A son honoureth [his] father, and a servant his master if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith Jehovah of hosts unto you, priests, that despise my name. But ye say, Wherein have we despised thy name?
God speaks to people who called Him Father and Master, then asks where the honour and fear those names deserve have gone. The charge falls on the priests, and their startled reply shows they cannot see what He sees.
God starts from the relationship He gave, not from their behaviour.
The believer can measure his true state before God by only one standard: the position grace has set him in. It is a common mistake to work out our place from our state. Nothing could contradict the truth of God more completely. A saint, a child of God, a member of Christ, a believer does not stop being this when he backslides. He does not stop being it when he grows numb to the claims his place puts on him. But there is only one way for him to understand what grace is, or to measure the depth of his fall, if he has fallen. He must accept, without question, every position he has been put in.
The same logic runs through Israel's whole history. Great privilege carries weight with it.
There was responsibility as well as privilege attached to being God's son nationally. This is emphasised in Malachi 1:6, where the LORD says to the remnant of Israel, "A son honours his father… if then I be a father, where is My honour?" Responsibility matches privilege: the privileges of Israel were immense, but they were despised; hence the severity of the judgments.
Father and Master ask for different things, and they gave neither.
They were marked by high profession but low practice. They professed that Jehovah was their Father and their Master. But in practice they gave Him neither the honour due to a father nor the fear due to a master. And must we not admit today that our practice has fallen far below our profession? In our daily life and walk do we honour the Lord? Do we think and speak and act in the fear of the Lord? But showing neither honour nor fear laid the remnant open to a further charge: they despised the name of the Lord.
God aims this at the men who handled holy things every day.
The higher the relation, the greater the danger where God is not before the soul. Sin in such a person is not only more serious; he is also more exposed to it. A priest had to walk not just as a man outside the sanctuary should, but as one who goes inside. The consecration of a priest was fuller than that of an ordinary Israelite. Familiarity with the presence of God, unless it is held in His fear, borders on contempt… Hardness of conscience follows where people are habitually careless about God while still keeping up appearances. Men become numb to everything.
Their protest is not defiance but blindness, and God's opening word of love met the same reply.
When Jehovah said to them in the tenderest tones, "I have loved you," they replied, "How have you loved us?" They did not know the heart of God. When He said to the priests, "You have despised My name," they replied, "How have we despised your name?" They were that blind to their own state and their sins. They polluted the table of the Lord and offered the lame and the sick. Despite all their religious forms, God was not in their heart or their life. They had not the least conscience about the dishonour they brought on Him.
This is not the failing of one nation or one century.
The same thing can be seen in every age. As decline sets in, spiritual perception grows ever weaker. Souls keep up the outward forms of religion, and may do it with real care and zeal. Then they are astonished if someone turns their attention to their state.
The state of a person shows most clearly in what he brings to God.
A man will put up with things in worship that he would not tolerate anywhere else. Many who are critical enough about the preaching make very light of the prayers. … Nothing betrays the state of people more than their prayers, unless it is their hymns, or their worship in general. … Worship ought to be the highest expression of spiritual devotedness toward God.
The fear missing here is what God later finds in a small group within the same nation.
Looking at the crowd, the Lord has to say, "Where is My fear?" Looking at this godly remnant, He delights to own that they "feared the Lord." The man who fears the Lord lets the Lord govern him, not man. … He refers everything to the Lord, and has the Lord before him in all his ways. … In a word, he gives the Lord His right and supreme place, and this is very precious in the sight of the Lord.
- Position first. God argues from the relationship He gave. The place grace sets us in is the measure of our state.
- Two debts. A father is owed honour, a master is owed fear. They called Him both and paid neither, and that gap is the despising of His name.
- Blind to the gap. "How have we despised your name?" Decline dulls sight while the outward forms carry on.
- Nearness is no shield. God names the priests. Familiarity with holy things, unless held in His fear, slides into contempt and a hard conscience.
- Fear restored. A remnant gave what the crowd withheld. They feared the Lord, gave Him first place, and were precious in His sight.
Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say, The table of Jehovah is contemptible.
God's second charge in Malachi falls on the priests. They bring polluted offerings to His altar, and they treat the altar itself as something cheap. Instead of admitting the charge, they ask what He means. That question is the sharpest part of the exchange.
The altar and the table mean the same thing here. Commentators explain the second name from what the priests laid there — older translations call it bread where the ESV says food:
The altar and the table of the Lord, in this scripture, are one and the same thing. The altar is so named because the sacrifices were called God's bread. So God charges these priests with offering polluted bread on His altar. That is the proof that they despised His name. In doing so they showed plainly that they had lost all sense of the holiness of the One they claimed to sacrifice to. In their eyes the altar was just a common thing. By their act they were saying that the Lord's table was contemptible.
The charge lands on the men closest to the sanctuary. Nearness to holy things is not safe in itself:
The higher the relation, the greater the danger where God is not before the soul. Sin in such people is more serious, and they are also more exposed to it. A priest has to walk not just as a man outside the sanctuary, but as one who goes into it… Familiarity with the presence of God borders on contempt, unless a man keeps it up in His fear… Hardness of conscience follows when a man is careless about God day after day while keeping up appearances. Men become insensible to everything.
God quotes them as saying His table is contemptible. Commentators note that they never spoke those words out loud:
We judge that they were not saying this in so many words. But that is what their actions declared. Actions speak louder than words, as we know, and God knows exactly how to read them.
And they had no cover of ignorance. God's law had already fixed what could come to the altar:
The altar stood before the Lord, and it carried His name. That is what made this act so terrible. And they had no excuse for not knowing what suited the Lord. Long before, His word had clearly forbidden anyone to offer the blind, the lame, or the sick in sacrifice.
The law asked for an animal without blemish. Commentators explain why that mattered:
The animal offered on the altar was always to be "without blemish", so that it might be a fitter picture of Christ. But this meant giving God their best. These men looked over their herds and flocks with no sense of God's claims, and were willing to give Him only what was of no use to themselves.
Their reply is the signature of the whole book. They meet every charge God makes with a question of their own:
They had no moral feeling and no spiritual sight. They were satisfied with a correct position and with going through religious forms. They had no idea how low they had sunk… If He rebukes them for despising His name, they say, "How have we despised it?" If He reproaches them for offering polluted bread, they say, "How have we polluted You?" … If He pleads with them to return to Him, they say, "How shall we return?"
The same failure shows up in worship today:
A man will put up with things in worship that he would not tolerate anywhere else… Few things drag a person down more than being content, week after week, with worship that is not the praise our hearts feel is due to God. And yet in nothing do even children of God put up with more shortcomings. Thousands of Christians know that what they accept as worship is not according to God's mind. They bear with it for reasons of their own — not for God's honour.
The same test applies to giving:
Are we never trapped into offering the Lord our useless things? Suppose the chance comes to give to the Lord out of what we own… Do we give our best, our firstfruits? Or do we give our spare and useless things? Do we, in a word, admit that the Lord's claims come first? Do we begin with Him or with ourselves? Does man not often have more influence on us in these things, because we see him, while we do not see the Lord?
- Table. God calls the altar His table, because the sacrifices laid there were called His bread. A careless offering insults Him at His own table.
- Best. They had not stopped sacrificing. They kept back their best and gave God only what was of no use to them.
- Actions. They never said the table was contemptible. Their offerings said it for them, and God reads actions as speech.
- Blindness. "How have we polluted you?" is the mark of decline. The outward religion runs on, the conscience sleeps, and the charge comes as a shock.
- Us. The same test falls on us. What we put up with in worship, and what portion we hand over, tells God what we think His table is worth.
And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil? And if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? Present it now unto thy governor will he be pleased with thee? or will he accept thy person? saith Jehovah of hosts.
Malachi speaks to priests who kept the temple running while bringing God animals nobody else wanted. So God sets one test in front of them: take that same gift to the governor and see how it lands.
The rule about blemished sacrifices was one of the plainest in the books these priests handled daily. One commentator shows that they broke it with open eyes, and what they gained by it:
The charge against them is even more direct. They offered the blind, the lame, and the sick for sacrifice, knowingly breaking one of the strictest commands of Scripture. In every case the animal offered on the altar was to be "without blemish" (see Lev. 22:17-25), so that it might be a fitting picture of Christ. But this meant giving God their best. These men looked over their herds and flocks with no sense left of God's claims or of what the sacrifices meant. They were willing to give Him what was of no use to themselves — their worthless animals, and nothing more.
God argues by comparison. Offer this to the man who governs you, and you already know the answer. One commentator traces that gap back to the motive behind their whole service:
They brought their offerings to the altar, or table of the Lord. They lit the fire on the altar, and they opened and shut the doors of the temple. But no one would shut the doors for nothing. Love of self, not love for the Lord, was the motive behind their service. The result was that in the service of the Lord, anything would do. The lame and the sick would do for the Lord. They would never have dared to treat their earthly ruler that way. Men had a greater place in their eyes than the Lord, and giving men such a place was treating the Lord with contempt.
The slide happened one animal at a time, as a priest weighed what his own family would eat:
Sometimes a priest saw a nice fat animal brought in, and noticed that it had a blemish — perhaps a blind eye. But he knew it would be just as good for him and his family to eat if it were blind. So he passed over the blind eye and offered the sacrifice. And God steps in and says, "You care for yourself; but what is due to Me you pass over, and so you have profaned My name before the Gentiles."
The same animal in a field is only an animal. What made this an insult was the name attached to the place they brought it to:
In Malachi the phrase "the table of the Lord" is used again, and even more strikingly, in connection with the holiness of the altar. The Lord confronts the priests who offered polluted bread on His altar and profaned His name. Those priests said that the table of the Lord is contemptible (Mal. 1:7-12). The altar stood before the Lord and was called by His name. That is what made this desecration so terrible.
God does not begin with the flock. He begins with the person holding it, and the gift reports what He finds:
God first appealed to the hearts of His people, and afterwards referred to their offerings. We may take the offerings as an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual state. God has so ordered it that the hearts of His people should regulate their offerings. So we cannot suppose that their offerings would be right in His eyes when their hearts were wrong. Neither does He say, "My son, give Me your offering," but, "Give Me your heart."
The passage presses on the reader as well. One commentator turns the governor comparison into questions about our own giving, and ends with the reason we treat people better than we treat God:
Are we never caught out offering the Lord our useless things? When, for example, we have the chance of giving to the Lord from what we own, in what way do we act? Do we give our best, our first-fruits, or our spare and useless things? … And do we never give more to a man who asks of us than we would have given if left alone to act in secret before the Lord? Has not man often more influence on us in these things, because he is seen, than the Lord who is not seen?
Another sees the same instinct working through our schedules rather than our wallets:
The flesh in each of us would naturally and easily put our own earthly interests first, and treat "the kingdom of God and His righteousness" as something that may conveniently fill up any little gaps left as we pursue our own things.
- Best withheld. The law asked for animals without blemish. The priests scanned their flocks and handed God what was useless to them.
- Best measured. God's test is a comparison. What they would never have dared hand their governor, they were content to lay on His altar.
- Best exposed. The priest passed over the blind eye because the meat was still good for his own table. Self-interest, not ignorance, chose the gift.
- Best refused. The altar carried His name. A careless gift there was not a small lapse but contempt for the Lord Himself.
- Best requested. God does not say "give Me your offering" but "give Me your heart" — and the gift then tells the truth about the giver.
And now, I pray you, beseech God that he will be gracious unto us. This hath been of your hand will he accept any of your persons? saith Jehovah of hosts.
The priests in Malachi's day kept the sacrifices going. But they treated God's altar as a place for leftovers. Now the prophet tells them to pray for God's favour. The words are not encouragement. They are a test. Would God listen to men who bring Him what they would be ashamed to give anyone else?
The plea in this verse lands on men who had never stopped their religious duties. What had drained away was the reason for doing them.
The outward service of the Lord went on, but the true inward motive for it was gone (Mal. 1:7-10). They brought their offerings to the altar, or table of the Lord. They lit the fire on the altar. They opened and shut the doors of the temple. But no one would shut the doors for nothing. Love of self, and not love to the Lord, was the motive for their service. The result was that, in the service of the Lord, anything would do.
"Entreat the favor of God" sounds like a call to prayer. The question that follows gives it a sting. Commentators read the line as irony. The older phrase "regard your persons" in the quote below means "show favor to any of you."
The prophet then goes on, as we see it, in a tone of irony: "And now, please, plead with God that He will be gracious to us: this has been by your means" (or, from your hand): "will He regard your persons? says the Lord of hosts." "If I had cherished iniquity in my heart," says the Psalmist, "the Lord would not have listened." But these priests were utterly indifferent and unfeeling. Even so, they did not hesitate to appear before God as if all were well.
The phrase "with such a gift from your hand" points at the men doing the asking. Their own offerings are the problem.
They had considered the table of the Lord contemptible. The law demanded the very best on the altar. Instead they showed their contempt by bringing the blind, the lame and the sick. They would never have done such a thing to an earthly governor. Such an insult would have angered him, and he would have rejected them for it. They had treated the Lord of Hosts shamefully in their worship. Is it different in Christendom? Under such conditions, even if they were to pray to Him to be gracious, would He, or could He, regard their persons and listen to their prayers?
Their offerings were not a mistake made in the dark. God's earlier instructions had already ruled out exactly what they were bringing.
The altar stood before Jehovah and bore His name. That is what made the desecration so terrible. And they had no excuse for not knowing what suited the Lord. His word long before had clearly forbidden anyone to offer the blind, the lame, or the sick in sacrifice. This word, however, they had deliberately disobeyed. And what they would be ashamed to bring to the governor, they brought to Jehovah. What was this but the most inexcusable carelessness in the most sacred things?
Underneath the carelessness lay a calculation about cost.
These men, as they looked over their herds and flocks, lost to all sense of the divine claims and the meaning of the sacrifices He required, were willing to give Him what was of no use to themselves — their worthless animals, but nothing more.
These men are not sceptics. They are at the altar, praying, keeping every step of the ritual. That condition has a name.
It is often a mark of a backslidden state that the outward forms of piety are continued, and sometimes with increased zeal. As life decays, attention is directed to rites and ceremonies. The soul then deceives itself and slides, as in the case before us, into ignorance of its real condition.
Dennett turns the question on the reader.
Is there no voice to us in this solemn language? Are we never caught giving the Lord our useless things? Take an example. We get the chance to give to the Lord from what we own, to help His poor, or to share in His work by encouraging those who go out taking nothing from unbelievers. How do we act? Do we give of our best, of our firstfruits, or of our spare and useless things? … And do we never give more to a person who asks us than we would have given if left to act in secret before the Lord?
- Motive — in Malachi's day the machinery of worship kept running. What had gone was love for the Lord. Once that goes, anything will do for God.
- Hand — the verse names the blockage: "from your hand." The men praying for favour were the reason God withheld it.
- Irony — the call to entreat God is a dare, not a promise; the expected answer to "will He show favor to any of you?" is no.
- Knowledge — they could not claim ignorance. God's word had already banned the blind, lame and sick as sacrifices. What they would blush to give a governor, they gave to God.
- Mirror — the test for us is simple. Does God get our best or our leftovers? Do people we can see move us more than the Lord we cannot see?
Who is there among you that would even shut the doors? and ye would not kindle [fire] on mine altar for nothing. I have no delight in you, saith Jehovah of hosts, neither will I accept an oblation at your hand.
Malachi speaks to priests who kept the temple routine going: the doors, the altar fire, the animals. God says He would rather the doors stayed shut, which raises a question no routine can dodge: why do it, and will God accept it?
Another translation asks who among the priests would shut the temple doors for nothing — that is, without pay. On that reading, they had turned holy work into paid work, and the pay shaped what they offered.
In verse 10 He says, "It is not out of love to Me that you present offerings and shut the doors." The priests got the flesh. It was the portion of the Levites. Sometimes a priest saw a nice fat animal brought in and noticed a defect — maybe a blind eye. But he knew it would be just as good for him and his family to eat if it were blind. So he passed over the blind eye and offered the sacrifice. And God comes in and says, "You care for yourself, but what is due to Me you pass over..."
Who these men were makes it worse. Their office was a gift, and God already provided their support.
These sons of Aaron had fallen so low. They forgot the choice of grace that marked them out from their brothers and gave them the privilege of being the Lord's ministers. They now treated the work of their office only as a way to make money. What a contrast to the psalmist, who cries, "I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness." God Himself had provided for His priests. But they were not content to depend on Him. They wanted to extract their pay from their fellow men.
Commentators differ here. The wording of the verse above reads like a wish: someone should shut the doors so the altar fire is not lit in vain. One writer argues this is the true sense.
Verse 10 has often been interpreted to mean that the priests were greedy and demanded money for every little service, the opening of doors and the kindling of a fire. It has another meaning. The better rendering is, "Oh that some among you would even shut the doors of the temple." These are the doors that lead from the outer court into the holy part. The Lord declares it would be more profitable if they shut these doors and lit no more fire on the altar for nothing. In other words, He wishes the whole outward worship would stop.
Both readings end the same way: no pleasure, no accepted offering. God turns away the people, not only their gift. In Scripture, acceptance starts with the person and then reaches the sacrifice.
An altar needs a priest or an accepted worshipper. The Lord would not have directed the one if He had not provided the other. "And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering" (Genesis 4:4). His person was first accepted, and then his sacrifice.
The refusal is not God's last word. A promise about the nations follows, and one writer sees a pattern here that runs through Scripture.
Their spiritual condition has reached its climax. The Lord declares that He has no pleasure in them and would not accept an offering from their hands. This is the moment when He reveals His purposes of grace towards the Gentiles... These two things are always joined together in Scripture — the unbelief and turning away of the Jew, and the bringing in of the Gentile.
Commentators differ on when that promise comes true. One writer allows a present application, but reads the passage as still future.
But this very thing — His moral judgment of their evil — brings in, as prophecy always does, what God will do in His own gracious power... Many may apply it to what is going on now under the gospel; as a principle, that is allowable. But a closer look shows the passage looks on to the millennial day.
If God can decline an offering because of the motive behind it, the same test lands on anyone who serves Him now.
The moment I work for reward, it ceases to be Christian service. Christian service will be rewarded — it most certainly will. But so far as it is Christian service, we do it without any thought of reward. "The love of Christ," not the hope of reward, "controls us."
- Motive — No priest would shut the temple doors for free. Love of self, not love of the Lord, drove the service.
- Method — Once self is the motive, standards collapse. The animal with a blind eye was good enough for God because it was still good enough for the priest's table.
- Meaning — Commentators differ. Some read a rebuke of greed. Others read God wishing the doors shut and the empty routine stopped.
- Refusal — God turns away the people and their offering. Acceptance starts with the person, then the sacrifice, as with Abel.
- Reach — The rejected altar opens onto a promise of grace to the nations, which writers here tie to the coming kingdom.
For from the rising of the sun even unto its setting my name shall be great among the nations; and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure oblation for my name shall be great among the nations, saith Jehovah of hosts.
Israel's priests were profaning God's name and insulting His worship. At that low point God announces a name that will be great from one end of the earth to the other. Two questions follow: when does this happen, and what is the "pure offering"?
The verse begins with "For," which ties it to Israel's failure. God does not abandon His name when His people dishonour it. He takes its care into His own hands.
But this very thing — the moral judgment of their evil — brings in what God will do in His own gracious power, as prophecy always does... For Israel was profaning His name and insulting His worship. Then Jehovah undertakes the care of it Himself. He declares that He will make His name great among the Gentiles whom the Jews despised. And He will do it everywhere, from nearby places to the most distant islands, which will wait for His law.
Another writer links this to Paul's argument in Romans.
Scripture always joins these two things together — the unbelief and turning away of the Jew, and the bringing in of the Gentile. The apostle explains it when he says, "Lest you be wise in your own sight, I do not want you to be unaware of this mystery, brothers: a partial hardening has come upon Israel, until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in." (Romans 11:25)
Commentators differ. Some say the promise is not yet fulfilled. They test it by looking at the world:
Is Jehovah's name great from one end of the earth to the other? Has not the great mass of the world remained, and does not a very large portion of it still remain heathen? The prophecy is clearly not yet fulfilled. It is no use claiming that the Gospel went out into all the world... The heart of the prophecy is not that the Gospel should go out. It is that Jehovah's name should be great everywhere among the Gentiles, and that is not so now.
Others allow a real present application while placing the literal fulfilment later.
The literal fulfilment of this will be in the world to come, when the nations will be blessed. But we can apply it to our position today, when Christianity moves forward mainly among the Gentiles. The Jewish nation turned aside and refused their Messiah... But here is the wonder of it: if they missed it, God has brought us Gentiles into such wonderful blessing.
"In every place" does not cancel Jerusalem. One writer holds both together:
The Jew will not be set aside, and will not set others aside. Instead, Jehovah goes out in His goodness to all the Gentiles. At the same time the mountain of His house stands at the top of the mountains, lifted above the hills, and the nations flow to it.
The verse names incense and an offering, so many have read it as a prediction of the Mass. One writer rejects that:
The Roman Catholic Church uses this passage as one of her proof texts for that abomination, the Mass. The official rulings of the Council of Trent say that "the Mass is that pure sacrifice which the Lord predicted by Malachi should be offered to His Name in every place."... It is true that the nations know the Name of the Lord. But no incense, sacrifice or offering belongs to the worship of the Lord in the true Church.
One writer names the offering, and gives the only application to the church:
The "pure offering" here is the Mincha, or grain offering. The only application of this text to the church is in a spiritual sense. Praise and thanksgiving do ascend to God through Christ, with the fragrance of His Person and work. They are offered by those who are cleansed from their sins in the precious blood of Christ, and so are "accepted in the Beloved." These, and acts of charity, are the sacrifices which the true priests of God offer to Him.
Israel's failure did not end the story. Neither does ours.
Satan's power, and the intrusion of the flesh and the world, ruined the testimony of God's ancient people. They have ruined the testimony of God's people today in the same way. Still, in the end God's purposes will prevail, whether for the earthly or the heavenly people. The glorious result will be that "the Lord will be magnified" and His name "will be great"... We shall be blessed, but He will be magnified.
- Name despised — Israel's priests profaned God's name and insulted His worship.
- Name defended — God takes the honour of His name into His own hands rather than letting human failure sink it.
- Name spread — from sunrise to sunset, to the nations Israel despised. Jerusalem still stands as the centre.
- Name misused — some read the "pure offering" as the Mass. Commentators reject that. For the church it means praise, thanksgiving and acts of charity.
- Name magnified — commentators differ on timing. They agree on the end: we are blessed, He is magnified.
But ye profane it, in that ye say, The table of the Lord is polluted; and the fruit thereof, his food, is contemptible.
God has just promised to make His name great among the nations. Then He turns back to the priests at His altar. He tells them what their offerings were saying — words they never said out loud.
The verse speaks of the Lord's table and its food. Both belong to the altar in the temple:
Notice that in this scripture the altar and the table of the Lord are one and the same thing. It has that name because Scripture calls the sacrifices — and Christ, whom they pictured — God's bread. So God charges the priests here with offering polluted bread on His altar as proof that they despised the Lord's name. In doing so they showed that they had lost all sense of the holiness of the One they claimed to sacrifice to. In their eyes the altar was only a common thing. Their action said that the Lord's table was contemptible.
Where the ESV says "despised," older translations say "contemptible."
The priests picked out animals they would not miss:
They offered the blind, the lame, and the sick for sacrifice, and they knew they were breaking one of the strictest rules of Scripture. Every animal on the altar had to be "without blemish," so that it might be a better picture of Christ. But this meant giving God their best. These men looked over their herds and flocks with no sense of God's claims. They were willing to give Him what was of no use to themselves — their worthless animals, and nothing more. They were treating the Lord as they would not have dared to treat their governor.
God quotes words the priests would have denied ever saying:
We do not think they were saying this in so many words. But that was what their actions declared. As we know, actions speak louder than words, and God knows perfectly how to interpret them.
The "it" they profane is God's name. He answers by taking the honour of that name into His own hands:
Israel were profaning His name and insulting His worship. Then the Lord takes up the care of it Himself. He declares that He will make His name great among the Gentiles whom the Jews despised. And this will be everywhere, from places nearby to the more distant coastlands that will wait for His law.
They called the table polluted. God turns the charge back on them:
They themselves had polluted it, and if the heart is not in God's service, what a weariness it can become! To have "the appearance of godliness" without "the power" leads to all the evils described in 2 Timothy 3:1-5. In Christ we know God as the God of all grace, but at the same time He is "a great King," and His name is to be revered among the nations. His grace does not cancel out His majesty; indeed His majesty makes His grace greater.
Each charge in Malachi meets the same answer — another question:
If God reminds them of His love, they say, "How have You loved us?" If He rebukes them for despising His name, they say, "How have we despised it?" If He reproaches them with offering polluted bread, they say, "How have we polluted You?"
One writer compares Malachi's altar with the table Christians gather at now:
Now this "table of the Lord," though of course not the same as the one in 1 Corinthians 10, has many things in common with it. And if God was jealous over His altar long ago, how much more over the table at which the Lord presides. What makes up the lame and the sick at the Lord's table? Weakness that comes from unjudged evil is the answer, and a divided attention. Here is a question for each of us personally — how often do we grieve His heart by bringing the lame and the sick?
The failure is not always in the gift. Sometimes the heart is somewhere else:
How often are our bodies at the table, while our wandering hearts and restless minds are at the ends of the earth! How often do our lips speak words that are not the true expression of our whole moral being! We express far more than we feel. We sing beyond our experience.
- Table. The altar is the Lord's table, because Scripture calls the sacrifices God's bread. To treat that altar as common was to call His table worthless.
- Told. They said nothing against God's table. They brought the blind, the lame and the sick instead, and God knows how to read actions.
- Theirs. They blamed the table. The pollution was their own, and service without heart turns into weariness.
- Triumph. What they profaned was His name — and He answers by promising to make that name great among the nations Himself.
- Test. The same question stands at the Lord's table today. What are the lame and the sick we still bring? Where is the heart while the body is present?
And ye say, Behold, what a weariness! And ye have puffed at it, saith Jehovah of hosts, and ye bring [that which was] torn, and the lame, and the sick; thus ye bring the oblation should I accept this of your hand? saith Jehovah.
Malachi's last charge in this chapter is about boredom. The priests kept the altar running, but they complained that the whole business wore them out. God quotes their own words back to them. Then He names what they carried up to His altar: torn, lame and sick animals — the worst they had.
The complaint did not appear overnight. One writer traces it back to a gap between what these people said and what they did. He then follows the same slide into our own day:
A profession that is not backed by practice, and service without devotion, will lead to weariness in the things of the Lord. And what people are weary of, they will end up despising. So these people did not only call the Lord's service a weariness. They also "puffed" at it, as one translation puts it… Are there not many who were once active in the service of the Lord, but who have now grown weary? Their practice may have fallen below their preaching. Then the preaching carried on after the devotion was gone. And now at last they have grown weary… weary of prayer, weary of reading the Bible, weary of remembering the Lord, weary of preaching the gospel, and weary of hearing it, weary of the Lord's things, and weary of the Lord's people.
Religious duty can be carried on long after the heart has left it, and the strain of that is what the words expose:
Twice further the prophet charges home upon them what they were saying — "The table of the Lord is polluted", and also, as to the service rendered, "What a weariness is it!" They themselves had polluted it, and if the heart be not in God's service, what a weariness it can become!
The animals named in the verse were not accidents of a bad harvest. They were a calculated insult, and the calculation shows up when you compare how these men treated their civil ruler:
The public worship of God had fallen into utter contempt. They insulted His altar and despised His service. As to the priests, it was a mere question of money. As to the people, the whole thing had become a weariness, an empty formality, a dull and heartless routine. There was no heart for God. There was plenty of heart for gain. They thought any sacrifice good enough for the altar of God, however maimed and torn. They laid on that altar the lame, the blind and the sick — the very worst they could find, animals they would not dare to offer to a human governor.
God's complaint is not about the animals. What a person brings is a visible sign of something invisible:
Their offerings could be taken as an outward, visible sign of an inward, spiritual state. God has arranged it so that the hearts of His people govern their offerings. So we cannot suppose their offerings were right in His sight when their hearts were wrong. He does not say, "My son, give Me your offering," but, "Give Me your heart."… They kept the best they had for themselves and brought the worst to God, as though anything were good enough for Him.
Nobody stays in a religion he finds pointless. The weariness of this verse is a stage on a road, not a resting place:
Sooner or later a religion like this must come to seem unnecessary to the people who practise it. What is the use of it? "What a weariness this is!" they say. This is how the heart speaks in someone whose religion is only a profession; and if this religious weariness does not turn him into an idolater himself, he soon goes back to the idolatrous world, ties himself to it and, as the prophet says, "marries the daughter of a foreign god."
The verse ends with a question that expects the answer no. One commentator links that refusal to what such people had lost sight of:
The Lord repeats His charges against His people, showing even more fully how completely they despised His service, calling it a "weariness"… Where there is moral numbness — the special mark of this chapter — there must always follow the loss of all sense of the holiness of God, and of what is due to His name.
The writer who traced that decline also names what keeps a heart from it:
How deeply important it is to have Christ always before us, the true motive for all service — to "consider Him," the founder and perfecter of faith, "who endured from sinners such hostility against Himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted."
- Weariness starts when practice falls below profession. Service then carries on by habit after devotion has died.
- Weariness spreads — first to prayer and Scripture, then to the Lord's things, then to the Lord's people.
- Weariness shows in the offering: the maimed and the torn. A man would be ashamed to hand such a gift to his own governor, yet he thinks it good enough for God.
- Weariness ends in idolatry, or in a quiet return to the world. Nobody keeps up a religion that feels unnecessary.
- Weariness is answered by keeping Christ before the heart. He is the true motive for all service, and the One who endured such hostility so that we would not grow weary or lose heart.
Yea, cursed be the deceiver, who hath in his flock a male, and voweth and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing; for I am a great King, saith Jehovah of hosts, and my name is terrible among the nations.
God's people were still bringing sacrifices here — but the worst of what they owned, while the good animal stayed in the stall. The verse ends by naming who receives these gifts, and that is why the curse falls.
The word male was not a random detail in the law of offerings.
A male in Scripture represents vigour, strength, and what was most valued. From this we see that the Lord will have no reserves, no keeping back of anything, however precious. He must have our best, our all.
The man is not short of options. The good animal is right there, and God watches him choose.
In verse 14 there is definite judgment. What God looks for is the best that a man has. He sees the man as he goes in to fetch out his sacrifice. The man walks down his stall; his eye rests on this animal, and that, and another, and another. He may bring out a very fine one, but as long as the best bull in that stall is not brought out, He will not be satisfied. He will not have our leavings; He will have the best from us; He will be first in our affections.
Nobody forced this man to promise anything. He vowed, then handed over something damaged, and the deceit is what brings the curse.
Israel often misused the rules for vows, if they did not ignore them altogether. Malachi 1:14 gives us an example of it. God was not deceived, however, and a curse came on the man who was deceitful in what he vowed.
The curse is not left hanging. God attaches His reason to it, and one commentator finds a warning in the title King.
He pronounces a curse on "the cheat who has a male in his flock, and vows it, and yet sacrifices to the Lord what is blemished." (Compare with this the sin of Ananias and Sapphira, in Acts 5.) He confirms His word, so to speak, by the declaration, "For I am a great King, says the LORD of hosts, and my name will be feared among the nations." … Where people lose all sense of God's holiness, and of what is due to His name, God will cause His name to be honoured and revered even by those who until then had not known Him. He will be glorified. … The word King here is significant. It asserts the divine authority in the kingdom. It also warns that the time is approaching when God will establish the kingdom in power and righteousness. Then there will be a limit to the Lord's patience and forbearance.
The same chapter that opens with affection closes with power, and the two belong together.
What love has purposed, power will perform, and so the prophet brings before us the mighty power of the Lord. "I am a great King, says the LORD of hosts, and my name will be feared among the nations" (verse 14). The Lord is great in majesty and great in power. He has unnumbered hosts at His disposal. The chapter opens with the touching announcement, "I have loved you, says the LORD." It closes with the sublime statement, "I am a great King, says the LORD of hosts." Love and power combine to carry out God's purposes.
The outward form was intact — the vow made, the offering brought — and God still called it deceit. The same question reaches past the ritual to the motive behind it.
Has all this no voice for us? Might we too keep up the outward service of the Lord — preaching, teaching, pastoring — while the true motive is missing? The service outwardly correct, the motives inwardly corrupt? … We may well ask: are faith, love and hope the springs of our service? Only the Lord can see these qualities, and they are very precious in His sight. Or is the motive of our service some form of self — self-exaltation, self-advancement, or the hope of gain?
- Loved first. The chapter begins with God saying He has loved His people. Everything this verse asks stands on that ground.
- The best claimed. A male meant strength and highest value. God asks for no reserves — He will not take our leavings, and He will be first in our affections.
- The deceit named. The sin is not owning little; it is owning the good animal, vowing it, and swapping in the damaged one. God is not deceived, and the curse follows the deceit.
- The motive weighed. Outward service can look right while the inner motive is self-advancement or gain. That is the same fault in modern dress.
- The King answers. "I am a great King" asserts divine authority. It also warns of a kingdom coming in power and righteousness, when God's patience will reach its limit. Even those who never knew Him will honour His name. Love purposed it; power will perform it.