“Afterward”

(Joel 2:28-32 and Joel 3:16-21)

          The book of Joel began, as we saw last week, with news of a terrible plague of locusts, decimating the land.  The people responded with fasting, weeping, and prayer, and the Lord intervened to drive away the locusts, restoring the land to its former beauty and abundance – once again all was lush, green, and fertile.  The prophet urged his audience to tell this important story of God’s mighty acts to their children, and to their children’s children, and on and on to every generation.

          When we resume our reading of Joel this morning at the end of chapter two, we find ourselves at least briefly in more familiar territory – we heard these same words just two weeks ago, in the Pentecost story from the second chapter of Acts. In fact these are the exact verses Peter quotes, as the Spirit descends on the early church:

“Then afterward, I will pour out my spirit on all flesh;

Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

Your old men shall dream dreams,

And your young men shall see visions.

Even on male and female slaves, in those days I will pour out my spirit.” (Joel 2:28-29 and Acts 2:17-18)

There are so many avenues we could pursue to explore the strange and wonderful verses that compose the second half of the book of Joel.  But it’s this “afterward” that really captures my attention.  Because the logical question is: After what?

          Certainly the promise God makes to pour out God’s spirit on all flesh comes after the devastation of the locusts, after the people fast and pray.  It would also come after the Lord drove the locusts away, and the wilderness once again became green, and the trees once again bore fruit.  So while that promise of the land’s rebirth seemed to refer to a more immediate future, this promise of spirit-pouring and vision-catching will come “afterward.”

          But in the rest of the text Kari read for us we also see Joel sliding into apocalyptic language – language of the end times, often phrased in absolutes – there are good guys (us) and there are bad guys (them) and because the bad guys have hurt us so badly in this life, they’re really gonna get it at the end of time. Apocalyptic writing is full of cosmic battles, dramatic signs in the heavens, dramatic signs of all kinds, actually – the stranger the better.  Which explains some of this language here of blood and fire and smoke, the sun turning to darkness and so on. The important thing to remember is that apocalyptic texts are generally written by communities under siege; these are the words of persecuted peoples.  (We have a great concentration of apocalyptic writing from the exilic period for instance, when the people of Israel had been taken away from their homes to foreign lands.  The New Testament book of Revelation is another great example, written as the early church was being persecuted by the Romans.)  In other words, texts like these are written to offer comfort in terrible times.  Yes, it’s true our enemy has the upper hand now, but stay tuned!  For in the days to come the whole thing will be turned upside down.  God will reverse our enemies’ fortunes, and our own.  We will be vindicated in the end. 

In Hebrew prophecy that end of days is sometimes called “the Day of the Lord” – or shorthanded “in that day,” a phrase that pops up a number of times here in Joel.  Whether that day should be welcomed or feared depends essentially on whether the people have been behaving themselves.  So for instance, when the people of Israel were oppressing the poor and needy, flaunting their wealth, exuding hypocrisy in their worship, the prophet Amos famously said: “Alas for you who desire the day of the Lord!  Why do you want the day of the Lord?” (Amos 5:18)  If the Day of the Lord is good news for the good guys, and bad news for the bad guys, cautions Amos, let’s just be clear about whose side you’re on right now.

Here in Joel, the prophet first hints that the plague of locusts might mean the Day of the Lord has come as punishment (hence the fasting and weeping and prayers of repentance) but then toward the end of the book we find words looking ahead toward the more distant future, words about Judah and Jerusalem being spared, while their enemies would be punished. So “in that day” finally comes as good news of a better afterward – when “the mountains shall drip sweet wine and the hills shall flow with milk.” (Joel 3:18)

          At any rate, as we read through the book of Joel, we want to keep in mind that sometimes the ‘afterward’ he describes is more immediate, and sometimes he has in mind a sort of ultimate ‘after’ – after everything, at the very, very end of it all.

          But what really excites me about Joel’s prophetic promise here in chapter 2 is that, as Christians seek to locate it in time, we are invited to read it as future, past, and present, all at once.

          Certainly we retain the future sense.  For with the Hebrew prophets we too believe God will act decisively and finally in the last days.  Things will happen the likes of which we’ve never seen.  This is the afterward we continue to look forward to and live toward… the one in which swords will be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks and all wars shall cease… the one in which the lowly shall be lifted up, and the proud brought low… the one in which people will come from east and west and north and south and sit at table together in the kingdom of God… Words like these continue to offer comfort in every age, for if all isn’t right with the world now, at least we’re promised that someday it will be.

     But we look back, too, to the story of Pentecost in Acts 2, when we’re told that God’s spirit was, in fact, poured out on all who were present, so that men and women did begin to prophesy – internationally and intergenerationally and across lines of race and economic class.  Where once the other nations were enemies to be punished, on the day of Pentecost we find them receiving the gospel in their native tongues. What Joel foretold seems to have already happened on that day. So one level, it might seem that Joel’s afterward has come and gone; it’s in the past.

It’s important to remember, though, that the story of Pentecost was not an ending, but a beginning.  Suddenly, instead of God speaking through individual prophets, God’s Spirit had been poured out so widely, so extravagantly that everyone was able to have a direct relationship with God.  And the Spirit of God didn’t descend upon the Church at Pentecost only to disappear again the next day.  The tongues of fire and rushing wind may have settled down a bit, but the Spirit was here to stay.  Which means, as we so often say together in our affirmation of faith, “the same Spirit who inspired the prophets and apostles” inspires us too.[1]

The punch line, as we read of Joel’s afterward, is that we’re living it right now, even as we also live toward it, in the days to come.  One of the reasons I’m so fascinated with the Hebrew prophets is that I’m convinced we’re up to bat.  It’s our voices and our actions God will use as God continues to speak to the world. So it seems to me we’d better pay attention, familiarize ourselves with the job description, figure out how one goes about being a prophet.

Fortunately it doesn’t require any special training.  There are no advanced degree requirements; it’s no longer necessary to speak Hebrew.  What you do need is a yearning to know God more fully, an openness to God’s leading (even into places that may not be familiar or comfortable), and trust that the Spirit will give you courage, simply to say what you know to be true.  Courage to speak truth about the justice God requires, in this world of injustice.  Courage to speak truth about human sinfulness, in this world of “I’m ok, you’re ok.” Courage to speak truth about money and power, particularly to those who possess a great deal of both. Courage to speak truth about the real possibility of peace, in this world that is so used to war it can’t imagine another way. 

We won’t have to do it alone.  Prophecy has gone communal since Joel’s day.  William Willimon notes that “the Hebrew prophets are often depicted as lonely people.” But again, when the early church gathered on Pentecost, just as Joel had foretold, God’s spirit was poured out on all flesh. Young and old alike caught visions and dreamed dreams.  Sons and daughters started preachin’ up a storm. God’s spirit was poured out upon kids and senior citizens, upon underpaid maids and janitors, and suddenly … those who had never been asked to say a few words at the microphone, began to speak.  “After Acts 2, prophecy is a group thing.” As Mary Pipher says, we needn’t feel we must change the world single-handedly. “There are many people working on the project.”[2]

Moses once blurted out to Joshua in the wilderness, “Would that all of God’s people were prophets!”  “That day is now,” says Willimon.  “Those prophets are us.” [3]  So tell those stories of God’s mighty acts.  Listen for them in your conversations with others. Share your dreams and visions with old and young alike – and pay attention to theirs. Above all, speak the truth, as the Spirit gives you courage. 

For “afterward, [God says]I will pour out my spirit on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy…” (Joel 2:28; Acts 2:17)

Welcome to “afterward.”