E la Nave Va

E la nave va

This image has always inspired me. I love the sheer absurdity of a man rowing a boat across the open ocean, accompanied by a rhino. 

The title of the image, E la nave va, means "and the ship goes," and for me represents overcoming insurmountable odds. When I look at it, I feel I can do anything.

An image from Revelation 5 evokes a similar emotion in me. There, the author paints a picture of a scene in heaven, where the continuation of history is dependent upon finding someone worthy enough to open a certain book. 

But no one is found, and so the author begins to cry. Just then someone encourages him, saying, "Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the book." 

The Lion of Judah (Gen 49.9) and the root of David (Isaiah 11.1, 10) are titles for the Messiah; Jesus is the one who can open the book. But where is he?

The last time Revelation saw Jesus he was pictured as the intimidating transcendent ruler of the cosmos, one who holds the stars in his hand and whose face is as bright as the noon day sun.

That is the Jesus the reader expects to show up, but what happens next is astonishing.

The author sees a baby lamb, "looking as if it had been slaughtered," who comes and opens the book and history continues moving forward. 

For readers of Revelation, this image is paramount: it is not military strength that conquers, it is the slaughtered baby lamb. Christianity is based on the claim that life comes through surrender and giving of life, and not by taking it.

The imagery serves to express the reality that although it may not look like God is winning the battle against the forces of evil, the battle has already been won.

And not by a mighty army, but by the death and resurrection of God, that conquered all that death and the powers of evil could throw at him.