Leviticus is certainly one of the most laborious books in the Old Testament. Basically full of laws, the majority of which relate to ceremonial rites, it cuts off the narrative flow of Exodus to espouse further the commands given to Moses at Sinai and their subsequent additions. As there is no obvious break with which to split the two weeks-worth of readings, we’ll simply deal with the whole of Leviticus twice, from two different perspectives.

In many ways, Leviticus is also the most foreign of the Old Testament books. Its regulations about regular animal sacrifice, with blood sprinkled here and there and, even more pointedly, its God who appears inaccessible without them, seem alien to our ‘civilised’ modern world. And rightly so. Yet, without an understanding of the mindset behind these ancient rituals we can never fully appreciate the faith of Israel and the context into which Jesus would be born.

Leviticus represents in legal format what Exodus described in story: that the God who brought them out of Egypt is nothing like them. This is the true meaning of the word ‘holy’. The God who appears as cloud and fire, on mountain and in sea, is different, ‘other’, and there are rules to acknowledge this separation. This is why there is a Priesthood; crucial to the Cultic Law of Israel was the belief that Average Joe could not approach God on his own. He needed a mediator, a go-between to bridge the divine-human chasm. The big question, of course, is why? It seems hard to imagine, especially with our post-Jesus perspective, a Priesthood in place for God’s benefit!

For a disparate group of peoples, wandering around the Sinai Peninsula, the affections of the local pagan cults – particularly their clearly ritualised beliefs, visible deities and erotic rites – must have seemed an appealing escape from the frustration of following a faceless God to a land that he ‘claimed’ he would provide, but which, so far, seemed way out of reach. With the laws of Leviticus, however, the Israelites finally became a fledgling nation. Suddenly there was purpose and hope. Here was outlined a way of living in the world that wasn’t Egyptian and wasn’t Canaanite. It was new and different and it made sense. It would protect them from sickness and disease. It would keep them in mind of the God they were following. And it would give them a whole new spin on what it meant to be the people of God in a pagan world. The Fear of Yahweh, however, propounded by the shrouded mystery of fire and ritual, would be needed to compel Israel to this dutiful observance. Without intense fear and distance, familiarity could breed contempt and the new establishment would crumble.

This is why the laws, and the narrative accounts of the deaths of priests that intersperse them, are so definite and aggressive. This was a ‘now or never’ moment for the Israelite community. Here they were, a fledgling nation, without political or contemporary religious allegiance, with the very rare opportunity of creating something different and better than the status quo. If they fluffed the chance, it would not come round again. We find it hard to identify with a mindset that places the importance and survival of the community way above that of the individual, but at times of identity-formation-crisis, this is what happens.

In today’s world, this gives us an insight into the mindset of Islamist Fundamentalism . It is not just the promise of umpteen virgins in the afterlife that drives Muslim Suicide Bombers to kill and maim in the name of their religion. It is the fervent belief that their form of Islam represents a better way of living than the tribal wars of their heartlands and the hedonistic blasphemies of the West. These individuals are willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of their community, because, in their minds, the success of their community is, genuinely, all that matters. Compare this with the story in Exodus 32:27 where, upon finding the Golden Calf, Moses commands the Levites to go through the camp and slaughter ‘brother and friend and neighbour.’ They killed 3000 of their own people! But it is recorded as a victory since they preserved the community from the threat within.

To our modern minds this desire to be ‘clean’, to be different from the ‘unclean’ outsiders, whatever the cost, seems barbaric and wrong. And indeed it is. One only need look at the carnage wreaked by today’s terrorists to see that. I guess the Jury will remain ‘out’ on whether there was no other way for the Israelites to proceed in their context. What should inspire us, however, is the Israelite’s determination to live a new and better way in the world they found themselves in. If we can find that way for our 21st Century lives, that will be something worth protecting.

Questions for reflection:

1. What is it about Christian faith that inspires you to be better than you would be otherwise? Make a list. Try summing it up in one sentence.

2. How are you protecting this difference in your own life?