Nothing to Fear
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
In his most recent standup special, the comedian Jim Gaffigan, who is the father of five children, describes what it’s like to tell people that he has such a large brood. “When people find out that I have five kids they think I’m good at parenting,” he says, “which is kind of like assuming people with lots of cats aren’t crazy.” Although Gaffigan is considered a family-friendly comedian, as someone with seven cats, I must say I find that joke deeply offensive.
Several years ago, shortly after the birth of his fourth child, Gaffigan joked that even that number felt overwhelming. “Do you want to know what it’s like to have a fourth child?” he asked. “Just imagine you’re drowning…and then someone hands you a baby.” I felt much the same when we acquired our seventh cat last year.
Now, I freely admit that having seven cats is nothing like having five children or four or even one. It’s much more difficult. Alright, no, not really, but these cats have completely taken over the house! I can’t take a step without bumping into, stepping over, or being tripped by a cat. And anytime I sit down, within seconds there’s cat settling in my lap or walking across my keyboard.
Plus, I feel like I’m being squeezed out of my own home. There are cat towers in every window, cat tunnels line the living room floor, and cat toys are scattered all over the house. There’s even an enormous cat exercise wheel in the living room that only one of the seven deigns to use. The rest look at me like, “Are you kidding? I’m not getting in that thing.” Living amid all this cat clutter is like having a roommate who slowly encroaches upon the communal space by littering it with their stuff until the space becomes theirs.
And despite all the amusements that we’ve bought for the cats, nothing gives them greater pleasure than sitting in and then tearing apart empty cardboard boxes. That’s when they’re not gleefully unspooling a roll of toilet paper, carving up the side of the sofa, or chewing through yet another electrical cord.
For the most part, I’m a fairly laidback cat dad, but when they get destructive, I have, on occasion, lost my temper. When I raise my voice, they scatter in every direction and dive under the furniture like somebody tossed a grenade into the room.
Before we had seven cats, Sandy and I used to have two dogs. When I would scold the dogs they would look at me mournfully with their soulful brown eyes as if to say, “I know I did wrong. I’m so sorry to have let you down. I will never do it again.” With dogs, because they so desire our companionship, you get the sense that they genuinely feel remorseful.
But cats, on the other hand…. Well, it’s like that old joke: dogs have owners, cats have assistants. After I’ve yelled at them, when my cats eventually emerge with trepidation from underneath the sofa and from behind the bed, it’s not with any remorse or regret on their faces but only to see if the coast is clear. Their response to my wrath is not grounded in any sort of acknowledgment that they’ve done wrong but rather is based solely in fear.
Believe it or not, despite the humorous nature of this sermon illustration, the scripture reading from Joel offers a similar commentary about the way we repent. There is repentance motivated by fear, repentance that seeks to placate an angry, wrathful god. And then there is repentance grounded in confidence in the merciful character of God, the God who is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
This is our first time reading from the book of Joel. One of the twelve minor prophets, not much is known about the prophet himself because in the three short chapters that comprise this book he tells us next to nothing about himself. Chapter 1 verse 1 reads “The word of the Lord that came to the prophet Joel, the son of Pethuel.” And that’s it. We’re not even sure when Joel lived because the prophet doesn’t give us any historical reference points. He doesn’t mention Assyria or Babylon, the great empires that eventually consumed the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel and Judah, respectively.
And yet Joel does speak of “a great and powerful army” that is coming, whose like has never before been seen and never will be seen again. However, rather than speculating, Is it Assyria?, Is it Babylon?, Is it the swarms of locusts mentioned in chapter 1?, I would rather take my cue from the prophet himself, because if Joel thought that kind of historical detail were important, he would have mentioned it.
Not only does Joel not name the army that is on the move, he doesn’t say what sin the people have committed for which he is calling them to repent. What matters to Joel is the nature of the God to whom they repent. What kind of God do the people believe that they are in relationship with? An angry god who demands sacrifice in order to be appeased? A predictable god who can be placated with some sackcloth here and some ashes there? Or the Lord their God who desires mercy not sacrifice, rent hearts not rent clothing, and who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love?
This passage from Joel speaks of a God who defies human expectations of how we believe that God should act. To begin with, the passage begins with a call to blow the trumpet to announce that the day of the Lord is coming. Traditionally, the people of Israel believed that the day of the Lord would be cause for celebration, in that it would be a day of judgment against their enemies. But here Joel flips that notion on its head, calling it “a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness.” Rather than the enemies of Israel being subject to judgment, it is God’s people themselves who experience judgment.
That’s not because God is fickle but rather it’s a reminder that being in relationship with God carries with it certain responsibilities. The covenant that Israel agreed to with God—the covenant that marked them as God’s people—carried with it the responsibility to embrace and embody the values of their God, values like justice, kindness, humility, concern for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger. A nation that ignores or goes against such values is a nation under God’s judgment.
Repentance is not a matter of placating God by sacrifice but rather offering to God the sacrifice of a broken heart.
The second way in which Joel speaks of a God who defies human expectations is the manner in which the people are to repent. Built into the structure of the covenant was the understanding that the people would fall short of their responsibilities. They would sin against God and neighbor. Enter the sacrificial system. Priests would atone for the people’s sin by sacrificing animals on the altar of the temple. But note that through the prophet God mentions not a word about sacrifice. God doesn’t call for more or greater sacrifices. God calls for a fast, for a solemn assembly of all the people, and for the priests not to kill on behalf of the people but to weep. It’s as if God is saying that rote ritual will not cut it, so to speak. Repentance is not a matter of placating God by sacrifice but rather offering to God the sacrifice of a broken heart.
The third and final way in which God defies expectations is that Joel invites the entire nation to repent. Repentance is not a matter solely for the professional religious class. It’s not about the priests acting on behalf of the people. Nor is repentance something only for the good, upright, pious people—the people who know they need to repent. No, the entire nation is called to come together as one. “Gather the people,” says the Lord. “Consecrate the congregation; assemble the aged; gather the children, even infants at the breast.” Even the bride and groom on their honeymoon are told to leave their hotel room and join the throng of penitents.
Repentance is simply a way for us to be honest with ourselves.
We in the mainline Church are often uncomfortable with the notion of repentance. Maybe it’s because often the loudest public voices calling people to repent have been angry street preachers warning of a wrathful God. Maybe we came from churches where the call to repent was used in a controlling or abusive manner. But repentance, as this reading from Joel demonstrates, is not a dirty word. Repentance is simply a way for us to be honest with ourselves.
This is why, despite its ritualistic nature, I wholeheartedly support the practice of receiving ashes. That mark of ash on our forehead or on the back of our hand reminds us that just as the people of Israel fell short of their responsibilities under the covenant, so we too have not loved God or neighbor as the law commands.
But this is the important thing to remember: we are not under a covenant of law but a covenant of grace—the new covenant that is sealed not by our promise to obey but by the blood of Jesus Christ. The mark of ash that we receive is a sign of that covenant. In that ashen cross we are reminded that we are marked as God’s very own. And as God’s own, we have nothing to fear, meaning that we can tell the truth about ourselves, finding confidence and taking comfort in the God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.