Wherefore also Jesus, that he might sanctify the people by his own blood, suffered without the gate
Hebrews 13 closes a long argument by pointing to one detail of geography: the place where Jesus died. The writer has just pointed to the sin offering whose body was burned outside Israel's camp, and says the cross matched it. So why should the place of a death matter, and what does it mean that His blood "sanctifies" a people?
The verse opens with "So". That word reaches back to the offerings of the law. One commentator sets out the pattern:
The apostle takes advantage of a beautiful type in the law. When a victim came to the bronze altar, the blood did not go into the holiest at all; the animal died outside. But when the blood went into the holiest, the body was taken outside the camp and burned. This, he says, is what we find in Christ. He suffered outside the gate and has now gone into the presence of God, to place us inside the holiest and outside the world.
The two extremes belong to one sacrifice. The blood went to the nearest place; the body went to the furthest.
Would His blood not be just as precious anywhere? One writer takes up that objection:
If as mere outward things they are nothing, then we must look for something deeper in them. The apostle prepares us for this by linking the "outside the gate" with "outside the camp" in what we know had a typical, spiritual meaning. With hanging on the tree he associates also the "curse of the law." And now the meaning becomes apparent. The curse is wrath, separation from God, and all that He owns as His. See now the darkness that settles upon the cross! Is not God light? The light is withdrawn! Listen to the anguished cry of the Sufferer: does He not declare that God has forsaken Him?
The outside place, then, is not scenery. It pictures separation from God — the separation He Himself bore.
"Sanctify" can suggest slow moral improvement. Here it means something given at once, not gained over time:
The sanctification they speak of is neither practical nor progressive — that kind is the work of the Holy Spirit through the Word. It means that God sets believers apart to Himself as His people on the earth. So everyone who comes by faith under the shelter of the blood of Christ is separated from all the world by that very fact, and set apart to God.
Rescue from judgment is real, but it is not the reason this verse gives for the cross:
He suffered, not to save His own from hell (although that is true), but that He might sanctify them. He wanted a people who should be absolutely His own, and standing apart from the whole order of things from which He is excluded. This involves reproach, but shall we refuse it? Is He not worthy of the intense devotion of these poor hearts of ours?
Being set apart runs in two directions at once:
Indeed, His blood speaks inside the holiest of all, in such a way as to eternally satisfy and glorify God, and this is sanctification to God. Yet sanctification to God must also involve sanctification from the world — a setting apart in a very real and holy manner. He Himself was forced out of everything that people on earth counted dignified and honourable. His people must expect to share the same rejection with Him, if they would follow Him.
The camp He suffered outside of was a religious system God Himself had once given:
The camp represents a worldly system of religion, adapted to the natural man. God Himself set it up at the start, and it suited man in the flesh — the state God found him in at that time. Worship in this worldly religious system did not need a new nature or spiritual power. It consisted of hearing, seeing, and doing what the natural senses could take in.
The place He took asks something of us:
He took the outside place, and His voice falls on the ear from there. Do we listen to it? Do we understand it? Should we not consider more seriously the place where Jesus died? Are we to rest satisfied with reaping the benefits of Christ's death, without seeking fellowship with Him in His rejection? God forbid! … Shall we see Him die outside, while we reap the benefits of His death and remain within?
- Type — Under the law, the blood of the sin offering went into the sanctuary and its body burned outside the camp. The cross matched both halves.
- Place — That outside place pictures the curse: wrath, darkness, and the cry of the forsaken One.
- Blood — Sanctification here is not gradual improvement. His blood sets a person apart to God the moment that person shelters under it.
- People — He suffered not just to spare us, but to gain a people wholly His own, standing apart from the order of things that shuts Him out.
- Reproach — A religious system that suited the natural man put Him outside. Those who share His blood must share His place.
therefore let us go forth to him without the camp, bearing his reproach
The blood of Jesus has just brought the reader inside the holiest place. Now the letter points the other way — to the spot outside the city where men crucified Him as a criminal. The call is to walk out and join Him there. Two questions follow: what is "the camp," and what does His reproach cost?
The word "therefore" reaches back to the sacrifice described just before. One commentator shows the picture in the law behind it:
The apostle takes advantage of a beautiful type in the law. When a victim was brought to the bronze altar, the blood was not brought into the holiest at all; the animal was killed outside. But when the blood was carried into the holiest, the body was taken and burned outside the camp. This, he says, is what was found in Christ. He suffered outside the gate and is now gone into the presence of God, to place us inside the holiest and outside the world.
"The camp" does not mean the world in general. It names one kind of religion:
Others have truly described the camp as an earthly religious relationship with God, outside the sanctuary, established on earth, with a separate caste of priests between men and God. This is what Judaism was, and Christ came into it, but hatred cast Him out of it, and it is now utterly rejected. But, as men set it up, it is the place where they dishonour God, set His Word aside, and give flesh room to do what it likes.
The first readers were Jews. Leaving the camp meant breaking with the religion of their fathers. Commentators say the call reaches further than that:
The camp was the Jewish religious system originally set up by God and making its appeal to the natural man. It raised no question of new birth; everything depended on natural birth. It had a worldly sanctuary and an ordered ritual (Hebrews 9:1-10). It is only too clear that the religious systems of Christendom have copied the pattern of the camp.
Outside the camp meant one thing for Christ and something different for us.
We are not called to go outside under the judgment of God, but we are called to go outside under the reproach of men, and that to the utmost. He suffered as the holy victim under the judgment of God: He endured as the patient martyr under the reproach of men. We cannot share His sufferings at the hand of God, but it is our privilege to share the insults He received from the hands of men. He went outside the camp to bear our judgment: we go outside the camp to bear His reproach.
The verse does not say go out. It says go out to Him. That destination is what keeps the step from becoming mere protest:
Is there then no power that will enable us to overcome this shrinking from reproach? Surely there is! And does it not lie in affection for Christ? So the word is, "Let us go to Him." This word is of the first importance, for it gives us a positive reason for leaving the camp order of things. Going out from what we have learned to be evil is merely negative, and no man can live on negatives.
Leave the "to Him" out, and the exit simply repeats itself somewhere else:
Suppose someone leaves a religious system only because of the evils there. He may form another system, or join a system with more truth and holiness. But it is still a system where Christ alone is not the gathering centre, and where the free action of the Holy Spirit does not give Him the supreme place of rule. So he is still part of the camp of Christendom, though perhaps on the outer edge of it.
Nobody pretends the step is painless. What steadies it is a comparison:
For a Jew to leave the camp of Judaism was no light matter: he could expect the same reproach that Israel gave to his Master. There is no real comfort, no shelter, no strength at all for a path of reproach like this. We find them only in the very real presence of the Lord. Do we love Him? Do we trust Him? Then let us gladly bear His reproach. If it pains us, let us rather think of His greater pain.
- Outside first. The victim's blood went in to God; its body burned outside the camp. So Jesus suffered outside the gate.
- Inside given. That same work puts the believer inside the holiest and outside the world; the two movements are one.
- Outside named. The camp is religion set up on earth for the natural man, with priests standing between God and the people. Judaism was that; later systems copy it.
- Outside shared. He bore God's judgment there, which we cannot touch; we bear men's contempt there, which is our privilege.
- Outside to Him. Separation with no Person at the end of it only builds a new camp. Affection for Christ is the power that carries the step, and what makes it worth taking.