(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on September 22, 2019, Proper 20)
“A Pleasing Odor”
If
you found yourself nodding off there, don’t be ashamed. Leviticus is like a heavy-strength
sedative. Reading it puts nearly
everyone to sleep. In today’s
passage, it feels like the same thing happens again and again. If it’s an animal of the herd, here’s
what you do with the kidneys and the liver and the fat and the blood, et
cetera, et cetera. If it’s an
animal of the flock, here’s what you do with the kidneys and the fat and the
blood, et cetera, et cetera.
It’s
easy to turn off or tune out when we hear the same details repeated over and
over again. But actually, as our
high school English teachers probably taught us years ago, repetition can clue
us in to what is most significant in a text. And there is one phrase that repeats without fail in the
first three chapters of Leviticus.
It’s there for the burnt offering.
It’s there for the grain offering.
It’s there this week for the well-being offering (or in some
translations, peace offering).
You’ve probably noticed it, if not consciously then unconsciously. At the end of each offering, like
clockwork, like a bass note that anchors the changing melody, we hear again and
again the serene refrain: it is “a
pleasing odor” to the Lord (1:9, 13, 17; 2:2, 9; 3:5; 3:16).
What
is especially curious, however, is that this repetition suddenly disappears in
the next three chapters—which all deal with sin and guilt sacrifices. This sudden disappearance highlights
the special character of these first three sacrifices. Leviticus begins not with sin and
guilt. Leviticus begins with joy
and gratitude. This is the common
thread of the first three offerings, all of which are voluntary—you make them
because you want to make them—and all of which are “a pleasing odor” to the
Lord. These offerings all tell the
Israelites: you can enter into God’s presence and feel God’s joy and
pleasure. Any time you want.
To
repeat that point: contrary to what you might expect, Leviticus does not begin
with obligation. It does not
begin, “You have sinned, and here’s what you need to do.” Leviticus begins with joy. It begins with, “God wants you to draw
near. You can feel the presence
and the peace and the pleasure of God.”
There’s
a clue, in fact, that this joy has cosmic significance. How many times do we hear that a
sacrifice is “a pleasing odor” to the Lord? Seven. The same
number of times that God looked upon creation and saw that it was good. It’s as though the priests are saying,
“The beginning of life, the goodness of this creation—it has to do with
joy. Life begins with joy. The foundation of this world, the bass
note that holds everything together—it’s joy.” Some Christian mystics would later go so far as to suggest
that in the beginning, there was laughter.[1] God created the world in joy and
delight.
Starting with Joy
Deep
down, our world knows this truth about joy. I return to a couple of analogies that we’ve explored since
we began our journey in Leviticus.
Consider first how gratitude journals are often an essential part of a
recovery program for addicts. It
almost seems counterintuitive.
What would someone who’s hit rock-bottom have to be thankful for? It might not be much. But whatever it is, it is the seed of
new life. Joy draws the addict
into the goodness of life once more: perhaps the goodness of a healthy
friendship or a fulfilling project or simply the appreciation for all the gifts
and possibility that are open to us through no doing of our own.
Or
consider sports. A good youth
coach knows that his or her players must feel joy. If a child does not love the game, he or she won’t be
inspired to learn and grow. The
players who improve the most are almost the ones who play the sport not just at
practice but in the backyard and on the blacktop and in the kitchen and on any
square foot they can find to catch or bounce or kick a ball. It all begins with joy. If there’s no joy, there’s ultimately
no life.
Or
consider relationships. I always
have to smile at how joyless Valentine’s Day can be for some couples. The reason is clear. It has become an obligation, a cold,
sterile exchange of affection. But
that’s not how real relationships grow.
Real relationships grow when gifts are given freely and joyfully—one
might even say sacrificially. Real
relationships grow from a joy that is so great that it makes sacrifices.
Not Repent, But Rejoice
What
makes the sacrifices at the start of Leviticus even more striking is the
context in which they happen. The
tabernacle is constructed immediately following the Israelites’ rebellion
against God. Remember how when
Moses came down with the 10 commandments, he found the Israelite camp
worshipping a golden calf that they had made? Remember his anger?
In
our world, the response to such egregious infidelity would be to demand
repentance. We would expect the
first sacrifices in this newly constructed tent of meeting to be sacrifices of
repentance and atonement. But
that’s not what we find. Because
just as the last thing an addict needs is another heaping of shame, or the last
thing a relationship needs is another lifeless rule, so the last thing these
Israelites need is a kick while they’re on the ground. Instead God lifts them up and declares
that they can still draw near to God.
Instead God wants to share God’s joy with them. The sacrifices at the start of
Leviticus do not preach, “Repent and do better” but “rejoice in this
life!” Only in the frame of joy,
only in the context of gift and grace, will the later sacrifices of sin and
repentance make any sense.
I
wonder on behalf of what joy would the Israelites have offered their first
sacrifices? For what would they
have been grateful? Remember that
at this time they are in the wilderness. Sure, they are free from slavery in Egypt,
but they are having to make do with limited resources, and in front of them is
the great unknown. Where did they
find life in that experience? I
imagine that their first sacrifices had little to do with material success or
provision and more to do with certain intangible or spiritual experiences—like
being able to savor the sunrise for its spectacular colors instead of seeing it
as the herald of hard labor; like being able to enjoy what little food they
had, eating it now unhurriedly and in the fellowship of friends and family;
like being able to enjoy the laughter of their children, hearing in it now the
promise of a new world.
The Gospel according to
Leviticus
Leviticus
is ultimately about creating a new world.
Its rituals constitute a new world a world where everyone can draw near
to God. Its first three sacrifices
in particular, which are not penitential or obligatory but rather spontaneous
and cheerful, set about creating that new world through joy. Just as God looked upon the first
creation and saw that it was good, God invites the Israelites to look on life
and rejoice. Even though life for
them literally is a wilderness.
Even though they have just rebelled against the life that God has given
them.
I
read in these first three sacrifices a profound metaphor for the gospel. That is, what is happening here in
these first three sacrifices is the same thing that we see in the person and
message of Jesus Christ.
First,
the sacrifices of joy and gratitude encourage us to start where we are. They tell us that God loves just and
welcomes us just as we are.
They tell us that life is not at some point ahead of us, when we start
doing things better or start achieving our goals, but right where we are. If instead Leviticus had begun with
sacrifices of sin and repentance, the worshiper might be led to feel a deep
shame or a sense that he is a failure.
But living out of shame or unrealistic expectation will set a person up
for a cycle of defeat and disappointment, just as repeatedly telling a child how
they’re doing it wrong will lead them away from a sport. Instead, the rituals of Leviticus
invite us to recognize that God loves us and wants to be near to us right where
we are. They encourage us to start
where we are, to be thankful for the life we have and the promise and
possibility that is in it.
At
the same time, however, starting where you are is not the same thing as staying
there. Leviticus is all about a
journey. This is a tent, remember,
not an immovable brick building.
Even as the Israelites are invited to find life right where they are,
they are also reminded that this joy and gratitude will lead them into change
and renewal and growth. They are
not at their destination. Be
grateful where you are, but don’t be completely content. We see this in Christ, who always
welcomes us right where we are, but also lovingly calls us to follow him. There is always more love to give, more
forgiveness to share, more peace to make, more hope to spread. This is a joy on the move.
And
perhaps “on the move” deserves added emphasis. Leviticus says very little about the destination. It talks very little about the promised
land. It’s almost as though
Leviticus is saying, Don’t worry about the destination. Enjoy the way. Life is found not at a destination but
in the way. In recovery, the way
is what matters. In one sense, the
addict never makes it. There is no
achievement that finishes the journey.
What matters is this new way of living, which begins with gratitude and
joy, which sees every day as a gift, a possibility for new life. Christ says,
“I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:8), which means the same
thing: that life is found in a way.
For the Church
Some
people say that the future of the church universal is bleak. I would say, however, that the future
of the church is not the church’s concern. The gospel that we hear in Leviticus suggests that the
church’s concern is, first, to start where it is. Acknowledge the reality of the situation and rejoice. Be grateful—perhaps not so much for
material realities as for the spiritual realities that give us life, like the
radical grace and welcome of an open table or the fellowship and blessing that
is shared with our needful neighbors.
But then also do not be completely content. Be prepared to move and to change and to grow, because
that’s what this God is about.
This God is working on a new creation and needs your help. And finally, don’t worry about a
destination, whether that’s filled pews or a bigger building or the prestige of
a successful ministry. Life is not
a destination but a way. For those
who find life in sports, it’s not about money or trophies but about playing for
the love of the game. Recovery is
not about one day defeating addiction but every day learning to enjoy the
fullness of life. Relationships
are not about getting somewhere but about enjoying the journey together.
“Rejoice
always,” Paul says. “Give thanks
in all circumstances” (1 Thess 5:16-18).
Or as the gospel according to Leviticus would put it: start with joy,
wherever you are, because God is with you every step of the way.
Prayer
Loving
God,
Who
is well pleased
With
us right where we are:
Inspire
in this church
Deep
gratitude and joy
For
the humble movements
Of
your spirit.
Ready
it for change and travel.
And
bless its journey
With
the fullness of life.
In
him who is the Way, Jesus Christ:
Amen.
[1] E.g.,
Meister Eckhart says of the Trinity: “The Father laughs with the Son; the Son
laughs with the Father. The Father likes the Son; the Son likes the Father. The
Father delights in the Son; the Son delights in the Father. The Father loves
the Son; the Son loves the Father. This laughter, liking, delighting,
loving is the Holy Spirit!”
Some readers also find hints of laughter in scripture itself: in Prov
8:30-31, where Wisdom rejoices in creation and in Ps 104:31, where the Lord
rejoices in his works.
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