Hg 1

When I was in junior high and in high school, I was never a person who had what could be called “school spirit.” I didn’t like going to pep rallies. I wondered what was going on in the mind of cheerleaders when they would yell to us, “Get fired up! Get fired up!”

Of course, it is possible I would have enjoyed that kind of stuff if I felt like I actually belonged. (It’s possible, but I doubt it!) When I was in school, I never felt like I fit in. Actually, that’s probably the case with most teenagers; some are better at hiding their awkwardness than are others. I suppose “school spirit” was something I could never relate to. It didn’t seem to really matter.

The prophet Haggai plays a role that could be called cheerleading. Still, when he yells, “Get fired up!” it’s about something a little more important than a football or basketball team winning a game.

However, before he cheers on the people, he first chews them out. In chapter 1 of his very short book (only Obadiah is shorter), he employs a different tactic. It’s the idea of the carrot and the stick. I’ve never seen this practiced, but supposedly you can steer a donkey by dangling a carrot in front of it. If that doesn’t work, then the stick can be used to strike the donkey. Again, I can’t vouch for the effectiveness of either approach!

To continue the analogy, Haggai first lays the lumber on the people. I suppose that’s a good way to get their attention. It’s only afterwards that he produces a nice tasty carrot.

So what is it that’s got Haggai so fired up? Or should I say: what is it that he wants the people to “get fired up” about? He, along with Zechariah and Malachi, are prophets who are post-exile. Last week I spoke about Habakkuk, who lived at the same time as Jeremiah. They were around to see the Babylonians become the big boys on the block. They invade Jerusalem and trash the temple. They send a lot of the people into exile.

Fast forward fifty or sixty years. The Babylonians have been overthrown by the Persians. Cyrus, the Persian ruler, allows any Jews who so desire to return from exile. Ezra leads the first wave of exiles home. But think about this. Plenty of time has gone by. Most of the Jews in exile have no memory of life in Judah. Those who do were young, if in fact they weren’t little children at the time.

The exiles who return aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. The old homeland isn’t quite empty. The people who live there have, at best, mixed feelings at this returning population. There’s resistance to the reconstruction of the temple. Many of the people become depressed and demoralized. Eagerness for work on the temple fizzles away.

The addresses of Haggai are dated about fifteen years later, in 520 B. C. The prophet, speaking for God, is amazed that so little has been done. Here’s his opening line: “These people say the time has not yet come to rebuild the Lord's house” (1:2).

But like all good agitators throughout history, Haggai wonders: if not now, then when? Then he asks this question, with more than a hint of sarcasm: “Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house [meaning the temple] lies in ruins?” (1:4).

Haggai is able to get a couple of heavy hitters stirred up. They’re key figures in the Jewish community. One is Zerubbabel the governor—of course, subject to the authority of Persia. The other is Joshua the high priest. The prophet assures them that God is behind this project. They are not alone. So, Haggai, no longer using the stick for whacking, now uses it to present a carrot.

With this new momentum, the temple is completed in five years. Unfortunately, it lacks the grandeur of the original. Haggai addresses this concern in today’s reading: “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?” (v. 3). We don’t know if Haggai is part of the generation old enough to remember the temple before it was pillaged, or if he’s a younger man responding to some grumbling.

Whatever the case, he presents God’s promise to them: “Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendor” (vv. 6-7).

Maybe Haggai is overstating his case. Maybe he’s taking the long view of things. We at least know that King Herod, a couple of decades before Jesus is born, oversees a renovation of the temple. We learn from Luke 21 how “some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God” (v. 5). Then Jesus pours cold water on their enthusiasm by predicting its destruction. Those words come true in the year 70, courtesy of the Romans.

Haggai is unusual in a sense. It seems odd for a prophet to push this kind of agenda. What I mean is that prophets aren’t usually terribly concerned with the niceties regarding the temple or with worship. Prophets are the ones who get upset about injustice. They’re the ones who get ticked off when the priests don’t practice what they preach. Prophets are the ones who speak truth to power. So why is Haggai so determined to get the temple rebuilt?

Let me bring this to our world. A prophet among us would question us about how sincere we are in worship. Do we really mean what we say in prayer—or what we sing in songs? Do we turn the church into a fortress? Do we hope that we’re safe from the undesirables? How committed are we to transformation—of ourselves and our community?

Anyway, maybe you can see why I’m suggesting that Haggai is a different kind of prophet. We don’t hear him calling for justice—at least, not in those terms. In chapter 1 (where he’s still swinging the stick!), he says this: “You have sown much, and harvested little; you eat, but you never have enough; you drink, but you never have your fill; you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; and you that earn wages earn wages to put them into a bag with holes” (v. 6).

He tells everyone that we’re knocking ourselves out, and for what? The more we do, the less we seem to have. Our priorities are messed up! We’re focused on ourselves while we’ve let the temple lie in ruins.

This is why Haggai is a prophet. He sees beyond the literal building of the temple itself. Its value is as much as symbolic, if not more so. And that’s why he lets them know, “The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity” (2:9).

Elizabeth Achtemeier says that “God yearns to return to this people and to dwell in their midst.”[1] Unfortunately, the welcome mat hasn’t been put out for God!

She goes on, “The temple is symbolic of that dwelling [with them]; and if the Judeans rebuild the temple, their efforts will signal that once more they have turned toward God as he has now turned toward them. The temple will be sign and seal of their renewed hearts’ devotion—the evidence that they have finally come to terms with reality.”[2]

I like that phrase: “the evidence that they have finally come to terms with reality.” What does that look like? What does it mean to come to terms with reality? (Seriously, I’m really asking this! I think I’m someone who needs to do that!) How is Haggai’s audience failing to deal with reality?

I don’t want to make him look foolish, but I think Haggai’s role as “cheerleader” has some relevance here. There can be plenty of reasons why people turn their focus inward, toward themselves and their family, without considering their relationship with the world at large. A meaningful relationship with God would include both sides of the equation.

I won’t try to go into all the reasons (as if I could), but some things do stand out. Certainly, when people get depressed and demoralized, it can be easy to lose sight of what’s real and what’s illusion.

It’s been noted that “Haggai insisted that God was every bit as present in the modest second temple under the Persian ruler Darius as…in the extravagant temple under king Solomon of Israel, or for that matter, under the oppressive regime of king Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon, when there was no temple at all.”[3]

For us, 25 centuries later, this may feel like something incredibly obvious. Of course God is present in either temple, as well as in Babylon, far away from the temple. This is the beginning of the faith known as Judaism. This is the Jewish faith, which doesn’t require a temple. It requires the word of God—a word which is everywhere. The groundwork is being laid for the arrival of the Messiah.

Still, even while we say that God is everywhere, we often don’t act like we believe it!

One of the ministers in our presbytery who went to Pittsburgh last month for the Presbymergent conference posted something on their website. It’s from Matthew 10 in Eugene Peterson’s The Message. Jesus is speaking to his disciples:

“Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood. Tell them that the kingdom is here. Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.

“Don’t think you have to put on a fund-raising campaign before you start. You don’t need a lot of equipment. You are the equipment, and all you need to keep that going is three meals a day. Travel light…

“And don’t worry about what you’ll say or how you’ll say it—the right words will be there; the Spirit of your Father will supply the words.”

He said he’s using that in regard to stewardship, in particular, the stewardship that deals with money for the church. Someone else responded that it’s not even our money to begin with—it belongs to God. I think Haggai would agree. Verse 8 of our reading says, “The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts.”

But this is about a lot more than money. It’s about who we are. Paul, in his first letter to the church at Corinth, tells them, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Co 3:16). The Greek word for “you” in that verse is plural.

A temple is a building inhabited by a god. We, collectively, are a temple. We are the temple of the Holy Spirit. So, as the prophet Haggai might ask, how does that temple look? Is it in need of repair? Are we focusing on our own “houses,” so to speak, to the detriment of that “house”?

This congregation no longer owns a building in which to worship. Any excuse to think of the church as a building no longer exists. (And incidentally, there never was an excuse to think that way!) The reality of this church being the temple of the Spirit is clearer than ever.

The temple is this community going forward with the call of God. How are we tending this community? Have we come to terms with reality? Maybe we’re not there yet, but are we getting closer? I hope so, because it’s a good reality. Our text in Haggai has this promise from the Lord: “take courage…work, for I am with you…My spirit abides among you; do not fear” (vv. 4-5).

Jesus says we have all we need to go to the lost, confused people who surround us. We can tell them that the kingdom is here. We can touch the untouchables. We can kick out the demons—and there are plenty of demons that need to see our shoes coming right at them! We have been treated generously, so let’s live generously.

[1] Elizabeth Achtemeier, Nahum—Malachi (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1986), 99.

[2] Achtemeier, 99.

[3] www.journeywithjesus.net (for 11 Nov 07)