A new book on the history of PSA

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From the intro: Lamb of the Free- recovering the varied sacrificial understanding of Jesus death

This could very well be the best and most influential book written on Jesus death and its biblical meaning.

Andrew will summarize the key discoveries of this trajectory concerning the logic of OT sacrifice in what follows—and they are fascinating—so I do not need to do so here. The key point for us to grasp in this preliminary discussion is that this careful, historical work by Milgrom, along with those who argue like him, exposes the fact that the set of equations at the heart of the PSA model is, quite simply, untrue. The practice and logic of OT sacrifice has nothing to do with substitution, retribution, or punishment (i.e., negative retribution). Neither is it supplying a universal account of justice. The mechanism, logic, and concerns of OT sacrifice are completely different. As Andrew goes on to show, a number of significant reinterpretative tasks are set in motion by this realization, although I will mention just the key moves here since it will be better just to read what he says: 1.Where sacrifice is used in the NT, we now need to reorient our interpretations. What is going on in these texts is not PSA. A different logic is in play. Needless to say, the meaning of a lot of key texts utilizing sacrificial imagery shifts subtly but significantly—for example, the meaning of Romans 3:25. Andrew traces the most important such shifts in what follows. 2.Sacrifice disappears from many texts and arguments where previously we thought it was present. Simply because a passage discusses “atonement,” or even “salvation,” we no longer need to assume that the underlying logic and metaphorical register is actually “sacrifice.”

Many NT texts are consequently set free to make their own, more individuated contributions to our understanding of God’s saving activity through Christ. They can find different metaphorical fields and intertexts to be illuminated by. The discussion of soteriology, as Andrew shows, is diversified, complexified, and thereby enriched. 3.Financial metaphors and analogies are also caught up in this reevaluation. Simply because a text analogizes God’s work in Christ in terms of money no longer entails that God is enacting an event constrained by the parameters of negative retribution. God is not always exacting the payment of a debt from sinners meted out with pain. Something very different might be going on. Money and the financial system are, after all, very complicated metaphorical fields. They can speak much more clearly now of God’s gracious benefaction.6 The final critical result of all this reevaluation is, of course, that the account of the atonement in terms of PSA is damaged beyond all hope of redemption.

Its account of sacrifice is incorrect; its reach, presupposing sacrifice, is false; and its account of financial metaphors is false as well. At bottom, it has lost its biblical base almost entirely. (Andrew does not address appeals by PSA to non-sacrificial registers, but these will be limited and desperate.) It remains only then to press this good news through for all the rest of our thinking. We must press, that is, more deeply into a God of love, not retribution; into a God who eschews violence, rather than practicing it proportionately; and into a gospel rooted in divine benevolence and covenant, not in retribution and contract. And we must advocate, and preach, and teach, the same. But these practices must follow on from a lucid and thorough appropriation of Andrew’s important expositions and arguments. So I exhort you, as a matter of some urgency, to press into that task immediately. At the end of that road a joyful gospel awaits. Douglas Campbell Duke Divinity School

I think @atpollard and @Joe @TomL @TibiasDad will like this new book

 

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From the Author's intro

“Jesus died as a substitutionary (atoning) sacrifice for our sins.” This assertion seems to be taken for granted as an accurate summary of a key Christian claim. However, while it may accurately describe the beliefs of certain sectors of the Christian tradition, it is an inaccurate summary of the New Testament’s claims about the meaning of Jesus’s death. There is something mistaken about each one of the key terms here.

Now, to be clear up front, the NT univocally claims that Jesus’s death has saving significance, but the mistake is collapsing this into notions of “substitution,” “sacrifice,” and “atonement.” And an even bigger mistake is thinking biblical sacrifice has anything to do with “substitution” at all, let alone that all sacrifices are about “atonement.” This book is an attempt to untangle the various knotted and interrelated misunderstandings about sacrifice in the OT and Second Temple Judaism so that we can more clearly see how various NT authors reflect on the meaning of Jesus’s death when they make use of sacrificial imagery. Often, the NT authors do not even bring up sacrificial imagery at all, but this fact goes unnoticed even by many NT scholars because it has become commonplace to conflate anything “saving” about Jesus’s death with the concept of “sacrifice.”

To untangle this interpretive mess, we need to patiently examine the biblical texts and to observe what is and what is not happening in the descriptions of various sacrifices found in the Bible and other pertinent contemporaneous texts. The research presented here, especially the first half, serves dual purposes. First, it functions as a (relatively) concise reference resource for the Levitical sacrificial and purity system for its own sake, breaking down its key nuances and distinctions. Second, it grounds and substantiates the theses about Jesus in the second half of the book, demonstrating how careful attention to the nuances within the Levitical system, coupled with the prophetic appropriation of its themes, sheds light on how early followers of Jesus actually employed sacrificial imagery to articulate the significance and purpose of Jesus’s death (and resurrection).

While this book is written from a Christian perspective,1 and I hope it will be read by Christians, I hope non-Christians interested in ancient and contemporary religions will engage this project too since it is a descriptive study of ancient texts, along with, ultimately, how their interpretation impacts current realities. Thus, this book is primarily written for students of the Bible, whether hopeful, former, or enrolled students, as well as teachers who have the privilege of being lifelong students. For all such readers, I wish to demonstrate how a lot of Christian theology in many Western (mainly Protestant) traditions, as it mobilizes the notions of “sacrifice” and “atonement,” has little to no anchorage in the biblical texts themselves. However, before diving into the various intricacies and nuances of sacrifice in the Bible, I want to frame this project in broader terms. The title Lamb of the Free is an intentional, if unclever, pun on the self-conception and identity the United States projects into the world in its national anthem as the “land of the free” (“and the home of the brave”).

Although this study will remain focused on understanding sacrifice as it is presented in the Old Testament, in order to rediscover afresh how various New Testament authors make use of these conceptual frameworks for understanding the saving significance of Jesus’s death, I want to be up front about a deeper reason underneath this inquiry. My aim is ultimately to showcase the liberating message of the gospel as an act of resistance to other notions of “freedom” on offer in the world as represented in the US national anthem. I will return to this concern in my conclusion and discuss how this study matters beyond just clearing up common misunderstandings of ancient texts for their own sake. However, the bulk of this project will be demonstrating how many assumptions about biblical sacrifice are just that—(false) assumptions—since they lack justification in the actual texts available to us. And this matters. It turns out many theologies about God’s salvation in Jesus Christ and justice are based on these mistaken understandings about sacrifice and justice.

For instance, John G. Stackhouse Jr. claims that “God cannot ‘just forgive’ our sins without anyone suffering” on the supposed basis that “the elaborate sacrificial system of the Torah was ordained by God to symbolize this fundamental reality” and he calls this “[t]he logic of justice.”2 Each of these three claims, not to mention the ostensible relationships assumed between them, is mistaken. And I hope clearing up misunderstandings like these will play a small part in rediscovering a view of justice that is informed by a more accurate understanding of the way sacrifice functions in Christian scripture. Hence, although my immediate purpose is to help us better understand NT author’s sacrificial claims about Jesus, this all plays into a larger vision about how Christians ought to go about enacting distinctively Christian notions of justice and renewal. Put another way, I don’t think either the OT’s or the NT’s views of sacrifice have much to do with “justice” per se, but too many Christians, like Stackhouse, derive their view of what justice is from a mistaken understanding of sacrifice in the Christian canon.

For some, justice is retributive and has to do with punishment. And a sacrifice, so it is thought, is bringing justice by punishing some other blood-filled mammal as a substitutionary death, construed as the just punishment for the sinner. For instance, Hannah Bowman has recently demonstrated how “American penal culture” and “American mass incarceration has been driven by many ideological factors, including the pernicious influence of theological conceptions of ‘penal substitutionary atonement,’” in opposition to which she offers an alternative model of atonement via solidarity.3 I hope to ultimately dismantle these misunderstandings of justice and “the mutually-reinforcing ways in which atonement theology has acted in the service of racialized narratives of punishment and control”4 by being clear about what is and what is not actually happening in OT sacrifice and then how NT authors (along with other Second Temple texts) make use of these sacrificial concepts.

I believe taking the time to sow these seeds to help those of us who are Christians hear more accurately what is in our Bible will reap a bountiful spiritual and theological harvest that can sustain ongoing Christian formation and our common mission of renewal and reconciliation in the name of Jesus Christ. As Isaiah says, God’s word does not return empty (Isa 55:11). What Does “Atonement” Even Mean? In English, the word “atonement” means too many things at once. And this is a result, in part, of how this word came into the English vocabulary. I have no inherent problems with this word, but because it can be used in both a sacrificial register (e.g., to translate the Hebrew word kipper) and in a non-sacrificial register (to convey anything that falls within the broad realm of “the saving significance of Jesus’s death”), these conceptually separate domains are often conflated. And this conflation results in some major misinterpretations of NT texts, which in turn have resulted in problematic theologies about the nature of salvation. Following John Wycliffe’s Middle English translation of the Bible in the fourteenth century, which used phrases like “to one” and “one-ment,” William Tyndale in the sixteenth century first standardized “atone” and “atonement” (at-one-ment). It was first used as a translation of the Greek word katallassō, which means “reconciliation,” in texts like 2 Cor 5:18–20 and Rom 5:10. Katallassō, “at-one-ment,” “reconciliation.” This all makes good sense. So far, so good.

 

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continued :

But Tyndale then used the noun “atonement,” and the verb form “to atone,” to translate the Hebrew root word k-p-r in the Torah (Genesis–Deuteronomy). But this already makes theological assumptions about the function of Israel’s sacrificial system that Hebrew Bible scholars almost unanimously have demonstrated to be misunderstandings, as will be developed in the next chapter. For a quick teaser: In the piel form, kipper means “remove” most broadly, but when used in the sacrificial system it more specifically conveys the idea of “decontaminate” or “purify” or “purge” (i.e., removing a contamination clinging to something). Hence, kipper does not mean “reconcile,” nor “save,” nor “forgive.”

Equally importantly, only holy objects within the sacred dwelling place,5 or later the temple, receive the ritual action of kipper. In other words, when kipper happens, what is decontaminated or purified is a holy object in the sanctuary, not people. More on all of this in due course. For now I only want to signal that because many modern English translations follow Tyndale and use “atonement” and “atone” to translate kipper in books like Leviticus, “atonement” has come to mean, for NT scholars and Christian theologians alike, both “the totality of Jesus’s saving work” and “kipper.” This has led to an unfortunate set of misunderstandings, which in turn have resulted in problematic theologies.

All too often, as evidenced by Stackhouse above, when people are discussing the saving significance of Jesus’s death, false equivalencies are made in rapid succession: “saving” is assumed to mean “atoning,” and “atoning” is taken to mean “sacrifice,” and “sacrifice,” so it is thought, always has a kipper function and is then assumed to be equivalent to “forgiveness.” So everything about the salvific meaning of Jesus’s death gets reduced to and conflated with “an atoning, kipper, sacrifice.” These inaccurate conflations are what I aim to correct.6 This matters because many of the go-to NT texts assumed to be supporting something like “penal substitutionary atonement” (e.g., Rom 3:25; 8:3, Gal 3:13, 2 Cor 5:21) are demonstrably not about sacrificial atonement (nor are they about substitution).7

They are about the saving significance of Jesus’s death, but they utilize a completely different conceptual framework than sacrifice in general or kipper in particular to explain that saving significance. To be sure, and as I will develop more shortly, atonement—in the sense found in Leviticus (kipper)—is indeed present in the NT. But it is underappreciated how rarely it is actually mentioned. It is only explicitly mentioned in two texts written toward the end of the first century: Hebrews and 1 John. There is other sacrificial imagery used throughout the NT, but I will demonstrate why it is important to notice the difference between sacrificial atonement (kipper) and other types of sacrificial imagery—because not all Levitical sacrifices have an atoning function. Too many interpreters betray their lack of awareness of this and thereby replicate and pass on distorted notions of sacrifice in their exegesis of NT texts.

Charting a Path Forward When I use “atonement,” “atone,” “atoning,” and so on, I am restricting this word group’s meaning to the Levitical concept of kipper. And this study aims to show how differentiating between atoning and non-atoning sacrifices is crucial to understanding the sacrificial imagery applied to Jesus by various NT authors. Moreover, this project is not about interpreting the meaning of Jesus’s death per se, in all its metaphorical varieties present in all the NT texts that touch its meaning. Many NT texts use some metaphorical register other than the sacrificial to convey the significance of Jesus’s death. But the point of this study is to focus particularly on the sacrificial understandings of Jesus’s death in the NT. To do this well, however, I will also have to debunk the interpretations of some texts that scholars often mistakenly read as being about sacrifice but that, upon investigation, turn out to be set in another metaphorical register altogether. Therefore, when we encounter a NT text, our main guiding questions in the background will be: 1.

Is this text using sacrificial imagery, or is it employing language from another conceptual domain? 2.If it is employing sacrificial imagery, is it drawing upon the atoning or non-atoning sacrifices? The result of all of this will be greater clarity concerning the diverse ways NT authors speak about the saving significance of Jesus’s death in terms of both types of sacrificial imagery—both atoning and non-atoning—as well as imagery from other conceptual frameworks. It will also highlight the prominence the non-atoning sacrifices had for early Jesus-followers since these were the sacrifices associated with Jesus’s death in the earliest strands of the NT literature. These sacrifices are the determinative framework for comprehending the Lord’s Supper (and Paul’s instructions and warnings in 1 Cor 11 in particular).

A secondary, but no less important, result is that this study will end up dismantling the ostensible exegetical basis for “penal substitutionary atonement.” This will mainly be indirect because the exegetical arguments to be presented are going to focus on expositing the biblical texts and the way the words run on the page.8 But the results of these endeavors will prove how penal substitutionary atonement is left with no scriptural anchor. This study will demonstrate how, from a biblical-studies perspective, penal substitutionary atonement has problems with each one of its key terms—penal, substitutionary, and atonement. I shall argue that it is predicated on a complete misunderstanding of the sacrificial system in the scriptures. And I do mean complete. It misinterprets how atonement is accomplished and what it is for (and it also falls victim to the imprecision of the word “atonement” by conflating all sorts of meanings with it). At this point it will be helpful to chart my path for arriving at these conclusions in a little more detail. In chapters 1–4, I clear up common misunderstandings about OT sacrifice and the two forms of (im)purity (ritual vs. moral) in the process of providing an account of the meaning, logic, and limits of the various functions of Levitical sacrifices.9 In chapter 4 I also discuss the so-called prophetic critique of sacrifice and the expectation of “restoration” when utilizing cultic imagery, as well as the fact that forgiveness can and did occur apart from the atoning apparatus of cultic sacrifice. Chapter 5 explores Jesus’s relation to the sacrificial and purity systems in the Gospels.

I demonstrate how the understanding of the Lord’s Supper in both the Gospels and 1 Corinthians derives exclusively from the non-atoning sacrifices. I also deconstruct arguments that try to find allusions to sacrificial atonement in the Lord’s Supper and the crucifixion accounts in the Gospels. Then I address, in chapter 6, how atonement is used in 1 John and Hebrews. I also show how Hebrews employs this framework to depict followers of Jesus as being made into both co-high priests and co-purgation sacrifices with Jesus. Hebrews has a thick atonement theology, but it is not a substitutionary atonement theology. It is a participatory atonement, or solidarity atonement theology. In chapter 7 I examine several key NT texts that are commonly misunderstood to be about sacrifice and/or atonement. I show why they are best comprehended within another conceptual framework: 1 Pet 2:24; Mark 10:45//Matt 20:28; 2 Cor 5:21; Gal 3:13; Rom 8:3; and 3:25. There are more passages than these, but space does not permit me to tackle every single text misunderstood in this way. Nevertheless, I hope these case studies provide sufficient examples of how to analyze NT passages in relation to the preceding study of OT sacrifices. By way of conclusion, I directly address the notion of “substitution.” By this point, it will have become more than clear that the NT authors, whether they make use of sacrificial imagery, or whether they make use of the atoning sacrifices, all agree on one fundamental point: Jesus’s death is a participatory phenomenon; it is something all are called to share in experientially. The logic is not: Jesus died so we don’t have to. Rather it is: Jesus died so that we, together, can follow in his steps and die with him and like him, having full fellowship with his sufferings so that we might share in the likeness of his resurrection (e.g., Phil 3:10–11; Gal 2:20; 6:14; Rom 6:3–8; 1 Pet 2:21; Mark 8:34–35 with 10:38–29; 1 John 2:6; 3:16–18; etc.).

In short, while Jesus did die for us, this does not mean that Jesus died instead of us. It means that he died ahead of and with us. This why I find “substitution” to be inadequate, incoherent, and inherently misleading as a summarizing conceptualization of the saving significance of Jesus’s death in the NT. As a former college ministry pastor and now an undergraduate professor, I have seen first- and secondhand how much destruction is caused by Christians because their essentialized substitutionary framework prevents them from even wanting to be conformed and transformed into the cruciform image of Christ. Substitutionary frameworks—whether intentionally or not—corrode the logic of Christian discipleship among everyday Christians. Substitution makes conformity to the cruciform image of Christ incoherent.

If Jesus is my substitute, why do I need to take up a cross? Why do I need to have fellowship with his sufferings? Why do I need to be co-crucified? The seeds for my arguments in the conclusion are planted in the chapters that precede, but the conclusion will provide the needed space to cultivate those seeds into a more developed discussion and to show how this study has important ramifications for Christian discipleship—especially in contexts where much of the church itself is hamstrung in the pursuit of God’s kingdom justice (Matt 6:33) by being beholden to warped notions of justice based on penal substitutionary atonement.

 

[Dizerner]

I had a Jew tell me on CARM that Leviticus and its sacrifices did not represent Jesus and his death.

Because there was a grain offering and and he also argued sins were forgiven without a sacrifice.

Of course someone following Judaism puts no authority in the NT, but Hebrews clearly tells us these things were symbolic.

There was only one sacrifice put on the Holy of Holies, and it was animal blood for a basis of covering of all sins.

The existence of other offerings, is tangential and inconsequential to the symbolism of the primary atonement.

And the concept of a life for a life, as the punishment for a murder, a reciprocal penal basis, illumines God's justice.

For the offerings dedicated to the atonement of sin had a direct transference of guilt before burning on the altar.

And it was the life in the blood given in a man's place that was said to atone for souls on a symbolic and promissory basis.

The Passover held the same principle, as God did not want pointless animal murders smeared on doors.

We must be careful to examine the claims closely of any new wind of doctrine, and purge out the leaven.

 

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If anyone of the house of Israel slaughters an ox or a lamb or a goat in the camp, or slaughters it outside the camp, and does not bring it to the entrance of the tent of meeting, to present it as an offering to the LORD before the tabernacle of the LORD, he shall be held guilty of bloodshed; he has shed blood, and he shall be cut off from the people. (Lev 17:3–4 NRSV) According to Leviticus, killing a domesticated animal is morally equivalent to murdering a human being.45 That is the basic ethical claim here.

Failure to comprehend the significance of Leviticus’s ritual reconfiguration of these seemingly “mundane” events, which to the untrained eye makes ritual sacrifice look like a plain and simple “death,” has led to interpretations and Christian theologies that are not only exegetically inaccurate, but, as pointed out in the introduction, can be downright dangerous. There is only one circumstance in which killing a domesticated animal is not considered murder and that is when it is offered as a sacrifice at the right place and its blood is deposited in the right manner somewhere on the outer altar (17:5–6, 8–9, 11).46 Killing a domesticated animal for a meal or trying to offer one at another altar in any other place than at the entrance to the dwelling place is not a “sacrifice” but a “murder” (17:3–5, 8–9; cf. Deut 12:11–14, 17–18).

It is not that Lev 17:3–5 conceptualizes “sacrifice” as “the right/acceptable way to commit a murder.” Or, as Ina Willi-Plein expresses, sacrifice “is no act of violence, no expiatory killing,” but “[r]ather, it is a presentation of life.”47 Leviticus 17 makes an ontological distinction between “sacrifice” and “killing/death” by means of the reconceptualization made possible by the power of ritual. Supporting this view is the fact that the death of the animal—the slaughter itself—is given no ritual or theological meaning by any biblical text.48 Scott Shauf’s incisive observation about the role of the priest as opposed to the offerer in Lev 4:27–31 makes this clear: Note that the slaughter of the animal is mentioned only in v. 29. The great part of the ritual focuses on what is to be done with the different parts of the animal after it is killed. . . .

Note also that it is the offerer, the one who has sinned, who slaughters the animal, while the priest performs all the rituals with the blood and the fat[. S]ince it is the priest who is said to make atonement for the offerer in v. 31, the implication clearly is that it is the post-slaughter rituals that are central to the act of atonement, not the slaughter itself. This does not square well with the idea that the sacrifice atones via substitution, because in the idea of substitution, the death of the animal in place of the offerer is the focus. If the substitution of the animal for the offerer were the key to understanding the whole act, why would the rituals performed after the slaughter be identified specifically as what atones?

Moreover, why would not the priest do the slaughtering?49 Therefore, as Christian A. Eberhart puts it, “The priestly texts lack any indication that this ritual element [i.e., ‘the act of killing the animal’] had special significance. . . . This means that ritualized killing is not the purpose of cultic sacrifices in the Hebrew Bible, and killing alone does not qualify a given set of activities as a sacrifice.”50 The fact that sacrificial killing involves accessing blood means that something other than death qua death is being activated. As Moffitt puts it, “the blood is the vehicle or agent of the victim’s life” and “[t]he converse of this point is that the death or slaughter of the victim, while necessary to procure the blood, has no particular atoning significance in and of itself.”51 A bloodless breaking of the animal’s neck or some such would suffice as a “sacrifice” if all that mattered was the death of the animal. However, breaking an animal’s neck is a non-sacrificial slaughter used only in special circumstances that are also ritually construed (and thus the ritualized action again renders it no longer a killing/murder), but it is explicitly not a sacrificial ritual (Exod 13:13; 34:20; Deut 21:4).52

This conceptual framework proves that whatever is going on in the ritualized sacrificial death of an animal, it is not conceptualized as a “killing,” let alone a substitutionary killing. “Killing,” as a concept, is what happens when an animal is slaughtered for any other reason or in any other place or when its blood is not properly handled. If any one of the requirements from Lev 17 is violated, then the entire event is perceived as belonging to the realm of “death” and thus the person is guilty of shedding blood (akin to homicide).

And it carries the same bloodguilt as if a human has been killed (Lev 17:4). There is much more to say regarding Lev 17, but to summarize thus far: the only way to transform the death of a domesticated animal into something other than killing/murder is if (a) it dies as a result of being offered as a sacrifice (b) in the right ritual manner and (c) if its blood is handled in the right ritual manner (d) at the right ritual place. This necessarily means that the death of a sacrificial animal is conceptualized in Leviticus as something other than killing or being put to death. In turn, this means that whatever is happening for atoning sacrifices, they most definitely cannot be conceptualized as a “substitutionary death” because the whole “reality” of the event has been transfigured via ritual so that it has nothing to do whatsoever with “death.”

 

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continued:

Sacrifice Is Not about “Suffering”

Not only is sacrifice separated from having anything to do with the concept of “death,” it is also separated from the notion of “suffering.”65 As David Moffitt explains, “To maltreat a sacrificial animal would be to render it ineligible to be offered to God, since a sacrificial victim that suffered physical damage from abuse would no longer be ἄμωμος (‘without blemish’).”66 Hence, the “attempt to read suffering and the centrality of death back into Jewish sacrifice leads to all manner of misunderstanding about sacrifice as Leviticus portrays it.”67 Sacrificial slaughter was meant to be painless, quick, and humane by means of a swift cut to the throat. In fact, rabbinic instructions for animal slaughter (shehitah), building on the basic notions for humane animal slaughter in the Torah, demonstrates how foreign the notion of “suffering” is to animal slaughter (let alone animal sacrifice) because every effort is made to preclude suffering taking place.

Just as animals that cannot be sacrificed nevertheless have a ritual means of transforming their necessary deaths for a meal into a “non-killing/non-murder” (Lev 17:13–14), shehitah transforms what could be considered “suffering” from an outsider’s perspective (because the death of the animal may be comprehended as inherently involving suffering) into a non-suffering and painless event from an insider’s perspective by stipulating how all the various aspects before, during, and after, the slaughter are to be done so that the animal does not suffer pain.

Once again, we encounter the transformative power of ritual activity. So, as Moffitt highlights, in the Torah “there is no hint that the animal is made to suffer, nor that the victim is an object of abuse or wrath. Inflicting suffering on the sacrificial victim is not a part of the biblical sacrificial system.”68 This is significant because we can now see that when it comes to sacrificial understandings of Jesus’s death in the NT, these never occur in the context of Jesus’s sufferings and passion.

Put another way: when Jesus’s sufferings and/or death qua death are the topic, then sacrificial metaphors are avoided.69

Conclusion Israel makes a big deal about bloodguilt, and, as we will see soon enough, not even the Day of Atonement can atone for it. Leviticus 17:3–5 says that killing and eating a domesticated animal is considered killing/murder and thus incurs bloodguilt upon the person. The only way for this not to be killing/murder is if the animal is sacrificed at the dwelling place and its blood is placed in some fashion in relation to the altar. This transforms the death of the animal into a sacrifice and thus the offerer is not guilty of bloodshed.

At the end of the day, it is crucial to realize that the Torah explicitly reconceptualizes the death of the sacrificial animal into a “non-killing.” This explains why the Torah does not give the death of the animal itself any ritual or theological significance. And this all thereby proves that there simply is no warrant for the view that the sacrifice is standing in for the death of someone who is ostensibly worthy of death. This is because (a) the death of a sacrificial animal is explicitly not to be recognized as shedding blood and thus logically cannot be understood as substituting for shedding the blood of the offerer. And (b), there is no sacrifice (not even the Day of Atonement) that can be made to substitute for when someone is to be put to death or “cut off.” Any way we come at this, the Levitical sacrificial system was not about substituting for someone who was supposed to be put to death (let alone substituting for someone else’s deserved suffering). We can turn now to a more positive account about what the functions of Levitical sacrifices are, even as we expose and dismantle more common mistakes.

 

[civic]

Now that we know what Levitical sacrifice is not—it cannot be about substitutionary death—here I provide a description of what is going on in the Torah’s sacrificial system in terms of the non-atoning sacrifices (the atoning sacrifices will be addressed in chapter 4). As in the last chapter, I will not be able to say everything that should be said, not even for the limited goals of this book. When discussing various NT passages in the following chapters, I will offer more supplementary observations regarding certain sacrifices. This chapter serves to establish a necessary foundation for moving forward. Here I argue for the following theses: (1) Not all sacrifices have an atoning function.

There are non-atoning sacrifices that have separate rationales and functions. These are most of the burnt offerings and all of the well-being offerings. (2) The purpose of the regular burnt offerings is “divine attraction” or “invitation.” (3) The purpose of the well-being offerings is sacred feasting between God and people. (4) The Passover is neither about atonement nor substitutionary death. Rather, it is a non-atoning well-being sacrifice commemorating God’s past act of deliverance. More specifically, it is most like the “thanksgiving” well-being sacrifice. (5) The covenant-inauguration and renewal ceremonies only use non-atoning sacrifices.

(6) The blood sprinkling on the people (Exod 24:8) is neither about atonement nor about substitutionary death. Rather, it is a way to signify and ratify the bond between two covenantal parties (God and Israel here). (7) Whenever blood is placed on people, it is never blood from the atoning sacrifice used to atone (purge) sancta (the ḥaṭṭāʾt). The use of non-atoning sacrificial blood on people is to ritually mark specific metaphysical transitions. There Are Non-Atoning Sacrifices It is all too common to think that there is only one purpose for Levitical sacrifice; namely, to atone.

However, not all sacrifices have an atoning function. Without getting into the history of religions, origins of sacrifice in general, or ancient Israelite sacrifice in particular, it suffices for our purposes to note that there are two main categories for sacrifices broadly speaking:70 these are “the categories of gift-offering-display and/or pollution removal.”71 In the terms I have been using thus far, in the Torah these are the “non-atoning well-being sacrifices” and the “atoning sacrifices,” respectively. There is merit and value for further nuancing these categories into various subdivisions for other analytic endeavors—and I will do some of this myself shortly—but it is still apparent from the proposed lists of other scholars that they in fact reduce to the above two umbrella categories.72

Keeping the categories broadly simplified in this way will help focus our attention when we get to the NT since we will be able to distinguish between the atoning and non-atoning sacrifices with ease. Moreover, the assumption that sacrifice always has an “atoning function” is not only inaccurate, but this misconception has also prevented NT scholars from noticing one of the most obvious and significant observations when it comes to comprehending the sacrificial understandings of Jesus: the earliest NT texts associate Jesus with the non-atoning sacrifices. These non-atoning sacrifices are also the most prevalent ones linked to Jesus’s death across the NT. These non-atoning sacrifices are a covenant-inaugurating sacrifice and the Passover.73 I will discuss these further below, but for now we are just noting that both are categorized as types of the non-atoning “well-being” sacrifices (šǝlāmîm, Lev 3; 7:11–18).74

Conveniently, it is straightforward to recognize if a sacrifice is atoning or non-atoning: if the laity eat from it, then it cannot be an atoning sacrifice. This is how we know, for example, that the Passover is a type of communal well-being sacrifice since it is eaten by the laity. This is why these sacrifices are sometimes translated as “fellowship” or “communion” offerings, since these are a way for the worshiper to commune or have fellowship with God at the sanctuary. I will discuss the purpose and function of atonement in chapter 4, but what is crucial for now is that if a sacrifice has an atoning function, then the laity never eat from it.75 And, if the atoning sacrifice is atoning for the priest himself (or priests as a group), then the priest(s) is not permitted to eat from it either.76 As Jacob Milgrom comments, “[priests] are not to benefit from their own offenses,” which is why “priests are not to eat their own expiatory [atoning] sacrifices.”77

After the appropriate parts are burned on the altar and the appropriate blood ritual manipulations are made, then the carcass must be burned “outside the camp” (not on the altar) (4:12, 21; 6:30). Basically, the sinner (priest or lay) cannot receive a tangible benefit (i.e., the meat) from a sacrifice whose purpose is to purge the sanctuary from their own sin-contamination. Another way to look at this is if there is a sacrificial feast, then we can be sure “atonement” is not taking place with those sacrifices. Whenever “atonement” is happening for someone, they are not feasting on the atoning sacrifice. Insofar as nobody is permitted to eat from an atoning sacrifice that is offered for them (priest or lay), it is not feasting but rather a sort of fasting—in the sense of not consuming the sacrifice—that is connected with atoning sacrifices. This fasting aspect of not being allowed to partake from atoning sacrifices that purge one’s own sins from the sanctuary is taken to its logical conclusion on the Day of Atonement in which fasting from all meals throughout the day is required (16:29, 31; 23:32; Num 29:7; cf. Isa 58:3).78 Since it is a day dedicated to atonement writ large, then it makes perfect sense that it would be a day dedicated to fasting. Fasting and atonement were so closely tethered together that the Day of Atonement became known simply as “the Fast” (e.g., Acts 27:9; cf. Josephus, Ant. 3.240). Conversely, joyous feasting—the opposite of fasting—is connected with the non-atoning well-being sacrifices (Num 10:10). As we will see, these sacrificial feasts usually celebrate and commemorate a past act of divine deliverance. They are joyous feasts that have nothing to do with atonement.

 

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Since God is the only one “consuming” the burnt offerings, it makes sense that there would be a type of offering from which the offerers share in as well. This is what the well-being sacrifices are. As Gary A. Anderson explains: The role of human consumption constitutes the primary level of meaning for this sacrifice and helps to explain why the ʿôlâ and the šĕlāmîm are routinely paired in biblical (and Ugaritic) ritual. The ʿôlâ was the sacrifice that constituted the basic nourishment for the deity, while the šĕlāmîm in turn nourished the people.99 Moreover, the function and sequential priority of the burnt offering supports this understanding.

From what we can observe from the Hebrew Bible, in practice the well-being sacrifices always come after a burnt offering.100 As Levine illuminates, “this pattern reveals . . . [the] meaning of the šelāmîm” by how the burnt offering “invited the deity to a common, shared sacrificial meal [which will be the well-being sacrifice] after he had been invoked by means of an ʿôlâh.”101 This brings us back to Exod 20:24 where only these two sacrifices are mentioned and the sole purpose is inviting God’s presence to the altar for divine blessing. Moreover, the term šǝlāmîm is an umbrella category for three distinct sacrifices (thanksgiving, freewill, vowed offerings, Lev 7:11–21). Before getting to the distinctions, as a main category, the well-being offerings can be either private (for a family or clan unit) or public (communal) (cf. Josephus, Ant. 3.224).

A public well-being sacrifice marks or commemorates “significant beginnings” and thus it often “appears as a rite largely reserved for royal and/or confederative-national celebrations of a dedicatory or commemorative character” (with Moses in Exod 24:5; Joshua in Deut 27:1–8 and Josh 8:30–35; Samuel and Saul in 1 Sam 10:8; 11:14–15; David in 2 Sam 6:17–18; 24:25; 1 Chr 16:1–2; 21:26; Solomon in 1 Kgs 8:63–64; 9:25; 2 Chr 7:7; Ahaz in 15:11–13; Hezekiah in 2 Chr 29:35; 30:22; 31:2; Manasseh in
2 Chr 33:16).102

Hence, as we will explore shortly, the well-being offering is used for both the Passover and the covenant-inauguration (and covenant-renewal) ceremonies. It is important to emphasize that these are the only sacrifices from which the laity eat (and these are split three ways between God, the priests, and the offerer/s). For example, when explaining Jewish sacrificial practices to outsiders, Josephus clumps all the well-being sacrifices under the name “thanksgiving” (charistērios)103 and makes a concerted effort to say that only these offerings can be eaten by the laity. He specifies that they are “performed with the intention of providing a feast for those who have offered it” (Ant. 3.225, cf. 228). While feasting is named as the function of the well-being sacrifices, he then clarifies how all other sacrifices “for sins” (hyper hamartadōn) are their own category and cannot be eaten by the laity (3.230–32). Also, the term zebaḥ is used in the Hebrew Bible synonymously with šǝlāmîm.104 The zebaḥ “is limited to the meaning ‘slain offering whose meat is eaten by the worshiper’” (cf. Jer 7:21).105

These two terms may have originated in separate sources or ancient Israelite “schools,”106 but they are unambiguously synonymous in the compiled Hebrew Bible. Neither term is ever confused with or attributed to an atoning sacrifice. The relationship between the word for a sacrifice that is eaten by the people (zebaḥ) and the altar (mizbēaḥ) further supports the point that sacred eating is the most basic rationale for Israelite sacrifice. The altar is named in relation to the eaten-sacrifice since the mem (m) prefix signifies the place where the root action (z-b-ḥ) occurs; this is the place where the zebaḥ is offered for God to “consume.” The altar is called the “place for the zebaḥ,” not the “place for kipper.” While not a lot of weight should be placed on etymology alone, given all the other evidence thus far this datum serves a corroborating function, strengthening the case that the core logic of OT sacrifice is sacred eating—either God alone or God and humans feasting together.107

 

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The Passover Is Not a Substitutionary Death Some of the common (mostly Christian) misunderstandings of Passover have already been indirectly corrected in the foregoing observations, but it is worth connecting the dots more explicitly here to address the most pressing misunderstanding for our purposes: the interpretation that the “lamb dies in the place of the firstborn of Israel and its substitutionary death is indicated by the blood on the doorposts and lintel.”136 This reading is, as Gilders notes, “heavily dependent on the Western Christian doctrine of ‘substitutionary atonement.’”137 But this reading is already hamstrung by the fact that the Passover (along with all other well-being sacrifices) was not about “atonement” (kipper).138

But what else might be going on besides celebrating divine deliverance, especially as Exod 12 describes the first Passover? Whatever is happening, “substitutionary death” is less than plausible. This is because, as Gilders further observes, “there is little evidence for ‘the magic of sympathetic substitution.’ The text never indicates that the blood substitutes for the blood of those in the house.”139 The only explicit statements about the function of the blood are unambiguous and have nothing to do with “substitutionary death.” These comments are in Exod 12:13 and 23.

Both comment that the blood functions as a signal for God to “see” it and either not directly The Passover Is Not a Substitutionary Death Some of the common (mostly Christian) misunderstandings of Passover have already been indirectly corrected in the foregoing observations, but it is worth connecting the dots more explicitly here to address the most pressing misunderstanding for our purposes: the interpretation that the “lamb dies in the place of the firstborn of Israel and its substitutionary death is indicated by the blood on the doorposts and lintel.”136 This reading is, as Gilders notes, “heavily dependent on the Western Christian doctrine of ‘substitutionary atonement.’”137 But this reading is already hamstrung by the fact that the Passover (along with all other well-being sacrifices) was not about “atonement” (kipper).138 But what else might be going on besides celebrating divine deliverance, especially as Exod 12 describes the first Passover? Whatever is happening, “substitutionary death” is less than plausible.

This is because, as Gilders further observes, “there is little evidence for ‘the magic of sympathetic substitution.’ The text never indicates that the blood substitutes for the blood of those in the house.”139 The only explicit statements about the function of the blood are unambiguous and have nothing to do with “substitutionary death.” These comments are in Exod 12:13 and 23. Both comment that the blood functions as a signal for God to “see” it and either not directly the firstborn along with the whole family would perish. This means the lamb was not really “substituting” for the firstborn, otherwise that would be sufficient to automatically have spared him even though everything else was neglected. The consequences for not partaking of the Passover properly cannot be reduced to a logic of an isolated discrete instance of the lamb substituting for the firstborn.

The feast needs to be understood as a whole. Further, it is not the case that a stated consequence for a failure to do this-or-that instruction means that positively obeying those instructions “substitutes” for the consequence. This is a non sequitur. Cause and effect relationships work in many ways; so to reduce the Passover to “substitution” is question begging. This might be easier to understand if we change the consequence from the firstborn dying and/or the unobservant Israelite from being cut off to being struck with something else, say, paralysis. I find it hard to believe that someone would assert that the blood ritual is a “substitutionary paralysis” and this is because in any other context we know that cause and effects do not inherently reduce to the logic of substitution.

The only basis for connecting the death of the firstborn and what happens to the lamb is a misunderstanding regarding OT sacrifice that was debunked in chapter 1; namely, the mistaken idea that sacrifice is about “death” at all, let alone a substitutionary death. Yes, a lamb has to literally die to be eaten, but its death is given no ritual significance in Exod 12 just like the death of any sacrificial animal is not given any ritual or theological significance in the Torah, as discussed in chapter 1. However, the proper use of its blood, roasting its meat, burning any leftovers before morning, etc., are all given explicit ritual meaning (e.g., “roasting” its meat overtly marks the first Passover ritually as a “non-sacrificial” event—it might need to be said that there are such things as non-sacrificial rituals).

Before discussing the plausible meaning and rationale of the blood further, it is worth observing another way in which the logic that the lamb is substituting for the firstborn breaks down upon closer inspection.145 If the Passover lamb the firstborn along with the whole family would perish. This means the lamb was not really “substituting” for the firstborn, otherwise that would be sufficient to automatically have spared him even though everything else was neglected. The consequences for not partaking of the Passover properly cannot be reduced to a logic of an isolated discrete instance of the lamb substituting for the firstborn. The feast needs to be understood as a whole. Further, it is not the case that a stated consequence for a failure to do this-or-that instruction means that positively obeying those instructions “substitutes” for the consequence. This is a non sequitur. Cause and effect relationships work in many ways; so to reduce the Passover to “substitution” is question begging. This might be easier to understand if we change the consequence from the firstborn dying and/or the unobservant Israelite from being cut off to being struck with something else, say, paralysis. I find it hard to believe that someone would assert that the blood ritual is a “substitutionary paralysis” and this is because in any other context we know that cause and effects do not inherently reduce to the logic of substitution.

The only basis for connecting the death of the firstborn and what happens to the lamb is a misunderstanding regarding OT sacrifice that was debunked in chapter 1; namely, the mistaken idea that sacrifice is about “death” at all, let alone a substitutionary death. Yes, a lamb has to literally die to be eaten, but its death is given no ritual significance in Exod 12 just like the death of any sacrificial animal is not given any ritual or theological significance in the Torah, as discussed in chapter 1. However, the proper use of its blood, roasting its meat, burning any leftovers before morning, etc., are all given explicit ritual meaning (e.g., “roasting” its meat overtly marks the first Passover ritually as a “non-sacrificial” event—it might need to be said that there are such things as non-sacrificial rituals). Before discussing the plausible meaning and rationale of the blood further, it is worth observing another way in which the logic that the lamb is substituting for the firstborn breaks down upon closer inspection.145 If the Passover lamb monetary “substitutionary death.” Rather, it is buying back their workload. It is compensation to the sanctuary since it is losing out on the services of more (literal) manpower.

This is why we are then told that each firstborn human male subsequently requires a redemption price, which just means that instead of them going to serve at the dwelling place their parents make a payment that goes to the necessary costs of running it instead (18:15–16). It is not as if the firstborn of every household was threatened every year with death unless a substitute lamb was offered in his place on Passover by the family. The only thing the first Passover established is God’s “right” to all the firstborns (human and animal) (Exod 13:2, 15; 34:18–20; Num 3:13; 8:17). Given all these laws about God’s right to the firstborns it is clear that whatever the Passover lamb is doing, it is definitely not “substituting” for these firstborns because they are all still owed to God (and “lambs” can only substitute for unclean animals like donkeys).

This necessarily refutes the idea that the Passover lamb is substituting for firstborn deaths, which is also strengthened by the fact that we know the firstborns are meant to live in dedicated service to God’s dwelling place. As we saw, in Exod 13:13 and 34:20 the human male firstborn aspect takes the form of redemption. And how to “redeem” the firstborn is not spelled out in Exodus, but we are told right away lambs cannot be used (13:13a). This all eventually gets taken up in Numbers with the dedication of the Levites for service at the dwelling place, which redeems the obligation of the firstborn from each family having to do this work (Num 3:12–13, 45; 8:14–18).

The excess firstborns and subsequent firstborns then require a redemption payment to the sanctuary to compensate for their service obligation (3:45–51; 18:15–16). Therefore, no matter which way we come at this, the Passover lamb cannot be substituting for Israelite firstborns, let alone substituting for their deaths, because the dedication and/or redemption of all firstborns occurs completely apart from the Passover ritual and human firstborns are clearly meant to live and be dedicated sanctuary workers. This is explicit once we learn that the Levites substitute for God’s claim on all the Israelite firstborn males. And the Levitical substitution is not that they are “killed” or “sacrificed” instead of the firstborns. Rather, the Levites fulfill the obligation for Israel to give over all firstborn males to God for permanent service of the sanctuary. So then, the firstborn aspect of the first Passover is never part of any subsequent Passover celebrations since the firstborn aspect is fulfilled by the Levites’ service for human male firstborns (and animal firstborns must be dealt with in their own specific ways).

Therefore, to continue to insist on a substitutionary death framework for the Passover lamb despite all the evidence to the contrary is tendentious and unwarranted theological special pleading. There is no scriptural warrant for this. The only warrant for this view comes from an external (and, I will argue, a diametrically opposed) theological framework that has decided beforehand what the form of “salvation” must be like (i.e., substitutionary [and perhaps penal as well]) and trying to anchor that in debunked interpretations of biblical practices like sacrifice in general or the Passover in particular.

 

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I had a Jew tell me on CARM that Leviticus and its sacrifices did not represent Jesus and his death.

Because there was a grain offering and and he also argued sins were forgiven without a sacrifice.

Of course someone following Judaism puts no authority in the NT, but Hebrews clearly tells us these things were symbolic.

There was only one sacrifice put on the Holy of Holies, and it was animal blood for a basis of covering of all sins.

The existence of other offerings, is tangential and inconsequential to the symbolism of the primary atonement.

And the concept of a life for a life, as the punishment for a murder, a reciprocal penal basis, illumines God's justice.

For the offerings dedicated to the atonement of sin had a direct transference of guilt before burning on the altar.

And it was the life in the blood given in a man's place that was said to atone for souls on a symbolic and promissory basis.

The Passover held the same principle, as God did not want pointless animal murders smeared on doors.

We must be careful to examine the claims closely of any new wind of doctrine, and purge out the leaven.

these waters may be to deep for you and I'm afraid you might be unwilling to have your ideas challenged with you having an open mind to correction.

I'm reevaluating my ideas and conceptions I have with my own presuppositions as I'm reading this book with an open mind.

Can you say the same ?

hope this helps !!!

 

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The Role of the Passover Lamb’s Blood

I claimed above that not all “gap filling” is inherently problematic, but I demonstrated why gap filling vis-à-vis the death of the lamb is misguided because the death of sacrificial animals never holds any ritual or theological significance in the Torah. The preceding discussion, however, also exhibited how gap filling can be done responsibly regarding God’s claim on the firstborns (human and animal). By attending to how the redemption of firstborns is explained and developed outside of Exod 12 and across the Torah and 1 Samuel, we were able to both understand that concept better and simultaneously debunk more misunderstandings.

Similarly, I think attending to certain other details in the account of Passover in Exod 12 might help us “gap fill” and ascertain another layer of meaning to the blood ritual in addition to it serving as a tangible “sign” to signal to God that this is an Israelite household, which is the only explicit comment made in the narrative (12:13, 23). First, although I have been using “Passover” since that is now the accepted English name for this celebration, the root p-s-ḥ more than likely does not mean “pass over,” but rather “protect/ion.”148 This is supported by the verbal use of p-s-ḥ in Isa 31:5: “Like birds hovering overhead, so the LORD of hosts will protect Jerusalem; he will protect and deliver it, he will spare [pāsōaḥ] and rescue it.

” The “pass over” connotation is a retrospective gloss specific to the narrative of Exod 12 where God’s “protection” of Israel can be thought of as “skipping over” or “passing over” the Israelite houses. But the p-s-ḥ root “was originally independent of the Exodus events”149 so “pass over” is not its basic denotation even if this is the particular way God’s protection is imagined to have looked like during the tenth plague. The point here, though, is that the Passover meal is memorializing an event when Israel was “protected.” When we examine the peculiar use of blood for the first Passover, its usefulness as a “protective” agent, only when combined with another key ingredient, becomes clear.

Put another way, although the function of blood is not for the purpose of “atonement” (kipper) this does not mean it has no ritual function. We have already seen how it functions at least as a visible and tangible “sign” for God to recognize the house as an Israelite one (12:13, cf. v. 23), and now we can see how it also has the particular function of “protection” (pesaḥ, 12:11, 21). Second, this protective function is supported, not only by the word pesaḥ, but also by observing that “hyssop” (ʾēzôv) is used in combination with the blood (12:22). Hyssop is not used for many biblical rituals, but in every other ritual besides the first Passover where hyssop is dipped in blood and used as the sprinkling instrument, it serves a “purifying” or even an apotropaic, “protective” or “warding off,” function (cf. the mention of hyssop in Ps 51:9 [v. 7 Eng.]).

The hyssop-blood combination is only used in purification rites for people that have already recovered from scale disease (ṣāraʿat)150 (Lev 14:3–6), for houses that have recovered from fungus (also labeled as ṣāraʿat, 14:34, 44, 54–55) (14:48–52), and finally for people who have contracted corpse impurity and need to be purified to worship at the dwelling place again (Num 19:6, 18).151 Without getting bogged down in the nuances of these rituals, we only need to observe four points. (1) “Sin(s)” is never brought up in these texts (e.g., scale disease is not punishment for sin).152 (2) None of this blood is sacrificial blood because none of it comes from an animal that is offered up on the altar (and thus none of its blood goes on any part of the altar either).153 As I will emphasize in chapter 4 on atoning sacrifices, the blood used to decontaminate the dwelling place from sins and severe impurities comes from a ḥaṭṭāʾt (“purgation”) sacrifice, but this ḥaṭṭāʾt blood is never placed on any people.154 (3) Given that these are the only places where hyssop is used with blood, it is apparent that using these together is the taken-for-granted standard ingredients to use in non-sacrificial purification rituals (a practice that likely predates these writings).

Hyssop-blood is the common denominator between all of these and the first (non-sacrificial) Passover.155 By observing the functions and contexts of these rituals besides Passover, we can see that the hyssop-blood combination offers some sort of generalized protection. This does not mean it is warding off the same thing in each ritual. This combination is incorporated into specific rituals aimed at warding off specific threats. Since the ṣāraʿat person and/or house has to be physically healed of the infection prior to the hyssop-blood rituals (Lev 14:3–4, 48), then the hyssop-blood cannot be conceived of as actually healing the person/house. It may have been a folk ritual used proactively to inoculate against scale disease or reactively to heal it (and perhaps this was an exorcism, since similar rites are attested in other Mesopotamian exorcism rituals), but once it gets incorporated into the Levitical priestly system these possible functions have disappeared.156

In Leviticus it is either purifying any remaining invisible (symbolic?) miasma from these people/houses or warding off reinfection (or perhaps both) of the person/house. Whatever else can be said about what is going on here, the hyssop-blood is at the very least offering some sort of post-infection and post-healing protection from any possible lingering effects of the impurity of ṣāraʿat. For corpse impurity, however, the hyssop-ash (Num 19:6) and the hyssop dipped in the hyssop-ash-water that is then sprinkled on the person (19:17–18) can be said to actually purify the person from the impurity (ṭāmēʾ) adhering to their bodies by contact with a corpse (19:13, 20). For the first Passover, then, using hyssop to sprinkle the blood on the doorposts and lintel of a house (Exod 12:22) is most like the ritual for the ṣāraʿat house in Lev 14:48–52.

The Passover ritual with hyssop, therefore, which is also unique to the first Passover since hyssop is not used in any subsequent Passovers, can be reasonably conceived of as purifying the house to protect it from “the destroyer” coming in, which is exactly what Exod 12:22–23 conveys. It is a preventative apotropaic ritual warding off this specific one-off threat.157 Hence, calling this meal celebrating this event “the Protection” (hapāsaḥ, Exod 12:21) makes good sense because God will “see” the hyssop-tossed blood and “protect” the house from “the destroyer” who will then not be able to “enter” (12:22–23; cf. v. 13). Finally, (4) the concept of substitutionary death is never present in any of these hyssop rituals. The (non-sacrificial) blood is not functioning as a “substitutionary death” for those whom the hyssop-blood is protecting/purifying. Using hyssop to dip in blood (or ash-water with blood and hyssop-as-ash components) and sprinkle on things is simply taken for granted as a non-sacrificial purification procedure. What it purges and/or wards off is different depending on the ritual context. In any case, the hyssop-blood only happens at that first (non-sacrificial) Passover.

Once Passover becomes incorporated as a sacrifice in Israel’s liturgical calendar, there is no hyssop-blood and no door frames are supposed to be smeared with it (neither is the altar dashed with hyssop-blood). In fact, after setting forth all this information, then along with the previous observations about why the first Passover is not a sacrifice (no priesthood, no altar, not boiling the meat), the presence of hyssop only at the first Passover is yet another way the text indexes that first Passover as “not a sacrifice.” The absence of hyssop at all subsequent Passovers, therefore, makes sense if hyssop is only used in non-sacrificial rituals (i.e., rituals whose blood/animal components are not offered up to God on the altar). Therefore, the Passover does not have an atoning function, but the first Passover is depicted as having a protective (pesaḥ) apotropaic function, anchored as it is in the standard non-sacrificial ritual ingredients and procedures for warding off a threat, applying blood on a house with hyssop branches. All subsequent Passovers function as sacrificial commemorations of this event, celebrated by feasting on a unique type of (non-atoning) thanksgiving well-being offering.

 

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Covenant-Renewal Ceremonies

The covenant at Sinai was inaugurated with burnt offerings and well-being offerings (Exod 24:5). Now that we understand the relationship between these, it makes sense that the relationship between God and Israel would be initiated with these sacrifices because their main function is the meeting of God and people through sacred feasting (cf. 24:11). In general, these are sacrifices of invitation and celebration and cannot have an atoning function.158 In particular, these are celebrating the ratification of the so-called “Mosaic” or “Sinaitic” covenant. It is this particularity that accounts for a peculiar blood ritual that is unique to Exod 24: in addition to the altar, blood is also sprinkled upon the people (v. 8). Before discussing that unique blood ritual, it is worth seeing how future covenant-renewal ceremonies feature only these same non-atoning sacrifices, but without the blood-sprinkling ritual.

For example, Moses instructs Joshua to facilitate one such covenant-renewal ceremony upon crossing the Jordan river (Deut 27:4–8), which Joshua does (Josh 8:30–35). We see similar covenant-renewal ceremonies with King Asa (2 Chr 15:10–15), King Hezekiah (29:30–36, esp. vv. 31, 35), and again at the re-institution of the Passover with another covenant renewal (30:1–27, esp. v. 22), and King Manasseh after his repentance (2 Chr 33:16). The common denominator for all these is the well-being (šǝlāmîm)/eaten-sacrifice (zebaḥ).

This is the standard covenant-ratifying sacrifice according to Ps 50:5 (NRSV): “Gather to me my faithful ones, who made a covenant with me by sacrifice [zebaḥ]!”159 Further, once the Maccabees successfully defeated Antiochus IV, they rededicate the altar for eight days and only burnt offerings and well-being offerings are mentioned (1 Macc 4:56). Even if this is not quite the same as a covenant-renewal ceremony, it is a re-dedication to “the law” (4:53) and commemorating their deliverance from Antiochus (4:59).

Thus, only sacrificing burnt and well-being offerings is expected, since these are the appropriate sacrifices for such purposes and occasions. The main idea is that when a leader wants to mark the renewal of the covenant, they use well-being sacrifices because one of the key functions of those sacrifices is to serve as communal feasts of commemoration and celebration. Now that we understand their broad use in contexts that have great national significance, we can examine the role of the distinct blood ritual associated with the well-being sacrifices for this function.

The Visible Memorial Function Even though the blood ritual for the covenant-inauguration is not about atonement, it still has a significant function as a sign of the bond being ratified or renewed. This becomes clear when we attend to two aspects of the blood ritual described in Exod 24:6 and 8. The first is “dashing” (zāraq) on the sides of the altar (v. 6) and the second is “dashing” it upon the people (v. 8). Dashing the blood on the sides of the altar is standard protocol for burnt and well-being sacrifices (e.g., Lev 1:5, 11; 3:2, 8), but dashing it on people only happens here; it is not in any of the covenant-renewal ceremonies. Regarding the first aspect, “dashing” blood on the sides of the altar does not happen with the atoning purgation sacrifices (ḥaṭṭāʾt). As Josephus was careful to highlight, when the blood from the purgation sacrifices goes on an altar (there are two altars, the outer altar for animal sacrifices and the altar inside the holy place for burning incense only), then it only goes on their protruding “horns,” not its sides (e.g., Lev 4:7, 18, 25, 30, 34; cf. Josephus, Ant. 3.231).160

The blood manipulations between these sacrifices are further distinguished by the use of different verbs. Whereas the burnt and well-being sacrifices have their blood “dashed” or “tossed” (zāraq) on the altar’s sides, the purgation sacrifice has its blood “daubed,” “smeared,” or more generally “put” (nātan) on the altar’s horns.161 The different actions with the blood and the different locations it contacts both index the distinct functions of these sacrifices.162 The visibility of these different blood rituals is important.163 From the perspective of the laity, who cannot “come near” the outer altar (this is only accessible to priests, not even Levites, Num 18:2, 7, 22; 1:51), they cannot see the horns of the altar from above, which means they cannot see the blood daubed on top of them. This is especially the case since the altar is elevated, built on a platform, and so required a long ramp up to it (Exod 20:26). And for the atoning blood rituals that take place inside the dwelling place proper (the holy place and holy of holies), the laity cannot see any of it. It is completely hidden from view behind the curtain blocking access to the dwelling place.

But the laity can see the sides of the outer altar from afar. This means the only sacrificial blood visible to the laity is the blood dashed on its sides for the burnt and well-being sacrifices, making it look red. Hence, when describing the unique blood ritual of the well-being sacrifices, Josephus says the priests “redden [phoinissō] the altar with the blood” (Ant. 3.228, my translation).

The Bonding Function But what about the second, and utterly unique, aspect of the covenant-inauguration blood ritual? What purpose does dashing the blood on the people serve (24:8)? In short, I agree with Umberto Cassuto’s basic conclusion: “The throwing of half of the blood of the offerings against the altar, which represented the Lord, and half on the people, or that which represented them, signifies a joining together of the two contracting parties (communio), and symbolized the The Bonding Function But what about the second, and utterly unique, aspect of the covenant-inauguration blood ritual?

What purpose does dashing the blood on the people serve (24:8)? In short, I agree with Umberto Cassuto’s basic conclusion: “The throwing of half of the blood of the offerings against the altar, which represented the Lord, and half on the people, or that which represented them, signifies a joining together of the two contracting parties (communio), and symbolized the execution of the deed of covenant between them.”168 That is, “the application of blood to both the altar and the people indexes a bond between the covenant parties.”169 This is a common view among OT scholars.170 This interpretation is supported by two further observations. The first is noting how the two blood manipulations bookend the covenant-inauguration ceremony (Exod 24:3–8).

Moses first dashes the altar with the blood (24:6), then reads “the book of the covenant” (i.e., the Covenant Code in Exod 20:22—23:19), which the people affirm to obey (24:7), and after this affirmation he dashes the people with the same blood (24:8). These two blood manipulations frame the covenant-making ceremony and thus “mark the bounds of a time in which Yahweh’s words are offered to the people in a concrete written form and the people express their acceptance of Yahweh as suzerain.”171 The blood-dashing ritually marks either that the covenant bond is being created in and through the blood manipulations, or that it has already been made (forged by verbal assent to God’s words) and the blood is the tangible ratification and memorial of that bond. For our purposes, it does not matter which one is preferred. Either way, whether the blood dashing on both the altar and the people forges, ratifies, or signals a “bond,” the blood ritual at the very least “index[es] a relationship between the people and that altar.”172

The second observation is technically a set of observations and requires expanded discussion. Sacrificial Blood Application to People Elsewhere:The Metaphysical-Transition Function By looking at what happens in two other instances when blood is applied to both the altar and people, we can not only strengthen the above point, but we can also plausibly say more than just that this shared blood ritual between the altar and the people “indexes” a relationship. One happens at the ordination of Aaron and his sons as priests (Exod 29; Lev 8) and the other is part of the post-healing ritual purification process for the person recovered from scale disease (Lev 14).173 For all the differences between these three rituals, what they have in common is that the people who have blood applied to them undergo a metaphysical transition. They transfer from one realm into another, always in the direction of holiness (though at different levels).

The first of these is instructed right after the covenant-inauguration ceremony when Moses goes back up the mountain to receive the instructions for constructing the dwelling place and consecrating the priesthood (Exod 25–29), which is then carried out after the dwelling place has been built (Lev 8). As part of a multistep priesthood-consecration process, Moses is instructed to take the blood from a ram used as an “ordination” sacrifice (Exod 29:22, 26; Lev 8:22, 29),174 and “put” or “daub” (nātan) it on the right side earlobes, thumbs, and big toes of Aaron and his sons and then “dash” (zāraq) the rest against the sides of the altar (Exod 29:20; Lev 8:23–24). This “ram of ordination” is a one-off special instance of a well-being sacrifice (Exod 29:28) and the distinctive ritual action of “dashing” the blood against the sides of the altar confirms this. Although the ritual action of “daubing” the blood on soon-to-be priests differs from the “dashing” or “tossing” on the people in Exod 24:8, these “can [be] fruitfully compare[d]” on the basis that these are two of the three times “blood is applied to people and to an altar.”175 It is apparent that these blood rituals are “indexing a relationship between the people [that have blood applied to them] and the altar.”176 Or, as Nahum Sarna expresses, “in both these ceremonies—covenant and ordination—the blood functions mysteriously to cement the bond between the involved parties.”177 Moreover, although both the covenant-inauguration ceremony and the priestly ordination index a relationship between the people and the altar (God), these relational indexes are different for each group. The different action on Aaron and his sons need not indicate more than the fact that their relationship to God, represented by the altar, is that of priests, who mediate even the laity’s access to the altar.

 

[civic]

As part of the third and final stage in the purification process, something is needed to re-establish the link between the person to be reintegrated into the worship of the community and their access to the dwelling place since scale disease brought them so close to the realm of death that they were completely disconnected from the altar. This unique reparation offering, then, by means of being the first sacrifice offered by the person recently healed from scale disease and having the sacrificial blood applied to both the altar and to the offerer, serves to re-establish the bond between the person and the altar. Scale disease is as close to death as one can ritually get besides being literally dead, and because of this they have been severed from the altar and the camp (Num 5:2–3; Lev 13:46) so that they cannot “defile” or “make impure/unclean” (yǝṭammǝʾû) this space where God dwells (Num 5:3). In this way, their reintegration into the community and its liturgical life mimics the covenant-inauguration ceremony.

The application of the blood to both the offerer and the altar reinstates the bond between the person and the altar once again. It is important to notice that blood from the purgation sacrifice (ḥaṭṭāʾt) is never used on people.204 Purgation sacrifice blood is only ever used on sancta, to purge the ritual vandalism that impurity and sin produces on these holy objects. This is important because this means none of these non-atoning blood rituals have anything to do with sin and thus with purging people from any “stain” of sin. I will develop this and bring in relevant nuances for the purgation sacrifices in the next two chapters, but here we only need to realize how the fact that no blood from this particular sacrifice is ever used on people necessarily means these blood rituals cannot have anything to do with “overcoming the problem of sin” let alone “substituting for their deserved death” or any other such similar yet mistaken (and problematic) notions. What has become clear from the foregoing, and what will be useful for analyzing certain NT texts later, is that when blood is applied to people it always marks a transition from one metaphysical realm into another—in the direction of greater holiness.

Thus, for the soon-to-be priests, this is a transition from being a regular lay Israelite to a consecrated priest. For the person who has recovered from scale disease, this is a transition from the realm of “death,” from being the “walking dead”205 and thus excluded from community and liturgical life, back to “life” as a full community member. Sacrificial blood used in this way indexes metaphysical transitions up the scale of holiness. None of this has nothing to do with a ritual or symbolic substitutionary death. Conclusion to Covenant Inauguration We have established the “indexing” function of the blood for all three of the sacrificial rituals that feature the distinctive action of applying the blood to both the people and the altar; namely, that it indexes a bond between them. We also further established how this ritual indexes a metaphysical transition, but only for the instance of Aaron and his sons moving from the common (as laity) to the holy (as priests) and for the person who has recovered from scale disease transitioning from death to life.

All this provides a strong warrant to comprehend the covenant inauguration as likewise being about a metaphysical transition for Israel as a whole. That is, the blood ritual is not only about forging a covenantal bond between Israel and God (via the altar), but is also indexing their metaphysical transition from being a regular people to a “treasured possession” (Exod 19:5; cf. Deut 7:6; 14:2; 26:18) and a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:6).206 In Exod 19:5–6 God says that if they agree to the terms of the covenant, then they will become a new sort of people, they will transition into the realm of the “holy” (19:6), a status the priestly literature in Leviticus confirms in its own way (cf. Lev 20:26; 11:44; 19:2: 20:7).207 The connection between Exod 19:5–6 and 24:3–8 might be missed due to there being a lot of intervening material, but this is simply all the instructions Israel needs to hear first before they can agree to the covenant, which is why Moses reads out the book of the covenant before dashing them with blood (24:3–4, 7).

Once this narrative context is accounted for, then, it becomes clear that the covenant ceremony is establishing not only Israel’s covenantal bond with God, but also their metaphysical transition into a holy people. From this vantage point, therefore, we can safely conclude that for all the differences between these blood rituals that feature sacrificial blood being applied to both people and the altar, they all share common functions. Pulling the various threads together we see that the blood: (a) serves as a visible sign and memorial of the event and, (b) at the very least, ritually indexes or ratifies a relationship between the people and the altar (representing God) (though perhaps it might do more than “index” and may even actualize or generate it), and (c) indexes that a metaphysical transition has taken place (or actualizes this transition). In none of these blood rituals would “substitutionary death” make any sense. It is a foreign concept that is completely out of context for all these rituals. As we saw, ritual blood manipulations are distinct.

The blood from different sacrifices, and even blood from non-sacrifices (as in the case for the first purification stage for scale disease), brings about different outcomes. Also, the action the priest performs with it affects different outcomes. All the specific verbs signify different functions. Blood that is “dashed” does something different than when it is “put” or “sprinkled,” or, as we will see in due course, “poured out.” And it also matters where these ritual actions are taking place. Is it happening to the outer altar or the inner altar (on its horns or the sides)? The veil? The ground? We have yet to explain some of these actions, but the point here is that not all ritual blood is endowed with the same meaning and function.

Therefore, attempting to reduce sacrificial blood to one thing, let alone “substitutionary death,” is fundamentally mistaken. It conflates where the priestly system distinguishes. It misunderstands that nuance and distinction is at the very heart of priestly discernment (e.g., Lev 10:10; 11:47; 20:25; Ezek 22:26; 44:23), which is why there are various types of sacrifices, non-sacrificial rituals, different blood manipulations, etc.

Conclusion As demonstrated, sacrifices have distinct rationales and functions apart from atonement. The daily burnt offerings, for instance, serve the purpose of drawing divine attention. Well-being offerings facilitate sacred feasting between God and humanity, enacting and fostering the union of God and the community. Both the Passover and the covenant inauguration and renewal ceremonies only employ non-atoning sacrifices. And, not only is the Passover a unique “thanksgiving” well-being sacrifice, commemorating God’s deliverance of Israel in the exodus, the initial Paschal meal was not even a sacrifice, let alone some sort of atoning substitutionary death sacrifice. Furthermore, I argued rituals of blood-sprinkling on the people have nothing to do with atonement or substitutionary death. Whenever blood is applied to people, it ritually marks and facilitates specific metaphysical transitions, unique to each cultic context. Now, keeping the larger aim of understanding how the NT authors make use of OT sacrificial imagery and to comprehend various meaning of Jesus’s death, it needs to be appreciated that the only sacrificial interpretation of Jesus’s death that claims to go back to Jesus, is his words at his last Passover. Jesus tethers it both to the non-atoning communal celebrations of Passover and the covenant inauguration by quoting or alluding to Exod 24:8 (“the blood of the covenant”) (Matt 26:26–29; Mark 14:22–25; Luke 22:15–20; 1 Cor 11:23–26). And King Hezekiah already set the precedent for bringing these two celebrations—Passover and covenant renewal—together (2 Chr 29:30—30:27).

 

[Dizerner]

This guy is one of the most scatterbrained disconnected people I've ever listened to.

Even if I agreed with him, I still could not recommend him.

 

[civic]

This guy is one of the most scatterbrained disconnected people I've ever listened to.

Even if I agreed with him, I still could not recommend him.

Some people are better writers than speakers , just sayin

For example I’m much better at communicating face to face than I am with written communication

But I will watch it to see if you are giving him a fair shake

 

[civic]

They begin talking about the book at the 11 minute mark.

I could care less about what came before that

 

[civic]

This is an unbiased short review

 

[civic]

And here

 

[Dizerner]

Some people are better writers than speakers , just sayin

Just so people are clear and know exactly who this author that wrote this book is, he thinks Paul was a Universalist:



He also clearly implies here he does not believe every Pauline letter is authentic.



He reject the books of 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy and Titus as not being from Paul.


Is this the kind of person any godly Christians on here want to be listening to and sitting under their ministry?!

Please use discernment Christians.

 

[Dizerner]

And now we have an entire chapter pasted in from someone who thinks Paul was a Universalist and rejects three of Paul's letters.