What Now? Part II

The Apocalypse, Slaying the Dragon of Empire, and a New Era of Revolutionary Peace

Photo Credit: Leo Visions

In 2023, I was living in Medford, Massachusetts, while studying international law. I had the opportunity to take a class at a nearby divinity school. One day, I jumped in a rideshare to get there and began chatting with the driver. He said, “You know how the Mayans thought the world ended in 2012?” I nodded. He continued, “Maybe the world as it was did end in 2012, and all the chaos we see now is the death of that old world while a new one is being born.” I was not sure whether to be afraid, to get out of the car, or to snap my fingers in approval. Later, in class, a guest theologian spoke about what the word apocalypse actually means.

The word often conjures images of zombies, pestilence, and fire. However, in Greek, apocalypses simply means “to reveal,” hence the biblical title Revelation, which was written in code for Jewish and early Christian communities living under and resisting oppressive empires.¹ In class, this theologian noted that the imagery of dragons, beasts, and fire often used in pop culture was metaphorical, yet the concept itself is about death and resurrection; that as an old way of the world is dying, another is emerging: as goes everything in the universe.

Reflecting on this, I remembered that in 2012, the U.S. grappled with the aftermath of George Zimmerman’s killing of Trayvon Martin. Many of us realized that our neighbors, coworkers, and even fellow church members defended the murder of an unarmed Black teenager because he wore a hoodie in a mostly white neighborhood. It was a revelation: not only had lynchings not ended in America, but people we lived life with were fine with it.²

By 2015, Donald Trump’s presidential campaign, rooted in racist rhetoric against Mexicans and scapegoating marginalized communities, became another unveiling. What did people mean by “Make America Great Again”? Did they mean the era when 95% of Indigenous peoples—over 10 million—were killed and their lands stolen?³ Did they mean the kidnapping of 12.5 million Africans, 2 million of whom perished during the Middle Passage, while survivors and the following generations endured forced labor for life, torture, and sexual violence?⁴ Or the centuries when women were legally and historically treated as property, legally subjected to violence, and denied the right to vote or participate in politics?⁵ As well as all of the disenfranchisement of marginalized communities such as the LGBTQ+, immigrants, and those with disabilities?

The truth is, yes—all of it. What we are experiencing is not just Revelation but remembering: America’s foundations and wealth were built on the blood sacrifice of Black and Brown bodies and the subjugation of women. The MAGA movement has lasted a decade now, electing a leader who has made himself above the law, while creating secret police to detain immigrants in camps,⁶ deploying military force into cities with large Black populations, and advancing the Safeguard American Voter Eligibility (SAVE) Act—a modern poll tax that disproportionately disenfranchises the poor and especially women who are married and have taken their spouse’s name.⁷ States like Arizona and Wyoming have already begun implementing similar measures.

However, in the Scriptures, resistance has always spoken through the margins. In the Hebrew Bible, Moses was born during a genocide of children for fear of a Hebrew liberator. In the Christian texts, Jesus was born during another massacre of children under Rome’s occupation, under fear of a liberator of people under European occupation. Apocalyptic writings—whether Daniel or Revelation—revealed the violence of Empire and encouraged faith communities to resist and not be complicit.⁸

The dragon from Empire does not die easily, but ultimately empires rise and fall, from Sumer to Akkad, from Babylon to Rome, from Spain and France to the British Empire. Empire has never truly disappeared; it reemerges in new forms. The Christian texts must be looked through the lens of Empire because declaring “Jesus is Lord” was itself a subversive act in a world where Caesar demanded worship and allegiance. To call Jesus the “Prince of Peace” directly challenged Herod, who claimed that title through military domination.

Today, the United States is the largest and most technologically advanced Empire in recorded history, with military bases across the globe and weapons of mass destruction. Choosing hope now feels naïve, yet I believe that even amidst death and destruction, something new is being born: a new era of revolutionary peace.

This peace foments from the margins, I see communities practicing radical love, egalitarian leadership, and restorative justice. Data supports this: in Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict (2011), Chenoweth and Stephan found that nonviolent movements succeed 53% of the time, compared to 26% for violent ones, and are ten times more likely to lead to democracy.⁹ Nonviolent movements work because they are inclusive—drawing women, children, elders, and those with disabilities into the movement. Leadership is more diverse in these movements. When women lead, outcomes are more peaceful and lasting. From the Peace People in Northern Ireland in the seventies to the women-led protests that ended Liberia’s civil war, female leadership has built coalitions, bridged divides, and guided societies toward nonviolent resolution.¹⁰

I do not gain hope from doomscrolling or watching legacy media. I find hope in the margins: in communities that reject hierarchies, resist exploitation, and imagine a different way of being together. We have seen this before—the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, the Beloved Community, the global Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaign against apartheid South Africa, and the Prague Velvet Revolution. These movements changed the course of nations without firing a shot.

When movements are led by those at the bottom of the hierarchy, when those who are on top of the social hierarchy humble themselves to be led by those at the bottom, when leadership is shared between men and women, and when the community is rooted in radical love and mutual sacrifice, they are unstoppable. Ultimately, the community's love for one another, the restoration of relationships within it, and the inclusion of diverse individuals will prevail over the Empire's siloed, isolated, empty, and hollow existence.

Endnotes

John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination (Eerdmans, 2016).

Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (New Press, 2010).

David E. Stannard, American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World (Oxford University Press, 1992).

David Eltis & David Richardson, Atlas of the Transatlantic Slave Trade (Yale University Press, 2010).

Eleanor Flexner & Ellen Fitzpatrick, Century of Struggle: The Woman’s Rights Movement in the United States (Belknap Press, 1996).

Center for American Progress, The SAVE Act: Overview and Facts (2025).