The Day of Pentecost, from sundaysandseasons.com, used with permission.
“In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your children shall prophesy, and your young people shall see visions, and your old people shall dream dreams.”*
Are these the last days? Well, if we think these are the last days, we would not be the first generation to think so. Empires and social orders have collapsed, again and again, across all recorded human history. Each era of peace and prosperity is followed by war, catastrophe, and world-changing upheaval. In such frightening times, it is understandable to think that these are the “last days” — the last days of our political nation; the last days of all that we have assumed, and all that we have known; even the last days of earth’s imperiled ecosystems. Everything seems to be falling apart.
But if these truly are the “last days,” there are a couple of silver linings. First, the religion scholar Jeanette Rodriguez – she teaches at Seattle University – has said that “Civilizations always end, but cultures endure.” If the United States collapses in political chaos, the many cultures of the people who live in this part of North America will survive. And that includes cultures like ours, here at Grace Church. When Peter stood up and gave his sermon on the day of Pentecost, quoting the prophet Joel about younger people having visions and older people dreaming dreams, he was speaking to a civilization that has since ceased to exist. The Roman Empire is long gone. But Peter’s words remain, and so does the culture that he and those hundred or so women and men created, as they followed the Way of the risen Christ, empowered by the Spirit. That culture flourishes even here, today, in this room. Civilizations end; cultures endure.
And here’s the second silver lining, if in fact these are the “last days” of civilization as we know it: some of the things that are collapsing are long overdue to collapse. Patriarchy and colonialism are under threat from long-needed feminist critique and historical reform; racism is under threat from long-needed reckoning with the ravages of white supremacy; environmental violence is under threat from the prophetic leadership of climate-justice advocates.
The last days, then, are messy and complicated. Good things are lost; good people are killed. But bad things also collapse, and new communities of justice and peace emerge. In the last days, the prophet Joel teaches us, God puts God’s Spirit upon all people, and our children will prophesy, and our young people will see visions, and our old people will dream dreams.
Joel, one of the so-called minor Hebrew prophets, gives us this assurance after a couple of sobering chapters in his book that describe the whole landscape being devoured by locusts, a metaphor for the devastation wrought by injustice and oppression, the death brought about when the people ignore God’s creative power and fight among themselves. That metaphor stings us sharply, though, because in our own day, the ill effects of injustice and oppression on our landscape are all too literal: we could see in our lifetimes the wiping out of food supplies, the drowning of coastal cities, the collapse not only of political nations, but of the biosphere as we know it.
And yet – and yet – Joel teaches us (this is worth saying several times!) that in the last days God puts God’s Spirit upon all people, and our children will prophesy, and our young people will see visions, and our old people will dream dreams.
These things are already taking place. I know children in this congregation who prophesy: they tell me what is most important, and I try to listen. Kim Cockroft and I have talked recently about the insights children have, when they gather here at Grace Church. And recently, in the wake of the gun massacre at Uvalde, Texas, I seem to be seeing children everywhere I go. One child recently wiped out on his bike while I was running by, on Highland Drive in Seattle. “Are you okay?” I asked, stopping to help. (And I wasn’t the only one who stopped.) “Are you bleeding?” “I’m okay,” he said, but he was happy to accept my help lifting his bike off his lower leg so that he could scramble to his feet. “I’m okay,” he repeated, and hopped back on his bike. This child is persevering. He is not daunted by falls. And several people reached out to him with concern: in the face of the atrocity of the murder of schoolchildren, there are many, many people on this earth who want to protect children from harm. Grace Church is full of people like this. We are determined to protect children.
Meanwhile, our younger members here at Grace Church see visions, just like Joel says. Our wardens, many of our other lay leaders, and parents of young children: this generation is full of energy for the future of this congregation. They are leading us to realize the vision of hybrid worship, the vision of responsible stewardship of this land and building, the vision of deepening our expression of faith in music and art, the vision of cultivating once again the ministries of and for children, youth, and families; the vision of a new mission of justice and advocacy at the center of our spiritual life. They are visionaries, not cynics. They do not despair. Their visions are clear, and their energy seems to be boundless.
And our older members – they dream dreams. Today many of them are leading us in celebration of their vision thirty years ago that, with God’s Spirit upon them, gave rise to this robust community of faith. But they also dream of another thirty years, and thirty years after that, and uncounted decades beyond that, when Grace Episcopal Church will endure in this part of the world as a faith community where God’s Spirit dwells, and moves, and creates, even if civilizations collapse around it.
“Civilizations always end, but cultures endure.” Yes. And our culture here in this community of faith is full of child prophets, full of young visionaries, and full of older dreamers. This community is the kind of community Jesus has in mind when he is reassuring his friends that they will not be left comfortless after his departure. He speaks of the enduring culture they will cultivate together, after he has risen and departed from their physical midst.
That culture thrives right here, right now. The Holy Spirit “will teach you everything,” Jesus tells his friends, and us. He also says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” But then says this, to his friends, and also to us: Jesus says, “The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”
“Greater works than these.” Cultures like the one here at Grace Church don’t just endure, then. With God’s help, by the Spirit’s power, this culture thrives. In the next thirty years, we will do greater works than we have already done. (And what we’ve already done is pretty great, thanks be to God.)
So, take heart. The world is in big trouble, yes, but do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. The Holy Spirit dwells here, burning in our hearts, rushing like the wind between us, driving us out from here to protect children, to advocate for climate justice, to bind up the brokenhearted, to reconcile with our enemies, and much more. Celebrate and give thanks, for so much has already been done, and God’s Spirit has flourished here for decades. Yes.
But save your loudest shout of “Alleluia” for what that same Spirit will do tomorrow. Our children already know all about it, and our younger members have envisioned it, and our elders have dreamt of it.
The Holy Spirit, in the midst of all of our celebrations, moves us to ask a most vital question, a question we ask God, but also a question we ask the youngest prophets in our midst. Today we are celebrating all that has been and we are rejoicing about all that is happening now. But we also are moved by the Holy Spirit to turn to the youngest visionaries in this church and ask this most urgent question:
What’s next?
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Preached on the Day of Pentecost (Year C), June 5, 2022, at Grace Episcopal Church, Bainbridge Island, Washington.
Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104:25-35, 37
Romans 8:14-17
John 14:8-17, 25-27
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*A note about my translation of Joel’s prophecy: I consciously changed the text “your sons and your daughters” to “your children” in my sermon, but not in the reading from Acts of the Apostles that was proclaimed in the liturgy. I did this for two reasons: first, I notice binary-gender language in scripture, and recently have given myself more license to step away from it in my sermons, even as my congregation proclaims approved translations elsewhere in the liturgy. Second, I am interpreting the phrase “your sons and your daughters” to refer to the youngest members of the community, younger even than the “young men” Joel mentions in the next verse. This may be splitting hairs in a way not intended by the prophet (or by Peter, who quotes Joel centuries later on the Day of Pentecost). But I stand by this as a way to responsibly illumine the text in the context of the parish I serve, and the larger context of dominant-U.S. culture that is so damaged by the routine murders of young children. Finally — and perhaps less controversially — I translated “young men” and “old men” to “young people” and “old people,” given that Joel himself had just referred to “sons and daughters,” and the text certainly supports an interpretation addressed to all persons regardless of gender or biological sex assignment.