The Mark of the Beast: Reflections on the Bible's Most Notorious Prophecy

Satan (the dragon; on the left) gives to the beast of the sea (on the right) power represented by a sceptre in a detail of panel III.40 of the medieval French Apocalypse Tapestry, produced between 1377 and 1382.

“Is Amazon One the Mark of the Beast?” 

That’s how I started a recent post on a Christian Facebook discussion group. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to start a new conspiracy theory; yet the new palm-payment technology reminds me of many I’ve heard over the years. I’m talking about perhaps the best-known and most speculated-on prophecy in Revelation (which is saying a lot!): 

It [the Beast] also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads, so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. That number is 666 (13:16–18, NIV).

With close to 200 comments, the post generated plenty of discussion—my purpose for asking the provocative question. I’m happy to report that no one answered affirmatively, but the majority response was disheartening. Something along the lines of, “It’s not the mark because the antichrist has not yet appeared, and we will be raptured beforehand anyway,” was the most popular reply. The feedback I received was another reminder of the pressing need for more biblical eschatology in the pulpit.

While I’m thankful for Archbishop Langton’s division of Scripture into chapters, the mark of the beast prophecy is one of those very unfortunate separations. For the very next verse reads, “Then I looked, and there before me was the Lamb, standing on Mount Zion, and with him 144,000 who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads” (14:1).

The antithesis could not be clearer: the “mark” (charagma) of the beast’s name on the foreheads of those loyal to this world and its values is directly contrasted with the “seal” (sphragis) of God’s name (i.e., both that of the Father and of the Lamb) used to designate the citizens of his heavenly kingdom (cf. 3:12; 7:2–8; 9:4; 14:9–11; 15:2; 16:2; 19:20; 20:4; 22:4). The imagery echoes Ezekiel’s vision of the faithful remnant being marked in order to be spared from God’s judgment upon his idolatrous people (cf. Ezek 9:3–5). It connotes God’s ownership and is not only a future but also a present possession of the faithful (cf. Eph 1:13; 4:30; 2 Cor 1:22; 2 Tim 2:19). Hence, as G. K. Beale writes, “Since the seal or name on the true believer is invisible, so also is the ‘mark’ of the unbeliever” (The Book of Revelation, 1999, 716). 

What the church fathers called the “rule of faith” (regula fidei) is crucial here: We must allow Revelation, not the latest newspaper headline or end-times documentary, to interpret the mark of the beast on its own terms. Why is it that we exegete the NT epistles by first identifying the apostle’s message to the church(es) in its original context and only then looking for the contemporary application, yet break these rules when reading John’s apocalyptic letter to the seven churches (cf. 1:4)? John actually sees two beasts in ch. 13, the first (13:1–10) is always referred to as “the beast” (to thērion), while the second (13:11–18) is afterwards called “the false prophet” (pseudoprophētēs), whose sole purpose is to cause the world to worship the former (cf. 16:13; 19:20; 20:10). It is clear from John’s allusions to Daniel in chs. 13 and 17 that the beast is the latter’s “little horn,” the diabolical enemy of God’s people (cf. Dan 7:8, 20–25; 8:9–12, 23–26; 11:16–45). Jesus and the apostles made frequent use of this imagery in their eschatological teachings, warning against the rise of many “false Christs” (pseudochristos), especially one in particular (cf. Matt 24:4–5, 11, 15, 23–26; Mark 13:5–6, 14, 21–23; Luke 21:8–9, 20–22; 2 Thess 2:1–12). 

Delineating the myriad theories on the meaning of the mark and the number of the beast could easily comprise an entire volume. Indeed, what else could the Pope, Barney the dinosaur, Nazi Germany, and Ronald Reagan all have in common, other than that each has been posited as a fulfillment of biblical prophecy concerning the antichrist? Not all these interpretations are accurate, though not all of them are false either (disclaimer: I don’t think Barney is the antichrist). After all, if the New Testament makes use of several prominent historical figures as icons of the antichrist (e.g., Antiochus IV Epiphanes, Caligula, Domitian, etc.), why do so many modern exegetes insist the prophecy only refers to one person? Actually, the term “antichrist” never appears in Revelation, nor for that matter in most other NT books. In fact, antichristos is only found in John’s first two epistles, and there the emphasis is that “even now many antichrists have come” (1 John 2:18) and that we should beware the perennial “spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world” (1 John 4:3). Hence, there were, are, and potentially will be many historical referents for the antichrist or, as Revelation symbolizes him, the beast. 

Returning to the principle of interpreting Scripture with Scripture (Sacra Scriptura sui interpres), we must first ask what person originally inspired John’s portrait of the eschatological enemy of God’s people. As David E. Aune notes, Rev 13:18 “indicates that the beast is not a future but rather a present figure whose identity was probably well known to the readers of the book” (Revelation 6–16, 1998, 769). Certainly, the collective imagery transcends any single individual. Nevertheless, I agree with many scholars that the central figure behind the beast in Revelation, and the most plausible explanation for this mysterious number, is Nero. 

When the Greek form of “Nero Caesar” is transliterated into Hebrew, the sum of nrwn qsr, using the widespread Jewish technique of gematria, is 666. Incidentally, the transliteration into Hebrew of thērion, also adds up to 666. Even more intriguing, if the same process is employed using the Latin name of Nero Caesar, the value is 616, which would explain a manuscript variant that reads “616” rather than “666.” As Craig S. Keener notes, “Calculating names of rulers as numbers … was standard practice in one Jewish prophecy tradition” (Revelation, 2000, 355). The Romans also widely circulated calculations of Nero’s name in Greek and Latin with symbolic meanings (cf. Suetonius, Nero, 39). The scope of this article curtails extensive discussion of this view, on which several scholars have already brilliantly elaborated. One of the most fascinating examples, though at times overly speculative, is ch. 11 of Richard Bauckham’s The Climax of Prophecy. 

One final aspect of this interpretation worth mentioning is Revelation’s use of the so-called Nero redivivus myth. The Sibylline Oracles, among several other Jewish pseudepigraphal writings, also singles out the sixth Roman emperor (cf. Rev 17:10–11) as “the great beast” (8.157) and “a terrible serpent” (5.29). These ancient Jewish prophecies allege that Nero did not actually commit suicide, but fled east to Parthia, where he will one day return with a great army to destroy Rome and the west, as well as “perform many signs” to “lead astray” many of God’s people (cf. Sib. Or. 3.63–74, 361–85; 4.130–50; 5.93–110). John clearly makes use of this tradition in his visions of the beast (cf. 6:1–2; 9:13–19; 13:1–18; 16:12–20; 17:1–18; 19:17–20; 20:7–10), but he is not canonizing the Nero redivivus legend. Nero is just one of numerous socio-political, cultural, and religious symbols used in Revelation to portray the eschatological conflict between good and evil and God’s ultimate victory over the latter. As Grant R. Osborne puts it, “The coming Antichrist would be a Nero-like figure who would be the antitype of that evil anti-Christian” (Revelation, 2002, 521). More specifically, the beast, whose “fatal wound had been healed” (13:3), “who was, and is not, and is about to rise” (17:8), is the antithesis of Christ, the “Lamb looking as if it had been slain” (5:6), and yet now lives forever as the real “ruler of the kings of the earth” (1:5). 

Regardless of whether you are a futurist, preterist, historicist, idealist, premillennialist, postmillennialist, amillennialist, or just plain confused, we can agree that the mark of the beast is part of Revelation’s parody antithesis between the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of God. John presents both as led by a triune power (i.e., Satan, the beast, and the false prophet, cf. 16:13) working miracles to gather every tribe, tongue, people, and nation to worship and profess full allegiance to them (compare ch. 13 with 1:4–6, 8, 18; 3:21; 4:8; 5:6, 9, 12; 7:1–12; 11:5–12; 14:1–5; 17:1–2, 15–18; 18:2–3, 24; 19:12, 17–19; 20:8; 22:6–7). This culminates, of course, in his final vision (chs. 17–21) of the destruction of the beast and his city, Babylon, by the Lamb and his city, the New Jerusalem, God’s eternal “dwelling place” (21:3) with his people. In other words, Rome is not the eternal city, but Jesus’s past, present, and future victory means that, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign for ever and ever” (11:15).

In conclusion, the Bible’s most notorious prophecy is just as relevant to us today as it was to its original audience. Keener concludes that what “John is telling us about” in Revelation 13 is “less to satisfy our end-time curiosity than to warn us about compromise…. We must decide between God and the world and what each side values” (366). Then as now, conquering the beast means choosing to submit our lives to Christ’s rule and his values rather than those of this world (cf. Rev 12:10–11; 14:4–5; 15:2; 17:14; 20:4; 21:7–8). “The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever” (1 John 2:17). 

The Bible’s most notorious prophecy not only carries personal application, but also has corporate implications. In this new age of AI, where big government and big tech seem overpowering, the resources of a local church often feel so meager. Yet we find ourselves in good company, as the congregations to whom John wrote also felt weak and poor amidst colossally hostile forces (cf. 2:9, 13; 3:8). The word of the Spirit to those with ears to hear today is the same as it was to them: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever!” (1:17b–18).  If Jesus’s declaration seems cliché or simplistic to us in the 21st century, I wonder if it was also perceived as such by those who initially heard it, suffering at the hands of almighty Rome? Yet within a few centuries, the world’s greatest empire fell, and Christianity prevailed as the true imperium sine fine (endless empire), to use Virgil’s words.

The last book of the Bible introduces itself as a “Revelation of Jesus Christ” (1:1), which God gave to John for the Church. The vision of those from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation united in allegiance to the name of Jesus (cf. 5:9–14; 7:9–17; 14:4, 6–7; 21:24–26; 22:2) must have seemed preposterous to the weak, impoverished congregations who originally received it. Yet today, Christianity is the single largest entity in human history and continues growing globally each day. We who are weak and broken serve an almighty, sovereign God, who is in the business of making the impossible reality. Let us therefore join God in his ongoing mission to love and humbly serve the world, so that one day we may rejoice triumphantly, singing with the heavenly chorus:

Holy, holy, holy
is the Lord God Almighty,
who was, and is, and is to come….
Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain….
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever! (Rev 4:11; 5:11, 13).

John D. Doss is a Ph.D. student in Biblical Studies (New Testament) at Asbury Theological Seminary. He has previously served as a pastor, missionary, and church planter.