Joel 3:13 - The Message13 “Swing the sickle— the harvest is ready. Stomp on the grapes— the winepress is full. The wine vats are full, overflowing with vintage evil. Ver CapítuloMás versionesKing James Version (Oxford) 176913 Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe: come, get you down; for the press is full, the fats overflow; for their wickedness is great. Ver CapítuloAmplified Bible - Classic Edition13 Put in the sickle, for the [vintage] harvest is ripe; come, get down and tread the grapes, for the winepress is full; the vats overflow, for the wickedness [of the peoples] is great. [Mark 4:29; Rev. 14:15, 18-20.] Ver CapítuloAmerican Standard Version (1901)13 Put ye in the sickle; for the harvest is ripe: come, tread ye; for the winepress is full, the vats overflow; for their wickedness is great. Ver CapítuloCommon English Bible13 Cut with the sickle, for the harvest is ripe. Go and crush grapes, for the winepress is full. The jars overflow with wine, for their wickedness is great. Ver CapítuloCatholic Public Domain Version13 Send forth the sickles, because the harvest has matured. Advance and descend, for the press is full, the pressing room is overflowing. For their malice has been increasing. Ver Capítulo |
“I’ve been treading the winepress alone. No one was there to help me. Angrily, I stomped the grapes; raging, I trampled the people. Their blood spurted all over me— all my clothes were soaked with blood. I was set on vengeance. The time for redemption had arrived. I looked around for someone to help —no one. I couldn’t believe it —not one volunteer. So I went ahead and did it myself, fed and fueled by my rage. I trampled the people in my anger, crushed them under foot in my wrath, soaked the earth with their lifeblood.”
Starting from the day you put the sickle to the ripe grain, count out seven weeks. Celebrate the Feast-of-Weeks to God, your God, by bringing your Freewill-Offering—give as generously as God, your God, has blessed you. Rejoice in the Presence of God, your God: you, your son, your daughter, your servant, your maid, the Levite who lives in your neighborhood, the foreigner, the orphan and widow among you; rejoice at the place God, your God, will set aside to be worshiped.
I looked up, I caught my breath!—a white cloud and one like the Son of Man sitting on it. He wore a gold crown and held a sharp sickle. Another Angel came out of the Temple, shouting to the Cloud-Enthroned, “Swing your sickle and reap. It’s harvest time. Earth’s harvest is ripe for reaping.” The Cloud-Enthroned gave a mighty sweep of his sickle, began harvesting earth in a stroke.