“Roll With the Changes” — Rev. Brent Gundlah
You don’t hear many reflections about the prophet Haggai these days. But since I just went through the trouble of reading names like Zerubbabel and Jehozadak, and since the folks who put the Bible together chose to include what Haggai had to say — it seems perfectly reasonable to spend a little time talking about him today.
Be honest (remember – you’re in church): How many of you have actually ever read Haggai? Let’s have a show of hands. Yeah, that’s about what I figured — but good on those of you who have. I’ll be honest, if hadn’t gone to divinity school I probably wouldn’t have read it either.
And this is totally understandable. Haggai is what a colleague of mine calls a “Table of Contents Book” — one that we’d have a hard time finding in the Bible without some help.
Sandwiched between the equally well-known prophecies of Zephaniah and Zechariah near the finish line of the Hebrew scriptures, Haggai is only two chapters long — I actually read a quarter of it a few minutes ago. Peruse the rest of it on your own when you have a chance; I promise it won’t take long.
But you might be asking yourselves what this obscure little book full of weird names and lots of dates, tucked away in the backwater of the Bible, could possibly have to say us today. As it turns out, though, the answer is plenty.
We don’t know much about Haggai — just his name really. And yet some of the book’s other details are quite clear; all of those names and dates allow us to pin down Haggai’s prophecy to a specific period of less than four months over twenty-five hundred years ago.
Haggai says that the word of the God came to him, “In the second year of King Darius, in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month.” This would have been October 17th, 520 BCE; now that’s precise.
According the Jewish calendar, this would have been the second to last day of the feast of Sukkot; at which people celebrated the fall harvest and God’s continuing care. It was also an occasion for remembering when Solomon brought the Ark of the Covenant into the Temple to dedicate it, as well as a commemoration of the Israelites’ release from captivity in Egypt and their subsequent journey across the Sinai desert. There was always a lot going on at that time of year — kind of like that period from Thanksgiving through New Year’s nowadays. But Sukkot in 520 BCE was particularly busy.
For as long as anyone could remember, the Jews had lived in exile; this was the case ever since the Babylonians conquered Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple — the center of community life — in the year 586. A few decades later the Persians, under King Cyrus, overthrew the Babylonians.
Cyrus allowed the Jews to return to the Promised Land to rebuild the Temple, but those plans stalled under his successor. When Darius became king of Persia in 522, the hopeful Israelites once again started making plans for their new Temple. Work finally started on August 29th of 520 — and we know this because Haggai says so in the previous chapter.
So, at the start of today‘s text, construction has been underway for exactly forty-nine days; I can’t imagine very much had been accomplished by that point — heck, we have cranes and bulldozers and it still takes years to build an apartment building here in Salt Lake City (take a ride up Highland Drive into Sugarhouse if you don’t believe me).
But even at this very early stage of construction, some folks are underwhelmed by the results, and they aren’t shy about saying so; they’ll tell anyone within earshot that the new temple is dud compared to the old one, which is odd because there’s probably not many of them who would remember what the old temple actually looked like — after all, it was destroyed sixty-five years ago.
As Haggai addresses the dissatisfied people, we can hear the frustration in his voice: “Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?” Said differently, “What are you complaining about? You never even saw the old Temple!” But that gathering place looms large in the community’s memory as a nostalgic reminder of a past that seemed to be a whole lot better than the present. Maybe this sounds familiar?
When the Israelites returned from exile they weren’t exactly prosperous. They’d fled with very little and returned with even less; they were reconstructing their entire lives from scratch. It stands to reason that they were more focused on just getting by in challenging times — on finding jobs, on securing homes and food for their families — than they were on rebuilding the Temple; their faith had taken a back seat to all of the other things going on in their busy lives. Perhaps this sounds familiar too?
In the previous chapter Haggai gives the people an earful about their priorities; he really wants that Temple rebuilt because God really wants that Temple rebuilt. But why? Prophets like Amos and Micah and Jeremiah spoke passionately about the need for justice and righteousness in the world — even going so far as to say that the Temple itself really didn’t matter. Haggai, on the other hand, seems to be saying that proper worship in the proper location is exactly what the God ordered, that the world would be better off if everyone just came to church. Then again, maybe God just really wanted them all to gather and do something together.
But the new Temple pales in comparison to the one that once was. Even Haggai, despite his penchant for optimism, could probably see that. He needs to motivate this downtrodden crowd to do what God wants them to do, to be what God wants them to be, and so he gives the Israelites a little pep talk to make things more clear.
“Take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts, according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you; do not fear,” is what Haggai says
In other words, God has been with them since the beginning, in good times and in bad — while they were enslaved, during the Exodus, in the glory days of the First Temple, throughout the exile and on their recent return home;
wherever they are, God’s spirit is with them;
it always has been with them, it always will be with them.
They really needed to hear that then. Maybe we need to hear it now too.
Sure, God wanted them to rebuild the Temple, but not for it’s own sake; and God didn’t give a darn how awesome or awful the Temple looked.
Because none of the brick or wood or concrete or mud or straw that constitute the Temple (or any temple for that matter) mean anything without the belief that God is still there with us, that God is still here with us.
Because our temples, at their very essence, are places in which we celebrate God’s abiding presence among God’s people.
This is what Haggai needs the people to understand: it’s not about proper worship in the proper place; it’s about remembering that God is with us wherever and however we gather. Our temples are never important in and of themselves; they matter because they’re where we come together to celebrate the God who calls upon us to love one another, they’re where we’re inspired to go and do God’s work in the world.
Haggai tells the people that the new Temple will surpass the old one in terms of its splendor, and that’s all well and good; but it’s God’s that makes it splendid: “I will fill this house with glory,” says the Lord.
Take a look around at this place. Look at this beautiful altar table. Behold the view outside that window. And know that it all means nothing without God.
If this place and the people in it don’t celebrate and honor the living God who continues to work in the world for the good of all people by also working in the world for the good of all people, it all means nothing.
Sure, this sanctuary isn’t as full as it was fifty years ago;
sure, people come and go;
sure, volunteers are tougher to come by than they used to be
sure, money is tight these days;
sure, the roof sometimes leaks in the winter.
You know, things happen.
But this place is still pretty splendid, and it’s splendid because it’s where we come together in the name of the God who has always been present among us.
Look, none of us really knows what this church and this congregation will look like in twenty years’ time, but I guarantee you this: it will be different.
You know, things change.
And we could lament the fact that things aren’t going to be the way they used to be;
we could worry about the way things are going to be;
or we could do what we’ve done here for seventy years, what believers have done for thousands of years —
we could come together in the name of the God who is always present among us;
we could be inspired to go do God’s work in the world,
knowing that God will be with us wherever we are,
and that we can trust in the word of God as revealed to the prophet Haggai:
“‘The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house,’ says the Lord Almighty. ‘And in this place I will grant peace.’”
May it be so. Thanks be to God.