Revelation 17:7–8

Revelation 17:7 — "Why do you wonder?" John's astonishment (Greek: ethaumasa, from thaumazō) echoes his reaction in 17:6, where he marveled — perhaps with horrified fascination — at the woman drunk with the blood of the saints. The angel's rhetorical question is not a rebuke of confusion but a pastoral intervention: wonder at the spectacle of evil is natural, but it must yield to understanding. The angel's offer — "I will tell you the mystery" (mystērion) — picks up the apocalyptic tradition of angelic interpretation found in Daniel (Dan 7:16; 8:15–16), where heavenly messengers explain terrifying visions to overwhelmed seers. The word mystērion in Revelation does not mean something unknowable but something hidden that is now disclosed: the true nature of the beast is being exposed, not deepened. This interpretive moment is itself a theological act — revelation strips the glamour from evil.

The angel promises to explain both "the woman and the beast that carries her, which has the seven heads and the ten horns." This precise recapitulation of 17:3 signals that the explanation will be systematic; the interpreter addresses the full symbolic complex, not merely one element. The subordination of the woman to the beast (she is carried, he carries) already implies that the harlot's apparent dominance is parasitic — she rides a power greater than herself and ultimately destructive to her (cf. 17:16).

Revelation 17:8 — "The beast that you saw was, and is not; and is about to come up out of the abyss" This is the theological center of the two verses. The beast's formula — ēn, kai ouk estin, kai mellei anabainein ("was, and is not, and is about to come up") — is an unmistakable inversion of the divine name as revealed in Revelation 1:4 and 1:8: "him who is, and who was, and who is to come." God's name is characterized by eternal, uninterrupted being (ho ōn, the present participle — pure, ongoing existence). The beast's name, by contrast, is fractured: its present tense is negation (ouk estin — "is not"). The beast has no stable ontological ground; its "existence" is characterized by absence, interruption, and parody. This is not merely rhetorical cleverness on John's part — it encodes a profound metaphysical claim: evil has no true being of its own. It imitates and inverts the real.

The beast "comes up out of the abyss" (abyssos) — the same realm from which the locust-demons of Revelation 9:1–11 emerge and over which Abaddon/Apollyon reigns. The abyss in Jewish apocalyptic tradition (1 Enoch 18; 21) is the place of chaotic, imprisoned evil, the prison of rebellious spirits. The beast's origin there marks it as fundamentally demonic, not merely political. Its destiny, however, is equally fixed: "to go into destruction" (apoleia — perdition, the same word used in 2 Thess 2:3 for the "man of lawlessness"). The beast's career follows a determined arc: emergence from chaos, apparent triumph, and annihilation.

"Those whose names have not been written in the book of life" The contrast is sharp and deliberate. Against those who "dwell on the earth" (katoikountes epi tēs gēs — a phrase that throughout Revelation designates those whose allegiance is to the earthly, the temporal, the worldly system) stands the community whose citizenship is inscribed in the heavenly ledger "from the foundation of the world" (apo katabolēs kosmou). The Book of Life (cf. Ex 32:32–33; Ps 69:28; Dan 12:1; Phil 4:3; Rev 3:5; 13:8; 20:12,15) is the register of God's elect — not predestination to damnation, but the eternal foreknowledge of those who belong to the Lamb. Those not inscribed "will marvel" (thaumasthēsontai) — the same verb as John's wonder in 17:6 — when the beast re-emerges. Their marvel is not neutral; it shades into worship (cf. 13:3–4), a surrender of moral perception to spectacle. They cannot see through the beast's parody because they have no reference point in the living God.

Catholic tradition brings several distinctive resources to bear on this passage.

On the parody of the divine name: St. Augustine's analysis of evil as privatio boni — the privation of good, lacking genuine substance — finds precise scriptural grounding here. The beast "is not" even in the midst of its apparent power. The Catechism (CCC 385) teaches that "the power of Satan is not infinite," and CCC 395 notes that "Satan's action in the world is permitted by divine providence." The beast's fractured formula illustrates exactly this: it cannot sustain the present-tense being that belongs to God alone (Ego sum qui sum, Ex 3:14). St. Irenaeus (Adversus Haereses V.30) was among the first patristic commentators to link the beast's number and description to a specific political embodiment, reading the beast as the recapitulation of all prior empires hostile to God.

On the Book of Life: The Council of Trent and subsequent Catholic theology carefully distinguish between God's eternal foreknowledge and a deterministic double-predestination. CCC 600 affirms that God's foreknowledge does not abolish human freedom. The inscription in the Book of Life "from the foundation of the world" reflects the Lamb's eternal sacrifice (Rev 13:8 in some readings) and God's prevenient love — not a cold decree that bypasses freedom, but the divine embrace that precedes and enables faithful response. St. Thomas Aquinas (Summa Theologiae I, q. 24) treats the Book of Life as a figure for God's knowledge of those ordained to eternal life, grounded in his will to communicate grace.

On the abyss and demonic power: Catholic exorcistic tradition and the Church's teaching on spiritual warfare (cf. Catechism 2851–2854, the commentary on "deliver us from evil") recognizes that demonic forces can exercise real, though limited, power in history. Revelation 17:8 is a reminder that institutional evil — empire, ideology, systemic persecution — is never merely sociological; it has a spiritual substrate.

Contemporary Catholics live surrounded by systems and ideologies that mimic ultimate authority — whether political movements, digital platforms, consumer culture, or authoritarian states — that demand the kind of loyalty properly owed only to God. Revelation 17:8 offers a precise diagnostic: any power that is grounded in the "abyss" rather than in the living God has its present tense characterized by absence. It "is not" even when it appears most dominant.

The practical application is twofold. First, the Catholic is called to cultivate the kind of moral perception that sees through spectacle. The earth-dwellers "marvel" because they have no transcendent reference point — their names are not in the Book of Life, and so the beast's parody of divine permanence fools them. Regular lectio divina, the Liturgy of the Hours, and Eucharistic adoration are not pious extras: they are the formation of a vision that resists being dazzled by counterfeit ultimacies.

Second, the assurance that one's name is written in the Book of Life "from the foundation of the world" is not grounds for presumption but for unshakeable confidence. In seasons of persecution — whether cultural, professional, or physical — the Catholic can act from security rather than fear, knowing that the beast's arc ends in apoleia, not theirs.