Calamity is the mother of end-of-the-world prophecy. This is true as millions of Americans, many rattled into an End Times frame of mind by Sept. 11, line up to buy the latest installment in the Left Behind series, The Remnant. It was true when the first prophecies of the End appeared in the Hebrew Bible in response to a great national catastrophe in 586 B.C. And it was true in between, when an Irish preacher changed the course of American religious thought by bringing a stark apocalyptic vision to a nation that was reeling from the Civil War, its own fratricidal foretaste of Armageddon.
Notions of a divinely choreographed end to history are almost as old as Western faith. They appear first in the Jewish Bible's books of Isaiah and Ezekiel. The books were edited in the 5th and 6th centuries B.C., and secular scholars find an intimate connection between their content and the horrors Jews faced at the time. In 586 B.C., after a brutal siege, the kingdom of Babylon conquered Israel and forced its elite into exile. The prophets defiantly proclaimed the opposite: the establishment over all nations of a Jewish kingdom under a divinely anointed Messiah, set at the end of days. It was so resonant to a nearly annihilated people that it became a central part of their tradition. The high-water mark of Jewish apocalypticism is in the Book of Daniel, which contributed a kind of timetable for the End and a vivid symbolic language ("And four great beasts came up from the sea...").
Eventually Jewish fascination with a militant restoration of God's kingdom faded. But it was embraced by Christianity. Jesus' thoughts about the End are most fully expressed in Matthew 24, in which he hints that it might happen in his disciples' lifetime. After his death, his followers developed scenarios keyed to his anticipated Second Coming.
The fullest of these is the Technicolor spectacle called Revelation. The book is usually attributed to John of Patmos and dated around A.D. 95. John was responding to the horrific persecution of early Christians under the Roman emperor Nero. (Among other things, he had them coated with pitch and burned alive in his gardens.) The book incorporates the extravagantly harsh yet finally hopeful scenarios now familiar to believers: the earthquakes and plagues, the Four Horsemen and Seven Seals, the battle against the Antichrist, Christ's 1,000-year earthly rule of peace and righteousness (called the Millennium). And lyrically, these lines of Scripture: "Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth... Then I, John, saw the holy city, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband." John's vision became the Bible's final book.
There was one problem: the vagueness of Revelation's imagery almost immediately inaugurated a nearly 2,000-year End Times guessing game. Some of the most heated speculation has been about precisely when the Apocalypse would start. (Wrote an annoyed St. Augustine: "To all those who make calculations... 'Relax your fingers and give them a rest.'") And when they were not guessing the date, denominations and nations tried to figure out what long-term role they might play in the great final drama.