’s priest, it was a “hard and rough shirt of hair….It tamed his flesh till the blood was seen in his clothes.”
But More’s hair shirt was Utopian compared to that of Thomas Becket, the martyred archbishop of Canterbury. Becket’s shirt was long and was wrapped around his loins. Becket reportedly had the shirt sown tightly onto himself and wore it constantly for most of his adult life.
After Becket’s murder, his hair shirt was found to be completely swarming with lice, which some fellow churchmen declared a worse form of martyrdom than the sword blows that killed him.
Feb. 22, 2001
By John Ruch
© 2001
Q: What’s a hair shirt?
—Jim Kelley
A: An extremely uncomfortable garment, the hair shirt was the last word in fashion among self-punishing Christians for centuries.
Misunderstandings of the term “hair shirt” has led to a popular misconception that they were something like animal hides worn inside-out, with the bristling fur irritating the skin.
In actuality, the original hair shirts were cut from (and named for) haircloth, a rough fabric woven from the fur of camels or mountain goats. Like modern canvas or burlap, haircloth was extremely common in the ancient Near East and was used for making sacks, tents and the like. It was also worn as foul-weather gear because it was tough and water-resistant.
Very early on, Christians began using haircloth as an instrument of self-torture by wearing it directly against the skin, which rapidly would be rubbed raw. Such hair “shirts” (sometimes cloaks or shawls) were worn both by penitents publicly repenting their sins and by ascetic hermits who sought to purify themselves through self-mortification.
Extremely devout ascetics would wear their hair shirts all the time, for years on end. Regular folks would only don one for a special observance, such as Lent. As time went on, these hair shirts weren’t always made of classic haircloth, but of any rough fabric (and in some extreme cases, fine wire).
Haircloth gained symbolic status—used for banners and altar cloths—and hair shirts eventually became symbolic, too. By around 1500, laypeople got away with wearing only token strips of haircloth.
While Christians developed the hair shirt to its peak of discomfort, they were neither the first nor the last to wear it. The Hebrew Bible refers to the penitential wearing of “sackcloth.” And the popular name of the Sufis, the Islamic ascetic sect, probably means “woolen”—a reference to the hair shirts they wore in imitation of Christians. Today, the monks of the Carthusian and Carmelite orders still occasionally wear hair shirts.
While hair shirts have their glamour—worn by St. Louis and Charlemagne under their robes—it must be understood that for hardcore wearers, they went far beyond mere discomfort.
A graphic picture emerges from a brief review of the hair shirts of the stars. Thomas More, the Catholic saint and author of “Utopia,” wore his hair shirt only on special occasions and Fridays—also the days he scourged himself. According to More’s priest, it was a “hard and rough shirt of hair….It tamed his flesh till the blood was seen in his clothes.”
But More’s hair shirt was Utopian compared to that of Thomas Becket, the martyred archbishop of Canterbury. Becket’s shirt was long and was wrapped around his loins. Becket reportedly had the shirt sown tightly onto himself and wore it constantly for most of his adult life.
After Becket’s murder, his hair shirt was found to be completely swarming with lice, which some fellow churchmen declared a worse form of martyrdom than the sword blows that killed him.