Leviticus 6.24-30 contains some interesting wording when it comes to the holiness of sacrifices. According to the TNIV, verse 27 reads "Whatever touches any of the flesh will become holy . . . ." This certainly sounds like contagious holiness, but the rest of the passage does not reflect this idea at all: the second half of the verse requires that any garment that touched the meat be washed, and verse 28 continues with the more frequent injunction to destroy or clean any pot in which the meat was cooked. These warnings are standard within these sections of Leviticus describing the various sacrifices, and nowhere do these descriptions suggest any sort of holiness that "passes on" from the sacrifice to any other object.
The NET probably has it right: "Anyone who touches its meat must be holy . . . ." Again, the holiness of an item, even of a sacrifice, continues its status subject to the holiness/cleanliness of what it contacts. So this passage, which I originally read in the TNIV, does not actually support any idea of "contagious holiness." So why bring it up at all? Simply because it demonstrates a principle core to the idea of contagious holiness: true holiness that trumps sin and uncleanness must come straight from the source--that is, God--and not from something else, even if it is associated with or given by him. This may not seem like a big deal, but its practical implications are pretty important. I'll take a look at those very briefly, and in just a minute. But first to look at holiness within the OT sacrificial system.
God set up the sacrificial system with its limitations so that it would be clear to Israel that holiness only came from personal interaction with himself via the avenues he specified (and thus demonstrating one's submission to his rule). Opening up another way to holiness via impersonal objects would bring "magic" back into Israel's experience of God (magic and divination were very significant parts of Egyptian and Canaanite religious rites). The key to magic is that man has control over the outcome. A priest trained for years in the "right" way to pray, to sacrifice, and to perform the rites so that he could guarantee the deity's response to the petitioner. In other words, praying the right prayer and giving the right gift guaranteed that you'd get what you wanted. It was a contract whose outcome you could control, and thus you had a measure of control over the divine.
The core of God's interaction with Israel, though, was their trust in his goodness and their consequent submission to his response to their petitions. This was completely the opposite of the religious atmosphere they left in Egypt, where one's status with the gods could be bought with proper rites. Israel's status with God depended instead on his grace, on their obedience, and on a covenant of trust and obedience instead of a contract of rituals and proper wording.
Ezekiel 47 takes this emphasis on the heart instead of on right ritual to a whole new level. Sacrifice and ritual--even as expressions of submission, obedience, and trust--are bypassed in favor of a new way in which God pours himself out on Israel, and Israel responds in heartfelt submission that transcends rite to be a personal interaction with God himself. This is where contagious holiness comes in, then: at the level of interaction with the person and power of God, and not with any other thing, no matter how closely linked to God's holiness it may be.
So what does that mean practically? It means that we can't expect God's holiness and his cleansing to "rub off" on us if we're not actually in contact with him. Too often we can get sidetracked by things that are "supposed" to grow us spiritually, whether they by people, practices, or events. But if we're not deliberately interacting with God at that heart level as a matter of lifestyle, we can't expect, much less demand, the outpouring of God's presence and power in our lives that we so very much desire. And with that, it's time to look at Jesus and how he viewed purity and holiness.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Contagious Holiness, Ezekiel Style
So the most vivid examples of contagious holiness can, I think, be found in the prophets and, specifically, in those prophetic passages that describe Israel's restoration and return from exile. In chapters 40-47, Ezekiel relates his vision of the new Temple and new Israel. A quick scan shows that it's full of odd details, numbers, etc. The perfection of the numbers and images (perfect cubes, numbers significant to Israelite history and gematria like 12, 40, etc.) indicate that the vision is symbolic. In keeping with his earlier vision in 10-13, Ezekiel's description of the Temple emphasizes its sheer "otherness," highlighting the transcendent glory, holiness, and power of God.
The imagery of this utter perfection coming down to dwell with Israel brings an astounding note of personal care and intimacy to Israel's future interactions with God. But the really astounding bit is found in Ezekiel 47. The Temple is once again in Israel, full of God's glory and holiness, and a river runs from the altar out of the Temple. It grows as it leaves the Temple, starting as a trickle but soon becoming an uncrossable river, overflowing the land. The river brings life everywhere it goes--life abundant and overwhelming, transforming a desert into fruitful land and even turning the Dead Sea into fresh water (but leaving the salt marshes salty in order to retain their usefulness). The trees bear unending fruit and their leaves bring healing to all. The uncleanness of the land that Ezekiel witnessed in chapters 10-13 is washed away in this flood as if it never existed.
Because of the link Ezekiel's already established between sin and the failure of the land and its people and the abandonment of God, the return of fruitfulness, the implied prosperity of God's people, and the simple yet undeniable fact of God's returned presence all point to a reversal of the OT concept of holiness as subject to defilement. The sacrificial code itself is based on the idea that the uncleanness of sin destroys the purification of holiness, making the repetition of sacrifice necessary in order to remain holy and within the covenant God established with his people (and, by extension, to remain within the community of God's people as well).
The OT view of the Temple is as a center of holiness, a place to come and have your uncleanness and sin effectively erased by sacrifice. However, neither the Tabernacle nor Solomon's Temple "infected" the land and its people with holiness. Instead, as Ezekiel saw, the sins of the people could defile the Temple itself, leading to God's abandonment of it, for it was no longer an appropriate dwelling for a holy God. This stands completely in line with the view of holiness described above.
However, Ezekiel's description in chapter 47 of unheard-of fruitfulness indicates a sanctification of the land--in a sense, its redemption. God's life-giving presence so pervades the land that it can only be described in cosmic, nearly surreal terms. No mention is made of sacrifices brought to the Temple; instead, the river bubbles forth from the altar spontaneously to bring holiness and redemption to God's people. The uncleanness of the land has been washed away in an outpouring of holiness unlike anything seen before. What is holy is not made unclean by the defilement of the land, but instead "trumps" the sin in the land in an explosion of life and healing. It is a contagious holiness that purifies all it touches.
The imagery of this utter perfection coming down to dwell with Israel brings an astounding note of personal care and intimacy to Israel's future interactions with God. But the really astounding bit is found in Ezekiel 47. The Temple is once again in Israel, full of God's glory and holiness, and a river runs from the altar out of the Temple. It grows as it leaves the Temple, starting as a trickle but soon becoming an uncrossable river, overflowing the land. The river brings life everywhere it goes--life abundant and overwhelming, transforming a desert into fruitful land and even turning the Dead Sea into fresh water (but leaving the salt marshes salty in order to retain their usefulness). The trees bear unending fruit and their leaves bring healing to all. The uncleanness of the land that Ezekiel witnessed in chapters 10-13 is washed away in this flood as if it never existed.
Because of the link Ezekiel's already established between sin and the failure of the land and its people and the abandonment of God, the return of fruitfulness, the implied prosperity of God's people, and the simple yet undeniable fact of God's returned presence all point to a reversal of the OT concept of holiness as subject to defilement. The sacrificial code itself is based on the idea that the uncleanness of sin destroys the purification of holiness, making the repetition of sacrifice necessary in order to remain holy and within the covenant God established with his people (and, by extension, to remain within the community of God's people as well).
The OT view of the Temple is as a center of holiness, a place to come and have your uncleanness and sin effectively erased by sacrifice. However, neither the Tabernacle nor Solomon's Temple "infected" the land and its people with holiness. Instead, as Ezekiel saw, the sins of the people could defile the Temple itself, leading to God's abandonment of it, for it was no longer an appropriate dwelling for a holy God. This stands completely in line with the view of holiness described above.
However, Ezekiel's description in chapter 47 of unheard-of fruitfulness indicates a sanctification of the land--in a sense, its redemption. God's life-giving presence so pervades the land that it can only be described in cosmic, nearly surreal terms. No mention is made of sacrifices brought to the Temple; instead, the river bubbles forth from the altar spontaneously to bring holiness and redemption to God's people. The uncleanness of the land has been washed away in an outpouring of holiness unlike anything seen before. What is holy is not made unclean by the defilement of the land, but instead "trumps" the sin in the land in an explosion of life and healing. It is a contagious holiness that purifies all it touches.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
To All Things There is An End . . . we hope!
Well, I have finally semi-officially finished my Master of Divinity! My thesis is submitted and my classes completed. On to graduation at the end of May! And now, for the first time in 2 years, I have time to explore all the ideas and fields I've put on hold because of my thesis. I've sadly neglected my blog, and I'm looking forward to working out some ideas I've kept in the back of my mind for the past few months.
But first I promise to finish some of my thoughts on contagious holiness. In the next couple of day, I'll sit down and look at sacrifice, Temple, and new covenant through the lens of contagious holiness--and then finally move on to how Jesus enacted this idea in his ministry, and what the implications of his actions are in regards to his understanding of God's promises to Israel and, possibly, our role as the church today, following the model he laid out.
But first I promise to finish some of my thoughts on contagious holiness. In the next couple of day, I'll sit down and look at sacrifice, Temple, and new covenant through the lens of contagious holiness--and then finally move on to how Jesus enacted this idea in his ministry, and what the implications of his actions are in regards to his understanding of God's promises to Israel and, possibly, our role as the church today, following the model he laid out.
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