And if any one sin, and hear the voice of adjuration, and he is a witness whether he hath seen or known [it], if he do not give information, then he shall bear his iniquity.
Leviticus 5 opens the sin offering's list of everyday failures. It starts not with something a person did, but with something a person refused to say. A man who could settle a matter under oath stays quiet. God calls that silence sin, and the man carries the guilt until a sacrifice removes it.
The "voice of an oath" here is not a person swearing on his own initiative. It is an oath put on a witness by authority.
At the beginning of chapter 5 (v. 1) there is a kind of oath that is different from voluntary swearing: "And if a soul sin and hear the voice of an oath" (that is, administered by the magistrate), "and is a witness, whether he has seen or known of it, if he does not utter it" (that is, give his evidence), "then he shall bear his iniquity."
That distinction changes how the verse touches us. Swearing by choice is one thing; answering when lawful authority puts you on oath is another.
The Lord Himself said, "Do not take an oath at all," so we should not voluntarily take an oath — that is, of our own choice and will. But the Lord Himself stood before the high priest. The moment the high priest put Him under oath, He took the oath and answered, though He had been silent until then. It is not evil to swear before a magistrate; it is good. Swearing in any other way comes from evil. I would be denying God in the magistrate if I did not answer when he put me on oath. But to take an oath of my own will is to bring in God for nothing at all — that is, profanely. So the sin here in this verse is not uttering, that is, withholding evidence.
Nothing is done. That is exactly the problem.
Verse 1 is a sin of omission. One may hear and know of a matter of serious importance and yet not report it. The law calls this misprision, but before God it is sin. The "public adjuration" put him under solemn obligation to bear witness to what he knew was true.
Lying under oath is one thing. Refusing to answer is another, and a man can have tender reasons for it.
If a witness in a court of justice refused to answer when put on oath, he sinned. Everyone would condemn false evidence, and the law dealt with that in a different way (Deuteronomy 19:16-19). Here it is the refusal of a witness to answer on oath. This had to be dealt with as a sin. A witness might wish to be silent, in case he should convict a friend, or a relative. Such cases are not unknown. By the law, however, such a person would be guilty. God's name, through the oath, had been brought into the matter, so the witness was bound to answer.
The same failure shows up wherever God's people handle wrongdoing among themselves.
The first instance of guilt concerns a man who forgets that there is a "time to keep silence" and forgets also that there is a "time to speak." He has failed to disclose what he was responsible to make known. Among the people of God, those who could have borne witness have sometimes kept a shameful silence to shelter a wrongdoer.
Several writers see this law reaching its perfect fulfilment at Christ's trial, where He broke His silence the moment God's name was invoked.
The oath was all the more solemn for an Israelite, since the LORD lived among them to judge. It was not secret providence, or waiting for a final court day. He was there to deal with them according to His law and their relationship as His people. Even in a day of complete ruin, and in proceedings that mocked all righteousness, we hear our Lord speak. He was silent before man's deep hypocrisy and false witness. Yet He answered the wicked high priest at once when the priest put Him under oath, though He knew it would seal His condemnation to death.
The verse leaves the man carrying his own guilt. Verses 5 and 6 show what lifts it.
If any of these cases defiled him, God called him to "confess the sin he has committed" — not in a vague, general way. It is the first time we hear of it. Was it not due to carelessness before the LORD? But more: nothing except sacrifice could remove the stain.
The passage uses two names for the offering here. They do not mark out two different things:
after
You see that a trespass and a sin are very much the same. Sin and trespass are put together. He has sinned, and he is to bring, not a sin offering, but a trespass offering. That shows that a trespass is a sin, just as much as when it is called a sin. And in verse 6 the words "sin offering" and "trespass offering" both describe the same animal.
- Oath — authority puts this oath on a witness. Answering the magistrate honours God; swearing by your own will brings His name in for nothing.
- Silence — the sin is doing nothing. A man knows the truth and holds it back, often to shield someone he loves.
- Guilt — omission is not a lesser class of failure; the man who says nothing carries his own iniquity.
- Christ — silent under every false charge, He spoke as soon as the high priest put Him under oath, though the answer cost Him His life.
- Remedy — specific confession, then sacrifice; nothing less than a sacrifice removes the stain.
Or if any one touch any unclean thing, whether it be the carcase of an unclean beast, or the carcase of unclean cattle, or the carcase of an unclean crawling thing, and it be hid from him, -- he also is unclean and guilty;
Leviticus 5 lists cases where an Israelite becomes guilty. This one is about a man who touched something unclean and never noticed. Not knowing does not cancel the defilement. He has become unclean, and once he realizes his guilt, something must be done.
This verse is the second of the three cases. Commentators see each one as a different kind of failure:
In Leviticus 5:1-6 we have three specific cases. In principle they seem to cover every kind of failure in the practical ways of God's people. The first is failure as a witness. The second is failure to stay separate. The third is failure in sobriety or self-control.
The law already provided a washing for this defilement. The man never used it, because he never knew he needed it.
The second case that called for the sin-offering of Leviticus 5 came from touching a carcass. It might be an unclean animal, wild or tame, or an unclean creeping thing. The man did not know what he had done, so he never purified himself. God did provide a cleansing for such defilement, and chapter 11 sets it out. But the man who did not know he needed it, and so never used the washing commanded there, had to bring his sin-offering — for he had sinned… How often might an Israelite say, "I did not mean to do this or that"; but he had done it, so God demanded the sacrifice. God's nature had to be considered, and not the intention of the sinful creature… But if the standard was strict, God's grace was abundant. He decided what sacrifice should be brought, so that the priest might make atonement for the man, for the sin he had sinned, and it would be forgiven him. This showed God's own desire for the man to be forgiven.
The measure is God's, and it rises as our privileges rise.
We cannot touch what is unclean without being polluted. God judges according to His thoughts, and not according to ours. The more we raise the measure of our privileges, the more we raise also the measure of our holiness.
The man does not stay in the dark. Once he sees what he has done, two steps follow. One of them appears here for the first time in the Bible.
If in any of these cases he was defiled, he was called on to "confess the sin he has committed," not in some vague general way. It is the first time we hear of it. Was it not due to carelessness before the LORD? But more than that: nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain… The priest was to make atonement for him, to clear him from his sin.
Commentators read this rule as a picture of the company we keep.
Touching an unclean thing was only a ceremonial defilement. But it pictures for us any association we make that is morally corrupt. If we identify ourselves with others who live corruptly, this defiles us too.
A believer needs washing he never thought to ask for.
Sins are not harmless because unknown. They are still sins, as the law of sacrifice shows. The dust of a defiling world settles on us silently. Conscience is a mirror, and it grows dull before we notice. We need the basin and towel in the Lord's hand (John 13). We need them not only when we are aware of evil, but because we are so little aware of it.
All these offerings point to one person.
These details teach us something. Sins against the LORD and wrongs done to our neighbour are not all equally serious. Yet every one of them needs a sin-offering. They all bring Christ to mind, as the One who took our sins upon Himself. He is our sin and trespass-offering.
- Contact defiles. Touching what is unclean makes a person unclean. This case is about staying separate, and the same holds for the company we keep.
- Ignorance does not clear. God's nature sets the standard, not the sinner's intention. He judges by His thoughts, not ours.
- Conscience is not the gauge. The dust settles silently, so cleansing is needed most where we feel it least.
- Confession comes first. When it comes to light, the man names the sin itself, not sin in general. This is the Bible's first mention of confessing.
- Only sacrifice removes it. Nothing but the offering takes away the stain. Every offering points to Christ, who took our sins upon Himself.
or if he touch the uncleanness of man, any uncleanness of him by which he is defiled, and it be hid from him, when he knoweth [it], then he is guilty.
Leviticus 5 moves from sin in general to everyday cases. This one is about a man made unclean by touching another person's uncleanness, and he does not notice at the time. Two questions follow. How can a man be guilty of what he never knew he did? And what must he do once he knows?
This verse sits in the middle of three sample failures.
In Leviticus 5:1-6 we have three specific cases. In principle they seem to cover every kind of failure in the practical life of God's people. The first is failure as a witness. The second is failure to keep separate. The third is failure in sobriety or self-control.
Verses 2 and 3 belong to the second group: contact he should have avoided. One writer lists the sources of that defilement.
Then came cases of defilement from contact with death — unclean animals, cattle, or crawling things. There was also the uncleanness of a person, whatever form it took.
This uncleanness is ceremonial, not a moral fault in the person touched. Even so, it had real consequences.
Ceremonial uncleanness had a large place in the Jewish ritual. Lev. 5:3. It required a person to stay outside the camp for a time, and in many cases he had to bring an offering before he could be restored. It is a picture of the moral uncleanness that cuts a person off from communion with God and from the assembly.
Applied to us, the point lands on the company we keep and the things we attach ourselves to.
Touching an unclean thing was of course only ceremonial defilement. But it pictures for us any ties we make that are morally corrupt. If we join ourselves with others who live in corruption, we will be defiled by it too.
The verse says the defilement was hidden from him. That did not make it harmless; it only delayed his ability to deal with it.
In verses 2, 3 we see the person unclean without knowing it. Yet he is guilty, but he cannot act as guilty until he knows it. God cannot look at sin. If I have a spot on my back, God cannot have me with that spot on. Someone may help me to get rid of it, but I am unclean with it.
The same trouble reaches us: we notice far too little.
Sins are not harmless because unknown. They are still sins, as the law of sacrifice witnesses. The dust of a defiling world settles on us quietly, and it dulls the mirror of conscience before we are aware. We need the basin and towel in the Lord's hand (John 13) — not only when we are aware of evil, but because we are so little aware of it.
God had already given a remedy for this defilement: washing with water. The offering became necessary only when a man skipped that washing.
It was the same for a man who had touched the uncleanness of another person without knowing it. God had also commanded washing with water for that case (see chapter 15). If the man neglected the washing, he still had to bring the offering and handle it as the law directed. How careful these directions should have made the people... How often might an Israelite say, "I did not mean to do this or that"; but he had done it, so God demanded the sacrifice. What had to be considered was God's nature, not the intention of the sinful creature. The standard of the sanctuary is very different from any that man would have set up. But if the standard never bent, God's grace was abounding.
Knowing is the turning point. It calls for two things: naming the sin out loud, and a sacrifice. (The quotes below follow an older English translation of verse 6.)
If in any of these cases he was defiled, he was called on to "confess wherein he has sinned," not in a vague general way. It is the first time we hear of it. Was it not due to carelessness before the LORD? But more; nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain. "And he shall bring his trespass offering to the LORD for his sin which he has sinned." What could be more specific for clearing his guilt away?
That raises a question: is a trespass something different from a sin?
You see that a trespass and a sin are very much the same... He has sinned, and he is to bring, not a sin offering, but a trespass offering... And in verse 6 the words "sin offering" and "trespass offering" describe the same animal.
- Contact. This verse is the second of three sample failures: failure to keep separate. The defilement comes by touching what he should have avoided.
- Defilement. Ceremonial uncleanness pictures moral uncleanness, and moral uncleanness breaks communion with God. So the warning is about corrupt company we tie ourselves to.
- Hidden. The man is guilty before he knows it. He just cannot act on guilt he has not yet found.
- Known. Knowing is the turning point. It calls for confession that names the actual sin, not a vague admission.
- Cleansed. God had already provided washing. Neglect it, and nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain — yet grace abounded where the standard never bent.
Or if any one swear, talking rashly with the lips, to do evil or to do good, in everything that a man shall say rashly with an oath, and it be hid from him, when he knoweth [it], then is he guilty in one of these.
Leviticus 5 lists everyday failures that leave a person guilty before God. The fourth is a word: an oath blurted out with the lips. How can careless speech count as sin? And what happens when guilt is real long before the man notices it?
The verse catches the careless speaker whichever way his oath pointed.
In verse 4 of our chapter we have the third form of sin specified: talking rashly with the lips, to do evil or to do good, in anything a man may say rashly with an oath. If it was to do evil, he ought never to have said it; if it was to do good, he ought not to have said it without doing it. The more rash a man is in his speech, the more likely he is to strengthen what he says with an oath. Peter was very rash when people challenged him about his link with Jesus the Galilean. He denied with an oath, "I do not know the man"; and at the third challenge he began to curse and swear. A man whose words and ways are shaped in subjection to the Spirit and word of God does not speak rashly with his lips. He pays attention to the word, "Let what you say be simply 'Yes' or 'No'; anything more than this comes from evil" (Matt. 5:37). Indeed, James says, "If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body."
Not every oath is wrong. What matters is whether a court required it or the man chose to swear.
The Lord Himself said, "Do not take an oath at all," so we should not voluntarily take an oath — that is, of our own choice and will. But the Lord Himself stood before the high priest. The moment the high priest put Him under oath, He took the oath and answered, though He had been silent before. It is not evil to swear before a magistrate, but good; otherwise it comes from evil. I would be denying God in the magistrate if I did not answer when he put me under oath. But to take an oath of my own will is to bring God in for nothing at all — that is, profanely.
The man here meant to keep his word. It made no difference to his guilt.
If a man swore rashly, intending to keep his oath but finding out afterwards that he could not, he too had to bring his sin offering. How careful these directions should have made the people. A rash oath meant a sacrifice... How often an Israelite might say, "I did not mean to do this or that"; but he had done it, so God required the sacrifice. What counted was God's nature, not the intention of the sinful creature.
Guilt does not wait for the man to notice it. Something has to break the silence.
If someone has sinned in any of these ways, the moment comes "when he knows it." The Searcher of all hearts handles the probe of conviction with great skill. It reaches the conscience through the word. A cloud comes over the joy of communion. Our spiritual strength fails. Our faith grows clearly weaker, and we lose our freedom in the Lord's service, in prayer, and in fellowship with the saints.
Once the man knows, two things follow. The first of them appears here for the first time in the Bible.
If he was defiled in any of these cases, he had to "confess the sin he has committed," not in a vague, general way. This is the first time we hear of it. Was it not due to carelessness before Jehovah? But more: nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain. "And he shall bring his trespass offering to Jehovah for his sin which he has sinned" (an older wording of verse 6).
What about the man too poor to bring even two pigeons? God did not simply excuse him.
Here we have the most desperate need of all: even pigeons are beyond his means. But grace has its resource for the least condition of faith. His pity was shown, not by dispensing with an offering, but by suiting it to the need.
The smallest offering carried the same promise as the largest, because of what it pictured.
The standard could not bend, but God's grace was abundant. The person who brought only the flour offering had the same assurance of atonement and forgiveness as those who could bring a larger offering. For the flour offering spoke of the man Jesus Christ, made sin for us, who Himself has borne the divine judgment due to the sins committed by His people.
- Word — A rash oath is sin whichever way it runs: wrong to swear to evil, wrong to swear to good and not do it.
- Will — Answering a magistrate under oath is right. Swearing by your own choice brings God in for nothing.
- Guilt — Good intentions do not cancel the wrong. God's nature is the measure, not what the man meant.
- Knowledge — Guilt is real before anyone feels it. Conviction comes through the word, and joy, strength and freedom fade until he faces it.
- Grace — Confession names the exact sin. The offering bends to the poorest, and it pictures Christ bearing the judgment for His people.
And it shall be, when he shall be guilty in one of these, that he shall confess wherein he hath sinned;
Verses 1–4 list ways an Israelite could fall into guilt without meaning to. Verse 5 is the hinge: once he realizes what he has done, he must say it out loud.
The words "any of these" point back to verses 1–4. One writer sees in those cases a map of practical failure:
In Leviticus 5:1-6 we have three specific cases. In principle they appear to cover every kind of failure in the practical ways of God's people. The first is failure as a witness. The second is failure to maintain separation. The third is failure in sobriety or self-control.
Each case in this chapter is a sin the person did not notice at the time. One writer traces what happens once he knows:
If someone has sinned in any of these ways, the moment comes "when he realizes his guilt." The Searcher of all hearts uses the probe of conviction with great skill, and it reaches the conscience through the word. A cloud comes over the joy that communion brings. Our spiritual strength grows feeble. Our faith visibly weakens, and we surrender our liberty in the service of the Lord, in prayer and in fellowship with the saints.
The verse does not ask for a vague admission of being a sinner. It asks him to name the sin he has committed. One writer notes how exact this must be, and that here we meet confession for the first time in the Bible:
How was a man who feared God to feel in such a case, when the sin came before his soul? Was he not guilty? If he was defiled in any of these cases, he had to "confess the sin he has committed," not in a vague, general way. This is the first time we hear of confession. Was the sin not due to carelessness before the LORD? But more; nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain.
Another writer adds what makes such confession good:
When such things came to a person's attention, he was to confess that he had sinned in that matter. How good it is when a person confesses like that and adds no excuses!
The command here is to confess, not to plead. One writer ties that difference to a New Testament promise:
But then, "if any man sin," what is to be done? The inspired apostle gives a full and most blessed answer: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). Confession is the way to keep the conscience free. The apostle does not say, "If we pray for pardon, He is gracious and merciful to forgive us." … A Christian who has gone wrong in thought, word, or deed might pray for pardon for days and months and still have no assurance from 1 John 1:9 that he was forgiven. But the moment he truly confesses his sin before God, he can know by simple faith that he is perfectly forgiven and perfectly cleansed.
Confession does not stand alone. Verse 5 runs straight into verse 6, and the offering there carries two names at once:
You see that a trespass and a sin are very much the same. The two, sin and trespass, are put together. He has sinned, and he is to bring, not a sin offering, but a trespass offering. That shows a trespass is a sin, just as much as when it is called a sin. And in verse 6 the expressions "sin offering" and "trespass offering" are applied to the same animal.
This writer is quoting an older translation. It reads "trespass offering" in verse 6, where the ESV words the offering differently.
- Discovered — the sins here are hidden ones. Nothing moves until "he realizes his guilt," and that knowledge reaches the conscience through the word.
- Confessed — he must name the sin itself, "not in a vague, general way." This is the first time Scripture calls for confession.
- Not just prayed — asking for pardon is not the same as confessing. The promise of forgiveness belongs to confession.
- Covered — words alone left the stain. "Nothing but sacrifice could remove" it, and the offering that follows is called both a sin offering and a trespass offering.
- Restored — hidden guilt clouds joy, strength and freedom. Confession clears the conscience, and the one who confesses knows he is "perfectly forgiven and perfectly cleansed."
and he shall bring his trespass-offering to Jehovah for his sin which he hath sinned, a female from the small cattle, a sheep or doe goat, for a sin-offering; and the priest shall make atonement for him [to cleanse him] from his sin.
Leviticus 5 lists sins a person may not notice at the time: silence when called to testify, contact with something unclean, a rash oath. Verse 6 tells him what to do once he sees his guilt, and raises three questions: why speak the sin out loud, why a female animal, why two names for one offering?
Verse 5 tells the man to confess. Verse 6 tells him to bring. One writer notes that Scripture records this demand here for the first time, and that it must be specific. (These writers quote an older translation, which says "trespass offering" for "compensation" and "Jehovah" for "the LORD.")
If in any of these cases he was defiled, he was called on to "confess wherein he has sinned," not in a vague general way. It is the first time we hear of it. Was it not due to carelessness before Jehovah? But more: nothing but sacrifice could remove the stain. "And he shall bring his trespass offering to Jehovah for his sin which he has sinned." What could be more specific for clearing his guilt away?
The verse gives one animal two labels — compensation for the sin, and sin offering. It does not ask for two animals.
You see that a trespass and a sin are very much the same... The two, sin and trespass, are put together. He has sinned, and he is to bring, not a sin offering, but a trespass offering. Then again, "for his sin which he has sinned… a lamb or a goat, for a sin offering." That shows a trespass is a sin, just as much as when it is called a sin. And verse 6 applies both terms, "sin offering" and "trespass offering," to the same animal.
Other writers keep the two apart, and draw the difference like this:
The trespass offering speaks of sin as an injury that calls for restitution. The sin offering speaks of what God, because of His holiness, cannot look at, but must put away from Him.
The animal here is not a bull or a ram but a female lamb or goat. Commentators differ on what that signals. One links it to value, and to how the sin was committed:
The female sacrifice was counted as of less value. In Leviticus 5 it begins with a female. In the first place, there was no bad conscience in doing it.
Another writer sees something in the female that the male could not have carried:
As the male suggested headship, strength and responsibility, the female suggests nature and dependence... Christ would also take the place of complete dependence on God, giving up any rights of His own. So the female may suggest a lower grade, as being of less value. Yet it carries special features that the higher aspect suggested by the male could not have shown.
after
The offerer does not make his own atonement. He hands the matter to the priest.
The priest had not committed the sin; on the contrary, he had made atonement for it... So Christ gives us the fullest comfort. He is Himself spotless, and He has made atonement, yet He identified Himself with all our faults and sins... The one who drew near came with confession and humbling of himself. But the priest took up his guilt and judgment. They never reached the judgment seat of God, so they did not affect the relation between God and the offender.
The offering here is a modest one. That does not limit what the man who brings it may learn.
Clearly a sinner of the lowest class is meant to know what acceptance is, as well as forgiveness... So these figures show grace meeting a sinner — every believing sinner, learned or unlearned. Grace gives him the truth of his own acceptance in the sweet savour of the substitute. It does not merely give him the bare truth of that righteous repair to God for his sin, which is the ground of forgiveness.
One phrase repeats through the chapter, and its timing matters.
With everything done at the altar that had to be done, the offerer could go back to his tent. He was not left uncertain about his condition. He was sure of God's forgiveness, and the Lord Himself told him so. "It shall be forgiven him" declared it (Lev. 4:20, 31, 35; Lev. 5:10, 13, 16, 18; Lev. 6:7). That was God's gracious announcement once atonement had been made — but, let the reader note, not before it was made.
- Guilt found. The sins here come to light late — done without a bad conscience at the time, they must be faced once seen.
- Guilt named. Confession here is specific, not a vague admission of being a sinner; it is the first time Scripture asks for it.
- Guilt carried. He brings a female lamb or goat, and the same animal answers to both names, trespass and sin — a trespass is a sin.
- Guilt transferred. The priest did not commit the sin, yet he makes the atonement. He takes up the guilt, and it never reaches God's judgment seat.
- Guilt gone. "It shall be forgiven him" is God's own word, spoken once the sacrifice is made. With forgiveness comes acceptance in the sweet savour of the substitute.
And if his hand be not able to bring what is so much as a sheep, then he shall bring for his trespass which he hath sinned two turtle-doves or two young pigeons, to Jehovah; one for a sin-offering, and the other for a burnt-offering.
Leviticus 5 lists sins that need a sin offering. The usual animal was a female lamb or goat from the flock. Verse 7 drops to a lower step. What if the guilty person cannot afford one? Does a cheaper offering mean a cheaper forgiveness?
The chapter takes account of what the offender can actually reach. Yet the option offered is never the option of coming empty-handed.
In the sin offering of chapter 5:1-13, God took notice of what the offender was able to bring to His altar. On such an occasion He normally asked for a life: a female of the flock, or, if the offender could not get that, two turtledoves or two young pigeons... The sinner might be able to bring very little. He still had to bring something, however small its money value, for he had no choice.
God does not treat the poor man as a lesser case. He gives him even more care.
The Lord was even more careful in His concern for the one who could not bring a sheep or goat. The victim's blood was sprinkled in an unusual way, or at least the account expresses it more fully. He valued the offering of less money worth for the sake of the conscientious soul. He gave a witness of acceptance as well as of sin judged and gone.
The wording here has puzzled readers, since the offering is named for guilt while the sacrifice described is a sin offering. The stated purpose settles it.
A question may arise here. Were the offerings described in Leviticus 5:1-13 sin offerings or trespass offerings? In verse 6 we read: "He shall bring his trespass offering [or guilt offering, ashamo] for his sin which he has sinned." The clue to any difficulty lies in the stated purpose for the offering. Here it was brought for his sin (Lev. 5:6-7, 11), so it was really a sin offering. Where the offender's guilt called for a trespass offering, we read that it was brought for that purpose (Lev. 5:15, 18; 6:6).
Birds cost almost nothing, and they come from the sky. Both facts say something about the offerer.
One who was unable to bring a lamb would be allowed to bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons as a sacrifice. This pictures someone who is poor in his grasp of the value of the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus as fully atoning for sin. At least he recognises that the Lord Jesus is from heaven (pictured by the birds), and so is above him. His understanding is weak, yet God receives his offering.
The verse splits the pair between two offerings, and gives them a set order.
It is interesting to see that when someone brought two birds, one counted as a sin offering and the other as a burnt offering. This shows that the death of Christ in all its aspects is for the believer's blessing. Here the sin offering came first, and then the burnt offering. That follows the order in which the sinner realises the value of the death of Christ. First the sin offering, picturing clearance; then the burnt offering, picturing acceptance.
There is a real loss in the lower offering, but the loss is in the offerer's sight, not in the offering's worth.
Here again, the lowest form of an offering loses its own distinctness and blends with others. The second option blends with the burnt offering, the third with the meal offering. The stronger the faith, the less one can enjoy a vague grasp of Christ's work... The weaker it is, the more one is content with a misty view. Then the wonderful and instructive differences in its many relations disappear into a broad, hazy sense that it works. The value of Christ is the same to God, whatever shape the offering might take in His condescension.
The falling scale of offerings teaches two things at once.
...the poverty and confusion of man's thoughts are allowed their place. On the one hand, we may realise what it costs to fall short in grasping God's grace. On the other, we learn that this grace will still show itself as grace. God's actual acceptance of us does not depend, after all, on our grasp of it, but on His own estimate of the value of the work of His beloved Son.
- Poor, not excluded. God took account of what the offender could afford. But He never let him come with nothing. An offering was needed, whatever its price.
- Named guilt, truly sin. Though called a guilt offering, its stated purpose was "for his sin," so it stands as a sin offering.
- Birds from above. The cheapest sacrifice still points to the Lord Jesus, the One from heaven. God receives it even from a weak understanding.
- Cleared, then accepted. One bird dealt with the sin, the other secured acceptance. A sinner comes to see the death of Christ in that same order.
- Valued by God. Weak faith loses the clear distinctions and much of the joy. It does not lower the worth of Christ or the acceptance He gives.
And he shall bring them unto the priest, who shall present that which is for the sin-offering first, and pinch off his head at the neck, but shall not divide it;
This verse belongs to a rule for the person who cannot afford a lamb. God takes two small birds instead — one for a sin offering, one for a burnt offering — and every step of the ritual carries meaning.
The order is deliberate. When someone brought more than one offering, the one dealing with sin always came first. There is a plain reason for it.
When Leviticus sets out the offerings themselves, it mentions the "burnt offering," "grain offering," and "peace offering" first, and then the "sin offering." But in practice, the individual worshipper presented his "sin offering" first, then his "burnt offering." He did this because he could not worship while sin was against him. He had to approach by the power of that which took it away.
A pair of birds costs far less than a lamb. Commentators read the smaller offering as a picture of the offerer himself.
God allowed someone who could not bring a lamb to bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons as a sacrifice. This pictures a person who understands little of the value of the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus as fully atoning for sin. At least he recognises that the Lord Jesus is from heaven (pictured by the birds), and therefore above him. His understanding is weak, yet God receives his offering.
The priest kills the bird by hand. Writers differ on what the act pictures. One sees the cruelty of the cross falling on the gentlest of creatures:
The dove pictures Him as holy and undefiled, filled with tenderness and love. The priest put the bird to death by wringing off its head — the type of the violence done to Him, who was so tender and loving.
Another links the head to the mind, and sees a limit on what the offerer can grasp:
The priest was to wring off the birds' heads, which symbolises the intelligence being set apart. He could not divide the parts of the bird in any other way, for the birds speak of the heavenly character of the Lord Jesus, which is above our ability to discern.
With a bull or a sheep, the priest cut the offering into parts. Here he opens the bird, but never takes it apart.
In the sacrifice of the bird, as has been said, we do not have the dividing of the offering into its parts. The priest first removed everything that might in any way suggest earthly food or earthly connection, so that the type might speak only of Him who came down from heaven. He split the bird partly open, laying bare its inward parts, but did not divide it, for the reason already suggested. He pressed its blood out against the side of the altar. How wonderful to think of Him! Every drop of His blood coursed through His veins for His Father's glory, and all of it was wrung from Him at the cross — still, however, infinitely acceptable.
The cheaper offering is not a lesser one. God gave it more care, not less.
Jehovah was even more careful in His concern for the man who could not bring a sheep or goat. The priest sprinkled the victim's blood in an unusual way, or at least Scripture gives fuller expression to it. The offering of less monetary value He prized for the conscientious soul, and He gave a witness of acceptance as well as of sin judged and gone.
But God will not waive the offering. Poverty changes the price, never the principle.
The Lord told them He must have a sacrifice, or an offering. But in His grace He arranged that its cost should not be beyond the reach of the poorest. If a sin could have been passed over without an offering, surely this was the moment to announce it. Here the offerer was too poor to buy a living creature for God's altar. But there is no hint of such a thought on God's part anywhere in the Word.
God accepts the poorest offering in full. But a small grasp of Christ costs the believer something.
The stronger the faith, the less one can be satisfied with a vague grasp of Christ's work. Such a person seeks, treasures and enjoys God's side as well as our own, in the fullness of divine revelation. The weaker faith is, the more content one is with a hazy view. In that view, the wonderful and instructive differences in the many aspects of that work fade into a broad but foggy sense of its power. The value of Christ is the same to God, whatever shape the offering took in God's condescension.
- Sin first. The priest handles the sin offering bird first. No one can worship while sin still stands against him.
- Birds for the poor. Two birds replace the lamb. The offerer sees little of Christ's sacrifice, yet still owns Him as the One from heaven.
- Head wrung off. Commentators differ. Some see violence done to the gentlest of victims. Others see the offerer's understanding set aside.
- Not divided. The larger victims were cut into pieces. The bird stays whole, because the heavenly glory of Christ is above what we can take apart.
- Price lowered. God lowers the price but never cancels the offering. He values the sacrifice by His own estimate, not the offerer's.
and he shall sprinkle of the blood of the sin-offering on the wall of the altar; and the rest of the blood shall be wrung out at the bottom of the altar it is a sin-offering.
Leviticus 5 makes room for a worshipper too poor to bring a lamb, and verse 9 tells the priest what to do with the blood of the bird he brings instead. Why does this blood go on the side of the altar and not on the horns, and does a cheaper offering buy a smaller forgiveness?
Chapter 5 deals with sins a person may not notice at first. One writer shows how wide God's allowance runs here, and how what the offerer can afford sets the offering:
But here we have a choice wider than anything seen before, and it stands out all the more because sin was in question. Once the person knew his sin, he confessed it and brought a female lamb or young goat. If he could not afford that, he brought two turtledoves or two young pigeons — one for a sin offering, the other for a burnt offering. If he could not reach even that, he brought a tenth of an ephah of flour… Here again, what compassion for the poor in the things of God! Yet the care for holiness is exact.
In chapter 4 the priest put blood on the four horns of the altar. Here it goes on the side of the altar — older translations say the wall. One writer weighs what each placing says:
Instead of putting some of the blood on the horns of the altar, the priest sprinkles it on the side of the altar. In chapter 4:25, 30, 34, the blood on the four horns seems to be a fourfold public memorial of atonement accomplished — a record set on the symbols of power, held up to view and so beyond question or doubt. But in chapter 5:9 the blood on the side of the altar would dry up and burn there. It was not so much a record as an owning of the fire's claim on life. So this offering, though it is a step up from the fine flour, does not witness to known atonement and forgiveness as strongly as the lowest of the sin offerings in chapter 4.
The remaining blood runs down to the foot of the altar. That spot matters, because the fire burns above it:
The fire always burns on the altar, showing the consuming judgment of God. It is below that fire that the blood is poured out. This points to the blessed truth that our Lord Jesus Christ laid down His life — His blood — under the judgment of God. His death was not only the giving up of life. He died in connection with the righteous wrath of God against sin, placing Himself under it.
Verse 9 handles the first bird; the second becomes a burnt offering. The two birds together teach the poorest offerer more than pardon:
Clearly a sinner of the lowest class is meant to know what acceptance is, as well as to know forgiveness… So these pictures show us grace meeting a sinner — every believing sinner, learned or unlearned. Grace brings him the truth that he himself is accepted in the sweet aroma of his substitute, rather than only the bare truth of that righteous repair made to God for his sin, which is the ground of forgiveness.
The closing words of the verse insist the bird counts as the real thing. Poverty changed the size of the gift, never the necessity of it:
No sin could be forgiven without a sacrifice or offering for sin. That marks out this part of the instructions about sacrifice… No degree of poverty could draw out compassion without an offering. A person might grasp very little of sin, and so very little of atonement; still, if he touched what was evil, guilt was there. On the other hand, if he was honest in owning it… his poor grasp does not stand in the way of perfect forgiveness.
One writer draws out what this lower scale of offerings means for the offerer:
So it is clear that here we have only the sign of the start of a descending scale of offerings. In it the poverty and confusion of man's thoughts are allowed their place. On one side, we are to see what it costs to fall short in grasping divine grace. On the other, we learn that grace will still show itself as grace. God's actual acceptance of us is not measured, after all, by our grasp of it, but by His own estimate of the worth of the work of His beloved Son.
- Reach. The offering is scaled to the offerer's hand — lamb, then birds, then flour — so that no one in Israel was too poor to come.
- Required. Poverty lowered the price but never removed the need: without a sin offering there was no forgiveness.
- Side. Blood on the side rather than on the horns gives a quieter witness than chapter 4. It owns the fire's claim on life instead of standing as a public memorial.
- Base. The blood drained beneath the burning altar pictures a life laid down under God's judgment on sin.
- Reckoning. The two birds bring both forgiveness and acceptance. God measures both by the worth of His Son's work, not by the offerer's grasp of it.
And he shall offer the other for a burnt-offering, according to the ordinance. And the priest shall make atonement for him [to cleanse him] from his sin which he hath sinned, and it shall be forgiven him.
This verse closes the provision God made for the poor. The priest offers the second bird as a burnt offering, makes atonement, and God forgives the sin. Why does a sin offering need a second bird? And why does God set the price so low that even the poorest can pay it?
The offerer brings two birds, and each means something different. The order matters too: the sin offering comes first, then the burnt offering of this verse.
It is interesting to see that when two birds were brought, one counted as a Sin Offering and the other as a Burnt Offering. This shows that the death of Christ, in all its aspects, is for the believer's blessing. Here the Sin Offering came first, and then the Burnt Offering. That is the order in which a sinner comes to see the value of the death of Christ. First the Sin Offering, which pictures clearance; then the Burnt Offering, which pictures acceptance.
The second bird is not a spare detail. The pairing tells us what God intends the poorest offerer to learn.
In verse 7 God appoints a combination of sin offering and burnt offering for a trespass. Clearly a sinner of the lowest class is meant to know what acceptance is, as well as forgiveness… these pictures show us grace meeting a sinner—every believing sinner, learned or unlearned—with the truth of his personal acceptance in the sweet fragrance of the substitute, rather than only with the bare truth of the righteous amends made to God for his sin, which is the ground of forgiveness.
The instructions for the birds go into more detail than those for the lamb. One writer sees God bending closer to the man who has less.
The Lord took even more detailed care for the man who could not bring a sheep or goat… He valued the cheaper offering for the conscientious soul, and gave a witness of acceptance as well as of sin judged and gone.
Yet allowing for poverty never meant waiving the offering. God lowered the price; He did not remove the altar.
The Lord told them He must have a sacrifice or an offering. But in His grace He made sure its cost would never be beyond what the poorest could afford. If a sin could have been passed over without an offering, here was the moment to say so, when the offerer was too poor to buy a living creature for God's altar. But the Word gives no hint of such a thought in God.
Commentators read the offerer's poverty as a picture of how little a person may grasp of Christ's sacrifice.
Anyone who could not bring a lamb was allowed to bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons instead. This pictures someone who grasps little of the value of the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus as fully atoning for sin. At least he sees that the Lord Jesus is from heaven — pictured by the birds — and therefore above him. His understanding is weak, yet God receives his offering.
The scale of offerings descends, but the standing of the offerer does not.
This is only the sign of the start of a descending scale of offerings. In it God allows the poverty and confusion of man's thoughts to have their place. On the one hand we see what it costs to fall short in grasping divine grace. On the other we learn that grace will still show itself as grace, and that God's acceptance of us is not measured, after all, by our grasp of it, but by His own estimate of the value of the work of His beloved Son.
The verse ends with God's own word to the offerer. Note where that word falls in the sequence — after the atonement, never before it.
When all that had to be done at the altar was done, the offerer could go back to his tent. He was not left uncertain about his condition. He was sure of God's forgiveness, and the Lord Himself assured him of it. "He shall be forgiven" said it — God's gracious announcement once atonement had been made, but, let the reader note, not before it was made… The moment atonement was made, before the offerer left the altar, he could know on the authority of the word of his God that his sin was forgiven.
- Poverty considered. God accepted two birds where the lamb was out of reach. He fixed the cost so that no one was shut out from His altar.
- Never waived. Lower price, same principle: an offering still had to reach the altar, because forgiveness rests only on a sacrifice.
- Two birds. The first cleared the sin; the second, burnt "according to the rule," secured acceptance — the poorest offerer was meant to know both.
- Not by measure. The poverty pictures a small grasp of Christ's work. God measures acceptance by His estimate of that work, not by our grasp of it.
- Forgiven, and told so. Atonement first, assurance second — the man went home with God's own word that his sin was gone.
But if his hand cannot attain to two turtle-doves, or two young pigeons, then he that sinned shall bring for his offering the tenth part of an ephah of fine flour for a sin-offering he shall put no oil on it, neither shall he put frankincense thereon; for it is a sin-offering.
This verse reaches the lowest step of the sin offering law. A man too poor to bring even two birds may bring a tenth of an ephah of flour instead. Two questions follow. How can an offering with no blood in it be a sin offering at all? And why does God forbid the oil and frankincense that go with every other flour offering?
The measure is tiny. One writer notes that it matches the manna God gave Israel for a single day.
Here we have the deepest need of all: even pigeons are beyond his means. But grace has a resource for the weakest condition of faith. He showed His pity, not by doing away with the offering, but by fitting it to the need... The amount was exactly that of the manna for one day's food. The priest took his handful of it to burn as a fire offering to the LORD... and since this was enough to atone, the rest became the priest's, as in the ordinary flour offering... God was truly good to Israel, even to those who owned their uncleanness in the humblest way He appointed.
Poverty never became an excuse to overlook sin. This bloodless offering is an exception that props up the rule instead of breaking it.
No poverty could bring God's compassion into play without an offering... The fact that this is fine flour without blood barely touches the principle of blood-shedding. It comes in a setting where God always requires blood-shedding for sin. It is only an exception made for poverty, and it shows that there is never forgiveness in any case without a sin offering. Even as an exception it still carries the character of blood with it as the principle.
The same fine flour appears in the grain offering, where oil and frankincense must go with it. Here God bans both by name, and the reason is what kind of offering this is.
When someone brought fine flour as a grain offering, both oil and frankincense had to go with it. Here God shuts both of them out. The sweet aroma was missing from what sinful men had to bring to make atonement for their wrongdoing.
Commentators read the offerer's poverty as a picture of how little a person understands, not of how little he cares.
It brought the offering within the reach of all, so that the very poorest soul could have a way of meeting God as to its sin. Poverty represents little light or ignorance, not rejection of or indifference to Christ. And as the flour reached the fire of judgement on the altar, the death of Christ for sin was not left out in this most simple form of sin offering.
Commentators differ on how far to press this bloodless offering. One holds that with no blood it could not atone in the full sense, and reads the whole provision as God's allowance for ignorance:
With no blood in it, this offering could not be atoning in the proper sense. Still, it speaks of the purity of the Man Christ Jesus. If the offender truly honours the person of Christ, God can still receive this offering in grace, even though the man does not understand the value of Christ's work of redemption. God makes this concession for ignorance.
Others hold that the handful burned on the altar was still enough to atone, and that the offering carried the character of blood with it.
If the offering rose or fell with the offerer's grasp of it, no weak believer could rest. The line runs between what a person enjoys and where he stands.
Only God Himself can measure the full value of the sacrifice of Christ. But every believer comes under the power of that sacrifice according to God's own estimate of its worth, whatever the degree of his understanding. This is an immense comfort. It shows that our weak understanding touches only our enjoyment, and not our acceptance.
That comfort comes with a boundary.
What a blessed assurance this is: it is the cross that saves, not our intelligence about it! Yet we must remember that ignorance of the cross and opposition to it are two different things... Here we must leave the One who knows the hearts to draw the line.
- Poverty — the man cannot afford even two birds. God fits the offering to the need instead of cancelling it, and asks only a day's measure of flour.
- Provision — grace comes down to the poorest means, yet still asks for an offering. No sin in Israel was forgiven without one.
- Plainness — no oil, no frankincense. The sweet aroma is gone, because this flour comes for sin.
- Picture — the poverty stands for dim understanding, not for indifference. The handful burned on the altar still carries the judgment of God.
- Peace — a weak grasp of Christ's work touches enjoyment, not acceptance. The cross saves, not our intelligence about it.
And he shall bring it to the priest, and the priest shall take his handful of it, the memorial thereof, and burn it on the altar, with Jehovah's offerings by fire it is a sin-offering.
Here the offerer is too poor to bring even birds, so he brings flour. Two questions follow: how can a handful of flour atone with no blood, and why must it come without the oil and frankincense that belong to every other grain offering?
The chapter steps down: a lamb, then birds, and now a little flour. God still asks for an offering. He only fits it to what the person can bring.
Here we have the deepest need of all: even pigeons cost too much. But grace has a resource for the smallest measure of faith. God showed His pity, not by dropping the offering, but by fitting it to the need. No part of this offering could have the character of a burnt offering, as the second bird did. Even so, the LORD would accept an offering of fine flour. But unlike the grain offering proper, no oil and no frankincense could be there. It was for sin. The amount was exactly that of the manna for one day's food.
Fine flour could also be brought as a grain offering. In that case oil and frankincense went with it. Here the character of the offering changes that.
When someone brought fine flour as a grain offering, both oil and frankincense had to go with it. Here the law shuts out both of them by name. The sweet savour element was missing from what sinful men were required to offer in atonement for their wrongdoing.
The verse calls the burned handful a "memorial portion." Even here, where no animal dies, writers still find God's judgement on sin.
This does not seem to fit the rule that there is no forgiveness without the shedding of blood. Yet the memorial burned on the altar pictured God's judgement in dealing with sin. It brought the offering within reach of everyone, so the very poorest soul had a way of meeting God about its sin. Here poverty stands for little light or ignorance, not for rejecting Christ or not caring about Him. And as the flour met the fire of judgement on the altar, the death of Christ for sin was not left out of this simplest form of sin offering.
The priest did not burn the flour on its own. He put it "on the LORD's food offerings," among sacrifices already burning.
The priest took his handful of that flour and laid it on the altar of sweet savour offerings. Can we not see in this a picture of our Great High Priest in heaven, making our poor and feeble faith in His sacrifice acceptable to God? The flour on the altar drew its fragrance from the sweet savour of the burnt offering, which rose up to God in all its excellence. The priest's hand turned it into rich fragrance.
A sin offering with no blood seems to break the rule that forgiveness needs blood. One writer answers that the exception is what keeps the rule in place.
No sin could be forgiven without a sacrifice or offering for sin… No poverty could bring compassion into play without an offering. However dull a person might be in his grasp of sin, or of atonement, guilt was still there if he touched what was evil. On the other hand, he might be honest in owning it, and own it in such a way that he felt his need of atonement before God. That alone counts as owning sin. Then his poor grasp of it does not block full forgiveness. That forgiveness rests on the value of the sacrifice. The fact that it is fine flour without blood barely affects the principle of blood-shedding. It comes in a setting where God requires blood for sin everywhere. It is only an exception made for poverty, to show that in no case is there forgiveness without a sin offering.
after-note: DELETE
So a person may trust Christ and still understand very little about His death. That is not the same as standing against it.
It is Christ who is trusted, and trusted as Saviour, though the soul may be so deeply ignorant that it does not know His death was needed for atonement. God knows the need, and Christ has met it. What a comfort it is to be sure that the cross saves, and not our understanding of it! Yet we must remember that ignorance of the cross and opposition to it are two different things.
- Poverty. God never drops the offering. He sizes it to the giver, so the poorest Israelite still had a way to meet Him about sin.
- Plainness. Oil and frankincense are forbidden because this is a sin offering — nothing here is a sweet savour.
- Placement. The priest lays the handful on the offerings already burning. It draws its fragrance from them.
- Principle. The case without blood is the exception that proves the rule. Without a sin offering there is no forgiveness at all.
- Peace. Acceptance rests on the worth of the sacrifice, not on the depth of the offerer's understanding of it.
And the priest shall make atonement for him concerning his sin which he hath sinned in one of these, and it shall be forgiven him; and it shall be the priest's, as the oblation.
Leviticus 5:13 ends a series that steps down in cost: a lamb, then two birds, then a handful of plain flour. It raises two hard questions: how can an offering with no blood count as a sin offering, and why does the leftover flour go to the priest?
Here the law sets three levels of offering, and which one a man brought depended on what he could afford.
Here God took account of what the offerer was able to bring. The normal one for sins of this class was a female of the sheep or of the goats... If that sacrifice was beyond his reach, he might bring two birds — young pigeons or turtledoves. One was for a sin offering, the other for a burnt offering. If even the birds were beyond his reach, the Lord would graciously receive a tenth of an ephah of fine flour instead. Every family in the land owned some ground. No one was so poor that a tenth of an ephah of flour would be beyond their reach.
The obvious kindness would have been to let the very poor man off. God did not do that.
No sin could be forgiven without a sacrifice or offering for sin... No amount of poverty could call compassion into play without an offering. However dull a man's grasp of sin, and so of atonement, guilt was still there if he touched what was evil.
Fine flour could also come to the altar as a grain offering, and then oil and frankincense went with it. Here the rule leaves both out.
When someone brought fine flour as a grain offering, both oil and frankincense had to go with it. Here the rule shuts out both. The sweet savour element was missing from an offering that sinful men were compelled to bring to atone for their wrongdoing.
No animal died here, yet the verse still speaks of atonement. Commentators answer by pointing to the altar fire rather than to what was laid on it.
At first this does not seem to fit the rule that blood must be shed for forgiveness. But the portion burned on the altar pictured God's judgement in dealing with sin. Poverty here stands for little light or little knowledge, not for rejecting Christ or caring nothing for Him. And when the flour met the fire of judgement on the altar, the death of Christ for sin was not left out, even in this simplest form of sin offering.
Darby treats the case as the exception that establishes the rule rather than as a loophole in it:
That the offering was fine flour without blood hardly touches the principle that blood must be shed. It comes in a setting where sin always calls for blood. It is only an exception made for poverty, to show that there is never forgiveness without a sin offering. It is not that one kind of sin needs blood and another does not. Poverty puts this offering in the place of a blood offering, and God counts it as such.
The amount asked for was a familiar one, and the leftover went the same way as in an ordinary grain offering.
The quantity was just that of the manna for a day's food. From it the priest took his handful and burned it as an offering by fire to Jehovah, even though it came from someone unclean under the law. And since this was enough to atone, the rest became the priest's, just as in the ordinary grain offering. Truly God was good to Israel, even to such as owned their uncleanness in the humblest way He prescribed.
If the flour pictures a small grasp of Christ, does that small grasp earn a smaller pardon? Commentators answer that acceptance rests on God's estimate, not ours.
Only God Himself can fully weigh the value of the sacrifice of Christ. Yet every believer comes under the full effect of that sacrifice, whatever the measure of his own understanding, and comes under it according to God's own estimate of its value in His sight. This is an immense comfort. Our weak understanding touches only our enjoyment, never our acceptance.
The closing words of the verse settled the matter, and they settled it at a fixed moment:
Once everything that had to be done at the altar was done, the offerer could go back to his tent. He was not left in doubt about his standing. He was sure of God's forgiveness, and the Lord Himself had given him that assurance. The words "he shall be forgiven" declared it. That was God's gracious announcement once atonement had been made — but let the reader note, not before it was made.
- Reach — the sin offering was graded down to a handful of flour so that no one in Israel was priced out of forgiveness.
- Requirement — poverty lowered the cost, but never the condition. Without an offering there was no pardon.
- Restraint — no oil and no frankincense: this flour deals with sin, not with what delights God.
- Reckoning — no blood was shed, yet the handful met the fire of the altar, so judgement on sin is still pictured.
- Rest — the promise "he shall be forgiven" came only after atonement, and it was as sure for the poorest offerer as for the richest.