7. The Law of Burnt Offerings

The LORD called Moses, and spoke to him from the tent of meeting, saying, "Speak to the people of Israel, and say to them, when any man of you brings an offering to the LORD, you shall bring your offering of cattle from the herd or from the flock.

"If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall offer a male without blemish; he shall offer it at the door of the tent of meeting, that he may be accepted before the LORD; he shall lay his hand upon the head of the burnt offering, and it shall be accepted for him to make atonement for him. Then he shall kill the bull before the LORD; and Aaron's sons the priests shall present the blood, and throw the blood round about against the altar that is at the door of the tent of meeting. And he shall flay the burnt offering and cut it into pieces; and the sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire on the altar, and lay wood in order upon the fire; and Aaron's sons the priests shall lay the pieces, the head, and the fat, in order upon the wood that is on the fire upon the altar; but its entrails and legs he shall wash with water. And the priest shall burn the whole on the altar, as a burnt offering, an offering by fire, a pleasing odor to the LORD. . . ."

Leviticus 1:1-9

The morning and evening sacrifices asked that we be aware of timing, of the beginning and ending points, of the changes in our spiritual lives. The law of burnt offerings, with all its details for what and how, brings us to the issue of specificity. The person bringing the offering is to select a perfect bull, bring it to the altar to the door of the tent of meeting, lay his hand upon its head, slaughter it, skin it, cut it up, and wash its entrails and its legs with water. The same specific directions are repeated in the rest of the chapter for the offering of a sheep or a goat, except that it is to be killed on the north side of the altar, and equally detailed directions are given for the offering of a dove or pigeon. There is no avoiding the specific, graphic details or the direct involvement of the worshipper himself in the details, in this coming to the Lord.

Today we are impatient with such details. We see ourselves as enlightened religious people, and we want to simply "go to the Lord" and feel right with ourselves. We go with our confessions, our fears, our desires to do better, and we hope to receive life and peace. But the spiritual things in us are often obscure, and so our worship is often obscure. We believe that God is with us, and that the Lord will hear us and do us good; we humble ourselves in a general way, and receive a general sense of protection and benefit. But the respects in which we really, specifically need help are often not distinctly seen; the wrong is not distinctly confessed, nor the good intelligently desired. And so the blessing of the Lord does not come clearly to our perception, or come effectively into the particular pattern of our behavior or our feeling that needs healing and new life.

To go to a doctor or to a therapist or counselor with a feeling of discomfort in general is not enough to solve the problem. To confess, and to feel bad about sin in general, is a destructive religious game which hides the cause and does not cure it. To be willing to face the problem at its source, to be helped to find the original choice, the root of the malfunction, and ask for help there, is the essential step to physical, psychological, or spiritual health. As Kierkegaard puts it, God's command is never for love in general, or "by the battalion," but in specific, in the particular choice or encounter in which we are actually engaged.

The first choice in coming near to God according to this law of burnt offering, is that of the particular offering to bring. To "offer" in Hebrew, is to "bring near," and so this choice concerns simply the specific content of what we want to bring near to God, as symbolized by an animal from the herd or flock, a bird, or bread, or other food. For the burnt offering, given totally, as the inmost depth of the person encounters God in his or her aloneness, the underlying feeling was required, as represented by the animal or dove whether other food was given or not. The big cattle of the herd symbolize patient love of usefulness or service, the lamb or sheep innocent love for God's goodness and mutual love for others, the goat innocent love for the Lord's wisdom and for a life according to it, and the dove innocent love of thinking and communicating truth.

No wild animal is in this list. These are the domestic animals, raised for food to sustain life, all symbolizing patient or innocent love. We are all aware of all kinds of other feelings, and wild animals have both negative and positive symbolism. We will be dealing with wild animals of both kinds before we are through. But they are not for this inmost, total sacrifice. We cannot go to the Lord asking that our loves of excessive food, or of superiority to others, or of ability to outfox and manipulate others, be sanctified, and expect an answer of peace. And we cannot complain that we have no innocent love to bring. If we are alive at all, it is because we know sufficient peaceful love to maintain life. We do turn to God when we are aware of the negative side of the wolf or fox in us. But for the strength to meet the wolf or fox, to really meet, enough to realize its posi and use tource of peaceful power within. It is to this peaceful love we turn when we approach the altar.

The ox or sheep or goat I bring may be young or old, but for this burnt offering it must be a perfect male. Its male power, the love of the Lord's truth by which the food is multiplied, must be intact. I must find that first choice, that original and begetting source, which brought this feeling into being or that present potency that keeps the feeling strong. It is this I bring to the altar, to the door of the tent of meeting, that place where the Presence of God speaks within.

Here I lay my hand on it. I accept and feel my full identification with it, not explaining it away, not looking from a distance, but knowing it as a part of me. And now that I have said simply, with no evasions, "Lord, it is I who come," my offering is "accepted" to "make atonement" for me, to lay the cover of mercy over my nakedness as I approach the altar.

And now I kill it. I wholly give it up as mine, holding back no reserve, no string, that it may live from God alone. We all know dreams of dying, that someone else is dying, that I will have to die, that I am trying to put to death someone or something. The reality of moving on from one stage of life to the next often speaks loudly in our dreams, and always, in my experience, with some kind of grief or pain or horror from which I am trying to escape. And yet, we must be willing to move on if we are to be alive at all. To let go and experience the new, is not to say the old is vile or wrong or unimportant. We know with our minds that this is true, that moving on to the new is no attack upon the old. But dreams speak from our feelings. And here we know that to let the old die is to feel the pain of loss. We experience the grieving; it is a part of dying to one part of self, and rising to new life. I do the killing. I, myself.

But now, suddenly, I am no longer alone. The priest in me, Aaron's sons, who are the Lord's own love of saving, of leading people to love good freely, who draw all people to the Lord in love, "present the blood." They pour the mysterious power of the life of my offering on the altar, and say by their action that all the truth in us, from which love lives and grows, is the Lord's own thought, with strength and depth and breadth to pervade all, and even to let us see some small glimpse of its power, if we will let it.

I, again, must skin the bull, and cut it into its pieces, prepare it, as for food. The skin is the most external part, the knowledge of present circumstances and opportunities, which give form to love, but are not themselves a permanent part of the essential being. To make ready for eating, for sustaining life, I must reach the substance of my bull. If the underlying love is reached, the Lord will provide circumstances and opportunities.

And now, the priests put fire upon the altar, fire which is the Love of God uniting with all my feeling and consecrating it as given to the Lord. And they lay wood in order upon the fire, and lay the pieces I have cut in order upon the wood that is upon the fire upon the altar. The bull is mine, and I must have known this identification. But as I let go of it, and give the Lord's Love space to move within me, the priest in me orders it, puts it into the right sequence and proportion, so that I am not left standing beside a mass of stuff too big to handle, but can see the meaning of the order of the parts. Now they are ready for the flame.

The intestines and the legs I wash with water. These are the practical functioning parts that receive food and that carry the animal into action. In actual doing there is always a mixture of motives, of self-interest or self-indulgence, or claims of personal possession to justify using others for my ends. These parts need washing, and I must do this, before my whole mind can be open to the Lord's Presence.

And then the priest in me burns the whole upon the altar, and my offering is given to the Lord, complete. The law of burnt offerings brings out unmistakably the amazing interaction between the offerer and the priest within me as I approach the Lord. It is "I," my conscious self, who finally realize I must take that particular offering to the Lord. And a shiver of fear runs through me, and I stand there, shocked, and cowering, and feeling totally alone. And sometimes at that point I panic, and decide I am alone, with a job I must handle by myself, and so I run away, and the offering does not take place, but waits for another time. But sometimes at that point I stay still long enough to breathe. And I recognize, in the realization itself of the inevitability of that offering, that there is a strength within, a priest already present, drawing me to the Lord. And with that knowledge of a strength and love of God already there, I can face the responsibility I alone must take in carrying out the offering.

For the Christian, Jesus is that amazing interaction, that Presence in an existing human life, made manifest as light and life. He is the wood upon the altar, the fire of the sun, that is, embodied in living trees, made visible to people. And that living fire, present in his life as light, is Love.

The Presence of that Love is already within, as we know always at some level, enlightening, strengthening, the source of life itself. And that Love is at the same time the Presence to which we come, taking our responsibility for being specifically who we are. And when these come together, the offering is complete.

Stop a minute, Be quiet, and see if there is one thing insistently buzzing around somewhere in your mind, a guilt, a fear, a tension in a relationship, a worry, whatever, that you know is one of those inmost things that will need to come to the altar of God.

Now turn your mind to visualize the Lord with open arms of love. Breathe in and feel the Lord's strength and life flow into you, giving life all through you, filling your heart, overflowing and filling your whole body. Feel the Lord's love as goodness and mercy pulsing in you, the strength of your life, and the life of every living creature. Rest in that love. Feel yourself supported by the life of the universe, Divine Love.

Now read again Leviticus 1:1-9, hearing the Lord speak to you from the tent of meeting.

And now bring your offering, the love that bids you bring to the Lord that real, insistent, inmost thing in you, and offer it there before the Lord, as the words direct.

Oh Lord, Source of my life, my Creator and Giver of new life, my Redeemer, my Sustainer, thank you for your amazing grace. You cover my nakedness. Your love is here with me in every moment, and yet you ask me to come to you.