2. When the Dictionaries Get it Wrong

Φωστήρ is a well-used word in the world of ancient Greek.Footnote ⁶ It most often refers to stars and other heavenly lights, including the sun and moon,Footnote ⁷ and it also regularly refers metaphorically to kings, philosophers, politicians and religious teachers.Footnote ⁸ It can also refer to other things that are either literally or metaphorically sources of light such as windowsFootnote ⁹ and people’s eyes.Footnote ¹⁰ What it appears never to do in any such contexts is to refer to the light that comes from the heavenly light source or from the person who is being admired as ‘a star’ or as ‘a beacon’. It is the star or the person that is the φωστήρ, not their light.Footnote ¹¹ Contemporary translators of Rev 21.11, trusting their authoritative Greek lexicons, could certainly be forgiven for rendering ὁ φωστὴρ αὐτῆς as ‘her radiance’, since ‘radiance’ is listed among the word’s meanings, with Rev 21.11 cited as an example. It may be, however, that the central reason why most major lexicons and similar authoritiesFootnote ¹² offer words like ‘brightness’, ‘shining’, ‘radiance’ at the end of their entries for φωστήρ is that they are following an incorrect church reading tradition that goes all the way back to the Vulgate.

The Old Latin translates φωστήρ to bring out its normal sense, ‘that which illuminates’:

Jerome, however, goes a different way.

Jerome translates φωστήρ by the single word lumen, which can mean either a light source or the light that comes from a light source. And thanks to the ambiguity inherent in that word, his translation opens the door to a completely different reading. In this translation, one can easily read lumen ejus (its light) as referring to the light, the radiance, that comes from the New Jerusalem, not the light (source) that shines on it. The first translation of the whole NT into English, by John Wycliffe (c. 1385 ce), was from the Latin of the Vulgate. Although William Tyndale (1526 ce) and Miles Coverdale (c. 1535 ce) had access to Greek manuscripts of the NT, the Bible they knew was the Vulgate, and it must have been only natural for them to take Jerome’s word that φωστήρ could mean ‘luminosity’ as well as ‘luminary’. And of course, the translators of the Authorised Version were urged to hew as closely as possible to the English Bible translation tradition already established. So we have:

Apart from my own translation, The Spoken English New Testament,Footnote ¹⁶ which has ‘the source of her light was like…’, I am not aware of any English translation that unambiguously renders φωστήρ as meaning a light source in Rev 21.11. The translation tradition in English is completely consistent.

Perhaps the central means by which lexicographers decide what meanings to include for their words is by reading them in as many texts as they can, and by determining, contextually, what they are most likely to mean – and what they are excluded from meaning – in each case. Apart from looking things up in the dictionary, this is of course how ordinary readers gain a sense of what words mean.Footnote ¹⁷ If it can be shown that proper exegesis of Rev 21.11 favours the meaning ‘luminary’, then there is no reason based in that text by itself for lexicons to include any other proposed meaning. We will get into that below. But before that, I will examine every other ancient text that has been put forward by any recognised lexicon as an example of φωστήρ having the sense ‘radiance’, or the light that comes from or is reflected from something. In each case, I will demonstrate that the passage makes perfectly good sense with φωστήρ meaning ‘luminary’ or light source, and poor or no sense with φωστήρ meaning ‘radiance’. This is not going to be as difficult as it sounds, since only two passages – apart from Rev 21.11 – have been put forward. Here they are:

3. Evaluating Six Potential Instances of Φωστήρ Meaning ‘Radiance'

In these examples, as in Rev 21.11, φωστήρ is in the nominative case, and is related to another noun in the genitive case. It is to be borne in mind at the outset of this sampling of possible exceptions that when a word occurs thousands of times in a broad corpus, it is only to be expected that there will occasionally be a context in which it is possible to read the word as meaning something other than what it unambiguously means in 99% of cases. To assert positively that the word carried two distinct senses, one would have to demonstrate uses in which the well-known sense fit poorly or, at the least, uses in which the alleged second sense fit the context better than the well-known sense.

Severian of Gabala (IV–V ce), De caeco et Zacchaeo (olim sub auctore Joanne Chrysostomo) [On the Blind Man and Zacchaeus, previously attributed to John Chrysostom] {4139.081}Footnote ²⁴

Probably ὁ φωστὴρ τῆς εὐσεβείας in this context is an allusion to Mal 4.2: ‘the sun of righteousness’, which is understood by the church fathers to refer to Christ. It is not piety’s radiance, but Jesus himself, who is the Lamp, the Beacon, the Sun of piety, who comes into the house of Zacchaeus and lights it up (καταυγάζω). This is made more obvious when this text is compared to the next three items:

John Chrysostom (IV–V ce), In laudem sancti Joannis (homilia 2) [Sp.] {2062.299}Footnote ²⁶

Note that all of Chrysostom’s nouns characterising the apostle John are concrete, not abstract: preacher, recipient, orator, luminary, eye. He is not saying that John is the brightness of piety, but that he is the luminary – the shining example – of piety.

John Chrysostom, De iis qui in jejunio continenter vivunt [Sp.], {2062.353}Footnote ²⁷

Note how all the metaphors for Christ are concrete, familiar things in the world, not abstractions: child, spring, breath, star, coin, pearl, crown. ‘Radiance’ would not fit well in this list. Nor would it make sense to say that Christ is the radiance of the church, i.e. the radiance that the church emits. He is her sun, her star, her luminary:

Oecumenius (VI–VII ce), Commentarius in Apocalypsin {2866.001},Footnote ²⁸ commenting on Rev 21.11

The two following items are perhaps a little more ambiguous:

Michael Psellus (XI ce), Orationes panegyricae {2702.006}Footnote ²⁹ Oration 19, line 46

This is a little difficult to translate. To treat τῆς ἡμετέρας σελήνης φωστήρ as either ‘the brightness of our moon’, i.e. the moonlight that shines on us, or, appositively, as ‘our luminary, our moon’, seems to damn with faint praise the king whom the orator is trying to praise in the highest possible register. I think the only interpretation that works is that the people, the polity, are being imagined as the moon, basking in the light of the sun, their luminary. In keeping with the high register of praise, the king is being lauded as the worthiest (ἀξιώτατε) of all luminaries – as the sun who shines on the people. In English, we would say, ‘You are the sun to our moon’.

John Chrysostom, In illud Memor fui dei {2062.290}Footnote ³⁰ v. 61 p. 691 ll. 70–72

Conceivably, the key phrase could be rendered,

But the former is more likely. It is normal in Greek to use genitives of apposition, in which the thing named is named with a second name in the genitive, e.g.:

Similarly, the author of the Chronicon Pascale (VII ce), arguing about the proper times to break religious fasts, speaks of ‘the cycle of the luminary of the moon still being unfinished’, τοῦ φωστῆρος τῆς σελήνης ἔτιπερ ἀτελοῦς περὶ τὸν κύκλον τὸν ἑαυτοῦ ὄντος.Footnote ³¹ The luminary of which he speaks is the moon itself.

Aside from the above passages, I found no examples among the 1,374 TLG search hits for φωστήρ in the singular (all cases) of any use that could even conceivably have carried the meaning ‘radiance’ or ‘brilliance’.Footnote ³² The only quoted instance even among the exceptional passages above that could easily have meant ‘radiance’ or ‘emitted light’ was John Chrysostom’s reference to the φωστήρ of the sun, and that instance was just as easily read as an appositive phrase. I submit that, outside of Rev 21.11, there is no persuasive evidence in our available ancient Greek texts for φωστήρ meaning radiance or brightness rather than luminary/light source. Φωστήρ in its various forms occurs 3,421 times in the TLG database, and the meaning luminary never fits poorly in the context. The evidence is consistent and solid, and anything approaching dispositive evidence for φωστήρ being able to mean ‘radiance’ or the like is simply missing.Footnote ³³ Let us now turn to Rev 21.11. Does this text require a sense of the word φωστήρ different from that demanded by any other ancient text?

4. Exegetical Remarks on Rev 21.11

In Rev. 21.1–2, in the context of a new heaven and a new earth, John describes seeing ‘the Holy City, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband’, with clear allusions to Isa 65.17–18, Rev 3.12 and Rev 19.7–8. This opens to a promise from the Enthroned One that ‘God will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more’ in 21.4, alluding to Isa 25.7–8. All of this prepares for a second vision of the descent of the New Jerusalem in 21.9–11. An angel says to John,

Note first that it does not make particularly good sense to compare ‘radiance’ or ‘brightness’, or the light that comes from a light source, to a gemstone. One can easily compare a light source to a gemstone that sparkles, throwing off light. For example, a twinkling star (which is a φωστήρ) is only too naturally described as ‘like a diamond in the sky’. But no one would think to compare a star’s light to a diamond. For this reason, it is surprising to me that the great majority of commentators seem at ease commenting on a text that they think says ‘her radiance was like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal’.

This raises the simple question: what is the New Jerusalem’s light source? Several commentators, perhaps naturally resistant to the notion that God the Almighty could be compared to a costly clear gemstone, affirm that φωστήρ here means luminary/light source, but say that the φωστήρ is the glory that shines on the New Jerusalem from God – after all, she ‘has the glory of God’ (21.11a).Footnote ³⁶ But this identification will scarcely work, because, as noted above, God’s glory is imagined as the light that emanates from God, and is reflected from the New Jerusalem, and it is not itself a light source. This conceptual distinction between light and light source is visible not only in Rev 22.5 (cf. 21.23), but also in Isa 60.19, to which it alludes:

Conceptually, God’s glory does not emit light – it is light. It cannot properly be described as a φωστήρ. The ESV’s rendering of Rev 21.23, which says that ‘the glory of God gives it light’, could lead one to assume that the glory of God is conceived of as a light source, but the Greek, ἡ γὰρ δόξα τοῦ θεοῦ ἐφώτισεν αὐτήν, does not encourage that idea. Light can be conceptualised as illuminating things without itself being a light source, and, in the same way, God’s glory can be said to illuminate without itself being conceived of as a light source. God is the light source who shines forth the light, the brightness, that is sometimes called glory,Footnote ³⁹ which illuminates the New Jerusalem.

A different approach to Rev 21.11 is to understand that φωστήρ means luminary and, by reference to a later verse in the chapter, to identify it as Christ:Footnote ⁴⁰

It is fair enough to see Christ as the luminary of the New Jerusalem, since a lamp is an example of a φωστήρ. But since ‘the glory of God illuminates it’, then God the Father, the source of the glory-light that lights her up, is also himself equally her φωστήρ. Readers are not actually forced to choose one option against the other. A person who knows John’s literary style well should recognise that there is no tension between the Father and the Lamb being the φωστήρ of the Beloved City. Jesus reminds Revelation’s readers that he sat down on the throne with his Father at his ascension (Rev 3.21),Footnote ⁴² and when John sees God coming in glory to judge the world, he sees God co-enthroned with the Lamb:

The Father and the Lamb, co-enthroned above the icy expanse of heaven,Footnote ⁴³ have now stripped it away, and unrepentant sinners on earth must face them directly. The seventh trumpet scene tells the same story:

The ambiguity as to who ‘he’ is in the last phrase here is unquestionably intentional. In Revelation, the Father and the Lamb, together and inseparably, are God, and can be understood to be the φωστήρ of the New Jerusalem. In the new creation, there will be one constant divine light that illuminates the whole of Mount Zion (21.9) and the New Jerusalem, to the point that the sun and moon will no longer be necessary (21.23; 22.5). John would no doubt say that this is why Isaiah prophesies that the sun and moon will be embarrassed when the Lord of hosts comes to judge the world and to reign in glory:

Now let us consider the question of whether it would seem somehow strange for God the Father to be compared to a gemstone. Compare these descriptions:

John likes to bring characters back into his narrative by referring to descriptive elements that have already been associated with them,Footnote ⁴⁴ and Rev 21.11 appears to be a perfect example of that. If it be objected that there is something somehow bizarre about the idea that John might have thought God looked like a mineral crystal, then a consideration of how he understands his visions might help clear that up. A sensitive reading of Revelation reveals the fact that John does not take literally the things he sees in his visions. He understands that realities about God’s character and God’s relationship with the faithful and the world are being conveyed to his imagination by an angelic messenger (Rev 1.1; 22.6, 8, 16). Even Jesus himself is represented to John’s imagination by an angel, so that when the vision is over, the angel stops representing Jesus to him (cf. Rev 19.9–10; 22.8–9). John knows well that the dreamlike images of his ecstatic visions are not real, but symbolic. He knows, for example, that Jesus does not literally have eyes made of flame or a sword protruding from his mouth (1.14–16). Thus it seems entirely reasonable to assume that John was aware he was being shown a paradoxical vision of the Enthroned One when he was invited to heaven in his visionary state. The image of a humanoid figure on a throne in Rev. 4.2–3 conveyed the concept of God’s rulership and authority as Creator, yet John also experienced something like a crystal flashing forth intense light, surrounded by a rainbow and emitting awesome and incomprehensible noises like thunder (4.3, 5). This immediately disrupted any literal understanding of the anthropomorphic image and evoked the impenetrable mystery, power and uniqueness – the irreducible and unfathomable transcendence – of the παντοκράτωρ, the Almighty.