There is an old story about a student in a Bible school who came across the school janitor reading the Book of Revelation. “I’ve spent years learning that book, the interlocking prophecies, the symbolic characters, and predictions of the future. How can you possibly understand what you’re reading?” “Easy,” the janitor replied. “Jesus wins.”
People never grow tired of the Book of Revelation. They may prize it above all other Scripture, they may loathe it, as did many monarchs. Some try fruitlessly to divine the future, analyzing the book with what the late theologian John Webster called “eschatological technology.”
Most people, as Dr. Jean Meade points out, gain in their life of faith from Revelation, but have difficulty imagining the various beings in the visions as works of art. They are more metaphors than anything else. However, in the Middle Ages people were not shy about trying. The Apocalypse tapestries in the Castle of Angers, France, form the largest collection of tapestries in the world and are a UNESCO World Heritage site. As a student at a lycée in Angers, I visited several times to contemplate the extraordinary images.
Meade’s introduction to the book is complete, well-researched, and uncontroversial. Her scholarly abilities are clear but muted. As guide to the tapestries, she weaves together both the medieval masterpieces and the text. It is a new way to imagine John’s vision. More a devotional than anything else, The Last Word can give the reader fresh eyes to see.
Meade does not give many details about the tapestries. Ordered in 1375 by Louis I, duke of Anjou and brother to King Charles V of France, the tapestries originally consisted of six huge panels, each 23 meters long and six meters high. The king’s painter, Jean de Bruges, created the scenes, and the tapestries were probably made in Paris by the best weaver of the time, Nicolas Bataille. They were woven from woolen threads, brightly dyed, and the weavers were so meticulous that they have no back: all the ends are tucked into the works.
This allowed for much better conservation: 600 years later, the colors are still lively, the images clear. But due to the 18th century’s distaste for Gothic art, and the Revolution’s “cult of Reason,” the tapestries were forgotten, then cut up to cover horses, orange trees, and so on.
The tapestries were rediscovered in the 19th century by Louis-François Joubert, custodian of the Cathedral of Angers’ treasure. A huge work of restoration began. In 1954, a gallery was built in the castle of Angers to house the Apocalypse tapestries. Of the original 144 meters, 100 have survived. But they are still amazing. They show life in the 14th century, with hundreds of extras in the scenes. Among them is Louis’ sworn enemy, Edward the Black Prince, son of King Edward III, numbered among the evil.
Meade uses the depictions of St. John’s Revelation as she recounts the unfolding of the book. She often comments on figures or colors, but not the 14th century’s political commentary. The brief history I have recounted does not appear, other than three mentions of Jean de Bruges and the panels that have been lost.
In recounting John’s vision, Meade notes that it has a parallel with the Our Father, at its beginning and its ending. It is about God, our Father, whose kingdom we pray to come, for the kingdom is his. Her commentary is replete with insightful details.
She does not write about the numerous controversies about the book, such as authorship, other than to mention that it was always controversial and still is. The overall message is that this book is about faith in a time of suffering, persecution, and pain. It is a word explicitly to the churches from Jesus: hold fast! It has inspired people ever since:
…we can be strengthened by the faith and courage of those who have endured when our own trials come. For come they will, whether our feel-good psychology prepares us for it or not. The teenage gunmen in schools, the crack addict waiting in the parking lot, and the bad news from the medical lab tests, as well as tornadoes, hurricanes, lightning, floods, drought, traffic accidents, and now terrorist attacks that kill thousands in one morning are very much a part of life today. Are these not plagues and trials like those seen in Revelation?[1]
That certainly resonates in 2026.
All the symbols of Revelation that we find challenging, if not repugnant—Satan, the whore of Babylon, the lake of fire, the bizarre beasts, poison, plague—they still communicate the message 1,900 years later: bad things happen and we don’t know why. The powerful are corrupted by their power and wealth, and lust for more, ever more. Those who seek to follow Christ are all too often marginalized, persecuted, martyred. How long, O Lord? Are you even there?
As the janitor understood, “Jesus wins”—in the end, of course. And what befalls all the kings deceived by Babylon, that is, by Satan? After all the trials and tribulations, the wrath of God poured out, the lake of fire and river of blood, horrors such as scorpion-like locusts the size of horses whose sting is so agonizing that people will try to commit suicide, but death will avoid them[2]—the New Jerusalem comes down from heaven. At last God comes down to live with his people. Death will be no more, or grief or pain, and all will be made new, including us.
Meade makes a suggestion that may surprise some readers:
… and now all the nations and kings of the earth shall walk in this light and bring their glory and honor into the city. This is an amazing claim: those who had been deceived by the harlot of the beast shall at last see the light and walk into the city whose gates shall never be shut and where there will be no day or night. […] But perhaps this last vision of Revelation is telling us that, in the end, it is just possible that no one will be able to resist God’s love and grace and the beauty of that light. If the kings of the earth are welcome, then no one need despair.[3]
The tree of life is there, that gives new fruit every month, and whose leaves heal the nations (22:3). There is no going back to Eden; we have come too far. We have needed healing and salvation, and we still do. And we will receive them.
One piece of advice: if you purchase the Kindle edition, you may magnify the tapestry images. Meade used the 1987 Tenture de l’Apocalypse d’Angers[4] and slides from the Caisse des Monuments de France. For a more recent version that used the uncovered tapestry backs for much better color, see L’Apocalypse de saint Jean illustrée par la tapisserie d’Angers.[5]
[1] The Last Word, xxii.
[2] Revelation 9.
[3] The Last Word, 129.
[4] Nantes: Association pour le développement de l’Inventaire Général des Monuments et des Richesses Artistiques en Région des Pays de la Loire, 1987.
[5] Paule Amblard (in French), Paris: Éditions Diane de Selliers, 2010.
The Rt. Rev. Pierre W. Whalon served as Bishop in charge of the Convocation of Episcopal Churches in Europe from 2001 to 2019.
