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keeping with the high Christology noted above. It is of further interest that in both Isaiah and the Revelation the first task of the keeper of the keys is to open what is shut, not to lock what has previously been open.

      The words to the church begin (for the fourth of five times in these letters) with the affirmation I know your deeds. But what follows is unique to the seven letters, in that praise for the present and promises for the future are intertwined. Philadelphia is also one of the two churches (along with Smyrna) that receive no critique of any kind. The result is that praise and promise are uniquely blended, in a letter with only one imperative: “hold on to what you have” (v. 11b). The praise comes in two forms: in verse 8b Christ commends them because even though you have little strength,24 you have in fact kept my word and have not denied my name; and in verse 10a they are commended because you have kept my command to endure patiently. Noticeably, these twofold words of praise say basically the same thing: that these believers have been loyal to the gospel even in the midst of severe persecution. In the first instance their loyalty is described on its negative side, in terms of their refusing to deny Christ’s name.

      Another of the puzzles for later readers of this letter is the meaning of, and the historical reason for, their having “little strength.” The probable best guess is to see it as related to the Jewish community mentioned in verse 9, whose future is noted but whose specific faults are not, except to deny that they are true “Jews” (see the further discussion below). The meaning of “kept my word” is likewise not immediately clear. Does “word” mean a specific prophetic word to this church, or, perhaps more likely, does it represent the many words of Christ that are known and kept alive in this community? In either case, the emphasis in the commendation probably lies with their abiding faithfulness to the gospel message itself.

      The second commendation, about keeping his “command to endure patiently” (v. 10a), is easy enough to understand as such; what is not known are the historical circumstances of the church that would have called for such a commendation. And here again is a place where speculation serves little or no purpose so as to further one’s understanding. What is perhaps worthy of note is that this is the third and final occurrence in these letters of the word rendered “endure.”25 Whereas three occurrences might seem considerable under ordinary circumstances, it might equally seem like only a few, given the present, less-than-ordinary circumstances of these churches. Moreover, this is surely to be understood as no small matter, as it seems to have been taken very often in the later church. Indeed, it is especially noteworthy that the command has inherent in it an understanding of discipleship that pervades the New Testament: that those who follow the Crucified One should not expect lesser treatment than what their Master received. Thus endurance as a command is simply part of the package for those who would be Christ’s disciples.

      What follows immediately in this instance is the first of three promises made to this church, where the keeper of the keys assures them, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. Whereas this is rich imagery that one instinctively thinks she or he understands, in fact its specific intent for the Philadelphian believers is not immediately present for the later reader. On the one hand, given the overall concern of the Revelation as a document, this could easily be understood in terms of evangelism. If so, then Philadelphia is a place where Christ expects still more people to become his disciples through the ministry of the church. On the other hand, given the eschatological nature of the book as a whole, and especially in light of the eschatological imagery in verse 12, it more likely has a future referent, having to do with entrance into the final eschatological kingdom.

      The second promise (v. 9), although future in its orientation, is best understood as a temporal rather than eschatological referent. That is, it most likely looks forward to an actual historical event rather than to the final event. Nonetheless, it is one of the more puzzling of the non-apocalyptic moments in the book. Its essential features are understandable enough: Christ will make some of the present opponents of the believing community fall down at your feet and acknowledge that the believers in Philadelphia are Christ’s beloved ones. But who these opponents are, and when this is expected to take place, is full of mystery. Furthermore, were not the author himself a Jew, whose concern always is for an ingathering of fellow Jews, the present description of them as those who are of the synagogue of Satan could on its own be understood as one of the more anti-Semitic moments in early Christian literature. Even though for later ears this sounds like a rather harsh thing to say about the synagogue in Philadelphia, this is most likely John’s present judgment as a disciple of the Crucified but now Risen One against a community that should have received its Messiah with open arms, but failed to do so.

      The third promise (v. 10) comes as the apodosis (the “then” clause) of a sentence that begins, Since you have kept my command to endure patiently. This affirmation is a fitting protasis for the promise that follows: I will also keep you from the coming hour of trial. Thus the opening commendation for having “kept my word and . . . not denied my name” now has this singular further elaboration: the believers in Philadelphia “have kept my command to endure patiently.” In many ways this is an especially revealing moment in the book. After all, it is part of the larger Johannine picture that Christ’s disciples are expected to “keep his word,” that is, to obey the commands that he gave his disciples when he walked among them. But here, in a context where persecution is both hovering over them and in some cases already begun, the singular elaboration of keeping Christ’s word has to do with not denying Christ in the hour of intense trial that is about to descend.

      Of further interest, but also of further difficulty for understanding from our distance, is the additional elaboration of the coming “hour of trial,” that it is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth. What John himself understood by this clause is a singular mystery. On the one hand, it is fully in keeping with the warnings of Jesus found in the Gospels;26 on the other hand, the present phrasing of this motif leaves the later reader with only guesses. Is this to be understood as a temporal event, soon to take place in the period of this writing? Or is it a more purely eschatological event, a way of describing the days preceding the coming of our Lord? Furthermore, in this particular case the readers are promised they will be to be “kept from” this hour of trial. Does this mean to be delivered from it altogether when it comes? Or does it mean to be kept secure by Christ even during its most intense expression? At this point, and as is often true with other such eschatological moments in the New Testament, we have little certainty about the when, and not total certainty about the what itself. That is, even though one can be sure from this passage that Christ intends to keep his own from this hour of trial, at this distance we simply can have no certainty as to the specifics of the event itself.

      The final word to this church (v. 10) before the concluding words of promise27 takes the form of an admonition—the only one in this letter. In light of the fact that Christ is coming soon,28 they are urged to hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. Although this is perfectly understandable English, just as is the Greek itself, the final clause of this sentence is especially puzzling. Had the Lord said, “so that you will not lose your crown,” that would have made good sense in the context; but what it would mean for “no one to take your crown” is not at all clear—although it is very likely that the former is what John intended, despite the actual wording. Most likely this is a kind of shorthand for the fact that the divine giver is also the divine taker; or in the language of the KJV on which I was raised, God is the one who “giveth” and “taketh away” (Job 1:21). Finally, as throughout the New Testament, the “crown” the victor receives is not the diadem worn by kings or queens, but the wreath given the victor in the games.29

      The promise to the victors in this case (v. 12) is full of echoes of the Philadelphians’ own history, while at the same time it altogether anticipates chapters 21–22 at the end of the book. The first two promises are especially fitting for the church in earthquake-prone Philadelphia. First, Christ says, I will make them pillars in the temple of my God. The very language anticipates a stability of the kind Philadelphians knew but little. This is imagery, of course, since no physical temple is to be expected in the Eschaton; indeed it is explicitly denied in 21:22. Moreover, what the NIV renders as never again will they leave it, says literally—and forcefully for the Philadelphians—“and outside they will never go out.” Thus for those who have had to abandon

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