I traveled to Florida recently to take in some Grapefruit League baseball where, there at Spring Training, I was reminded of something I’ve always considered true about the game. Baseball rewards you for the interest you take in it. The more you watch it, the more you consider its nuance, its history, the details of the game, the more in turn it offers back to you.
I’ve never read Leviticus all the way through until now. I’ve never invested much time in it at all. Why? Well, as one commentator put it: “A frequently encountered reaction to Leviticus is the desire to get on to the book of Numbers...”
That was me. The ancient rites. The complicated regulations. The obscure rituals. The blood sacrifices. The formidable rules and foreboding penalties for transgressing them. More to the point, I guess I just never thought Leviticus had much bearing on how to practice my faith in a modern context. And while perhaps that’s partially true in a narrow sense—taken as a whole, Leviticus elevates a concept that is, at any time in any place, at the core of any earnest effort to grow closer to God, and that’s the idea of Holiness.
In the midst of all the rules and regulations, there’s one and only one story in the book, but it’s one that drives home its thematic point about holiness in a dramatic way.
With the tabernacle complete, the priestly roles set out, the altar readied, and the sacrifices prepared, something terrible happens. The Levite priests, two of Aaron’s sons, perhaps because they were drunk (as the text implies), fail to adhere to the instructions for properly offering a sacrifice. They bring outside coals into the sanctuary for the sacrifice, and as they do, fire from the presence of God immediately consumes them.
Following the incident, God then speaks to Aaron:
You and your sons are not to drink wine or other fermented drink when you go into the tent of meeting, lest you die. This is a lasting ordinance for the generations to come, so that you can distinguish between the holy and the common, between the unclean and the clean, and so you can teach the Israelites all the decrees the Lord has given them through Moses.
What then follows is a series of contrasts between that which is holy and that which is common or profane; that which is permitted and that which is forbidden; and finally that which promotes life and that which leads away from life and into death. And while much of what the text of Leviticus deals with are ancient conceptions of things like diet, sex, and hygiene, what undergirds all of it is this idea of holiness, and the story about Aaron’s sons emphasizes how important the distinction between the holy and all the rest is.
What’s perhaps most interesting of all though is that while it’s demonstrated how important holiness is, and we’re told again and again that God is holy, the text never really defines it. Instead, we’re instructed that a place becomes holy when God is present there. Likewise, a day becomes holy when God blesses it. And most consequentially of all for us, we’re told that if we obey God, we can become holy ourselves.
The book seems to be saying—look, you all know what it means to be holy. It’s all within your power. Just don’t do anything that’s not right for someone who aspires to be holy.
So you are to hallow-yourselves, you are to be holy...
With this, the Israelites are then told to respect their mothers and fathers, to keep the Sabbath, to not turn to idols, to not steal, to not murder, to not swear falsely. They’re instructed to treat the poor and the sojourner well. They’re instructed not to hate one another in their hearts, but rather to love one another as they do themselves. They’re commanded to refrain from cursing the deaf or putting a stumbling block before the blind. In the face of the gray hair, they are instructed to rise. They are told not to take vengeance or to retain anger. They’re instructed about agriculture, indentured servitude, and much, much more. All of these things, we’re told, are a part of becoming holy.
I don’t pretend to understand it all, and admittedly it’s a strange and difficult book, but it’s also one that rewards you for your interest. Look through it this week, and consider what it might mean for you to truly pursue holiness.
God, as You are holy, may we also be holy. Amen.
