February 25, 2007
Breadcrumb: Barbecue me a heifer!
In the case of many of the animal sacrifices, it was the one bringing the offering who killed it, after which the priest brought it to the altar and burnt it. (Lev. 1:5, 1:11, 3:2, 3:8, etc.) It seems clear why the latter should be the case: the altar was holy ground and off-limits to the common people. However, why should the common person kill the animal? Perhaps it was for cleanliness issues: the priest may not have wanted to get dirty. It might also be to ensure the donor didn't get cold feet and leave at the last minute. Or maybe it was just a way to get out aggression without negative consequences. We may never know.
February 24, 2007
Breadcrumb: Tasty!
When the Israelites made grain offerings, they were supposed to bring grains with salt, oil, and frankincense. (Lev. 2:1) Alternately, they could bring baked or fried unleavened cakes or wafers with oil. (Lev. 2:4-8) They also needed to be seasoned with salt. (Lev. 2:13) In other words, sacrifices of tasty pita, roti, or matza appeared to be on the menu for the Hebrew priests. I can almost smell it from here... yum!
February 23, 2007
Leviticus 1-4: Better it than me
Today's reading is Leviticus 1-4 (read it in the KJV or NIV)
Today's passage covers procedures for burnt offerings, grain offerings, fellowship offerings, and sin offerings when either the priest, nation, ruler, or common man sins unintentionally.
Both today's readings and those for the next essay deal almost exclusively with types of sacrifice, especially animal sacrifice. I will discuss the specific procedure for the sacrifices in the next essay, but in this one I would like to discuss the concept of animal sacrifice more generally.
Animal sacrifice was a common feature of ancient religions that has fallen almost entirely out of favour in modern ones. Nearly every ancient European religion had some requirement to sacrifice animals for their god or gods. Sumerians, Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans all practised animal sacrifice. The Celts and Norse did as well.
On the other hand, almost no modern religion practises animal sacrifice. There are a few exceptions, such as the hybrid religion Santeria and a few re-creation groups attempting to revive the ancient ways. However, these are a distinct minority in the modern world. Even the Jews have not offered animal sacrifices for nearly two thousand years, since the destruction of the second Temple.
Before that, however, Judaism was a typical ancient religion in its attitudes towards animal sacrifice. Indeed, as early as Gen. 4, we have an example of animal sacrifice in the Cain and Abel story. Noah sacrifices animals after the abatement of the flood in Gen. 8, and nearly all his descendants, the progenitors of the Jewish and Christian lines, offer sacrifices to God at some point. By the time we reach Leviticus, the Israelites have a permanent place to offer their sacrifices, namely the burnt offerings altar set before the tabernacle. And, of course, Leviticus devotes its first seven chapters to the methods of sacrifice.
Why were sacrifices so important? There were sacrifices for every occasion, some of which are developed later in Exodus and others explained in today's passage. It might behove us, therefore, to look at one example, and see how it compares to today's usage. I am referring to the sin offering.
The sin offering must be made when "anyone sins unintentionally and does what is forbidden in any of the LORD's commands." (Lev. 4:2, NIV) The text goes on to point out four specific categories of people who might sin: the anointed priest (Lev. 4:3-12), the congregation as a whole (Lev. 4:13-21), the ruler (Lev. 4:22-26), or a common person (Lev. 4:27-35). The text, it seems, covers all eventualities.
It is important to note that these are unintentional sins, or, as the KJV describes, "sin[s] through ignorance." (Lev. 4:2) The sin offering is not used when someone has ill will and deliberately decides to sin. It is not used, for example, if I decided to go rob someone and then did so. A closer analogy would be if I accidentally took someone else's bag instead of my own and afterwards couldn't find them to return it. Or, as a more common example, it might refer to accidentally swearing against God or accidentally eating something forbidden. The sin offering occurs when the sinner acknowledges that he or she has sinned and wishes to make amends.
Given the severity of the penalties listed in Exodus, it seems certain that providing an offering would be a more lenient penalty than the one normally prescribed for the equivalent sin. (Ex. 21-23) It would certainly be better to provide an offering than to be killed or excommunicated for a crime, penalties often assigned. This is especially true if the sinner was the anointed priest or the ruler of the people. The sin offering ensures that they remain under the common law and do not receive special treatment.
But why require sacrifices at all? Even if providing a sacrifice is more lenient than killing the unwitting criminal, it is still cruel to animals, isn't it? It still seems barbaric and futile, doesn't it?
The short answer is "no." In the ancient world, people were far more attuned to the natural world than modern people living in cities. Almost every ancient person would have been experienced with killing animals for food: if they wanted to eat meat, they needed to kill it themselves. So the idea of killing animals, in general, would not have seemed particularly cruel. Furthermore, the sacrificed animals provided a useful service: food for the priests. The burnt portions of the animals, often the blood, fat, and certain organs, were considered spiritually unclean for eating regardless. The rest of the animals would often be consumed by the priests.
Note the use of "often" in the previous sentence. This is because, in the case of sin offerings, the animal actually was not eaten by the priests. Instead, it was burned outside the camp. (Lev. 4:12, 4:21) This is because the sin offering provides one extra service not usually adopted by the normal burnt offerings: it takes the place of the sinner. Before it is burnt, the unintentional sinner places his hand upon the beast's head, symbolically having the beast accept the burden of sin instead of the man. When the beast is sacrificed, the man is absolved.
Whereas today we offer community service and other lightened penalties to criminals with mitigating circumstances, such as ignorance of the law, in the ancient world they offered sacrifices. The two, at least in this case, serve the same purpose. And while it might seem barbaric by modern standards, animal sacrifice was a fact of life among the ancient peoples of the near east. At least it's better than ancient Latin America, where human sacrifice appears to be common as well. Bring out the animals!
Today's passage covers procedures for burnt offerings, grain offerings, fellowship offerings, and sin offerings when either the priest, nation, ruler, or common man sins unintentionally.
Both today's readings and those for the next essay deal almost exclusively with types of sacrifice, especially animal sacrifice. I will discuss the specific procedure for the sacrifices in the next essay, but in this one I would like to discuss the concept of animal sacrifice more generally.
Animal sacrifice was a common feature of ancient religions that has fallen almost entirely out of favour in modern ones. Nearly every ancient European religion had some requirement to sacrifice animals for their god or gods. Sumerians, Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans all practised animal sacrifice. The Celts and Norse did as well.
On the other hand, almost no modern religion practises animal sacrifice. There are a few exceptions, such as the hybrid religion Santeria and a few re-creation groups attempting to revive the ancient ways. However, these are a distinct minority in the modern world. Even the Jews have not offered animal sacrifices for nearly two thousand years, since the destruction of the second Temple.
Before that, however, Judaism was a typical ancient religion in its attitudes towards animal sacrifice. Indeed, as early as Gen. 4, we have an example of animal sacrifice in the Cain and Abel story. Noah sacrifices animals after the abatement of the flood in Gen. 8, and nearly all his descendants, the progenitors of the Jewish and Christian lines, offer sacrifices to God at some point. By the time we reach Leviticus, the Israelites have a permanent place to offer their sacrifices, namely the burnt offerings altar set before the tabernacle. And, of course, Leviticus devotes its first seven chapters to the methods of sacrifice.
Why were sacrifices so important? There were sacrifices for every occasion, some of which are developed later in Exodus and others explained in today's passage. It might behove us, therefore, to look at one example, and see how it compares to today's usage. I am referring to the sin offering.
The sin offering must be made when "anyone sins unintentionally and does what is forbidden in any of the LORD's commands." (Lev. 4:2, NIV) The text goes on to point out four specific categories of people who might sin: the anointed priest (Lev. 4:3-12), the congregation as a whole (Lev. 4:13-21), the ruler (Lev. 4:22-26), or a common person (Lev. 4:27-35). The text, it seems, covers all eventualities.
It is important to note that these are unintentional sins, or, as the KJV describes, "sin[s] through ignorance." (Lev. 4:2) The sin offering is not used when someone has ill will and deliberately decides to sin. It is not used, for example, if I decided to go rob someone and then did so. A closer analogy would be if I accidentally took someone else's bag instead of my own and afterwards couldn't find them to return it. Or, as a more common example, it might refer to accidentally swearing against God or accidentally eating something forbidden. The sin offering occurs when the sinner acknowledges that he or she has sinned and wishes to make amends.
Given the severity of the penalties listed in Exodus, it seems certain that providing an offering would be a more lenient penalty than the one normally prescribed for the equivalent sin. (Ex. 21-23) It would certainly be better to provide an offering than to be killed or excommunicated for a crime, penalties often assigned. This is especially true if the sinner was the anointed priest or the ruler of the people. The sin offering ensures that they remain under the common law and do not receive special treatment.
But why require sacrifices at all? Even if providing a sacrifice is more lenient than killing the unwitting criminal, it is still cruel to animals, isn't it? It still seems barbaric and futile, doesn't it?
The short answer is "no." In the ancient world, people were far more attuned to the natural world than modern people living in cities. Almost every ancient person would have been experienced with killing animals for food: if they wanted to eat meat, they needed to kill it themselves. So the idea of killing animals, in general, would not have seemed particularly cruel. Furthermore, the sacrificed animals provided a useful service: food for the priests. The burnt portions of the animals, often the blood, fat, and certain organs, were considered spiritually unclean for eating regardless. The rest of the animals would often be consumed by the priests.
Note the use of "often" in the previous sentence. This is because, in the case of sin offerings, the animal actually was not eaten by the priests. Instead, it was burned outside the camp. (Lev. 4:12, 4:21) This is because the sin offering provides one extra service not usually adopted by the normal burnt offerings: it takes the place of the sinner. Before it is burnt, the unintentional sinner places his hand upon the beast's head, symbolically having the beast accept the burden of sin instead of the man. When the beast is sacrificed, the man is absolved.
Whereas today we offer community service and other lightened penalties to criminals with mitigating circumstances, such as ignorance of the law, in the ancient world they offered sacrifices. The two, at least in this case, serve the same purpose. And while it might seem barbaric by modern standards, animal sacrifice was a fact of life among the ancient peoples of the near east. At least it's better than ancient Latin America, where human sacrifice appears to be common as well. Bring out the animals!
February 18, 2007
Final Reflections on Exodus
We have, at long last, come to the end of the second book of the Bible. Once more, I would like to thank my devoted readers for continuing with me along this journey. I especially like to receive comments about my essays and Breadcrumbs: it reminds me that people are still reading. (That was a subtle hint, by the way, in case you missed it.)
So, having come 1/12 of the way along our journey through the Bible, it is time once more to pause and see what sort of overall messages we can retrieve from the book of Exodus before proceeding onwards to Leviticus.
One of the most striking features about Exodus is its sense of pacing. I mentioned in my first essay on this book (here) that the initial chapters of Exodus flashed by at breakneck speed. Moses' entire childhood took place in a single book (Ex. 2). All the circumstances leading up to the plagues were through by Ex. 6. The plagues themselves, all ten of them, occurred in the span of a few chapters (Ex. 7-11). Even the Exodus itself, the namesake of this book, took place in a chapter and a half (Ex. 13-14).
However, at this point the narrative slows down to a crawl. Ex 16-19 talk about various instances that took place within the camp, such as a description of the manna and quail the Israelites ate and their system of judges. Ex. 20-23 are a long list of laws, including but not limited to the ten commandments. By Ex. 25, the narrative has nearly stopped, detailing in fifteen long chapters the instructions for and construction of the tabernacle and priestly garments. This long recitation is only interrupted a few times: most notably in Ex. 32 for the story of the golden calf and Ex. 34 for the "other" ten commandments.
The question we must ask at this point is, "so what?" Why does it matter that the action-adverture portion of the narrative takes place in less than half of the book, while the second half reads like a glorified IKEA manual? What does this tell us about the redactors of the text and their values?
For one thing, the rapid action suggests an oral tradition that accompanied the text. Like much of Genesis, there are many more stories related to the text than actually in the Bible. Many of these stories have been passed down by oral tradition and companion, commentary texts. Jewish tradition states that Moses received not only the first five books of the Bible (the Pentateuch) but also the Talmud, an oral tradition to accompany it. Many of the morals we draw from the Genesis and early Exodus stories come from these other works.
However, there is a profound difference between the stories in Genesis and early Exodus and the laws and instructions in the second half of the latter. The stories about the Israelite patriarchs and Moses are, in large part, written for moral edification. They are stories that tell us how we should act, think, and believe. The ten plagues on the Egyptians remind us of God's power and the importance of obeying him, for example. A Jew (or, theoretically, a Christian) coming away from reading these passages should learn not only part of his cultural mythology and history but also how the passage is relevant to his own life and actions.
The latter half of Exodus, however, is not filled with morality tales. Rather, it contains laws and instructions. For the most part, the instructions are specific rather than general (see, for example, Ex. 21-23). This is because, while general laws are well and good for orienting people's attitudes, there will always be disputes. Furthermore, there will always be infractions. If we are told not to steal, what happens if we do? What happens if it was unintentional? The laws in Exodus attempt to deal with these eventualities, perhaps stemming from actual precedents.
The fifteen long chapters detailing the tabernacle and priestly garments are likewise specific, and even further away from general moral teachings. Instead, these were intended as instruction manuals. As I have mentioned several times over the course of the Breadcrumbs for Exodus, the Israelites were a nomadic people, at least initially. It is possible that the tabernacle might have been destroyed, along with its implements. Should this happen, the Israelites would have a record of how to reconstruct them. The text is specific and repeats itself so that there can be no doubt about what God wanted. If part of the text were accidentally destroyed, there is a chance that another section with the same information would survive. So, while it is tedious to read for modern, 21st century readers, it makes a great deal of sense to include so much detail.
The text therefore contains two very different sets of pacing to accommodate two very different purposes. When the purpose is moral edification, short and engaging passages suffice. Storytellers can fill in the blanks with their own knowledge, so long as the core moral teaching remains intact. When the purpose is construction and reconstruction of actual objects, however, the text needs to be precise, detailed, and (unfortunately for modern readers) long.
And, also unfortunately, the action doesn't pick up for another book and a half. Tomorrow we begin our journey through Leviticus, known to crush the spirit of even the greatest Biblical scholars. Shall we overcome? Return tomorrow and find out.
So, having come 1/12 of the way along our journey through the Bible, it is time once more to pause and see what sort of overall messages we can retrieve from the book of Exodus before proceeding onwards to Leviticus.
One of the most striking features about Exodus is its sense of pacing. I mentioned in my first essay on this book (here) that the initial chapters of Exodus flashed by at breakneck speed. Moses' entire childhood took place in a single book (Ex. 2). All the circumstances leading up to the plagues were through by Ex. 6. The plagues themselves, all ten of them, occurred in the span of a few chapters (Ex. 7-11). Even the Exodus itself, the namesake of this book, took place in a chapter and a half (Ex. 13-14).
However, at this point the narrative slows down to a crawl. Ex 16-19 talk about various instances that took place within the camp, such as a description of the manna and quail the Israelites ate and their system of judges. Ex. 20-23 are a long list of laws, including but not limited to the ten commandments. By Ex. 25, the narrative has nearly stopped, detailing in fifteen long chapters the instructions for and construction of the tabernacle and priestly garments. This long recitation is only interrupted a few times: most notably in Ex. 32 for the story of the golden calf and Ex. 34 for the "other" ten commandments.
The question we must ask at this point is, "so what?" Why does it matter that the action-adverture portion of the narrative takes place in less than half of the book, while the second half reads like a glorified IKEA manual? What does this tell us about the redactors of the text and their values?
For one thing, the rapid action suggests an oral tradition that accompanied the text. Like much of Genesis, there are many more stories related to the text than actually in the Bible. Many of these stories have been passed down by oral tradition and companion, commentary texts. Jewish tradition states that Moses received not only the first five books of the Bible (the Pentateuch) but also the Talmud, an oral tradition to accompany it. Many of the morals we draw from the Genesis and early Exodus stories come from these other works.
However, there is a profound difference between the stories in Genesis and early Exodus and the laws and instructions in the second half of the latter. The stories about the Israelite patriarchs and Moses are, in large part, written for moral edification. They are stories that tell us how we should act, think, and believe. The ten plagues on the Egyptians remind us of God's power and the importance of obeying him, for example. A Jew (or, theoretically, a Christian) coming away from reading these passages should learn not only part of his cultural mythology and history but also how the passage is relevant to his own life and actions.
The latter half of Exodus, however, is not filled with morality tales. Rather, it contains laws and instructions. For the most part, the instructions are specific rather than general (see, for example, Ex. 21-23). This is because, while general laws are well and good for orienting people's attitudes, there will always be disputes. Furthermore, there will always be infractions. If we are told not to steal, what happens if we do? What happens if it was unintentional? The laws in Exodus attempt to deal with these eventualities, perhaps stemming from actual precedents.
The fifteen long chapters detailing the tabernacle and priestly garments are likewise specific, and even further away from general moral teachings. Instead, these were intended as instruction manuals. As I have mentioned several times over the course of the Breadcrumbs for Exodus, the Israelites were a nomadic people, at least initially. It is possible that the tabernacle might have been destroyed, along with its implements. Should this happen, the Israelites would have a record of how to reconstruct them. The text is specific and repeats itself so that there can be no doubt about what God wanted. If part of the text were accidentally destroyed, there is a chance that another section with the same information would survive. So, while it is tedious to read for modern, 21st century readers, it makes a great deal of sense to include so much detail.
The text therefore contains two very different sets of pacing to accommodate two very different purposes. When the purpose is moral edification, short and engaging passages suffice. Storytellers can fill in the blanks with their own knowledge, so long as the core moral teaching remains intact. When the purpose is construction and reconstruction of actual objects, however, the text needs to be precise, detailed, and (unfortunately for modern readers) long.
And, also unfortunately, the action doesn't pick up for another book and a half. Tomorrow we begin our journey through Leviticus, known to crush the spirit of even the greatest Biblical scholars. Shall we overcome? Return tomorrow and find out.
February 16, 2007
Breadcrumb: How long?
In Ex. 40:17, we read that Moses set up the tabernacle in the first day of the first month of the second year. In other words, the Israelite had been out of Egypt exactly one year by the end of Exodus. As a reminder, Ex. 19:1 informs us that the Israelites entered the desert of Sinai on the third month after the Exodus. By quick calculation, this means that they had camped beneath Mount Sinai approximately nine months. Note that it is only in Num. 10 that the Israelites leave Sinai -- in the twentieth day of the second month of the second year (a month and a half later).
February 15, 2007
Breadcrumb: Help from my friends
I mentioned in a previous breadcrumb that most of the description of Bezaleel's construction of the tabernacle was in third-person singular ("he made..."). Most of the description of the priestly garments is the same, except for the breastplate. Here, the text uses the plural, "they made..." Why here, and nowhere else? Perhaps Bezaleel was only a mediocre gem-cutter and required help. Perhaps his arms were getting tired. Or perhaps everyone else was just getting tired of Bezaleel stealing all the credit.
February 14, 2007
Exodus 39-40: So, what now?
Today's reading is Exodus 39-40 (read it in the KJV or NIV)
Today's passage covers the construction of the priestly garments; Moses' blessing of everything that had been made; God's instructions for how to set up the tabernacle and consecrate Aaron and his sons; Moses' setting-up of the tabernacle; and the descent of God's glory over the tabernacle.
By the time he or she reaches the end of Ex. 39, I'm sure every reader is thoroughly sick of the tabernacle, its implements, and the priestly garments. We have had so much detail, so many times, that it is nearly possible to recite from memory what furniture was in the tabernacle, what it was made of, and where it should be placed.
So when we arrive at Ex. 40, the last chapter of Exodus, we are all eagerly awaiting something monumental: a miracle of epic proportions, perhaps, to get the narrative ball rolling again. Unfortunately, we do not think like the Biblical redactors.
The first thing we read in Ex. 40 (verses 1-16) is a lengthy series of instructions from God to Moses about how to set up the tabernacle and everything in it. He tells Moses in what order they should be set up, where in the tabernacle the various pieces of furniture should go, and so on. Though we have already heard extensively about the placement in previous chapters, that is apparently no barrier to repeating it again, one last time, to make sure we've got it right. We also hear how Moses should consecrate Aaron and his sons. We've heard this before as well, and in greater detail, in Ex. 29. Consider this a "Cliff's Notes" version of the consecration ceremony instructions.
And then, once this series of instructions is delivered, we read in verses 17-33 how Moses sets it all up. In other words, the text proceeds, in even greater detail, to repeat everything that was in the first half of the chapter. By this point, the whole discussion is beginning to get tedious.
It is only in the last five verses of the chapter that we have any sort of payoff: God, in the form of a cloud, descends over the tent of congregation (the tabernacle). In fact, that descent only takes one verse. The final four verses (Ex. 40:35-38) talk about how Moses can't enter the tabernacle due to God's glory being within in; how the Israelites only travelled when God rose up out of the tabernacle; and how God appeared as a cloud during the day and fire during the night.
In the end, therefore, we receive a one-verse culmination of fifteen chapters of instructions and work. Obviously the authors and redactors had no sense of narrative pacing, because this is the time to bring out the big literary bangs and wow the audience, who has been patiently waiting for something to happen for most of the book of Exodus. The last thing you want, at a time like this, is for your readers to look blankly at each other and ask, "is that it?"
Of course, God's descent into the tabernacle is important. It marks the true beginning of Israel as God's the chosen race. God is among them at last. He is better than an idol or a statuesque representation: he's the real thing, in the flesh (as it were). The importance of this single verse should not be underestimated. Likely the Israelites were feasting and celebrating to mark the occasion. If we have learned nothing else over the course of Exodus, we have learned that the only thing the Israelites liked more than complaining was feasting. But there's no indication of any festivals in the text.
Yet again, the text seems to be silent where we would like it to give description, and gives far too much description where we would all rather it were silent. It is, indeed, a shame that there were no skilled fiction writers among the Israelites, or at least that none of them stepped forward to write this particular section of Exodus. But, for better or for worse, the text is as it is. The best we can do is look at our neighbours, shake our heads, and say, "yup, that's it."
Today's passage covers the construction of the priestly garments; Moses' blessing of everything that had been made; God's instructions for how to set up the tabernacle and consecrate Aaron and his sons; Moses' setting-up of the tabernacle; and the descent of God's glory over the tabernacle.
By the time he or she reaches the end of Ex. 39, I'm sure every reader is thoroughly sick of the tabernacle, its implements, and the priestly garments. We have had so much detail, so many times, that it is nearly possible to recite from memory what furniture was in the tabernacle, what it was made of, and where it should be placed.
So when we arrive at Ex. 40, the last chapter of Exodus, we are all eagerly awaiting something monumental: a miracle of epic proportions, perhaps, to get the narrative ball rolling again. Unfortunately, we do not think like the Biblical redactors.
The first thing we read in Ex. 40 (verses 1-16) is a lengthy series of instructions from God to Moses about how to set up the tabernacle and everything in it. He tells Moses in what order they should be set up, where in the tabernacle the various pieces of furniture should go, and so on. Though we have already heard extensively about the placement in previous chapters, that is apparently no barrier to repeating it again, one last time, to make sure we've got it right. We also hear how Moses should consecrate Aaron and his sons. We've heard this before as well, and in greater detail, in Ex. 29. Consider this a "Cliff's Notes" version of the consecration ceremony instructions.
And then, once this series of instructions is delivered, we read in verses 17-33 how Moses sets it all up. In other words, the text proceeds, in even greater detail, to repeat everything that was in the first half of the chapter. By this point, the whole discussion is beginning to get tedious.
It is only in the last five verses of the chapter that we have any sort of payoff: God, in the form of a cloud, descends over the tent of congregation (the tabernacle). In fact, that descent only takes one verse. The final four verses (Ex. 40:35-38) talk about how Moses can't enter the tabernacle due to God's glory being within in; how the Israelites only travelled when God rose up out of the tabernacle; and how God appeared as a cloud during the day and fire during the night.
In the end, therefore, we receive a one-verse culmination of fifteen chapters of instructions and work. Obviously the authors and redactors had no sense of narrative pacing, because this is the time to bring out the big literary bangs and wow the audience, who has been patiently waiting for something to happen for most of the book of Exodus. The last thing you want, at a time like this, is for your readers to look blankly at each other and ask, "is that it?"
Of course, God's descent into the tabernacle is important. It marks the true beginning of Israel as God's the chosen race. God is among them at last. He is better than an idol or a statuesque representation: he's the real thing, in the flesh (as it were). The importance of this single verse should not be underestimated. Likely the Israelites were feasting and celebrating to mark the occasion. If we have learned nothing else over the course of Exodus, we have learned that the only thing the Israelites liked more than complaining was feasting. But there's no indication of any festivals in the text.
Yet again, the text seems to be silent where we would like it to give description, and gives far too much description where we would all rather it were silent. It is, indeed, a shame that there were no skilled fiction writers among the Israelites, or at least that none of them stepped forward to write this particular section of Exodus. But, for better or for worse, the text is as it is. The best we can do is look at our neighbours, shake our heads, and say, "yup, that's it."
February 13, 2007
Breadcrumb: Which way's north?
The description of the tabernacle and courtyard use specific directions. Instead of saying that a wall was for the long or short side of the tabernacle, it notes that it was for the southern, northern, western, or eastern side. (Ex. 36:23-30; Ex. 38:9-15) Given that the tabernacle was meant to be transported with the Israelites as they travelled, it seems odd that sides should be designated by cardinal direction. On the other hand, we have established that God was a stickler for details, and this was probably just another instructions the Israelites needed to comply with.
February 12, 2007
Breadcrumb: Who did it?
In Ex. 36:1-2, we read that Bezaleel, Aholiab, and every skilled person came together to build the tabernacle and its furniture. However, in the description of the construction, the text uses the singular, "he made..." Furthermore, in Ex. 38:22-23, the text only mentions Bezaleel, assisted by Aholiab, as craftsmen, completely neglecting to mention anyone else. Though it seems far too much work for one or even two people, more impressive miracles had happened in the Israelite camp to discount the possibility that they were the sole craftsmen.
February 11, 2007
Exodus 36-38: Have we been here before?
Today's reading is Exodus 36-38 (read it in the KJV or NIV)
Today's passage covers the offerings given by the Israelites for the tabernacle; the building of the tabernacle, ark, table, lampstand, incense altar, burnt offerings altar, and courtyard; and the materials used in the aforementioned construction.
My more astute readers, in reviewing the previous list, may be wondering why it looks so familiar. I point them to Ex. 25-27, where God lays out the plans for all these constructions. Indeed, reading through today's chapters is almost like re-reading Ex. 25-27, except instead of God commanding "thou shalt make..." these verses read "he made..." It was, in fact, extremely difficult to come up with a topic for today's essay without rehashing a previous discussion.
So let us turn to the few new pieces of information in today's reading: Ex. 36:1-7, in which the Israelites bring their offerings for the tabernacle, and Ex. 38:21-31, which totals the amounts of material used in its construction.
In the readings for the previous essay (Ex. 35:4-29), we read that the Israelite community brought many gifts for the tabernacle: gold jewellery, dyed linen, goat hair, skins, silver, bronze, acacia wood, precious stones, olive oil, spices... everything that was needed to build the tabernacle, its furniture, and its various accessories. Today, in Ex. 36:1-7, we read that they brought so much that it was actually more than required for the construction.
Other statesmen, in a position when too many people were giving too many gifts, would be tempted to take advantage of the situation. There are innumerable examples in history of extra taxes being put to new uses unrelated to their original purpose. However, Moses does not do this. Instead, he issues a commandment to the people to stop bringing gifts, and the people obey. Perhaps God's instructions were so detailed, it would have made little difference whether there were extra materials: the workmen knew exactly how much they needed. Any surplus could only have been used for personal gain by Moses or the other elders, and Moses rightly wanted to distance himself from such an accusation, especially after the recent debacle with the golden calf.
What materials, then, did the people bring for the construction of the tabernacle. A list is given in Ex. 38:21-31. In brief, it is:
No small amount! To put this in perspective, the lampstand alone was one talent of gold -- about 75 pounds (34 kg). Furthermore, the Israelites would need to carry the tabernacle with them, albeit in a broken-down form, when they travelled. In other words, they were carrying seven metric tons of equipment with them on their journeys. Assuming the average horse can carry approximately 90 kg (200 pounds) -- a number, I hasten to add, that I found by only cursory research -- the Israelites would need at least 75 horses to carry the equipment for the tabernacle.
On the other hand, while this is an impressive amount of gold, silver, and brass, it in fact works out to very little per person. Ex. 38:26 tells us that each man in the community, after the census had been taken, gave a half-shekel of silver, or 5.5 grams (1/5 oz). The text tells us that there were 603,550 men in the Israelite camp, so some quick multiplication actually yields the 3.4 metric tons of silver.
Five and a half grams of silver is, in fact, very little. According to my jewellery box and kitchen scale, it is about the weight of two thin bracelets or one pair of light hoop earrings. For a more standard measure, the American quarter is 5.670 g, or almost exactly the same weight given by each Hebrew man to the construction of the tabernacle. For the Canadians in the audience, a nickel (3.95 g if minted after 2000) and dime (1.75 g after 2000) combine to form approximately the same weight. So, while it may seem unfair that the Israelites were asked to contribute so much to the tabernacle -- 7 metric tons of precious metals -- it in fact worked out to very little per person.
The moral of this episode, I believe, is the power of numbers. The amount of material in the tabernacle was certainly impressive. However, it seems likely that no one was too inconvenienced by their portion of it. This is especially true given that most of the Israelites had taken jewellery and precious metals from their Egyptian neighbours before the exodus. (Ex. 12:35-36) I wonder how the Egyptians would have felt to know that their jewellery was being used to build a home for the Hebrew God. Perhaps they would have considered it a small price to pay to be rid of the plague-bearing Israelites.
Today's passage covers the offerings given by the Israelites for the tabernacle; the building of the tabernacle, ark, table, lampstand, incense altar, burnt offerings altar, and courtyard; and the materials used in the aforementioned construction.
My more astute readers, in reviewing the previous list, may be wondering why it looks so familiar. I point them to Ex. 25-27, where God lays out the plans for all these constructions. Indeed, reading through today's chapters is almost like re-reading Ex. 25-27, except instead of God commanding "thou shalt make..." these verses read "he made..." It was, in fact, extremely difficult to come up with a topic for today's essay without rehashing a previous discussion.
So let us turn to the few new pieces of information in today's reading: Ex. 36:1-7, in which the Israelites bring their offerings for the tabernacle, and Ex. 38:21-31, which totals the amounts of material used in its construction.
In the readings for the previous essay (Ex. 35:4-29), we read that the Israelite community brought many gifts for the tabernacle: gold jewellery, dyed linen, goat hair, skins, silver, bronze, acacia wood, precious stones, olive oil, spices... everything that was needed to build the tabernacle, its furniture, and its various accessories. Today, in Ex. 36:1-7, we read that they brought so much that it was actually more than required for the construction.
Other statesmen, in a position when too many people were giving too many gifts, would be tempted to take advantage of the situation. There are innumerable examples in history of extra taxes being put to new uses unrelated to their original purpose. However, Moses does not do this. Instead, he issues a commandment to the people to stop bringing gifts, and the people obey. Perhaps God's instructions were so detailed, it would have made little difference whether there were extra materials: the workmen knew exactly how much they needed. Any surplus could only have been used for personal gain by Moses or the other elders, and Moses rightly wanted to distance himself from such an accusation, especially after the recent debacle with the golden calf.
What materials, then, did the people bring for the construction of the tabernacle. A list is given in Ex. 38:21-31. In brief, it is:
- 29 talents, 730 shekels of gold (just over 1 metric ton)
- 100 talents, 1775 shekels of silver (3.4 metric tons)
- 70 talents, 2400 shekels of brass (2.4 metric tons)
No small amount! To put this in perspective, the lampstand alone was one talent of gold -- about 75 pounds (34 kg). Furthermore, the Israelites would need to carry the tabernacle with them, albeit in a broken-down form, when they travelled. In other words, they were carrying seven metric tons of equipment with them on their journeys. Assuming the average horse can carry approximately 90 kg (200 pounds) -- a number, I hasten to add, that I found by only cursory research -- the Israelites would need at least 75 horses to carry the equipment for the tabernacle.
On the other hand, while this is an impressive amount of gold, silver, and brass, it in fact works out to very little per person. Ex. 38:26 tells us that each man in the community, after the census had been taken, gave a half-shekel of silver, or 5.5 grams (1/5 oz). The text tells us that there were 603,550 men in the Israelite camp, so some quick multiplication actually yields the 3.4 metric tons of silver.
Five and a half grams of silver is, in fact, very little. According to my jewellery box and kitchen scale, it is about the weight of two thin bracelets or one pair of light hoop earrings. For a more standard measure, the American quarter is 5.670 g, or almost exactly the same weight given by each Hebrew man to the construction of the tabernacle. For the Canadians in the audience, a nickel (3.95 g if minted after 2000) and dime (1.75 g after 2000) combine to form approximately the same weight. So, while it may seem unfair that the Israelites were asked to contribute so much to the tabernacle -- 7 metric tons of precious metals -- it in fact worked out to very little per person.
The moral of this episode, I believe, is the power of numbers. The amount of material in the tabernacle was certainly impressive. However, it seems likely that no one was too inconvenienced by their portion of it. This is especially true given that most of the Israelites had taken jewellery and precious metals from their Egyptian neighbours before the exodus. (Ex. 12:35-36) I wonder how the Egyptians would have felt to know that their jewellery was being used to build a home for the Hebrew God. Perhaps they would have considered it a small price to pay to be rid of the plague-bearing Israelites.
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