December 8, 2024
Do you remember how, a couple of weeks ago, I made a big deal about the Prophet Joel? We read him and quote him on important days like Ash Wednesday, Pentecost, and even Thanksgiving. And all from one chapter, namely Joel 2. Well, I’m going to have to backtrack a bit today and quote something from the third chapter of Joel that would never be used in our worship, and, in fact, seems to contradict one of our favorite Advent messages.
That message, of course, comes from this morning’s scripture reading from Isaiah 2. It’s a message of God’s acceptance—not just of chosen Israel, but of all nations. And it’s a message of the consummation of peace on earth. This message is so important that it’s found in two places in the Bible. It’s repeated almost word-for-word in Micah 3. And it’s also so important that it’s portrayed in a sculpture on the grounds of the United Nations headquarters in New York—a sculpture (by a Soviet artist, no less!) called Let Us Beat Swords into Ploughshares.
There’s really not a more beautiful—or more important—message in the Bible. And that’s the good news! But there’s also some bad news. And that is that the prophets do not speak with one voice on this subject… which brings me back to Joel—but not the second chapter, this time the third. Though this chapter contains promise for God’s chosen people, there’s not much hope in it for the nations. It’s a passage about war and judgment, and if there were any doubts before that this was the opposite of the scripture lesson we heard today, listen to these words from Joel 3:10—Hammer your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears.
It's a good thing that in my research for my Thanksgiving sermon I found out that scholars have no idea when Joel was written. It could’ve been before Isaiah, and it could’ve been after. So I’m going to take it in faith that it was before, and that in Isaiah 2, God really was promising an end to warfare and salvation for all people, Jew and Gentile alike.
And, though I don’t have proof that it’s the case, I’d like to think Isaiah is responding to Joel’s threat with a promise of blessing and peace, and not vice versa—not Joel responding to Isaiah’s promise with a threat of war and judgment.
But whichever order these two prophecies came in, people of faith can’t really embrace the one and completely ignore the other. Ecclesiastes tells us that for everything there is a season: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time for war, and a time for peace [from chapter 3]. There are two sides to every coin. The good cannot be appreciated if we’ve never experienced the bad. Grace means nothing if there’s no such thing as judgment. And the promise of Isaiah 2 means nothing without the threat of Joel 3.
Before I get any deeper, let me change directions for a moment and talk about gifts: The fact that we re-gift isn’t always a bad thing. I think maybe it’s one of the signs that we’re made in God’s image, because God is the original re-gifter. Take this year, for instance. I’ve known of Ann Weems for years—decades, really. But somehow God has re-gifted her to me this Advent season.
I remember being fascinated by her name when I was much younger. It was so perfect that I assumed it was a pen name. It sounds too much like a certain Hebrew word to be somebody’s real name. When Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth [Matt 5:5], he’s basically quoting Psalm 37:11. And in the Hebrew of that verse, the meek are the םיונע, God’s little ones. What a perfect name for somebody who writes the kind of poetry that Ann Weems wrote.
But she was born Ann Barr, the daughter of a Presbyterian pastor, and she married another Presbyterian minister named Donald Weems. So Ann Weems (almost sounds just like םיונע!) was her real name. She is best known for writing beautiful poetry that helps little people like us prepare for the awesome holidays of Easter and Christmas. Her most famous books are called Kneeling in Jerusalem and Kneeling in Bethlehem. And the latter is the book I’ve been reading to you from at the beginning of worship during Advent this year.
And I’d like to share another of her poems with you right now, because it says better than I can what I’m feeling about the contrast between Joel 3 and Isaiah 2:
That message, of course, comes from this morning’s scripture reading from Isaiah 2. It’s a message of God’s acceptance—not just of chosen Israel, but of all nations. And it’s a message of the consummation of peace on earth. This message is so important that it’s found in two places in the Bible. It’s repeated almost word-for-word in Micah 3. And it’s also so important that it’s portrayed in a sculpture on the grounds of the United Nations headquarters in New York—a sculpture (by a Soviet artist, no less!) called Let Us Beat Swords into Ploughshares.
There’s really not a more beautiful—or more important—message in the Bible. And that’s the good news! But there’s also some bad news. And that is that the prophets do not speak with one voice on this subject… which brings me back to Joel—but not the second chapter, this time the third. Though this chapter contains promise for God’s chosen people, there’s not much hope in it for the nations. It’s a passage about war and judgment, and if there were any doubts before that this was the opposite of the scripture lesson we heard today, listen to these words from Joel 3:10—Hammer your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears.
It's a good thing that in my research for my Thanksgiving sermon I found out that scholars have no idea when Joel was written. It could’ve been before Isaiah, and it could’ve been after. So I’m going to take it in faith that it was before, and that in Isaiah 2, God really was promising an end to warfare and salvation for all people, Jew and Gentile alike.
And, though I don’t have proof that it’s the case, I’d like to think Isaiah is responding to Joel’s threat with a promise of blessing and peace, and not vice versa—not Joel responding to Isaiah’s promise with a threat of war and judgment.
But whichever order these two prophecies came in, people of faith can’t really embrace the one and completely ignore the other. Ecclesiastes tells us that for everything there is a season: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time for war, and a time for peace [from chapter 3]. There are two sides to every coin. The good cannot be appreciated if we’ve never experienced the bad. Grace means nothing if there’s no such thing as judgment. And the promise of Isaiah 2 means nothing without the threat of Joel 3.
Before I get any deeper, let me change directions for a moment and talk about gifts: The fact that we re-gift isn’t always a bad thing. I think maybe it’s one of the signs that we’re made in God’s image, because God is the original re-gifter. Take this year, for instance. I’ve known of Ann Weems for years—decades, really. But somehow God has re-gifted her to me this Advent season.
I remember being fascinated by her name when I was much younger. It was so perfect that I assumed it was a pen name. It sounds too much like a certain Hebrew word to be somebody’s real name. When Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth [Matt 5:5], he’s basically quoting Psalm 37:11. And in the Hebrew of that verse, the meek are the םיונע, God’s little ones. What a perfect name for somebody who writes the kind of poetry that Ann Weems wrote.
But she was born Ann Barr, the daughter of a Presbyterian pastor, and she married another Presbyterian minister named Donald Weems. So Ann Weems (almost sounds just like םיונע!) was her real name. She is best known for writing beautiful poetry that helps little people like us prepare for the awesome holidays of Easter and Christmas. Her most famous books are called Kneeling in Jerusalem and Kneeling in Bethlehem. And the latter is the book I’ve been reading to you from at the beginning of worship during Advent this year.
And I’d like to share another of her poems with you right now, because it says better than I can what I’m feeling about the contrast between Joel 3 and Isaiah 2:
Too often our answer to darknessis not running toward Bethlehembut running away.We ought to know by now that we can’t seewhere we’re going in the dark.Running away is rampant…separation is stylish:separation from mates, from friends, from self.Run and tranquilize, don’t talk about it,avoid.Run away and join the armyof those who have already run away.When are we going to learn that Christmas Peacecomes only when we turn and face the darkness?Only then will we be able to seethe light of the world.*
We long for grace because we dread judgment. We value life because of the existence of death. We appreciate peace because we know of the possibility of war. And we can truly see the light of the world because we have faced the darkness. And so we should love the promise of Isaiah 2 all the more because of the existence of the threat of Joel 3.
Both chapters speak of nations, and war and peace. But I think it’s okay—especially now, as we’re preparing for the birth of Christ—to think of these passages in more personal terms. Peace on earth may seem like it’s out of our control, and my voice seems too feeble to force my government to transform its instruments of death into implements of life. But there are still ways I can embrace peace over conflict.
When I let someone’s words seep into my mind until resentment takes over, then I have chosen Joel 3 over Isaiah 2—I have beaten a plowshare into a sword. Anytime I allow myself to use else’s shortcoming (or at least something I perceive as a shortcoming) as an excuse to nurse a grudge, I’m choosing conflict over peace of mind.
But when I turn my resentments into an opportunity to forgive, or conflict into reconciliation, I’m beating my swords into plowshares. When I hear someone’s unkind words and, instead of responding in kind, try to let them know that I’m not a threat, that I care, then I am choosing Isaiah 2 over Joel 3.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that Joel’s words can’t be true, and that there’s no place in the world for the language of judgment and defense. But the arc of God’s will bends towards peace and justice. Isaiah’s prophecy about an end to conflict and the unity of all people is God’s ultimate promise. And it’s that promise that we should nurture in our hearts. For if God’s children can’t live by the laws of God’s Kingdom, then how can we expect it to come on earth as it is in heaven?
—©2024 Sam Greening
