Day 3

Now, I need to be honest here, I love things like Leviticus. It’s a priestly code and that just gets me all fired up. It’s almost like reading a zoning ordinance for religion. I realize that’s not for everyone. And then there’s also the baggage that comes with Leviticus. It’s a book that has been used to oppress women and LGBTQ persons. I’ve had verses 18:22 and 20:13 thrown at me several times in my life. I could go on and on about how the verses most likely refer to incest between men, but you can’t change how the verse is still used as a dangerous weapon. Shame on people who focus on those verses without critical inquiry.

Anyway, that frustrating bit of English-translation-gone-horrible aside, I still enjoy Leviticus. Here is a people trying to define who they are and carve out a unique identity. The beginning of Chapter 18 makes it pretty clear: Don’t be like Egypt or Canaan! What is this relationship with their new god? What does it look like? Leviticus has an answer for that. How shall we truly distinguish ourselves? More answers that you can fathom. I respect that. As a progressive religious person, I read Leviticus with a critical eye — not toward the text and how it’s been abused — but toward my own life. Could I map out how I am different from the culture of now, me, and anger that is ever-present in America today? Could the faith communities I am a part of do the same? What about political communities? I am left wading into a hard realization. The people the book of Leviticus was written for had a clear way of ordering their lives and making visible claims. I guess I have bumper stickers, protest signs, and a few other ethical choices. I’m not saying I don’t order my life, but I guess I’m wrestling with a fun question: What would my own Leviticus look like?

One Word for Leviticus: Distinction

Parts of the Story That Stayed With Me

1. Pleasing Odors to the Lord. God loves pleasing odors. I don’t need to cite any specific verses here — it’s everywhere in this book. Entrails and kidneys with fat? Throw ’em on the fire. God loves that. The specificity here is interesting to me. Offering up a pigeon or a handful of flour is precisely outlined and one mistake means it is not pleasing to God. It leads me to believe it’s the process, not the actual charred flesh/grain, that matters. So, we have a gruesome butcher-shop treatise on spiritual discipline. It certainly takes the idea of spiritual discipline out of the realm of the personal (which is common today) and makes it visible, communal, and demanding.
2. Lev 10, Aaron’s Sons. Nadab and Abihu thought they could skip a few steps in offering incense. Nope. Fire came leaping out of the “presence of God” and consumed Aaron’s sons for their laziness (or was it just a mistake?). And Aaron was silent. He didn’t get to mourn publicly. I was floored reading this, but also tied it back to the importance of discipline. It’s a grisly story, but one that I hope is metaphorical. Maybe the fire was shame and embarrassment…look at Aaron’s sons, red with shame, for their displays of half-hearted piety. I can certainly think of modern day examples of this.
3. Lev 16, Scapegoats. I cheated a little here and knew the history of Azazel, the goat god. It’s the origin of the word scapegoat. Here we have a random goat being selected to take on the sin, shame, and guilt of the people. It isn’t sacrifice (like pretty much everything else in this book), but is instead cast out into the wilderness. It’s almost like an early version of sin eaters — those who take on the transgressions of others, usually the dying, and bear the burden willingly. Anyway, it’s just fascinating.
4. Lev 27:34, Commandments. These are the commandments, all of them, not just ten, that Moses received on Mount Sinai. Yeah. There’s more than ten. There’s hundreds.

This post is part of a lager series where I read the entirety of Hebrew & Christian scriptures in 45 days. Take a look a the original post for more info, as well as links to other reflections on this journey.