And he said to them, Why do ye such things? for I hear of your evil deeds from all this people.
Eli the high priest hears from the whole nation what his sons are doing, and he calls them in to ask why. The question is real, and so is the grief behind it — but the rebuke changed nothing.
Eli was not blind, and he was not silent. Whatever else failed in him, his judgment of the sin was sound and he told his sons so to their faces.
Eli, godly Eli, lacked spiritual discernment. Still, he showed himself capable of teaching God's mind and ways to young Samuel. What is more, he formed a righteous judgment of the evil, and his heart bled at the sight of his sons' immoral life. He did not hide it from them. No doubt no one had expressed disapproval as plainly as their father had.
Notice how gently he names what his sons had done. He had not spoken so gently to everyone.
The outraged people had probably brought their complaints to Eli. The too indulgent father mildly reproves his sons for their scandalous conduct. He calls it simply "evil dealings," and speaks of the scandal of their disgraceful doings as "no good report." How easy and natural it is to be lenient with ourselves and our own children! They are, after all, only our second selves. And we are all too ready to judge others harshly. So Eli rudely rebuked poor, praying Hannah, and softly admonished his immoral sons.
Eli's sons were priests. Their sin touched holy things, and the law had an answer for it.
If there is one kind of sin more hateful than any other, and one that will bring a more terrible punishment, it is sin that behaves shamelessly in the presence of holy things. This is why religious corruption is the worst. Eli hears of all his sons' wickedness and calls them to account. His words are strong and good. But what use are good and strong words when the strong arm of judgment should have fallen? The law provided death as the penalty for such sacrilege as this. Why did Eli not show himself truly zealous for the Lord's honour? Words, mere words, no matter how strong, are worse than guilty complicity. Worse, because the man who speaks them knows the evil and goes on with it.
The failure had a long history. It also had a plain remedy that Eli never used.
Being high priest, he was responsible to see that the priests did not abuse their position. He ought to have expelled them entirely from the priesthood. It was his own duty to act for God. He had weakly ignored this with his sons, no doubt from their youth, and they took full advantage of his weakness. His words to them took no effect because he did not back them up with action. Too many parents follow in his tracks.
Why was the rebuke so mild? God's own verdict on Eli names the reason.
In fact the sons were the guilty ones. But because Eli took no action against them, God charges him with their offence. It is true that he had raised a protest. Yet with evil of this kind, to protest and still stay alongside the people he protested against was to sanction their evil. The words, you "honour your sons above Me," reveal the secret motive that governed Eli. He set the ties of nature and the friendships of life above the claims of the Lord.
The pattern outlives Eli. Speaking against wrong can become a way of feeling clear of it while staying attached to it.
It was not that Eli sinned himself. Nor did he fail to rebuke the sin of his sons and protest against it. Eli saw the evil in his sons, pointed it out, rebuked it, and reasoned with them about it. But still he allowed it. His sons carried on with their priestly ministry, and their father never stretched out a hand of authority to stop it. He never disciplined them, and so he never separated himself, the priesthood, the name and the people of God from the wickedness of his sons. Out of false tenderness he held back. And as long as he did, everything he said was only so much solemn testimony against himself. How many today think they can escape the pain of actually separating from evil by protesting against it in words.
- Heard. Eli knew everything. The whole nation had told him. His failure was never ignorance, but unwillingness to act.
- Said. He spoke, and he spoke truly. But he called scandal "evil dealings," and he was softer with his own sons than with a praying woman.
- Not stopped. Strong words with no arm of judgment behind them are worse than open complicity. The speaker knows the evil and goes on with it.
- Honoured. God traced the weak words to their root: Eli honoured his sons above Him, and set natural ties above His claims.
- Warned. Protesting against wrong while staying joined to it does not clear us. Every word Eli spoke became evidence against himself.
No, my sons, for it is no good report that I hear ye make Jehovah's people transgress.
Eli hears what his two sons are doing at the sanctuary, and he answers them with words: a mild question, a gentle "no, my sons," and a warning. The verse raises a hard question — when a leader sees evil and names it, is that enough? (Older translations end this verse with "you make the LORD's people transgress," and the writers below follow that wording.)
Eli does not deny the reports. The whole nation is already passing them around, and the way he repeats them is the problem. His words are mild; the facts are not. One writer sets his tone beside the way the same old man had spoken to Hannah as she prayed.
The angry people had probably brought their complaints to Eli, and this far too indulgent father only mildly rebukes his sons for their shameful conduct. He calls it simply "evil dealings," and speaks of their disgraceful behaviour as "no good report." How easy and natural it is to go soft on ourselves and on our own children — who are, after all, only our second selves — while we are all too ready to judge others harshly! That is Eli: rude to poor, praying Hannah, and gentle with his immoral sons. True, he warns them that they are bringing on themselves the just anger of an insulted God. But he does it in such an indirect and feeble way that it carries no conviction, and so brings no change.
The charge is not only that Eli's sons sinned. Through them, others sinned too. Their office was to bring the people near to God. Instead, what they did at the altar changed how Israel treated God's offering.
The very men whose office was to represent the people before the Lord did not know the Lord themselves. They used their position to enrich themselves at the expense of the people. The greatness of their sin before the Lord shows in the result: their conduct led the people to despise the offering of the Lord. They became instruments for the corruption of the professing people of God.
Eli's words were accurate. They were also all he did — his sons kept their place at the altar. One writer draws the line between speaking against evil and acting against it.
So Eli saw the evil in his sons. He pointed it out, rebuked it, and reasoned with them about it. But he still allowed it. His sons carried on with their priestly service, and their father never lifted a hand of authority to stop them. He did not discipline them, so he never separated himself, the priesthood, the name of God and the people of God from his sons' sin. As long as false tenderness held him back from that, everything he did say was only so much solemn testimony against himself. How many today think they can escape the pain of really separating from evil by speaking out against it.
Another writer counts the cost of stopping at words: three things Eli left undone.
It is true that he argued with them and set their sin before them. He also warned them of judgment from the Lord, but there he left it. His words were true, and in some ways earnest, but they were nothing more than words. He did nothing to clear the name of the Lord from dishonour, the sanctuary from defilement, and the people from corruption.
Why would a godly man stop at words? God's own answer looks past what Eli did to what he loved most.
Eli was in no way copying the godless and disorderly behaviour of his sons. Even so, these solemn words are spoken to him: "…and you honour your sons above Me, fattening yourselves on the best of every offering of My people Israel." "You honour your sons above Me!" Poor Eli! For all his godliness, there were people — his own sons — whom he honoured more than the Lord, and his conduct proved it.
The lesson is not that Eli spoke too much, but that he did too little. Seeing and saying are only the first step.
It is not enough to see that a thing is wrong, or even to speak out against it. Action is necessary. This is why so many people — like Lot — fret and talk against evil and find no relief or help. There must be action: either real discipline on the wrongdoer, or, if that is impossible, separation from the situation that makes discipline impossible.
- Heard. Eli knew the reports and repeated them. But he softened them into "evil dealings" and "no good report," so his warning carried no conviction and changed nothing.
- Spread. The sons' sin did not stay with the sons. They used their office to enrich themselves, the people came to despise the Lord's offering, and priests became instruments of corruption.
- Said. He pointed the evil out and reasoned with them, yet still allowed it. Protest without discipline becomes solemn testimony against the one protesting.
- Undone. He did nothing to clear the Lord's name from dishonour, the sanctuary from defilement, or the people from corruption.
- Why. God's own verdict went deeper than the weakness: Eli honoured his sons above the Lord. So seeing evil is never enough. Act — by discipline, or by separation.
If one man sin against another, God will judge him; but if a man sin against Jehovah, who shall intreat for him? But they hearkened not to the voice of their father, for Jehovah was minded to slay them.
Eli warns his sons, Hophni and Phinehas, with a question he cannot answer: when the sin is against God Himself, who can plead the case? The verse then says why they ignored him — the Lord had already settled their end.
Eli and his sons are all priests. Their sin does not stay private — it reaches the whole nation.
Right after this testimony from God, on which faith could rest, the inward state of the people is revealed. So is the iniquity of the priesthood. That priesthood should have been the instrument for cleansing this iniquity of the people. Instead it brought down judgment upon them. "You make the LORD's people transgress," said Eli. "If one man sins against another, the judge will judge him; but if a man sins against the LORD, who will plead for him?" That was the state of things, according to Eli himself.
Translations differ over the first half of the verse. The older wording above reads "the judge will judge him", while the ESV reads "God will mediate for him". Either way, a dispute between two people has a remedy. Sin against the LORD had one appointed remedy too, and it ran through the very men who were corrupting it.
The priest was the connecting link between the Lord and the people; he was the appointed means, and no one else dared take up his duties. But the priest departed from God in wickedness. He used his position to increase the dishonour of God. So the appointed way of reaching God, and of being restored to Him, was gone.
Eli said the right things to his sons. Saying them was all he did.
Eli hears of all his sons' wickedness and calls them to account. His words are strong and good. But what use are good, strong words when the strong arm of judgment should have fallen? The law set the penalty for such sacrilege as this: death. Why did Eli not show himself truly zealous for the Lord's honour? Ah, words — mere words, however strong — are worse than quietly sharing in the guilt. Worse, because the man who speaks them knows the evil and goes on with it.
Eli was a godly man. Yet God's charge against him names a deeper fault.
Eli himself was not sharing in the godless, disorderly behaviour of his sons. Even so, these solemn words are addressed to him: "Why do you trample on My sacrifice and on My offering, which I commanded for My dwelling place? And you honour your sons above Me, to make yourselves fat with the best of all the offerings of Israel My people." "You honour your sons above Me!" Poor Eli! For all his piety, there were men — his sons — whom his conduct proved he honoured more than the Lord.
The closing clause does not excuse the sons. It records what happens when a man tramples his conscience long enough.
These sons of Eli had hardened themselves past remedy, and there remained for them nothing but the just judgment of God.
Commentators weigh both sides here: what God does, and what comes first in the man.
God never abandons a man to Satan like this, however wretched and sinful he is, until he rejects His love and holiness and truth. There He can harden a man in judgment, and He does, and that to ruin beyond recovery. But this comes only after the heart has steeled itself against the appeals of His most patient goodness. Still, hardening in judgment is a real thing on God's part. Some people seem unwilling to admit openly that God is at work on one side and Satan on the other, whatever they may argue.
One writer turns this verse on parents, and on timing.
Eli was ninety-eight years old, and only then did he plead with his sons — but it was too late. "They would not listen to the voice of their father, for it was the will of the LORD to put them to death." Perhaps no passage in the Scriptures should speak more seriously to the hearts of us parents than this sad story. May each one of us take it to heart and learn the lesson.
Ruin in the priestly house is not the last word. God's answer here is a child.
Does this not assure our hearts that, however dark the day, God will maintain a testimony for Himself and sustain the faith of His true people? The constant mention of "the child" shows the way God takes to keep His testimony in a day of ruin. He passes by the self-appointed religious officials and takes up "the child" to be a witness to Himself.
- Cause — the office abused. The priesthood existed to clear away the people's sin. In Hophni and Phinehas it brought down judgment instead.
- Consequence — no one left to plead. Sin against a neighbour has a judge. But when men corrupt the only appointed way back to God, no one is left to plead.
- Failure — words only. Eli saw the evil and named it, then let it go on. Strong words without action are worse than silence, because the speaker knows.
- Root — misplaced honour. God did not charge Eli with sharing his sons' sins. He charged him with honouring them above God Himself.
- Result — hardened past remedy. They would not listen, because judgment was already settled. Commentators hold that God hardens in judgment, but only after a heart has steeled itself against His patience. Even then He takes up a child as His witness.