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.