This is my second year of reading the Bible through in a year, and I recently finished my second reading of the whole book of Leviticus in ten sittings. Until now, Leviticus has for me been just a reference book; I’ve referred to it often when subjects like ‘sacrifice’ or ‘legalism’ come up, but never read it for its own sake until these last two years, and am just beginning to realise what I’ve been missing.
I think this would not have happened if I hadn’t taken up the discipline of reading the Bible as a whole, starting at the beginning and continuing to the end, and I can’t recommend that practice highly enough. It hasn’t been hard to do it in a year, but if you need to take longer, by all means do so; what’s important is what you learn by reading it from the beginning as though it were a single book, intended to be read as one. What this meant for me was that by the time I’d gone through Genesis and Exodus, I had a pretty clear picture in my mind of God’s love for His creation, and for Mankind in particular, and His determination that His creation would not be robbed of its destiny because Mankind tried to get there by a shortcut. I saw His love for sinful men and women in the great acts of salvation like His promise of a Saviour who would beat down the power that had deceived them, His preservation of Mankind and all living things through the great flood, His calling of a people through whom all the families of the Earth would be blessed, but also in the little personal acts of love like the way He clothed Adam and Eve and cared for them after telling them the consequences of their ill-conceived act, the way He protected and cared for Ishmael even though he would not be part of the people through whom the blessing would come, the way He promised Jacob that his long-lost son would be there to close his eyes when the time came for Jacob to die. In short, by the time I got to Leviticus, I could not doubt that God truly loved His creation, and I forgot to read Leviticus as though it showed some other side of God’s nature. As a result, I found God’s love visible in every chapter. That love underlies all the instructions regarding worship and sacrifice found in it.
The sacrifices themselves, though not commanded by God (‘when you do this’, not ‘do this’, is the theme throughout; cf Isaiah 1.11) are accepted by Him as ‘kaphar’, variously translated as atonement, reconciliation, forgiveness. God wants reconciliation with Man at least as much as Man does with God—the sins a man does not know he has committed, even the sins that escape the notice of the entire population, are included in this forgiveness (4.2, 13, 22, 27). God cares not only about our spiritual state, but our physical condition, the condition of the clothes we wear and the houses we live in (13 passim), as well as about our sexuality (15, 18). In case anything gets missed, once a year there is an entire Day of Atonement for the whole community, whose sins known and unknown are carried away into the wilderness by scapegoat (16).
In various places the good ordering of the sacrifices is set aside for a while to make clear how much God loves the least fortunate among us: don’t harvest so thoroughly that the poor and hungry have nothing to glean after you (19.9ff—cash crops like grapes as well as subsistence crops like wheat), don’t delay paying your servants their wages (19.13), support those who cannot support themselves (25.35ff), redeem any whose poverty drives them to sell themselves as slaves (25.47ff), have a care for the blind and the deaf (19.14), don’t treat the wealthy differently from others (19.15), don’t speak ill even of the living (19.16), don’t seek revenge, love your neighbor as yourself (19.18). Respect the differences between species of animal and varieties of plant (19.19), respect women and the elderly (19.29, 32), welcome the stranger (19.33ff). Treasure your children (20.1-5), respect the marriage vows of all (20.10ff). Let all debts be forgiven every fifty years (25.8ff). Let there be rest as well as work, not only for Mankind (23.3ff) but for the land itself, a sabbath for the soil (25.1-7). Leviticus is as much about God’s love for His creation as are the Christmas stories in Matthew and Luke. Those who draw attention to themselves and their superior virtue by tearing pages out of the book don’t know what they’re doing; may they remember Jesus’s prayer as being for them as well as for the soldiers as they drove the nails into His hands and feet.
For some of us, even if God did not order the sacrificial slaughter of animals, it is hard to think of Him allowing them to be used as a means of honoring Him. But it ought to be equally hard to expect such delicacy in a society in which animals were publicly slaughtered as a matter of routine simply to provide a varied diet—and it is a delicacy only possible for any of us today because the slaughter is no longer public. Animals are sacrificed in greater numbers than ever today, merely to honor our enjoyment of a good hamburger, or bacon with our eggs. Moses and God’s people in the wilderness were giving God what they thought of as the best they had to give, and He was and is gracious enough to accept anything given in that spirit. Many of the things we give today may one day come to be seen in the same light. In any case, in His good time God brought the sacrificial system to an end; ‘because Jesus was both the perfect high priest and an offering free from blemish, His death consummated the entire Old Testament sacrificial system’ (John Hartley, Word Biblical Commentary: Leviticus, p 244). Jesus died not only that we might have the life that God intended for us, but that animal-kind might, too.