Thankful for Communion, but Leviticus...?
October 7, 2012 |
Patrick Preheim | Leviticus 5:14—6:7
Leviticus has been a stumbling block for many a well intentioned foray into a complete reading of the Bible. After the gripping narrative of Genesis and Exodus we come to Leviticus with its mind numbing details of an archaic sacrificial system. It certainly came as a surprise to me that most biblical scholars consider Leviticus one of the most grace filled books of the bible.
Consider the theological landscape of the ancient near east in which capricious gods and vigilantism order the world. How does a person make it right with God if one has sinned in word, thought or deed? How does a person make it right if my ox tramples the neighbours wheat field? Leviticus takes reconciliation seriously and reconciliation is at the heart of communion. Placed within its context Leviticus is perhaps the best possible text for a communion Sunday. Leviticus, in fact, helps us understand our service of communion better.
Take, for example, blood. In Leviticus there is a great deal of blood. It gets dabbed on the priest’s ears and fingers; it gets splashed on the altar; it is the sacred life force which makes the common holy. Perhaps in a nod to Leviticus in the New Testament accounts of the last supper Jesus speaks of his blood being poured out for many. Like the animals of Leviticus, his blood is holy and has the power to heal. Like Leviticus 14 it is poured out for the untouchables who have been cut off from the church. Like Leviticus 12 it is poured out for parents whose children have kept them away from church. Like Leviticus 9 and 23 it is poured out as an expression of thanksgiving to God. Blood is life, and the life of Jesus has the power to heal what is broken and give substance to our thanksgiving. A significant difference between Leviticus and Jesus, however, is that Jesus offers himself in the commonplace setting of a meal rather than at the temple. In short, Jesus makes thanksgiving and reconciliation readily accessible. This theme carries through to another major preoccupation of the third book of Moses.
The holiness of God is a major concern within Leviticus. 150 times in Hebrew does the root word for holiness appear as a noun, verb or adjective (Walter C. Kaiser, Jr, “Book of Leviticus” in The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary (vl 1), p. 985). Holiness, in the ancient world, must find some way to exist with un-holiness or bad things will happen. It is a situation similar to the matter / antimatter quandary of old Star Trek episodes or the parallel universes of the new Dr Who: if the two ever come into contact with the other there will be destruction. The quarantines, purity codes and sacrificial systems of Leviticus all revolve around the need to keep the sacred from the profane. Jesus dramatically alters this scenario when “the Holy One of God” (Mk 1.24) appears among us. He is holiness unleashed; breaking into our lives in unimagined ways. The ritually unclean of Palestine and our pews are purified, not destroyed, when they brush up against his cloak or touch his body. The morally unclean have their transgressions washed away and are allowed a new start when they met him (see John 4 & 8). We are made holy with a penitent heart and nod from Jesus, not a temple sacrifice. No, he crashes into our lives and we have the choice to either receive his grace or run in terror. Jesus wants us to be holy, to burst into our lives, and with vigilance he waits for the opportunity.
This raises an interesting question for each of us: do we want to be made holy? Leviticus wishes us to be reconciled with God and neighbor—exhorting in three different places that priests and population are “to be holy as I am holy” (11.44-45; 19.2; 20.26). Two gospels report Jesus paraphrasing this command (Matt 5.48; Lk 6.36). Are the grudges we hold against family, neighbour, or persecutor really an acceptable trade for the joy of holiness? Is bitterness toward God for the circumstances into which we have been born or endure an upgrade to the contentment of holiness? I don’t think so. And yet too often we shrink from the touch of Jesus and hold back from the sacrifice that would actually give us freedom. Bitterness, grudges, fear, arrogance—it is these types of things Jesus wants us to sacrifice so that we might be holy as he is holy.
This interconnection between Leviticus and the Lord’s table gives us much to consider. So in the quiet of these next moments let us reflect holiness—the holiness of God and Jesus, the wholeness and holiness to which we are called. We take a moment of reflection. [pause for a minute]
Here this prayer of confession as we prepare for the service of communion:
We come before you, O God, aware of the many ways we sin against you and against each other. Too often we do not prioritize you. Too often we treat each other badly. Ours is a desperate attempt to keep safe and armed against vulnerability. Thankfully, your love and forgiveness bursts into our lives at these times. You confront our brokenness. You intervene in our destructive living. You seek our healing and the wholeness of the world. Jesus offered himself to heal the divisions within us and among us. Let his life, death and resurrection guide our living and dying. Mindful of all Jesus offered us we enter into this time of holy communion with great thanksgiving and gratitude. May our participation in this ritual of the church bring us more deeply into communion with you, the people of this congregation, and your people beyond these walls. Amen.
