Babel and New Jerusalem: Two Urban Expressions of Theological Contrast

Abstract

Numerous researchers have linked the description of the New Jerusalem in Rev 21 to Fallen Babylon in Rev 18 in order to establish intertextual opportunities for comparison and contrast. However, the New Jerusalem is seldom linked to the Tower of Babel in Gen 11—essentially, the urban archetype of Babylon in the Old Testament. Exploring these two urban metaphors—from a largely canonical, theological perspective—it appears that the New Jerusalem and the Tower of Babel stand out as two urban expressions of theological contrast. The two city metaphors contrast each other as they relate to themes of builders, unity/diversity, and temple language when describing divine and human activities.

1. Introduction

From the early pages of Genesis to the final chapters of Revelation, the Scriptures speak of the urban development of humanity. Looking at two passages in particular—Gen 11:1–9 and Rev 21:1–27—both Babel and the New Jerusalem contain urban expressions; but they serve more as items of theological contrast. With respect to the following assertions, the two metro-symbols represent cities of the opposite orders: (1) whereas the Tower of Babel is a human endeavor, comprising human builders, the New Jerusalem has God as its source and builder; (2) whereas Babel seeks group unity and ends in diversity, the New Jerusalem moves from a diverse population and binds it in unity; and (3) whereas Babel focuses on the reality of alienation from God, furthered by an improper temple complex, the New Jerusalem focuses on God’s presence, embodied by temple language.

1.1. Previous Research

The shared presentation of both phenomena as urban settlements allows for investigation into the relationship between the two. In the OT, Van Wieringen (2011) notes a contrast within Isa 1–39 between the earthly Jerusalem and its rival Babylon/Babel—noting, in particular, the hostility between them (p. 49). Whereas an idealized Jerusalem exists in Isaiah’s last chapters (65–66), this study choses a larger canonical view—reaching later into the Bible’s last book, Revelation. As such, often in scholarly circles, the New Jerusalem draws comparisons and contrasts with another urban expression in Revelation: Fallen Babylon.1 That pursuit is indeed a worthy project, one in which many scholars have already blazoned academic trails (cf. Bauckham 1993b, pp. 130–32; Beale 1999, pp. 1074–76). Often when looking for an NT text to read in light of the Tower of Babel, the events of Pentecost in the book of Acts is another common intertextual point of discussion (cf. Davis 2009; González and González 1993; Siker 2010). But the connection between the Tower of Babel and the New Jerusalem is a foreseeable venture.2 Many of the themes of the Fallen Babylon find resonance in the city detailed in Gen 11. Fallen Babylon places itself in an urban mold into which many cities of the past and many empires of the future will unfortunately fit. In this way, the Tower of Babel is a prequel to Fallen Babylon. Phrased another way, the Tower of Babel is a proto-Babylon. As Jacques Ellul imagines, “All the cities of the world are brought together in her, she is the synthesis of them all … Everything said about Babylon is in fact to be understood for the cities as a whole” (Ellul 1970, pp. 20–21). If Fallen Babylon is the climax and mother of the abhorrent city, then the Tower of Babel represents the basic premise of the disobedient urban toddler.

1.2. Methodology

Based upon this assessment, the link between Babel and the New Jerusalem is largely a theological one. It is not one connected through linguistics—through verbal allusions or citation formulas. To this end, studies have researched Fallen Babylon and the New Jerusalem. The correlation of a Babel/Jerusalem contrast is thus based on thematic links—more theological than linguistic, though exegesis plays a pivotal role. It is difficult to surmise to what degree John implemented Gen 11 into his writing of the Apocalypse. But canonically, contrasting the two is a valid pursuit.3

2. The Tower of Babel as a Human-Orientated Project

The builders of Babel represent a completely human-orientated project. It is a human endeavor, for they desire an ironic notion: “let us make a name for ourselves” (Gen 11:4 RSV).4 People do not often name themselves in a reflexive manner. Earlier in Gen 2:20, Adam names the creatures of the garden, and in Gen 3:20, Adam names Eve. It is ironic that the builders would thus name themselves. The purpose of naming things/persons is not so much for identification as it is for character development. As F. F. Bruce mentions, naming something/someone places that object/person under the name-giver’s authority and in their sphere of control (Bruce 1986). Giving things names is a natural extension of Adam’s mandate to rule over creation. In chapter 11, the purpose of making a name is clearly not for identification; a name is never given (Babel is God’s name for them, not their own designation). In this way, they seek a name to define their character, “lest we be scattered …” (Gen 11:4). Instead of following God’s plan to spread over the earth, their construction project shows their desire to function outside of God’s wishes.

The genealogies of Gen (chap. 4–10) list dozens upon dozens of names. Seemingly, their parents gave the names of those descendants. It is noteworthy, then, that God renames Abram with a new name “Abraham” in Gen 17:5. God seeks to put humanity back on track with a plan of revelation and redemption through Abraham. In this way, Abraham is placed under the authority of his name-giver: the LORD. Naming creates a relationship between “the name-giver” over “the named.” Yet, as Ellul mentions, “rebellious people are tired of being named, of being recipient of a name. They want to name themselves. In fact, they want to make a name for themselves” (Ellul 1970, pp. 15–16). The action of making a name for oneself is often solely within the domain of God. Claus Westermann points out that it is true that David makes a name for himself (2 Sam. 8:13), but the greater biblical tradition has only God performing such an action (Westermann 1984, p. 548). Gordon Wenham furthers the point that the builders of Babel are “again attempting to usurp divine prerogatives” (Wenham 1987, p. 240). It is true that God can promise to make a human’s name great (Wenham 1987, p. 240; cf. Gen 12:2 for Abraham; cf. 2 Sam 7:9 for David). But for the builders of Babel to make such an inquiry at the outset of their project confirms that their activity (at best) is humanistic, and (at worst) it is ungodly. Babylon’s meaning lies close to “gate of the gods” (Walton 2001, p. 374).5 The divine name of Babel attaches a new meaning, that “of mixing and confusing” with the purpose of standing “forever as a reminder of the failure of godless folly” (Wenham 1987, p. 235).

3. Babel as Unity That Dissolves into Diversity

The Tower of Babel passage details a story that attempts unity, but it ends in diversity—expressed both through geography and language. Not only do its residents speak a common tongue (Gen 11:1), they also wish to dwell in the same land (Gen 11:4).6 But at the story’s conclusion, the opposite occurs, as the residents now speak different languages and decide to move away from each other (Gen 11:9). The story is, thus, about a common language and shared territory that turn into diverse languages and territorial diversion.7

3.1. Geographical Themes of Unity and Diversity

The original theme of expansion was given by God, with commands to go into all the earth and prosper. The builders of Babel reject this mandate, for they settle instead of spreading. Numerous times in Genesis (1:22, 28; 9:1, 7), the imperative verbs sequence of פְּר֣וּ וּרְבֹוּ commands creation to “be fruitful and multiply.” For the first example (1:22), it is directed towards the creatures of the earth and sea. In 1:28, the first humans receive this mandate. And later, Noah’s family is once again given this charge (9:1, 7).

Reading chapter ten, a potential discrepancy arises. The nations appear scattered—politically aligned with later history—along with already having varied languages (Gen 10:5, 20, 31). Victor P. Hamilton posits that the writer of Genesis obviously intends a “deliberate dischronologization” (Hamilton 1990, p. 350). Walter Brueggemann follows in the same vein, suggesting that the table of nations in the previous chapter may misconstrue actual happenings, for the map “offers an unparalleled ecumenical vision of human reality. In a sweeping scope, the text insists that there is a network of interrelatedness among all peoples” (Brueggemann 1982, p. 93). The common link back to Noah, along with geographical movement, shows the human race performing properly post-Flood. But the reader needs to take note of chapter eleven, for the Babel story corrects this interpretation (Wenham 1987, p. 242). The ship called humanity is attempting to sail against the divine winds.

3.2. Language Themes of Unity and Diversity

The common language shared by the residents allows them to work together in a unified manner. With a shared tongue, great ambitions like building a massive city and tower are possible. But out of unity comes diversity. The LORD evaluates this situation. The common language allows humans to become one people. The confusion of language partially transpires in order to place the Genesis mandate back on schedule: for the earth to be filled with God’s glory.8 The end result of the confusion of languages leads to the abandonment of the city project and ultimately to the LORD scattering them over all the earth (Gen 11:8–9), his original goal. Language meant to unify now becomes the source of their diversity and dispersion.

The desire for unity, in itself, is not the problematic part of the equation. Instead, the definition of unity on human terms remains the challenge. The desire to construct a tower above a city shows the builders’ loyalty is not to God but to a self-conceived project. Instead of covenant unity to the true God (Gen 9:8–11), this passage “suggests a different kind of unity sought by fearful humanity organized against the purposes of God … This is a self-made unity in which humanity has a ‘fortress mentality’” (Brueggemann 1982, p. 100). The human race is a rebellious order, seeking the “security of homogeneity and centralization” (Hamilton 1990, p. 356). The Hebrew language may display an interesting caveat against the city, for the word צִיר contains a strange linguistic domain. Besides rendering as “city,” the term can mean “Watching Angel” and the “Vengeance and Terror” (Ellul 1970, p. 9). Personification or even demonization of the urban setting is not necessary, but at the least, these translations suggest that the city possesses a spiritual influence (Ellul 1970, p. 9). God called for a unity to him; Babel represents unity against him.

4. Babel as the False Temple Alienated from God

The Tower of Babel represents a civilization removing itself from God, but such a move starts earlier in Genesis. Outside of Eden—and the prototypical temple complex, which was the garden—Genesis stresses the theme of alienation from God. Adam and Eve enjoyed a unique opportunity for intimacy with God. But the Fall replaces that presence with estrangement. It is worth noting that subsequent generations find themselves further removed from Eden’s location. Cain’s parents already started the migration—living on the eastern border of Eden (cf. Gen 3:24). After Cain’s murder of his brother, the penalty handed down from God is multi-fold. One aspect included further withdrawal from Eden, for “then Cain went away from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, east of Eden” (Gen 4:16). Even Shem’s descendants locate themselves in the eastern country (see 10:30) (Hamilton 1990, p. 352). Later in Genesis, we find a similar situation, as the builders of Babel are “men migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there” (11:2). This appears more than just a narrative detail or a geography lesson of the Genesis account; it summarizes a literary theme showcasing the ideas of intimacy and estrangement, with further east signifying further from Eden.9

4.1. Continuation of Cain’s Efforts

The builders of Babel have continued what their forefather Cain started: running away from God. The seeds for Babel’s construction were planted in Cain’s dismissal from Eden’s edge. Another aspect of Cain’s punishment moves beyond geography, as God states, “When you till the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength; you shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth” (Gen 4:12). And thus, Cain begins the agenda of post-Fall humankind: find purpose when the original purpose removes itself. The nomadic existence starts for humans the moment the exile from Eden begins. Cain now finds himself even at a further loss, as his predicament spells out his destiny as “a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth” (Gen 4:12). From this situation, Cain decides to build a city (Gen 4:17). Further, the city is named after his son: “‘Enoch’ means ‘initiation’ or ‘dedication’ … Cain dedicates a new world … Inauguration, as opposed to creation. Initiation, as opposed to the garden paradise” (Ellul 1970, pp. 5–6). This represents an attempt for solace and purpose, for Cain tries on his own account both to overcome the judgment of exile placed on him by God and to reject God’s promise of protection (Gen 4:15) for a walled fortification instead.

Others followed Cain’s example, particularly Nimrod. In chapter ten, a catalog records nations and genealogies. The only major variant in style in this narrative is the record of Nimrod (Brueggemann 1982, p. 92). His name is not explained, but linguists suggest that the moniker may translate as “we shall rebel”, bearing a resemblance to the affairs of chapter eleven (Wenham 1987, p. 243). After Cain’s construction, Nimrod is the next builder of a city. This follows an interesting pattern, as Nimrod was a descendent of Ham, who after disobeying God was judged with a curse as well. Just like Cain, “once again the city is to follow upon a curse as the act by which man tries to escape the curse” (Ellul 1970, p. 10). In this instance, solace comes by building a city to overcome the destiny of slavery. Humans once again struggle to refashion their world with the help of an urban setting.

4.2. Continuation of the Construction of the Tower

The inclusion of a tower is indicative of the project’s aim. The Hebrew word for “tower” is מִגְדָּל, which stems from the noun גָּדַל for “great.” Several of the OT prophets take note of such building projects, derailing them as signs of strength and pride. Subsequently, they are “abhorred by God,” for “the impression created is that the builders are megalomaniacs” (Hamilton 1990, p. 353). The fact that the builders of Babel want their structure to reach the heavens shows the impressive and massive undertaking that such a project represents.10 In this respect, the name that they seek for themselves is one of reputation and fame (Hamilton 1990, p. 353). While recognition is the sought-after endgame, the motive behind the construction is still ambition. Decreeing his judgment, God does not cause an earthquake to shatter the tower’s foundations or to damage the fortified walls. Such an activity does not change the people—it does not serve to correct their motives. Instead, the confusion of the language halts construction (Westermann 1984, p. 555). The tower itself impresses God little, given the perspective that God must come down from the heavens just to find this relatively small pile of bricks (Gen 11:5). The wording of Gen 11:6 harkens back to Gen 3:22, showing that the two episodes share a common theme: humans overreaching their ontology as creatures. Consider Wenham’s words: “As eating from the tree of knowledge would have been just the preclude to eating from the tree of life, so building the tower, an arrogant undertaking in itself, may be the forerunner of yet further trespass on the divine prerogatives: ‘nothing they plot’ will ‘be beyond them’” (Wenham 1987, p. 240). The episodic nature of Genesis—the movement from Adam and Eve to Cain, from the Flood to the dispersion—shows that greater distance separates humans from their God.

The distance between Creator and creature is likely the real offense of Babel. Eden pictured God living amidst his human creation. Babel is the opposite reality. From what is known about Babel—in that Shinar (Gen 11:2) locates itself in Sumer—the construction of the city likely represents a Babylonian ziggurat. John H. Walton treats this structure similarly as basically a temple complex, one dedicated to particular pagan deities (Walton 2001, pp. 372–73). The top of the ziggurat functioned as a place of access for deities, that is, as the “gate of the gods.” These structures assumed “a particular concept of God … [and] with the development of urbanization people began to envision gods in their human terms … trying to bring god down to the level of fallen humanity” (Walton 2001, pp. 376–77). In this way, the sin of Babel was not only the human ambition to create a mighty construction, it was also propagating a faulty concept of true deity. To correct the first error, the confusion of the language occurs, and to correct the second fallacy, God undertakes a plan of redemption through Abraham. Chapter twelve begins God’s plan of revelation—of self-disclosure—to humanity. Humans once enjoyed Eden, a direct interaction with deity. Eden functioned like a temple, similar to the goal of the New Jerusalem. But between the time of Adam and Babel, humans had gone wildly astray, and now they embraced a strange depiction of God in human terms. The plan of revelation seeks to bridge the gap and bring back a correct view of the true God.

5. New Jerusalem as the City That God Built

Whereas the name of Babel displays a human endeavor, the name of the New Jerusalem shows God as its source and builder. First, in a subtle grammatical way, the passive voice points to the city’s origin. John thoroughly weaves mixed imagery together, as he describes the New Jerusalem as a “city,” a “temple,” a “people,” a new “Eden,” and even a “bride.” John illustrates this last theme by the statement that the New Jerusalem was “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Rev 21:2). This type of passive voice (ἡτοιμασμένην) fits the divine passive category, where the subject of the action is God. In this way, the bride is both prepared by and for her husband (Christ).

5.1. Expression ‘Coming Down from Heaven’

Another point of interest is the expression “coming down from heaven” (καταβαίνουσαν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ).11 The idea first appears in the promise of Rev 3:12 (a different parsing of the verb) and appears later in Rev 21:2, then recapitulates in Rev 21:10. Both the direction “coming down” and the origin “from heaven” show God as the source of the city.12 In other words, “from heaven” is an expression often used to show heavenly origin. The preposition phrase ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ is extremely concentrated in Johannine literature.13 It appears 28 times in works traditionally attributed to John, while elsewhere only 5 times in Acts and 3 times in the Synoptics. In John 6, it describes the heavenly origin of manna. In Rev 10:1, 18:1, and 20:1, it conversely introduces heavenly judgment.14 A strong contrast highlights the Tower of Babel as a human construction that attempted to ascend to the heavens, while the New Jerusalem is a heavenly gift from God that descends to the earth.15

5.2. New Jerusalem in the Book of Hebrews

The book of Revelation shares an interest in the New Jerusalem with the book of Hebrews. It terms the city as “the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem” (Heb 12:22). The NT book recalls of Abraham, “By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God” (Heb 11:9–10). Ever since the deportation from Eden, humans have wandered the earth, erecting stationary tents and temporal urban dwellings. This harkens the promise of a heavenly city that changes a nomad into a resident and gives an alien the status of a citizen. The New Jerusalem achieves this, for its builder and maker is God.16

5.3. New Jerusalem as the Name of a Polis

Perhaps the most direct explanation of God’s involvement in the city is the polis’ very name: the New Jerusalem. Throughout Revelation, various characters receive additional names. This is true of God, of those aligned with Satan, and of the saints.17 Earlier, the promise to those who overcome includes God writing “on him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem which comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name” (Rev 3:12). The New Jerusalem again draws its association with God. The name given to the νικῶν places the person in the sphere and dominion of God. As mentioned before, the action of naming something/someone places said object/person under the authority of the name-giver. Such is the case here, where New Jerusalem citizens align with their God.

Jerusalem was the historical capital of the Jewish kingdom, the place where monarchs ruled and God’s temple stood. The city harkens that sentiment, as a polis established by God. But the inclusion of the adjective καινός relates another theme: the renewal of God. In the NT, the adjective describes many reformations initiated by God, including the new covenant, a new commandment, and the new heavens and the new earth.18 This new name is written on their foreheads. In the NT, only the book of Revelation contains μετώπων (forehead).19 All occurrences include the ideas of naming, seals, or marks. The significance of the name’s placement rests as a denotation of ownership. As such, it protects the written/sealed person from judgment, in language reminiscent of God placing a protective mark on Cain (cf. Gen 4:15). Interestingly, Reiner Schippers points out the parallels that the seal/name on the believers’ forehead marks them as distinct from the beast’s worshippers, who also receive markings on their foreheads (Schippers 1986, p. 500). A sharp contrast is made between persons—those of God and those of the beast (Rev 13:16–18 and 14:9–13). In the same way, a converse clarifies the situation between the two urban expressions in Revelation—between the Fallen Babylon and the New Jerusalem—and between the recapitulated “citizens” of both cities. Additionally, the citizens of the New Jerusalem have their names in the Lamb’s book of life (Rev 13:8; 17:5; 21:27). Not only does the New Jerusalem have a heavenly origin, its ultimate destiny rests also with God.

6. Jerusalem That Unites Diversity

Whereas the events of Babel led to alienation, the situation of the New Jerusalem establishes God’s presence. Whereas Babel sought distance from God, the New Jerusalem emphasizes the closeness of God with redeemed humanity. This is particularly substantiated as Babel sought unity but ended in diversity (even dispersion). The latter-day Jerusalem begins with diversity but ends in unity.

6.1. The Number ‘12’ as a Symbol Representative of People

In various ways, this theme plays out. First, the number twelve plays a stylistic role in this theological development. Outside the book of Revelation, historically, the number was significant going back to the time of the patriarchs, as Jacob had twelve sons. From this, the OT repeatedly spoke of these twelve sons as the twelve tribes of Israel—as the manifested number of God’s people. In the NT, Jesus chose twelve disciples from his followers, calling to mind Kingdom-restoration language. This selection is hardly by chance. Jesus’ ministry was thoroughly Jewish in orientation, as he saw himself as the fulfillment of the Law, his movement as the fulfillment of Judaism, and his followers as the true people of God. The connection is stated strongly in Matt 19:28: “Jesus said to them, ‘Truly, I say to you, in the new world, when the Son of man shall sit on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.’” These twelve apostles were representative of the twelve tribes, and perhaps even eschatological judges of them.

The book of Revelation continues this tradition, ascribing twelve as the number of God’s people. In an obvious manner, the number δώδεκα itself appears exactly twelve times within a cluster of verses in Rev 7:5–8. The subject of discussion is none other than a listing of the twelve tribes, even documenting twelve thousand deriving from each tribe. The significance of numbers in the book of Revelation is largely symbolic.20 Secondly, the number again appears clustered near the book’s conclusion: “It had a great, high wall, with twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and on the gates the names of the twelve tribes of the sons of Israel were inscribed … And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb” (Rev 21:12, 14). Together, an image of potential diversity—that of twelve tribes and twelve apostles—merges into a single concept: the people of God. The New Jerusalem contains both the OT and NT covenant people under the same urban expression. Last of all, the number twelve appears in the city’s dimensions. John paints the true people of God in complex imagery, which includes urban language. Given this, it should not surprise the reader to find urban features recurring in the number twelve. Not only does the heavenly metropolis contain twelve gates with twelve corresponding angels, the New Jerusalem’s measurements also reflect δώδεκα again. The city’s height, width, and depth all calculate to the same symbolic figure: twelve thousand stadia. Twelve functions as a number to unite God’s people—both OT and NT—into a single expression: redeemed humanity.

6.2. Expression ‘Kings of the Earth’

Additionally, from diverse sources, a united people come forth into the New Jerusalem. This is expressed through the inclusion of the “kings of the earth” (Rev 21:24). They represent a thoroughly altered people group: a citizenship that has exchanged the banner of Babylon for the flag of the New Jerusalem. The designated term οἱ βασιλεῖς τῆς γῆς appears rather negatively in Revelation. These kings of the earth hide themselves from the wrath of the sixth seal (Rev 6:15) and repeatedly are mentioned as fornicators with the Babylonian harlot (Rev 17:2; 18:3; 18:9). Even in Acts, the designation is thoroughly negative, as the kings there are enemies of Jesus: “The kings of the earth set themselves in array, and the rulers were gathered together, against the Lord and against his Anointed” (4:26). The change from condemned to blessed language surrounding these kings of the earth should not necessarily render a view of universalism. Given the vice lists of Rev 21:8 and 21:27, the inhabitants of New Jerusalem are not all persons without any condition, but rather, all persons with the Christ—only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book (Rev 21:27). This shows the potential for conversion, as Richard Bauckham draws out that the goal of Revelation shows “precisely to the potential for the beast’s subjects to become God’s … Revelation’s theme is the transfer of the sovereignty of the whole world from the dragon and the beast, who presently dominate it, to God, whose universal kingdom is to come on earth” (Bauckham 1993a, p. 241). This linguistic idea of the “kings of the earth” is similar to language earlier in Revelation 7:9: “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no man could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (italics added). In both cases, these groups in Revelation share the notion that humanity’s vast diverseness is once again unified under a redeemed banner—and made even a little more nuanced—given that tongues (γλῶσσα) in the New Testament can very easily be translated as “languages” (see HCSB, NIV, NRSV, MSG), bringing the Tower of Babel story full circle. Overall, the inhabitants of the New Jerusalem reflect a funneling effect, where from great diversity, a new common group passes through in order to become united residents in the city of God.

7. Jerusalem as the Temple That Provides God’s Presence

Whereas the Tower of Babel left the true God out of their urban equation, the New Jerusalem portrays a city saturated by God’s presence. It is more than just a utopia for human residents; it is the place from where the Lord rules the cosmos. Temple language is persuasive throughout the course of the book, but Revelation contains several notable contributions to this theme in its last few chapters.

7.1. Absence of Items: Temple, Sun, and Moon

Shockingly enough, one verse reads: “I saw no temple in the city” (Rev 21:22a). However, the justification for the statement follows quickly: “for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb” (Rev 21:22b). The statement negates the Jewish expectation for a renewal of a physical temple, but at the same time, the text provides a redirection and redefinition of what a temple should represent: the place where God resides. Apparently, no physical temple complex resides in the description of the New Jerusalem, but the very dimensions of the metropolis echo a constant Jewish image. The image of a perfect cube reflects early symbolism expressed in the Holy of Holies, the most sacred of holy places in Judaism, where the dwelling place of God rested amidst his people. As noted earlier, the number of twelve thousand stadia harkens a deepening superlative thrust to the image, more fully explaining its mention with larger-than-literal nomenclature.

The significance of the absence of celestial bodies—the sun and the moon—often misses full exegetical potential, particularly within the futurist, literal grid. Given the outlandish numbers of the city’s dimensions (if taken literally), similar suspicion warrants caution towards a literal application of the sun and moon’s absence. If given more thematic weight, the book of Genesis provides a striking contribution. In the first creation, certain celestial bodies were given roles to perform within the cosmos. The idea of functionality lies behind the language of creation, serving to assign roles to parts of creation. For example, the earth (before given shape) was called formless and void (Gen 1:2). Additionally, regarding the heavenly bodies, “God made the two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night; he made the stars also” (Gen 1:16). Functionality is applied more with different translations, as the NASB renders לְמֶמְשֶׁ֣לֶת as “governs” and even the LXE renders it as “regulates.”21 What this link—between the act of original creation and the new eschatological creation—suggests is that God first set the universe in order, as he established roles for creation. Yet the new creation lessens the roles of the sun and moon. In this way, God’s role increases as Creator, for he replaces the functionality of certain identities of the cosmos. The basis of such a claim may find support in Johannine literature where “God is light” (1 John 1:5).22 God as light replaces the two previous bodies that performed this cosmological function. Physical stars and moons likely still exist in the new creation, but they are outperformed by God’s light (cf. Exod 34). He outshines them. In a way, Judaism viewed the entire creation as the temple in which God dwelt. The rationale, then, illustrates that just as there is no temple because the God and the Lamb becomes its temple, so too, there is no sun nor moon because God becomes its light.

7.2. Nonliteralness of Terms

Further evidence of a nonliteral understanding of the sun and moon rests with Rev 21:25, which reads, “Its gates shall never be shut by day—and there shall be no night there.” Daniel B. Wallace rightly detects this genitive ἡμέρας (by day) as an example of a genitive of time (Wallace 1996, p. 124). Thus, it is the attributes or characteristics of day and night that exegetically march to the forefront of inspection.23 And upon examination, night references occur over 300 times in the canon. Around a hundred refer to the standard night–day (24 h period) cycle. From there, The Dictionary of Biblical Imagery signifies that night takes a variety of meanings (Ryken et al. 1998, p. 594).24 Against the theological backdrop of John—who likes to contrast the moral goodness and imperfection of light and dark, respectively—associating night with evil is a sound exegetical option. One might surmise that the city-gates were customarily locked at night for fear of invasion or theft. The removal of this moral threat allows the gates to remain open. Against an ANE backdrop, this assuredly offers itself as a symbol of peace, as an absence of war. But the symbolism has another connotation. There is no need for night as a time for rest and sleep, for the city is a place of activity, not passivity. The gateways (πυλών) mentioned in Rev 21 function as more than just the defensive fortifications, since the gates refer to the cultural marketplaces of the city (Ryken et al. 1998, p. 321). These gateways were pivotal to a city’s judicial, cultural, and economic systems, and it is these aspects of the New Jerusalem that continue perpetually, for the lack of night keeps the gates open.25 Given that glory and honor define the “commerce” that the nations bring into the New Jerusalem, this new expression of urban affairs orientates itself around God.

7.3. Canonical Themes of an Old Testament Promise

Further temple language is subtle here. Referring to Exod 30:10 (cf. Heb 9:7), the high priest only visited the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle/temple once a year on the day of Atonement. But the gates (doors) of this latter-day Holy of Holies remain open—with no restriction in access to this reconstituted covenant community. The OT temple paradigm limited participation in the cultic institution. The New Jerusalem only places limits on those outside the city gates. To the converted kings of the earth (a total population certainly more than just one high priest), access to the “temple” is open-ended, and, in fact, it resembles a holy pilgrimage of the nations set in correlation with Isaiah 60. Part of the reason for the Tower of Babel’s construction was that a return to Eden was not an option, as represented by angels guarding the entrance to that garden (Gen 3:24). But now, angels that once guarded the tree of life, in turn, guard the city’s gates, so that they may remain open (Rev 21:12).

This temple language suggests, then, the very core of an OT promise: God’s presence amidst his covenant people. By redefining the temple, replacing celestial bodies, and never closing the city’s gates, God has made good on his pledge, saying, “Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them” (Rev 21:3).26 The desire of such a reality—of God dwelling with his people—is a common theme throughout the OT. The wording of Rev 21:3 bears a strong resemblance to several OT passages.27 The promises of the OT reach a fitting climax here. While the Tower of Babel jettisoned the notion of a civilization orientated towards the true God, the New Jerusalem cradles the hope of a culture that honors God. Both cities were religious endeavors. The city constructed around the affairs and ambitions of humankind is a hollow religion, indeed. The city that encircles the Lamb’s throne is a godly and true religion, instead.

8. Conclusions

In many ways, the Tower of Babel and the New Jerusalem represent opposing urban expressions. The themes of Babel are reversed in New Jerusalem. Where Babel’s builders are humanistic at best, the New Jerusalem names God as its architect. When Babel sought unity yet ended in diversity, the New Jerusalem funnels diversity into a new unified people. Where Babel excluded the true God from worship, the New Jerusalem saturates the city with God’s presence. These two cities are seldom looked at in relation to one another, as other concerns preoccupy commentaries. Yet, the study of urban expressions shows these theological settlements as the pro and con of human civilizations. The Tower of Babel reminds us of a curse; the New Jerusalem reminds us of a blessing.

Such a study suggests other areas of investigation. The two cities likely contrast more than three observations listed above. Given the materials of brick and mortar of Babel, alongside the jewel language of the New Jerusalem, the building materials of the two cities may warrant temporal contrast, in order to explore the themes of temporary–eternal existence. Further, given the historical setting of conquest attached to Babel, alongside the eternal peace and absence of curse in the New Jerusalem, a military contrast may prove the two cities as opposites in that regard, also. Finally, the Tower of Babel may be compared or contrasted with other urban expressions in the Scriptures. Isaiah’s eschatological account of Jerusalem (Isa chap. 65–66) is certainly a candidate for contrastive analysis against Babel; meanwhile, given the established contrast with the New Jerusalem, the Tower of Babel may compare remarkably similarly with the Fallen Babylon in Revelation, as well.28