In any culture, preachers will be tempted to skip certain portions of the Bible that are especially foreign to their context. It is perhaps no surprise that in most Western cultures, many preachers are tempted to skip Leviticus as a whole! Not only is it full of laws—detailed laws that seem to have no relevance today—it also spends a lot of time talking about animal sacrifice, a practice that is either unfamiliar or offensive to many in a Western context. But skipping Leviticus—and especially skipping passages about sacrifice—would be a huge mistake.

Why preaching on blood and sacrifice matters

On one hand, it is these very passages that serve as a stumbling block to many. What kind of God demands bleeding sacrifices on the altar? Why would we follow such a bloodthirsty deity? These kinds of questions do not go away by ignoring them; they need to be addressed head on. And those who are Christians need help in knowing how to address them as well.

At same time, the idea of sacrifice is central to understanding the Christian life and message. Take away sacrifice and you take away a major metaphor for describing the Christian life: "Therefore, I urge you … in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship" (Rom 12:1). Take away sacrifice and you take away a major metaphor for understanding who Jesus is and what Jesus did: "Behold, the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29). Take away sacrifice and you take away one of the key expressions of the love of God: "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom 5:8).

We need robust teaching on sacrifice. Leviticus can help. How so?

Bridging the gap between sacrificial texts and modern audiences

In many African contexts, the sacrificial passages in Leviticus connect immediately with listeners because things like sacrifice are a common part of their world. In most Western contexts, it is the exact opposite. Experientially, most listeners have never seen a sacrifice; mentally, most associate it with primitive religious practices that belonged to an unenlightened time. How can preachers bridge this gap and help their listeners see the relevance of these passages today?

It is helpful to begin by putting the whole idea of sacrifice into the larger context of rituals. Two questions are immediately relevant. First, what is a ritual? Generally speaking, a ritual consists of a series of repeated acts. By this definition, our society has scores of rituals. For example, birthday parties often involve a special cake, blowing out candles, singing a song, and opening presents. Wedding ceremonies often involve people in special clothing—a pastor, priest, or justice of the peace—to lead the ceremony, the exchanging of rings and vows, and a formal pronouncement: "You are now husband and wife." The examples could be multiplied.

This leads to the second question: What does a ritual do? On the one hand, it is a way to communicate something important. We celebrate someone's birthday because that person matters to us, and the rituals of that day are a way to say, "We love you; we're so thankful you were born!" A bride and groom go through elaborate rituals in a wedding ceremony as a way to say to others, "This day, this event, is incredibly important to us." It is a way to say to one another, "You are incredibly important to me, and this commitment is so important I am calling all these friends of ours to celebrate with us and to be witnesses to the promises we are making." Indeed, the more important the message, the more elaborate the ritual. We might go through certain typical rituals on a first date, like buying flowers or going out for a meal, but when we get married, the rituals get far more elaborate: tons of flowers are involved, scores of friends are invited to a meal, extra special clothing is worn, etc.

At the same time, some rituals not only communicate something that is important, they also serve as a way to change things. At the beginning of the wedding ceremony, the man and woman are single; by the end, they are husband and wife. At the beginning of an adoption ceremony, the child and those adopting the child are not related; by the end, they are a family.

What must not be missed is how utterly normal these rituals seem to us. They do not strike us as primitive or unenlightened; they strike us as very natural ways to mark an event as important, and in some cases, to change things. That's what rituals do. And this is where sacrifice comes in. Sacrifices are ritual ceremonies, and they function in the same way our rituals do: to mark events as important, and in some cases, to change things. I will give four examples, the first three focusing on important things that sacrifices communicate, the fourth focusing on the way sacrifices can changes things.

What sacrifices communicate

First, some sacrifices are a way for offerors to show love and honor to the Lord. For example, a votive offering (Lev. 7:16) was a way for offerors to give something costly to the Lord as a way of saying, "Thank you for answering my prayer." This is something most can easily identify with; when someone has helped us in significant ways, we often look for some material way to express our gratitude. Israelites would do this with their offerings and would do it publicly, at times crying out to those who were there, "Come and hear, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me" (Ps. 66:16; see also Ps. 116:14, 17-18). Or to take a second example, it was always the case when making a sacrifice that the fat was burnt on the altar to the Lord (Lev. 3:16). In an age of fat-free diets, this may strike many as an insult, but in ancient Israel, the fat was considered the very best part of the meat. (Why is there so much fat in our foods today? Because it sweetens the taste!) To give the fat to the Lord was a way to say, "You, O Lord, are worthy of the very best portion because you are worthy of the very most honor!"

Second, some sacrifices are a way for offerors to communicate the importance of their request. To this day, the more important our request, the more formal the situation in which we make it. When my wife and I were asked by friends to be godparents of their children, they didn't send us an email; they had us over for a meal. So, too, with sacrifice; it was a more formal way to communicate the seriousness of a request. For example, this was one of the roles of the burnt offering, the only offering in which the entire animal was burned up on the altar. Offerors would sometimes bring this sacrifice with especially important requests as a way to underscore their importance (1 Sam. 7:9; 13:8-12; Ps 20:1-5). It was like a holy punctuation point to their prayers.

Third, some sacrifices are a way for offerors to express covenant fellowship. In modern contexts, when we enter into a contract with someone, we often confirm the contract by signing on the dotted line. In ancient Israel, when they entered into a covenant with someone, they often confirmed the covenant by sharing a meal together (Gen. 26:28-30; 31:44-46). This is exactly what happens with the fellowship offering (also translated as "peace offering"). Part of the sacrifice was burned on the altar to the Lord, part was eaten by the priest, and part was eaten by the offeror. It was like a shared meal that reaffirmed the covenant relationship. Every time offerors partook of it, they were saying to the Lord, "You are my covenant King and I am your covenant servant. In partaking of this meal, I reaffirm my commitment to your ways, and I celebrate your care and protection." Indeed, those making the sacrifice would often share it with family and friends and others in the covenant community (Deut. 12:17-19), and this made it a way for them to reaffirm their covenant love and commitment to one another as well.

What sacrifices change

Finally, some sacrifices are a way for offerors to make atonement for their sin, that is, to be forgiven for their wrong and to be reconciled to the Lord. It is easy enough to state how this happened: it took place when the priest offered the animal's lifeblood on the altar on the offeror's behalf. It is much more difficult to express this in a way that makes sense to a modern audience today. It may be helpful to try and fill out the picture by considering how sin was thought of with regard to two of the main atoning sacrifices: the sin offering (Lev. 4:1-5:13) and the guilt offering (Lev. 5:14-6:7).

With the sin offering, sin was pictured as something that defiles. This is not difficult for us to identify with today: sin often makes us feel dirty. Social scientists have in fact conducted various studies to show that even thinking about sin can lead to an increased desire for physical cleansing. The purpose of the sin offering was to cleanse the sin away. (Most commentators today in fact translate the Hebrew name for this offering as "purification offering.") This was done by means of the animal's blood being placed on the altar. In ancient Israel, blood was one of the most powerful cleansing agents available, though the Bible does not tell us why. Some have suggested that sin and impurity were associated with death, while blood was associated with life, and was therefore the very thing that could fight against sin and impurity, and cleanse them away. This understanding is possible, but hard to prove. Whatever the exact reason, the Israelites themselves had no doubt that the sin offering ceremony in general—and the placement of the blood on the altar in particular—cleansed their sin. God promised it was so. And significantly, the New Testament uses the image of the sin offering—and its blood in particular—when it describes the effects of Jesus' sacrifice: he is the one who has "made purification for sins" (Heb. 1:3), and he has done so by his "blood … [which] cleanses us from all sin" (1 John 1:7). For those who feel stained by their own evil, this is incredibly good news!

With the guilt offering, the image changes. Here, sin was pictured as an act of treachery. Again, this is not hard for us to identify with. Most of us can name times when we have felt betrayed by others, and, sadly, times when we have betrayed others as well. With this offering in particular, the act of treachery was committed against the Lord, the one who was the ultimate King in Israel. In Israel's time, as in our own, if you committed an act of treachery against a king, it was counted as an act of treason. And in Israel's time, as often in our own, the penalty for treason was death. But if the king was willing, a way of forgiveness was possible. The guilty party could admit their wrong and pay a penalty (see 2 Kings 18:7, 13-14). This penalty was a lesser penalty than the one deserved and it rescued the guilty party from death.

This is what takes place with the guilt offering: the offerer admits their wrong to the Lord and brings an offering as a way of paying a penalty. But there is a difference. In this case, the focus is not on the financial cost. The focus—again!—is on the blood, the lifeblood of the animal, which is placed on the altar in exchange for the offeror's. This means on the one hand that the King does not minimize the severity of the wrong—a life is still given! But it means on the other that in his mercy, he allows guilty offerors to substitute the lifeblood of a blameless animal in place of their own.

This leads to a final point about sacrifice that must not be missed: it is a total act of grace on behalf of the King who delights to forgive. He would be just to condemn us. He would be just to carry out the penalty normally given to those who commit treason. But instead he makes a way of forgiveness possible. He is the One who says, "I will accept sacrifice as a way for this to take place; I will allow this animal's lifeblood to pay the penalty for your own." He is not required to do so. He chooses to do so. Indeed, this is theme of Leviticus 17:11, the most explicit teaching we have in the Old Testament about sacrificial blood. In this verse, the Lord says, "For the life of the body is the blood, and I myself have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your lives, for it is the blood, by means of the life, that makes atonement." In the Hebrew, he repeats the word "I," so that we don't miss it: "Sacrifice is not first and foremost something you give to me; it is first and foremost something that I am giving to you, in my grace and love, in order that you might be forgiven." Every time we read about an atoning sacrifice, we are reading about an act of grace. Leviticus drips with it.

Amazingly, when we get to the New Testament, it in fact becomes bigger and more incredibly beautiful, because now God, the One whom we have betrayed, provides the payment on behalf of those who have betrayed him: "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). Once again, he does not minimize the severity of the wrong—a life is still given! But in his mercy and love he sends his Son to be that life for us. In Jesus' mercy and love, he chooses to give his life for us. Sacrifice is not first and foremost something we give to God; it is something he has given to us, because he is our King, and he loves us.

Jay Sklar is professor of Old Testament at Covenant Theological Seminary. He recently published a commentary on Leviticus in the Tyndale Old Testament Commentary Series.