Commentary on Malachi 4:1-2a

Kristin J. Wendland

This short verse and a half from Malachi enters the lectionary without much in the way of context, even lopping off the end of verse 2. Often when the lectionary cuts verses in half, it is to omit a particularly harsh word of judgment, or sometimes because of an uncomfortable image for God. Here, what is removed is a most delightful image of those who have been healed leaping with joy like calves from the stall. I would be tempted to read to the end of the verse.

The book of Malachi as a whole is dialogic in nature and centered on several divine statements and responses, often in the form of questions. For instance, as the book opens, the Lord addresses the people by proclaiming, “I have loved you,” to which the people respond, “How have you loved us?” The Lord then explains what that loving has entailed (Malachi 1:2–5).

At times these exchanges seem antagonistic, with the Lord announcing judgment for the sins of the people, and the people replying with some form of “But how have we done that?” Or, to paraphrase, “Prove it.” At other times, they ring more catechetical, as when the Lord invites the people, “Return to me, and I will return to you.” In response, the people ask how they shall return (Malachi 3:7).

By the time we reach the verses in Malachi 4:1–2a, there has been a steady stream of these exchanges, holding measures of judgment, antagonism, and teaching on topics like theodicy and justice, cultic abuse, and the Day of the Lord. Our assigned pericope about the separation between evildoers and those who revere God’s name, then, follows much discussion, instruction, and response that offers some definition to these groups.

Within the context of the book, the evildoers in Malachi 4:1 have certain characteristics. They are the ones bringing for sacrifice animals that are sick or lame (Malachi 1:6–7)—and keeping the healthier and more valuable animals for themselves. They are the ones who are skimping on tithes—a portion set aside for the care of the Levites. These actions were certainly idolatrous in the sense that they placed economic gain over worship of their God. They also affected the well-being of the community. These tithes and the offerings, if we read Numbers and Deuteronomy, were a part of ensuring that there was food enough for all in the community, including the Levites, who had no land allotted to them.

Eileen Schuller reminds us that the healing and joy described in verse 2 are “meant to speak to the experience of the hired worker, of the widow, of the orphan, and of the alien” as named in Malachi 3:5—those who were to be cared for by the community as a whole but were also at the mercy of people fulfilling their obligations to do so.¹ For these, the Day of the Lord is good news of justice and freedom. For others, though, the situation is different. The arrogant and evildoers are burned to stubble. No root or branch is left of them.

One of the challenges in reading judgment texts such as these is that it is not only evil that is rooted out, but evildoers. It is much more comfortable to read that evil in the community—as in our own hearts—will be rooted out. That is not what our text says, though. Here, pleas for justice sit alongside our own questions about forgiveness and repentance.

Responses to such questions are as complex as the questions themselves, for humans and sinful structures are necessarily bound up with one another. Focusing solely on individuals labeled as arrogant or as evildoers, as if we can identify them or remove ourselves from their number, fails to acknowledge repentance, forgiveness, the ways that no person is without sin, and the communal structures to which humans are bound.

In a sermon, a focus on the “what” over the “who” offers opportunities to talk about any number of the issues the book of Malachi raises. Yet, to talk about these things in the abstract without acknowledging that humans are caught up as both perpetrators and victims of unjust systems can easily lead to a lack of opportunity for confession and acknowledgment of one’s own part in this—as well as watering down the promise of healing for those sermon listeners who are among the most dependent on communal care and are most hurt by the failures related to that care. In both cases, removing the human element also lessens the opportunity to lift mercy as a core characteristic of God.

A few images in Malachi 4:1–2 aid in threading this needle:

Evil will be rooted out. On the Day of the Lord, evil will lose its power. Those who wield it will no longer be able to do so. This eschatological promise is good news, not least because it is the Lord acting as judge rather than humans.
Those who revere (Hebrew: fear) the Lord’s name shall be healed. The image of the sun of righteousness rising carries warmth and goodness. Noticeable is the fact that healing is both necessary and given. Rather than a discussion of revenge or superiority, the image given is healing. These have not escaped unscathed but are in need of being brought into the fullness of God.
The day is joyous. Often, descriptions of the Day of the Lord are more violent and scary than what we have in Malachi. Here, alongside the image of healing sunlight, comes the image of leaping calves—young beings who cannot stand still for the joy in their limbs. Would that we all experience this joy!

These two short verses—or one and a half if you skip the calves—carry with them challenging messages about our lives together. A sermon that gives voice to these, as well as to the healing presence of God in our midst, would be as worthwhile as challenging.