The Book of Malachi is the last book in the Old Testament for Christians. For Jews, the book closes out the prophets. It is one of the most neglected books in the Bible. There are many reasons for this, I suppose. It is not a long book (only 54 verses). While this might recommend it to some of us, others might say, “Oh well, it’s short. Why bother?” Malachi is not as dramatic as many of the prophets. While many of the prophets are fireworks, Malachi comes across as something of a damp squib. There is no narrative in the book, no story. There are no miracles.

However, I am coming to love the book more and more. For one thing, I am coming to value its dialogical nature. Malachi is a conversation, a conversation between God and humans, with Malachi representing God, but also giving voice to what God’s people are saying—or at least what God’s people are thinking.

But even though I am coming to love Malachi, I still don’t like it. Here’s why: Malachi is incredibly meddlesome. The prophet meddles with people’s money, marriages, motivations, and mirages. That last part is not merely chosen for the sake of alliteration. The people had this mirage (this fantasy, if you prefer) that they were being ill-treated by their God. They were alive enough to complain, but they thought they had it really bad. Here are a couple of examples of the back-and-forth between God (through the prophet Malachi) and the people:

“I have loved you,” says the LORD. But you say, “How have you loved us?” (Mal. 1:2)

“Mal. 1:6 ¶ “A son honors his father, and a servant his master. If then I am a father, where is my honor? And if I am a master, where is my fear? says the LORD of hosts to you, O priests, who despise my name. But you say, ‘How have we despised your name?’

Mal. 1:7 By offering polluted food upon my altar. But you say, ‘How have we polluted you?’ By saying that the LORD’S table may be despised.”

Now it must be acknowledged that life in Judea during the time of Malachi’s prophecy was no box of chocolates. Some of the people had returned from the Babylonian exile after the Persians conquered the Babylonians. However, Judah had no king. They were a small, minor part of one province of the vast Persian Empire. The temple had been rebuilt, but it was tiny and drab compared to the temple built by Solomon. No, life was not easy.

But they were alive and did have a temple. They had some money. In fact, they had enough money to decide whether to give some for the upkeep of the temple and the sustenance of the priests. Yet many of the people and the priests were chronically dissatisfied. They had become a bunch of whiny malcontents who blamed someone else—even God—for all their real and imagined woes. Of course, nothing was the result of their own bad choices. They were being victimized by their own feeling of being victimized.

Does this sound more than a bit familiar? Does it sound a bit like America right now? It does to me! A demonic spirit of grievance has gripped our nation. We play the victim, even though many of us have incredible resources.

I was standing in a long line waiting to go into a very nice restaurant in Sarasota. A man whom I did not know was complaining about inflation and blaming it all on President Biden. I don’t always agree with President Biden either. However, here were these two old guys standing in a long line, about to make our own contribution to inflation with our consumer spending. And what were we doing? Complaining about inflation!

I wonder what Malachi would say to us. Would he change much? I doubt it. He would say, “You think you have it hard? You don’t even know what having it hard would look like.”

God and God’s grace doesn’t make things easy. God and God’s grace does make things possible. God and God’s grace can help us to praise God and do the next right thing, even when things aren’t how we would like to have them.