Book of Revelation

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'Till we cast our crowns before Thee' -- ties that bind in last rites for Queen Elizabeth II

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'Till we cast our crowns before Thee' -- ties that bind in last rites for Queen Elizabeth II

During the private funeral of her husband, Queen Elizabeth II sat alone near the St. George's Chapel altar, socially distanced from her family and wearing a black pandemic mask.

This searing portrait of grief moved viewers worldwide. And as Prince Philip's casket was lowered into the Windsor Castle vault, singers chanted the Kontakion of the Departed, a tie to his Orthodox roots in Greece.

“Give rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy saints," they sang, "where sorrow and pain are no more; neither sighing but life everlasting. … All we go down to the dust; and weeping o'er the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."

Only 18 months later, Queen Elizabeth requested the same chant, in the same chapel. This time it marked the start of the committal liturgy which closed a 10-day wave of statecraft, vigils, memorials and processions preceding the majestic state funeral.

The queen's final, intimate Windsor Castle service began where her husband's had ended, as if one rite was flowing into another.

"Queen Elizabeth was one of those people in this mortal life who always thought ahead," said David Lyle Jeffrey, distinguished senior fellow at the Institute for Studies in Religion at Baylor University. When preparing these rites, the queen was "clearly looking for prayers, scriptures and hymns that made connections she wanted to make for her family, her people and the world. … I think she succeeded brilliantly."

An Anglican from Canada, Jeffrey said the events closing the queen's historic 70-year reign were an appropriate time to explore the "essence of her admirable Christian character." Thus, the retired literature professor wrote a poem after her death -- "Regina Exemplaris (An exemplary queen)" -- saluting her steady, consistent faith. It ended with:


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Mark of the Beast: This time, a Godbeat pro gives us 666 reasons to like her apocalyptic story

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The Beast is back.

My most-clicked post of the year concerned "Mark of the Beast: 666 reasons to look for religion angle in microchips installed in employees' hands."

That recent post noted a Wisconsin technology company's plan to install microchips in employees' hands and highlighted the holy ghosts in mainstream media reports.

Just last week, Deann Alford — a faithful GetReligion reader who supplied excellent commentary for my original post — shared a link to a yet another haunted piece on the chips controversy.

But fret not, faithful masses devoted to high-quality news coverage of religion: Godbeat pro Holly Meyer of The Tennessean (part of the national USA Today network) has produced an excellent story on the subject.

Her newsy lede:

NASHVILLE — The apocalyptic "mark of the beast" prophecy in the Bible makes some wary of a Wisconsin company's recent decision to embed microchips into the hands of willing employees.
The end times account in the New Testament's Book of Revelation warns believers about being marked on the right hand and the forehead by the Antichrist.
But inserting rice-sized microchips under the skin of Three Square Market employees does not fulfill the prophecy, said Chris Vlachos, a New Testament professor at Wheaton College in Chicago.
"I think that this is more of a fulfillment of end times novels and movies than the Book of Revelation itself," Vlachos said.
Earlier this week Three Square Market, the Wisconsin firm that makes cafeteria kiosks to replace vending machines, brought in a tattoo artist to embed microchips into the 40 employees that volunteered.


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Mark of the Beast: 666 reasons to look for religion angle in microchips installed in employees' hands

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A technology company's plan to install microchips in employees' hands has been making the rounds on social media the last few days.

ABC News notes that the chips — not the chocolate kind — will allow workers "to enter the office, log into computers and even buy a snack or two with just a swipe of a hand."

"Want those vending machine snacks without digging for change? There's an implant for that!" proclaims the NBC affiliate in Dallas-Fort Worth.

How convenient! (And creepy!)

My friend Alan Cochrum, a former copy editor for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, posted the story on my Facebook page and issued a challenge to me:

Your next religion-coverage mission, should you choose to accept it: See how many reporters pick up/report on the reaction to this in some religious circles, and how many don't or are completely baffled by it.

It sounds like Cochrum sees a potential holy ghost (or perhaps 666 of them) in these microchips.

Another GetReligion reader — Texas journalist and author Deann Alford — also called our attention to this story. In an email, she wrote:

Yes, I knew about the technology, which is routine now from pets adopted from shelters. It’s been around more than a decade. Our cats Weasley and Murph both have chips. Lusia, who went to kitty heaven in 2015 at age 21, did not.
A stunning one-big-happy-family story that has ZERO about what this ushers in. Thing is, with horrid Bible literacy rates in society, even in the church, not surprising that the journalist raises no alarms about this. The only voice of dissent included in this otherwise cheery story has to do with privacy concerns.
Without revelation from Revelation in the story, in this age of ever-rising identity theft, what’s a reader not to love about a secure way to do transactions? 

So apparently, the religion angle has something to do with Revelation. (Yikes! I am no expert on that.)


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'End-times cat cult': Why Bob Smietana's 'Apocalypse Meow' story really is the cat's meow

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Wow. Wow. Wow.

This Nashville Scene cover story by Bob Smietana really is the cat's meow. I mean, it's an in-depth exposé titled "Apocalypse Meow." What's not to like? 

I must echo the sentiment expressed by Scene editor Steve Cavendish in this tweet.

Don't let the focus on feline factoids leave a faulty impression. This is no fluff piece. It's a furry ball of fantastic journalism, even if it involves — as Smietana's investigative report so eloquently describes it — "a complicated mash-up of spiritual experimentation, charismatic leadership and cute cat videos."

(By the way, this video contains 10 of "the cutest and funniest cat videos of all time." However, as far as I know, it has no connection to the cult covered by Smietana.)

Smietana opens the story as if talking casually with a friend. But then the conversation with readers takes a jaw-dropping turn:


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Rites of mourning in Ukraine, as well as that Chernobyl verse in the Book of Revelation

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If you want to spend a sobering day -- but a fascinating one as well -- then you need to pay a visit to the Ukrainian National Chernobyl Museum in Kiev. I have been there twice and, if I returned a third time, I am sure that I would discover more layers of information and symbolism that I missed the first two times around.

Technically speaking, it's a very simple facility, with few of the multi-media bells and whistles that are now the norm in the museum world.

What hits you is the power of the, literally, the parables, icons and relics on display. The contents are simply overwhelming, for those with the eyes to see.

So if you ever enter the museum, look up at the ceiling above the main staircase and search for an explicit reference to the Book of Revelation. Here's what I described in a 2012 column:

KIEV -- The apocalyptic visions begin just inside the doors of the Ukrainian National Chernobyl Museum and many of them lead straight into the Book of Revelation.
The final pages of Christian scripture are full of angels, trumpets, flames, thunder, lighting, earthquakes and catastrophes that shake heaven and earth.
In this museum, the key is in the eighth chapter: "And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters. And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter."
When Ukrainians translate "wormwood" into their own language it becomes "chernobyl."

Didn't see that one coming, right?


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