A Season of Fruitfulness
Shabbat HaGadol, Malachi 3:4–24 [3:4–4:6]
Monique B, UMJC Executive Director
This weekend is Shabbat HaGadol, the final Shabbat before Pesach. In the midst of a frenzy of last-minute house cleaning, we gather this week to read the closing words of the prophet Malachi.
Why do we read the closing chapter of Malachi right before Pesach? Because Malachi ends with these words:
Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the Lord. He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.
It makes sense that right before we gather to remember our redemption from slavery in Egypt, which happened in the past, that we should also look forward to the greater redemption, which lies in the future. We act out this sense of prophetic anticipation during our seders, when we check the front door to see if this might be the year that Elijah has come, to announce the coming of our complete and final redemption.
But today I want to focus on the rest of this week’s reading from Malachi, because as in any good book of prophecy, there’s a fair share of rebuke that comes before the promise of redemption, and the rebuke has just as much to teach us as the promise of what still lies ahead.
Malachi speaks to us from the era of Ezra and Nehemiah, the time of our return from the Babylonian exile. The prophet has taken an inventory of Jewish life in the rebuilt Jerusalem, and has found us wanting.
The Temple is neglected and underfunded, because the people are not bringing a full tithe of their livestock and produce. Jewish families are falling apart, as it has become fashionable for men to divorce their Jewish wives to marry pagan women, instead. The economy is marked by corruption and fraud, as landowners cheat day laborers of their wages. The rot goes all the way to the top, as the priests are approving the sacrifice of animals that are blind, sick, lame, and diseased.
It is despicable to Malachi that a people who were so recently redeemed from the bondage of Babylon, who with zeal rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem and reinstituted the observance of the Torah, have so quickly reverted to the selfishness and zero-sum thinking that marred their lives in exile. This is not a society marked by the fear of the Lord or the rule of law, instead it is every man for himself.
Malachi finds our behavior shameful, but not surprising, as Hashem says, “from the very days of your fathers you have turned away from my laws and have not observed them” (Malachi 3:7).
Let’s think of a few examples:
In the time of the patriarchs and matriarchs, God delivers Avraham and Sarah from the bondage of infertility and makes of them a great nation. Through a series of political miracles, he guides us to the hills of Judea, a place of prosperity and abundance. But it isn’t long before brother turns against brother, and Judah sells Joseph into slavery.
In Moshe’s time, God delivers us from the bondage of slavery through signs and wonders. Through the pillar of smoke and fire, he guides us toward the foot of Mt. Sinai, a place of divine revelation. But it isn’t long before we’re worshiping a golden cow.
In Joshua’s time, God delivers the Land of Israel into our hands through a series of miraculous battles. But it isn’t long before a Levite chops his mistress into pieces, and the sons of Benjamin kidnap and rape 400 Jewish women, all in the name of “social harmony.”
In Malachi’s time, God delivers us from the bondage of exile. Through a series of political miracles, he guides us back to the holy mountain of Jerusalem, a place of spiritual and societal renewal. But it isn’t long before we’re offering diseased animals and stepping on each other’s necks to get ahead.
Why is this? Why, in the aftermath of miracles, doesn’t the righteousness stick?
Now, there’s a persistent stream of antisemitism in popular Christian thinking that relishes pointing out the Jewish people’s consistent failure to live up to our own ideals. Our prophets hammer on this point relentlessly, and our Messiah does, too. Many of the gentiles, when they regurgitate these directives and wag their fingers in our direction, like to imagine that if they had faced the same circumstances, they would have done it better than us. It sounds a bit like this: “I wouldn’t have complained about my hunger and thirst in the wilderness! I would have trusted God!”
What our critics forget is that barely three years ago, they were so panicked at the thought of going a mere two weeks without toilet paper that they participated in a run on the stores. If you think you would have maintained perfect faith and emotional tranquility through 40 years of nomadic living in the ancient Middle East, take a moment to remember how graciously you navigated the social, financial, and political stressors of COVID.
I want to suggest that we fail not because Jewish people are uniquely susceptible to hypocrisy. In fact, I quite admire our culture, which has refined the exercise of self-effacement to the point of a high art form that we call stand-up comedy. No, we fail routinely because we are humans. We are not angels, who follow their divine programming. We are humans, who are given the freedom to fail, to dare, to nourish, and to cut down. So we are fond of forgetting, reverting, of cutting corners and hoping that no one will notice. Our memories are short, and miracles are hard to believe, never mind remember. So our old habits die hard.
But surely our faith in the risen Messiah insulates us from these patterns! No. It doesn’t. The Messiah’s sacrifice covers our transgressions. The Ruach gives us strength to walk the narrow path. Nevertheless, the struggle continues. The full and final redemption has not yet come.
So how are we to manage in the meantime? In his letter to the Galatians, Paul instructs us to pursue the “fruit of the Spirit” within ourselves: “since it is through the Spirit that we have Life, let it also be through the Spirit that we order our lives day by day.” He continues: “What I am saying is this: run your lives by the Spirit. Then you will not do what your old nature wants” (Galatians 5:25, 16 CJB).
And what is the fruit of the Spirit? “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility, self-control. Nothing in the Torah stands against such things” (Galatians 5:22–23 CJB).
Listen to this list again and think about how it’s expressed in your life: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility, self-control. I don’t know about you, but some of this fruit is seriously deficient in my life. I find joy especially elusive these last few years, and according to my children, I have absolutely zero patience. What kind of leader could I be if I grew in these areas? What kind of mother? What kind of wife? Is it possible that my congregation would be strengthened if I could grow in these areas? What about yours?
The holiday of Pesach is upon us. When the frenzy of cleaning and cooking finally winds down, we will enter the seven-week season of counting the Omer, as we prepare spiritually for the holiday of Shavuot, commemorating the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai and the outpouring of the Ruach on the early Messianic community in Jerusalem.
I invite you to join the Union community as we count the Omer together and prepare ourselves anew to receive the gift of the Torah, and the strength of the Ruach. Take a moment to download our free Omer journal, which will guide you through seven weeks of focused study on the fruit of the Spirit. Find a study buddy, a close friend or a family member, to meet with once a week to work through the journal together.
You can find the free journal at umjc.org/omer2023.
May these next seven weeks be marked by emotional and spiritual growth in your life as you cultivate the fruit of the Spirit. May the effects of this growth radiate into your relationships, your workplace, and your congregation.