And Jehovah spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai in the tent of meeting, on the first of the second month, in the second year after their departure from the land of Egypt, saying,
The book of Numbers opens with a date, a place, and a voice: God speaking to Moses in the tent of meeting, in the second year after Israel left Egypt. That one verse sets up the whole book — where these people are, whose they are, and why God counts them.
The atmosphere changes the moment this book begins. One writer walks back through the earlier books to show where this one starts:
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go to war." In Genesis the descendants of Israel were not yet born; they were still in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brickyards of Egypt. In Leviticus they were gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness… And as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and of trumpets sounding the alarm.
The change of place brings a change of subject:
In the book of Numbers the Spirit of God has the desert before Him, rather than the sanctuary. We will still find the sanctuary, of course. But the question here is not about drawing near to God, so far as that was possible then. It is about how the people of God walk on the earth.
One small word changes between the two books. A writer follows it forward to how God speaks now, quoting an older translation of Hebrews 1:2 that reads "in His Son":
In Leviticus 1:1 we read of God speaking out of the tabernacle, and in Numbers 1:1 of His speaking in it. But in these last days He has not only spoken to us by His Son but "in His Son" (Hebrews 1:2). The Son of God has spoken "the truth" to us, but He is Himself the truth.
The verse names a place and an exit:
Notice these two little words — in the wilderness, out of Egypt. There is no wilderness in Egypt, and we cannot have Egypt in the wilderness. It is pointless to talk about being in the wilderness unless we are out of Egypt in heart… The wilderness is a place where there is no path, and the desert is a place where there is no provision. Scripture uses both terms of the wilderness of Sinai, and they show us that we depend on God alone.
This date is not the earliest one in the book. Chapter 9 carries an earlier one, and the order matters:
God gave Moses the instructions about the Passover, which fill the first half of chapter 9, at the beginning of the first month of the second year. That is about a month before the date we have been looking at… The Passover marked the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes one fact stand out: God only numbers and counts as His those who have been redeemed.
A census can spring from pride. This one springs from ownership:
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted them. The same divine right is spoken of in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts (Psalm 147:4).
Being counted for heaven is easy to treasure. Being counted for the road is what this opening presses:
We can all understand the sweetness of being numbered for heaven, and that is where the heart of most people turns. But even those who take the greatest comfort in the counsels of God that secure them for eternity easily forget something else. The Lord takes a present interest in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials. This is the first thing with which the book opens.
Those counted had to prove their family line. There was a reason for that:
They had to show their family line because of the mixed crowd of people who had joined themselves to the people of God… So only those who could prove by their family line that they belonged among the people of God were counted, and only they could go to war. Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
One writer takes that warfare wider: "all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too" (Leslie M. Grant).
- Place — The verse sets us in the wilderness. The book that follows is not about coming near to God, but about how His people walk on the earth.
- Voice — God speaks in the tent, not just out of it. The last word is a Son who is Himself the truth He speaks.
- Order — The Passover a month earlier, the census after. God counts as His only those who have been redeemed.
- Title — He numbers Israel as He numbers the stars, because they belong to Him — and He gives each one its name.
- Present care — Being counted for heaven comforts us. This opening adds that He takes an interest in every step, conflict and trial on the way.
Take the sum of the whole assembly of the children of Israel, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, every male, according to their polls;
God has brought Israel out of Egypt, given them the law, and taught them how to worship. Now He tells Moses to count them — which raises real questions: who has the right to take such a count, and why are people listed by family, by name, and one head at a time?
The count opens a book set in the wilderness. One writer lines up the books of Moses. Each one finds Israel in a different place, and the mood changes as soon as Numbers begins:
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go to war." The difference stands out. In Genesis the seed of Israel was still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were making bricks in Egypt. In Leviticus they gathered around the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
A census is an owner's act. So why may God take this one? Because of who Israel belong to:
This showed His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to count them, because they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no purposes for them, He would not have counted their total. The same is said of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That is how He shows His sovereignty among the armies of heaven. (Psalm 147:4.)
The same act, done by the wrong man for the wrong reason, brought disaster:
After Israel left Egypt, over a year passed before this census took place. When David decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motive was pride in ruling a great nation, and 70,000 people died as a result. But God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in each one of His people Israel — an interest that is just as real for His saints today.
Nobody made the list just by standing in the camp. Each man had to show where he came from, and Israel's history explains why:
They had to show their family line, and only those who could do it had a place in this muster and could be soldiers. They needed that proof because of the mixed multitude of outsiders who had joined themselves to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)... Our own family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
Older translations render "head by head" as "by their polls." The word behind it is plain:
The skull or head, but used to mean a person. Num. 1:2-22.
The count reaches every man, one at a time. That carries a comfort we are slow to take:
We can all understand how sweet it is to be counted for heaven, and that is where most hearts turn. But even those who take the greatest comfort in God's purposes, which secure them for eternity, easily forget the interest the Lord takes right now in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials. This is the first thing the book opens with.
God had counted Israel before, and each count had its own purpose. One writer sets the first two side by side:
The aim of the first numbering (Ex. 38:25-27) was to collect the silver... so that count was made for the Lord, with the worship of Him in view. The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy, and its aim was to find how many men were able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
Only the men were counted. One writer carries the point across to today:
The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered... Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too.
- Owned. God counts Israel because Israel is His. The census is a claim of ownership, like the God who numbers the stars and names every one.
- Named. What He owns He knows one by one — "head by head," each man a person, not a statistic.
- Placed. Each name sits inside a clan and a father's house. Belonging to the crowd is not enough.
- Armed. The list is an army roll. This book opens with armies and trumpets, not with worship at the sanctuary.
- Accountable. Being counted meant personal responsibility in the Lord's battles. A count taken out of pride, as David's was, brought judgment instead.
from twenty years and upward, all that go forth to military service in Israel ye shall number them according to their hosts, thou and Aaron.
This command counts Israel's fighting men and sets the tone for the whole book. The road ahead is a march that is also a campaign. Why did God want only men from twenty upward, and why does a book of journeys open with a muster roll?
Scripture records more than one counting of Israel, and each one had a different purpose. One writer sets this census beside the others to show what makes it distinct:
The first numbering (Exodus 38:25-27) was to gather the silver, a bekah per man. That silver was meant to form the bases of the pillars of the tabernacle. So that numbering was done for the Lord and with a view to worshipping Him. The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. It was meant to count the men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
The tone of the whole book changes at this point, and the change is deliberate.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness." Only those who are "able to go to war" are counted. This stands out clearly. In Genesis the seed of Israel were in the loins of their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they were gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers they are seen in the wilderness... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, armies, standards, camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
God's plan for the road ahead is why they had to be ready:
We must remember that God's plan was to carry them straight into the land of promise. But the route was not "by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near" (Ex. 13:17). The people had seen no war from their very beginning. They were not to face it within a few days of their rescue, yet they had to be ready for it. Indeed Amalek attacked them within a couple of months and came under God's undying curse for doing so.
Twenty marked the point at which a man was counted grown:
The Israelites were numbered from twenty years old and upwards. That was the age at which they were able to go out to war. It was also the age at which they were regarded as having grown up to manhood and fit for the service of life (Num. 1:3; 14:29; Lev. 27:3).
Verse 2 tells Moses to register the men by clan and family line. That rule had a reason:
They had to declare their family line. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. Showing their family line was necessary because of the mixed multitude that had joined themselves to the people of God... What gives us a place among the people of God is the new birth, by which we become children of God. Our calling is to a spiritual war. It is not against flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Who orders a count, and why, makes all the difference.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in each one of His people Israel. That interest is just as true of His saints today.
That interest runs wider than the battlefield.
The main object in the early chapters is a count of the males who were fit for war. But the numbering goes beyond this. There are other aims than war and warlike purposes. Whatever the aim may be in different parts of the book, God impresses one thing on us: the care and interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him.
The list held only men fit to fight. What does that ask of us?
Surely the lesson is that we are to long to be men. Of course it is not now a question of sex in this matter; a sister may be a man of God (2 John 10). And in Romans 16, where we get a list of God's mighty men (corresponding to the mighty men of David's army, 2 Sam. 23), we find that a large number of them are women. So it is not a matter of sex, but of spiritual strength and growth. Every child of God should desire to grow and be strong for the Lord, for it is written, "Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong."
- Counted — God orders this census Himself. Unlike David's proud count, it shows His interest in every person who belongs to Him.
- Named — Each man had to name his family and father's house. That marked off true Israelites from the mixed crowd who came out of Egypt with them.
- Aged — Twenty was the mark of full growth, the point at which a man was fit for war and for the service of life.
- Armed — Numbers opens with armies, standards and trumpets. God meant to bring Israel into the land, and they had to be ready to fight.
- Answerable — Each man had to grasp his own responsibility in the Lord's battles. Today the test is not gender but spiritual strength and growth.
And with you there shall be a man for every tribe, a man who is the head of his father's house.
Numbers opens with God ordering a count of Israel. Before the count begins, He appoints twelve men — one from each tribe — to stand with Moses. Two questions follow. Why does God count His people at all? And why must each tribe have its own head in the work?
The count is not paperwork. It is God claiming what belongs to Him.
The book opens with His command to Moses to number the tribes, and it is done with great exactness and care... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. The same is said of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty over the armies of heaven. (Psalm 147:4)
The same interest holds today, and it comes with a call to fight:
But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, and that interest is just as real for His saints today... Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women too, and the young and the old — though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age, which comes through knowing and growing in the word of God.
Verse 4 puts a man from each tribe beside Moses. Who picked them?
Our chapter records that first of all God selected a "head" or prince for each tribe. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men who shall assist you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe, and this reminds us that God today chooses His own servants and leaders. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
The verse ties each man to "the house of his fathers." That family order shaped the whole army:
In this muster the organization used is the natural one, by families or "fathers' houses"... The difference between the two is this: the word for "family" implies being under authority, while "father's house" shows that this authority rests on the natural relationship. Such is God's relationship to His people, and the father is the picture of it. Here rule should be easy, and obedience a joy. So they were linked together in family groups in God's army, brother fighting beside brother — an army so closely joined that you would think it could not be beaten.
So why record twelve names and nothing else about the men?
Of these men nothing is recorded but their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt otherwise, we can be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak, and their link with the tribes they represent must matter. There must be a reason why Elizur, and not Shelumiel or Nahshon, is prince of Reuben. We find that reason by looking into Reuben's history.
Reuben shows how that works:
The leader of the tribe of Reuben was Elizur the son of Shedeur. Elizur means "God is a Rock." What a contrast to his forefather Reuben, of whom we read, "Unstable as water, you shall not have preeminence" (Gen. 49:4). Reuben in the flesh was utter weakness, just as the flesh proves to be in all of us. But the strength and stability of God belong to the new nature.
The count demanded proof of descent. Not everyone in the camp could give it:
They had to declare their descent, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They had to show their descent because of the mixed crowd that had joined itself to the people of God... Our own line of descent, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare — not against flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
- Ownership — God counts Israel because Israel is His. He numbers what belongs to Him and names it, as He names the stars.
- Appointment — God names the twelve heads who stand with Moses. The people do not vote, and Moses does not choose.
- Family — God ranks each man inside his father's house, so brother fights beside brother in one closely joined army.
- Names — God leaves us only these men's names and their fathers'. So the names themselves teach: Elizur, "God is a Rock," answers unstable Reuben.
- Pedigree — God admits no one to the muster without proof of descent. Commentators see the same today in the new birth, which gives a place among His people and a call to spiritual warfare.
And these are the names of the men that shall stand with you for Reuben, Elizur the son of Shedeur;
In Numbers 1 God orders a census of Israel at Sinai, and verse 5 names the first of twelve tribal leaders who stand with Moses and Aaron for the count. Of Reuben's leader we are told only his name and his father's name.
The census was not a head count for its own sake. One writer explains why God wanted the count at all:
He was careful in this way to assert His title and survey His possessions. He would have the exact number of Israel brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
The count also had a purpose. Israel was becoming God's army, and every man had his place in it:
The people are to face the dangers of the way, and the first requirement for this is to be in subjection to their Leader — not Moses, but the Lord Himself. So first of all comes this mustering and marshalling of what is to be the host of God. For a soldier, keeping rank is an absolute necessity, and here a wisdom that cannot fail appoints for everyone his place and his companions.
Scripture records nothing about these leaders except their names and their fathers' names. Commentators read that silence as a clue, not a gap:
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people. Each belongs to his own tribe, and in time becomes its head. Scripture gives us nothing about them but their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason — if there could be any doubt — we may be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak, and their link with the tribes they represent must matter. There must be a reason why Elizur, rather than Shelumiel or Nahshon, should be prince of Reuben. We find that reason by looking into Reuben's history.
The force of the name shows once you set it beside what Jacob said about Reuben:
Reuben stands first here, as in Genesis, and Reuben's prince is Elizur the son of Shedeur. The meaning of the first name is beyond question, and it is beautiful — "God is a Rock." That becomes plain as soon as you set it beside the character Jacob gives his firstborn: "Unstable as water, you shall not have preeminence." What a contrast between the rock-like stability of God and the instability of Reuben! And it is learning this, and learning how to build on it, that gives stability to the unstable. In ourselves there is never strength. The way of strength is to know this: "when I am weak, then I am strong."
The match is not accidental. The captain given to the unstable tribe carries in his name the answer to its instability:
So it is plain why Elizur is Reuben's prince and leader. He is one of God's royal family of overcomers, and he overcomes the evil that is native to the tribe he represents. In him, faith has found refuge from himself, and found it in God. He is then the fitting captain for the men fit for war in the tribe of the firstborn.
Another writer starts from God's own choice of these men, then reads the father's name:
God Himself chose the leaders of each of these tribes, and He had good spiritual reasons. We must learn those reasons from the names given, since that is all Scripture supplies. Shedeur means "the Almighty is fire," which adds the thought of God's consuming holiness judging the flesh and all its works. To know the strength and steadying energy of God as we should, we must be "partakers of His holiness." That is what the fire speaks of — holiness that must judge Reuben's sin. So it is fitting that the lessons Shedeur teaches come first in preparing us for spiritual conflict.
The same writer draws the line from Israel's muster to believers now:
God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in each one of His people Israel. That interest is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only males over twenty were numbered… Today all His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too… Yet the lesson is clear for us. To engage in real conflict we need maturity or full age, such as comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
- Counted — the census asserts God's title to His people; He called them by their names and knew their numbers.
- Named — Scripture records only names here, so the names themselves must speak.
- Matched — Elizur, "God is a Rock," leads the tribe Jacob called unstable as water. The name answers the tribe's weakness.
- Purified — Shedeur, "the Almighty is fire," comes first. Holiness judges the flesh, then God's strength steadies us.
- Mustered — God forms an army with every man in his rank. For conflict today we need growth in God's word.
for Simeon, Shelumiel the son of Zurishaddai;
Numbers 1 hands each tribe to one named man. Simeon's man appears here with nothing but his own name and his father's — no deeds, no history, no record of his work.
The census did not start with the people. God named the men who would stand beside Moses, and the tribes had no say.
Our chapter records that, first of all, a "head" or prince of each tribe was chosen. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men who shall stand with you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This reminds us that God still chooses His own servants and leaders today. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
Scripture tells us nothing else about Shelumiel. So the names are the message, and it matters which man was joined to which tribe.
We are told nothing about these men except their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt otherwise, we can be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak, and their link with the tribes they represent must matter. There must be a reason why Elizur, and not Shelumiel or Nahshon, is prince of Reuben; and we find it by looking into Reuben's history.
Simeon's family record was violent. His father Jacob described that character in Genesis 49, which makes the name of Simeon's prince a reversal.
In order of birth the tribe of Simeon comes next, and the prince of Simeon was Shelumiel (v.6), which means "at peace with God." That is a striking contrast to Simeon's character as his father Jacob described it in Genesis 49:5-7. Simeon, along with Levi, was guilty of cruel and vicious hatred in the murder of the men of Shechem (Gen. 34:25-26). Only the grace of God could make any difference in so terrible a case. Is the flesh in us any better than in Simeon and Levi? Not at all. Yet God has in pure grace reconciled all believers to Himself (2 Cor. 5:18), and we are "at peace with God," as Romans 5:1 declares.
The son's name rests on the father's. Peace is not a mood in the man; it stands on something outside him, and the possessive pronoun makes it personal.
Shelumiel was the son Zurishaddai, meaning "My rock is the Almighty." This reminds us that peace with God depends on the stability of God Himself, the Almighty; and in this case not only is God the Rock, by "my rock." How good it is for us if we appropriate to ourselves this living truth! This is a wonderful sustenance in warfare.
Simeon's old strength was a partnership with his brother, and it ended in violence. His prince's name points to a different bond.
Simeon's very alliance with his brother is a confession of weakness — a weakness he would cure by turning to what so many turn to today: banding together with others. And he does find strength there, but only to use it cruelly and to walk apart from God. So on his part it ends in division and scattering. That has to happen if he is to be saved from himself. Having found where natural strength leads a man, he may turn to the One in whom there is all-sufficiency and with whom is holiness. This is now the Simeonite prince's alliance, and such a bond never needs to be broken up again. So Shelumiel, that true peace with God which comes from communion with Him, springs from Zurishaddai, the known and enjoyed strength of the Almighty.
Shelumiel does not stand alone. His place is next to Reuben's prince, and the two names echo each other.
If Reuben's prince is Elizur ("God is a rock"), the father of Simeon's prince is Zurishaddai — "my rock is the Almighty." So they are well-matched companions. But the communion that Simeon stands for must follow Reuben's lead of holding to God and submitting to Him. Only then can it stand up under the warfare of the desert. That is how he fills his own place here.
Behind the whole roll call stands a question of ownership.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to count them, for they were all His own. If He had no claim on them, and nothing to look for in them, He would not have counted them up. The same is said of His divine right in another part of His dominions: "He tells the number of the stars; He calls them all by their names."
- Counted — God numbered Israel because they were His own; He calls them by name, as He does the stars.
- Chosen — God appointed the man who stood for Simeon; the tribe did not elect him.
- Named — no deeds are recorded, so the two names carry the lesson: Shelumiel, "at peace with God," son of Zurishaddai, "my rock is the Almighty."
- Reversed — Simeon's family name stood for cruelty. Only grace turns that record into peace with God.
- Ready — that peace rests on the Almighty as my rock. It holds a man in the desert warfare, in his place beside Reuben.
for Judah, Nahshon the son of Amminadab;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
for Issachar, Nethaneel the son of Zuar;
Numbers 1 opens with God ordering a census of Israel's fighting men. He names one man from each tribe to stand with Moses and Aaron and do the counting. Verse 8 names the man for Issachar. Scripture tells us nothing else about him, so the question is what a bare name and a father's name are doing in the record at all.
The tribal heads were not picked by the people or even by Moses. Commenting on how the list is introduced, one writer draws out who did the choosing.
Our chapter records that as a preliminary a "head" or prince of each tribe was selected. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men that shall stand with you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe, and this may usefully remind us that God today chooses His own servants and leaders, and does not submit the matter to a popular vote.
Because the record gives us nothing about these men except their names, the names themselves carry the weight.
Of these we have nothing noted but their own and their fathers' names, but just for that reason, if there could otherwise be doubt, we may be sure that their names are intended to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak and their connection with the several tribes which they represent must be of importance.
Nethanel belongs to a cluster of names in this list built on the Hebrew word for God. Another writer counts them and reads something into the pattern.
It may be that the Spirit of God was stirring the hearts of many in Israel at this time, and turning them to the God of their fathers. If we read the names of those who were "the renowned of the congregation" in Numbers and remember that "El" means "God," we cannot but be struck with the number of names of which this forms a part. For example, Numbers 1:5, Elizur means "God is my rock"; verse 6, Shelumiel means "Friend of God"; verse 8, Nathaneel means "Given of God"; verse 9, Eliab means "My God is Father."
Issachar's own name means "hire," and Jacob's words over him in Genesis 49 picture a strong donkey that bows its shoulder and becomes a servant at forced labour. Against that background, a prince named "gift of God" is pointed.
Issachar's prince comes fourth in the list, Nathaniel, the "gift of God" — again exactly suited to him whose name speaks of hire, and whose tendency is to stoop his shoulder to foreign yokes, and to pay his tribute from the love of ease. The spirit of legality takes up readily with such strange service, since it is self which it really serves, and a bribe will turn it from its true Master… the hireling spirit in the people of God themselves would turn His grace into legal compensation, and a true overcomer is this Nathaniel who has learnt that the "gift of God" cannot be purchased.
The father's name is not filler. Zuar means "little," and commentators tie the two names together as cause and effect.
Nethanel was the son of Zuar, meaning "little." How true it is that when we receive every blessing simply as a gift of God our pride will be brought low, no longer to think highly of ourselves, but like Paul, whose name means "little," to consider ourselves "less than the least of all saints" (Eph. 3:8).
Nethanel does not stand alone. In the camp order that follows, Issachar takes his place beside Judah, whose name means "praise."
The last thought connects with Issachar, who, with Zebulon, fights under Judah's banner, with his captain Nathaniel, "the gift of God." They are both under the best of leadership evidently. The one will not seek his own, nor the other stray off to the world, while Judah leads.
Later, this tribe became known for something more than numbers.
Some of Issachar came to David at Ziklag, and of them it is said that they "had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do" (1 Chr. 12:32).
Behind the whole roll call is God's claim on the people He redeemed.
He was careful thus to assert His title, and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
- Chosen — God Himself named the man who stood for Issachar. The tribe did not vote him in, and Moses did not pick him.
- Named — Scripture records no deeds for him, only a name. Writers take that silence as the point: the name is the message. Nethanel means "gift of God."
- Gift — a tribe whose name means "hire" gets a leader whose name means gift, and the gift of God cannot be bought or earned.
- Little — his father's name, Zuar, means "little." Receiving everything as a gift brings pride down to size.
- Ranked — the gift-of-God man marches under Judah's banner, and his tribe later gave David men who understood the times and knew what Israel should do.
for Zebulun, Eliab the son of Helon;
This verse is one line in a list. Eliab stands for Zebulun in the census at Sinai, named with his father. Two questions sit behind that short entry. Why did God pick these men? And why does Scripture keep their names?
The men on this list did not put themselves forward:
Our chapter records that as a first step a "head" or prince of each tribe was selected. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "these are the names of the men who shall assist you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This is a useful reminder that God today chooses His own servants and leaders. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
Eliab's job was to count his tribe. The count had a purpose tied to the journey ahead:
The whole people are counted tribe by tribe and family by family. A prince of each tribe is chosen, and he oversees the count of that tribe. Only the men of war are to be counted, because the census is taken with the dangers and trials of the journey in view. So right at the start we see the thought of order stressed. No Israelite warrior is left out. Each one takes his place under his tribal prince, and all of them are arranged, as we shall see later, with reference to the tabernacle.
Counting someone assumes a claim on them. That claim is God's, and it reaches beyond Israel:
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their number. The same divine title is spoken of in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4)
The list gives no deeds and no stories, only names. That silence is itself the clue:
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people. Each one belongs to his own tribe, and in time becomes its head. Nothing is recorded about them except their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt otherwise, we can be sure that their names are meant to speak to us.
Many of these names are built on the same syllable:
Read the names of those who were "the renowned of the congregation" in Numbers, and remember that "El" means "God". The number of names built on it must strike us. For example, in Numbers 1:5, Elizur means "God is my rock". In verse 6, Shelumiel means "Friend of God". In verse 8, Nathaneel means "Given of God". In verse 9, Eliab means "My God is Father". And so we might go on.
Zebulun's name means dwelling. The name of the man who leads him carries both a warning and a comfort:
God is the Father of His believing people. But if they mix with the world and forget whose they are, they force Him, as it were, to forget their special relation to Himself. He cannot be a Father to them as He would be. How terrible this loss is, little as many think of it! And what a strong witness Zebulun's captain gives us here — Eliab, "God is a Father!" May it speak to His people's hearts with all its solemnity and all its precious encouragement! So Zebulun, "dwelling," gets its right meaning.
Zebulun does not camp alone. He stands under Judah's banner with Issachar, and the three tribes carry one message together:
Taken as a whole, then, the camp of Judah expresses the spirit of righteousness. The standard he gathers under is righteousness. It is a spirit to which God's statutes are songs, and so it is free from legality. It keeps the enjoyment of relationship to God as Father, where Issachar and Zebulun add the thoughts that complete it.
- Chosen — Eliab did not volunteer and was not voted in; God named the man who would stand with Moses for each tribe.
- Counted — the census listed the men able to fight, because the journey ahead held danger. Every warrior took his place under his tribal prince.
- Owned — God numbers Israel as He numbers the stars, because those He counts belong to Him.
- Named — nothing is told of these men but their names, and that alone signals the names are meant to speak.
- Fathered — Eliab means "My God is Father", and Zebulun means dwelling. The family bond is what gives dwelling with God its meaning.
for the children of Joseph for Ephraim, Elishama the son of Ammihud; for Manasseh, Gamaliel the son of Pedahzur;
Numbers 1:10 lists two men where you would expect one: Joseph's family supplies a prince for Ephraim and a prince for Manasseh. Why does one son of Jacob hold two places in the list? And why record the names of these men and their fathers at all?
Joseph is not listed as a tribe here. His two sons stand in his place, and commentators trace this back to Jacob giving Joseph an extra place through his two sons:
Jacob had 12 sons at the time, the exact number that speaks of complete order. So why should he give Joseph an extra place among the tribes by naming tribes after his two sons? The wisdom of God was in this. Later we find that Levi received no inheritance of its own among the tribes (Num. 1:47-53), because God set that tribe apart to serve Him in the tabernacle and among all the tribes.
The order inside the verse is also deliberate. Ephraim, the younger, comes before Manasseh:
Levi is left out between Simeon and Judah, since he is not to be counted. Asher and Gad swap places. Ephraim and Manasseh take Joseph's place. According to Jacob's prophecy (Gen. 48:14-22), Ephraim takes precedence over Manasseh.
Elishama and Gamaliel did not campaign for their positions. The list came from God:
Our chapter records that God first chose a "head," or prince, for each tribe. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men who shall assist you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This reminds us that God still chooses His own servants and leaders today. He does not put the matter to a vote.
Several writers treat the names of these princes as messages in themselves. Ephraim's name carries the idea of fruitfulness. His prince's name supplies what fruitfulness needs:
Ephraim's prince is Elishama, which means "God has heard." The "fruitfulness" that Ephraim's own name speaks of can become a trap for us. It is safe only when we trace it back to the One who hears His people's prayer. The second name, Ammihud, "the people of Majesty," may point to a known relationship with the infinite Greatness. That relationship is what gives prayer its right and its drive. All these names breathe a spirit of dependence and of nearness — of lowliness, yet of intimacy — things that necessarily go together.
The other name in the verse looks ahead to reward, and this is a chapter about men fit to fight:
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder." In a time of conflict this is a wonderful encouragement. We have no reason to look for men's approval or rewards. If we fight only to please God, we will be content to wait for God's time of reward. Gamaliel's father, Pedahzur, means "the rock has redeemed." That reminds us never to take pride in the rewards of service. We are only sinners redeemed by Him who is the one stable Rock.
Behind the roll of princes lies the reason for the census itself:
The early chapters set out one main object: a count of the males who were fit for war. But we will find that the numbering goes beyond this… Whatever the aim of each part of the book, God presses this on us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but it is full of comfort to the soul.
That is why descent mattered so much in this chapter. Elishama son of Ammihud, Gamaliel son of Pedahzur — each man's father is named:
They had to show their family line. Only those who could do that had a place in this count and could serve as soldiers. They needed this proof because a mixed crowd of outsiders had attached itself to the people of God… What gives us our place among the people of God is the new birth. By it we become children of God. And we are called to a spiritual war. It is not against flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the evil spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
- Counted — the census counted the men fit for war. Its deeper message is the care God takes in everyone who belongs to Him.
- Claimed — Joseph gets two places through his sons Ephraim and Manasseh. That keeps the tribes at twelve once Levi is set apart to serve at the tabernacle.
- Chosen — no tribe voted for its prince. God named the men who were to assist Moses, and He still chooses His own servants and leaders.
- Heard — Elishama means "God has heard." Fruitfulness turns into a snare unless we trace it back to the God who hears.
- Rewarded — Gamaliel means "God is a Rewarder," so no soldier needs human applause. Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed," keeps that reward from feeding pride.
for Benjamin, Abidan the son of Gideoni;
Numbers 1:11 is one line in a roll call. God counts Israel's fighting men, and Abidan son of Gideoni stands with Moses and Aaron to represent Benjamin. Why does God record the name of one man's father in a military register, and what did commentators find in it?
Behind this count stands an owner taking stock of what is His.
He was careful to assert His title and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
Verse 11 sits inside a list of twelve names. Writers find the meaning of each Hebrew name worth study.
Moses and Aaron were called to lead in numbering the people by their armies. As we saw in Exodus, both Moses and Aaron are pictures of Christ. He knows His people and His watchful eye rests on each one. Associated with Moses and Aaron were the princes of the tribes mentioned in verses 5–16. The names of these princes are of deep interest when we translate them into English.
The name of Benjamin's leader points to judgment. The tribe he leads has a fierce reputation.
Abidan was the prince of Benjamin, his name meaning "My father is judge" (v.11). In Genesis 49:27 Benjamin is called "a ravenous wolf." In other words he was naturally a warrior. But the Lord does not need natural fighters. Peter learned this when he used a sword to cut off the ear of the high priest's servant (John 18:10-11). The Lord rebuked him and healed the man's ear. "For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds" (2 Cor. 10:4). So let us remember the lesson of Abidan, "my Father is judge." God as a Father judges according to each person's work (1 Peter 1:17). It is He who judges the value of our warfare, with perfect spiritual discernment.
Another writer puts the warning to anyone who fights evil.
What warning could be more needed in the struggle against evil than this — that we ourselves are under our Father's holy eye! How can we fight evil elsewhere while we ignore its power over our own hearts and ways? In the dark days after Israel took the land, the judge was also the deliverer. His office was twofold: he judged Israel, and he went out to war.
The verse also names Abidan's father. The same writer explains that name, and what must come before any self-judgment.
But Abidan is also the son of Gideoni — "the cutter down." All true later judgment flows from one thing: accepting that first judgment at the cross. There the tree of humanity had to be cut down to build the ark of salvation. Christ crucified is our deliverance. But Christ crucified is also the judgment of the flesh: "our old self was crucified with him." Christ died to sin, so we are to count ourselves dead to sin. To count it so is power over it. If shoots come up from the stump, the knife and the axe still have their place. But for intelligent faith, Gideoni has done his woodman's work well. Gideoni is the father of Abidan.
The chapter counts every tribe for war. Even so, writers find in Benjamin one particular kind of fighting.
As already said, people may be in the conflict who are not warriors. There are also different kinds of warfare — defensive as well as offensive, in the fort and in the field. Benjamin is the picture of the aggressive soldier. He is not the shield-bearer but the swordsman or the slinger, like those in Benjamin at another time: "seven hundred chosen men… every one could sling a stone at a hair and not miss" (Judges 20:16). God wants this in His people too: not just holding the fort, but going out to war — when there is land to win, or fellow believers to rescue.
- Counted — God counts people who are already His own. He knows their names and their numbers.
- Named — each Hebrew name teaches something. Moses and Aaron are a picture of Christ, whose eye rests on each person.
- Judged — Abidan means "my father is judge," and it is God who assesses the worth of the fight, not the fighter.
- Cut down — Abidan is son of Gideoni, "the cutter down." Self-judgment grows out of the judgment of the flesh at the cross.
- Sent out — Benjamin stands for the soldier who advances, not only defends. But the weapons are not of the flesh.
for Dan, Ahiezer the son of Ammishaddai;
Numbers 1:12 gives just two names — the man chosen to represent Dan in the census, and his father. Yet both names carry meaning. Together they turn one short line into a picture of how God chooses and uses people.
The heads named in this list did not rise by popularity. The instruction came to Moses with the men already selected.
Our chapter records that, first of all, God chose a "head" or prince for each tribe. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men that shall stand with you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This is a useful reminder that God still chooses His own servants and leaders today. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
The record gives Ahiezer no story. It gives only his name and his father's name.
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people. Each one belongs to his own tribe, and in time becomes its head. We are told nothing about them except their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt, we can be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak. Their link with the tribes they represent must matter.
Dan opens the group descended from Jacob's servant wives. Its prince carries a name that runs against what Jacob once said about this tribe.
Now come the sons of Jacob's servant wives, and Dan is named first. The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, which means "brother of help." What a contrast to the character of Dan described in Genesis 49:17: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving a brother's help, he would give harm from Satan. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict. Ahiezer was the son of Ammishaddai, which means "the people of the Almighty." Once the people are settled in their relationship to the Almighty, a brother relationship is what we should expect.
Dan's own name means judgment. In human hands, rule turns inward and serves the ruler.
The first of these is Dan, "judgment" — the spirit of rule. As Dan's origin shows, rule is really service. Yet how quickly man turns it into something else! "Man does not remain in his honour." Instead of using his position to bless those entrusted to his care, he uses it for himself. He feeds his own ambition or greed with it. He becomes a rebel against the One who gave him his authority… But for this, as for everything else, God has a remedy. Dan stands here in his place with his captain Ahiezer — "brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai — "the people of the Almighty." Let those names be made real, and the ruler becomes what God designed: the "helping brother" of the people he is set over.
Read together with the tribes camped alongside Dan, these three names form one set of qualities for a people about to travel and fight.
Dan, "judge," his prince Ahiezer, "the brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty": these names combine the thoughts suggested of alertness, power and helpfulness… Thus the camp is duly ordered and prepared for the march. The tabernacle, whether the people are at rest or on their journey, is surrounded by these men of war, all in due order.
Dan stands in full honour here. Its later history took a dark turn. Yet God still holds a place for it.
Very early in the land this tribe set up the idolatry that lasted until the people went into captivity. Judges 18:30-31. Jacob's picture of the snake that bites the horse's heels recalls the serpent that would bruise the heel of the woman's offspring. Genesis 3:15. This seems to suggest that the Antichrist will arise out of the tribe of Dan, and this has been the judgement of Christians from the earliest times. Two omissions confirm the thought. Dan's name is missing from 1 Chronicles 2 – 8, the book that records much of grace and blessing. Dan is also left out of the list of tribes from which twelve thousand each will be sealed in a future day. Revelation 7:3-8. Still, God will keep His promises to the twelve tribes. Dan will have its portion in the land, as Ezekiel 48:1-2, 32 foretells.
Commentators differ on how much weight to give Jacob's words here. Not all treat the link with the antichrist as settled.
Some have thought that Jacob's prophetic words about Dan in Genesis 49:16-18 may throw light on this. If the "serpent in the way" and the "adder in the path" point to the antichrist, driven by Satan and rising out of the tribe of Dan, then it may.
- Chosen — the head over Dan was not voted in; God named the man who would stand with Moses.
- Named — with no story attached to Ahiezer, his name and his father's name are what God means us to hear.
- Helped — Ahiezer is "brother of help," son of "the people of the Almighty." Help between brothers flows from a people settled with God.
- Serving — Dan means judgment. In God's design, rule is service, and the helping brother is the ruler God intended.
- Kept — Dan's later idolatry cost the tribe its place in some lists, yet its portion in the land still stands.
for Asher, Pagiel the son of Ocran;
Numbers 1:13 is one line in a long roll call. It names the man who stood for the tribe of Asher when Israel was counted at Sinai. Why does Scripture record twelve princes and their fathers by name?
Before the counting began, each tribe needed a head. That choice did not come from the people.
Our chapter records that as a first step a "head" or prince of each tribe was selected. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men who shall assist you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This is a good reminder that God today chooses His own servants and leaders. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
Scripture tells us nothing about Pagiel except his father's name and his tribe. One writer treats that silence as a reason to look closer.
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people, each identified with his own tribe, and in due time coming to be head over it. We have nothing about them except their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could otherwise be doubt, we may be sure that their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak. Their link with the tribes they represent must be important.
Read the three names together and they pull in opposite directions. Asher's own name promises gladness; the prince and his father speak of God's dealings and of pain.
Asher's prince was Pagiel (v.13). His name means "event of God." His father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted." Genesis 49:20 tells us, "Asher's food shall be rich, and he shall yield royal delicacies." Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered with God's dealings — events of God — to bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, little as we might at first appreciate this. How well Paul understood this when he wrote, "For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).
The census had a military purpose, and the princes existed to give it order.
The census counts all the people, tribe by tribe and family by family. Each tribe has a prince who presides over the counting of that tribe. The count includes only the men of war, because the census looks ahead to the dangers and trials of the journey. So right from the start we see the stress on order. Not one Israelite warrior is left out. Each man finds his place in subjection to his tribal prince, and all take their place around the tabernacle.
Scripture names Pagiel as "the son of Ochran," because descent decided who could be enrolled at all.
They had to declare their pedigrees, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because a mixed multitude had joined themselves to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Ex. 12:38)… So only those who could show by their pedigree that they belonged among the people of God joined the muster and could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare. It is not against flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Asher's story runs far beyond the wilderness.
When counted at Sinai, Asher had 41,500 men able to go out to war. Near the promised land the number was 53,400. But when the rulers of the tribes are listed in the time of David, Asher is left out. Num. 1:41; Num. 26:47; 1 Chr. 27:16-22… In Rev. 7:6, twelve thousand of Asher will be sealed, and in Luke 2:36, Anna a prophetess, of the tribe of Asher, gave thanks in the temple at the birth of the Saviour. Asher is one of the tribes still to come into blessing, and to have a portion in the land. Ezek. 48:2-3.
- Chosen — the prince over Asher was named by God, not elected by the tribe or picked by Moses.
- Named — Scripture gives only Pagiel's name and his father's, so the names themselves are meant to teach.
- Afflicted — "event of God," son of "afflicted," heads the tribe called "happy": real joy comes by way of suffering.
- Counted — every man of war took his place under his prince, around the tabernacle. No one was left out.
- Kept — Asher grew from 41,500 to 53,400, then vanished from David's list. Yet Anna of Asher gave thanks in the temple, and 12,000 of Asher are sealed in Revelation.
for Gad, Eliasaph the son of Deuel;
At Sinai, God told Moses to count Israel, and He picked one man from each tribe to help. This verse names the man from Gad, and even one line of a name list raises real questions: who chose him, why record his father's name, and why count fighting men at all?
The census did not begin with numbers. It began with names that God gave to Moses.
Our chapter records that as a first step God selected a "head" or prince for each tribe. The choice did not rest with the people, or even with Moses. God's word to Moses was, "These are the names of the men that shall stand with you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe, and this may remind us that God today chooses His own servants and leaders. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
The list gives only their names and their fathers' names. One writer treats that silence as the clue.
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people. Each one belongs to his own tribe, and in time he becomes its head. The record notes nothing about them except their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt otherwise, we can be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak, and the link between each name and the tribe it represents must matter.
The two names in this verse fall in an order: closeness with God first, growth after it.
And now we have Gad, whose prince is Eliasaph — "God has added"; he is the son of Deuel — "known of God." What a good thing it is to be known by God! This does not mean the general knowledge God has of everything. It means the knowledge we have of someone we are close to, and it implies approval. And this is the real secret of the spiritual increase that Eliasaph's name speaks of… Do we need to be told to expect growth in a child of God? Or when growth is missing, is that not sad proof that closeness with God is lacking?
Another writer ties the same two names to Gad's future and to the fight ahead.
The blessing spoken over Gad is a prophecy of recovery and triumph, so Eliasaph's name shows that this triumph will come by God giving the increase. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." The sense of God's knowing us thus leads to spiritual increase in practical life. This too is connected with preparation for conflict. But God is the source of all.
One chapter later the same man is called Reuel. A Bible dictionary explains the difference as a copying slip, not two men.
Father of Eliasaph, "prince" of Gad. Num. 1:14; Num. 7:42, 47; Num. 10:20. In Num. 2:14 he is called REUEL. This is clearly a case where someone mistook the letter ד (D) for the letter ר (R).
Gad's own name and blessing suit a chapter about men able to go to war.
Gad means "a troop," which shows a warrior character. That will be clearest in Israel when God restores them to their inheritance. God "enlarges Gad," because those who join the good fight of faith to take hold of what is theirs are the ones He enlarges in this way.
No man joined the count unless he could show his family line.
Each man had to declare his family line. Only those who could do so had a place in this count and could be warriors. They needed to show their family line because of the mixed crowd of outsiders who had joined the people of God… So only those who could prove their rightful place among the people of God were counted and could go to war.
Behind the exactness of the whole list stands a claim of ownership.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to count them, because they were all His own. If He had no claim on them, and nothing to look for in them, He would not have counted them at all. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
- Chosen — no vote made Eliasaph a leader; God named the head of each tribe Himself.
- Known — his father's name, Deuel, means "known of God," and closeness with God comes before growth.
- Increased — Eliasaph means "God has added"; we should expect growth in a child of God, and God gives it.
- Enlisted — only men who could prove their family line joined the count, because this was a list of men ready for war.
- Owned — God counted Israel because Israel was His, just as He counts the stars and names each one.
for Naphtali, Ahira the son of Enan.
Numbers 1:15 ends the list of twelve tribal leaders who stand with Moses and Aaron for the counting of Israel's fighting men. Ahira son of Enan comes last. Like the eleven before him, he gets only his own name and his father's name. So why record him at all?
The record gives no deeds and no speeches for any of them. One writer takes that silence as the point.
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people, each identified with his own tribe, and in due time coming to be head over it. Of these men we are told nothing but their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt otherwise, we may be sure their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak. Their link with the tribes they represent must matter. There must be a reason why Elizur, rather than Shelumiel or Nahshon, is prince of Reuben, and we should find it by exploring Reuben's history.
One writer looks first at the two men in charge of the count.
Moses and Aaron were called to be the leaders in numbering the people by their armies. As we saw in Exodus, both Moses and Aaron are pictures of Christ. He knows His people and His watchful eye rests upon each. The names of these princes are of deep interest when we translate them into English.
Ahira's name is the hardest of the twelve. On its own it sounds like an insult. Set beside Jacob's words about Naphtali, it reads differently.
Naphtali's prince (v.15), Ahira, "brother of evil," is the most difficult as regards interpretation. Genesis 49:21 reads, "Naphtali is a doe let loose that bears beautiful fawns." [An older translation ends: "he uses beautiful words."] "Brother of evil" can then be understood only in the sense of "brother of trouble," and could refer to the sympathetic character of the believer in bearing the burden of others. This would be in some contrast to the deer let loose, but would remind us of Paul's words, "For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all" (1 Cor. 9:19). Ahira's father was Enan, meaning "having eyes," and may speak of the concern that looks on the sorrows of others.
Commentators differ over what the father's name adds. One reads the open eyes as eyes that take in the sorrow around them.
May it be that in Ahira we find one whose eyes have affected his heart, like another Jeremiah (Lam. 3:51), and made him a man of sorrows in sympathy with the sorrow around? One would expect such a spirit to find expression among these leaders of Israel. Then the "brother of evil" becomes the "brother born for adversity" that Proverbs speaks of (Prov. 17:17). And this would fit well with the character of Naphtali. His own name is a memorial of "struggling," and his "pleasant words" are noted in that prophecy of Jacob which seems to be in view all through.
Another writer keeps the same phrase but turns the eyes outward, toward the enemy.
Naphtali is "the wrestler," another militant name. His prince Ahira is "brother for evil," the son of Enan, "open-eyed." This suggests that "brother born for adversity," whose eyes are always watchful against the enemy.
Every fighting man in Israel takes his place under these twelve. One writer points to what fitted them to lead.
These, then, are Israel's princes. They can gather the hosts of the redeemed and lead them to victory, because they are themselves overcomers of their surroundings and of the tendencies to failure among which they live. In the constant battlefield which this world is for us, we must indeed be overcomers or be overcome. All the men fit for war must take their place under these leaders. In the messages to the seven churches of Revelation, too, the promises are all for overcomers. Here is the test for us, and we cannot excuse ourselves from it. Blessed be God: if we have the spirit of the overcomer, the evil around us can never master us, any more than the darkness of night can keep the stars from shining. The darkness is their opportunity to shine!
- Named — The record gives only these twelve names and their fathers' names. That silence is why the names themselves must speak.
- Known — In the count, God takes account of His own. He knows His people, and His watchful eye rests on each one.
- Ahira — "Brother of evil" is best read as "brother of trouble." He carries the burdens of others, like Paul, who made himself a servant to all.
- Enan — Commentators differ over "having eyes." It may mean eyes moved by the sorrows of others, or eyes watchful against the enemy.
- Overcomers — These princes could lead Israel's armies because they had first overcome in their own surroundings. The same test stands for us, and the darkness is only the chance for the stars to shine.
These were those summoned of the assembly, princes of the tribes of their fathers, the heads of the thousands of Israel.
Numbers 1:16 closes the list of twelve men who stood beside Moses and Aaron when God took a census of Israel at Sinai. It describes them in three short phrases. Each one says something about how God chooses and uses people.
An older English translation calls them "the renowned of the congregation." That sounds like men who had made a name for themselves. One writer points to what the word means:
Not "renowned," but summoned of the assembly, charged to take care of its affairs.
Verse 16 gathers the twelve into one group. But who put them there?
Our chapter records that as a preliminary a "head" or prince of each tribe was selected. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men that shall stand with you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe. This may well remind us that God today chooses His own servants and leaders. He does not put the matter to a popular vote.
Scripture tells us almost nothing about these men beyond their names and their fathers' names. One commentator argues that the silence itself is the clue:
Under Moses and Aaron there are certain princes of the people, each identified with his own tribe, and in time coming to be head over it. About these men we are told nothing but their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could be any doubt, we can be sure that their names are meant to speak to us. All these Bible names should speak, and their link with the tribes they represent must matter. There must be a reason why Elizur, and not Shelumiel or Nahshon, is prince of Reuben. We should find it by looking into Reuben's history.
Read together, the names carry a pattern. Another writer notices how often one short syllable turns up in them:
Read the names of those who were "the renowned of the congregation" in Numbers, and remember that "El" means "God". You cannot help noticing how many of these names are built on it. For example, Numbers 1:5, Elizur means "God is my rock"; Verse 6, Shelumiel means "Friend of God"; Verse 8, Nathaneel means "Given of God". Verse 9, Eliab means "My God is Father".
These twelve were called to help count Israel. Why did God want a count at all?
In His wisdom God saw that the census of the children of Israel had to be taken. The first purpose set before us in the early chapters is a count of the men fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other aims in view besides war. In short, whatever the particular aim may be in different parts of the book, God presses this on us: the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but full of comfort to the soul.
Another writer adds a second reason for the count:
In this way He was careful to assert His ownership and survey what was His. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
A place given by God can still be turned against Him. One writer shows how fast that happens:
If God puts an honour on a man, and the man does not receive it as from Him, that honour becomes only a stepping stone. He uses it to despise the God who gave it, while grasping after what God has never given him. Nothing produces such discontent as a heart that does not rightly value what God has given us.
- Called — they were summoned and given a charge, not celebrated. Their place came from God, not from their fame.
- Chosen — Moses did not pick them, and the people did not vote. God still chooses His own servants and leaders.
- Named — Scripture records only their names and their fathers'. Many of those names are built on "El," which means God: "God is my rock," "Given of God," "My God is Father."
- Counted — the census they helped take shows God's care for every person who belongs to Him. He was claiming what was already His own.
- Cautioned — an honour from God turns dangerous the moment a man forgets who gave it and reaches for what God never gave.
And Moses and Aaron took these men who are expressed by their names,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
and gathered the whole assembly together on the first of the second month. And they declared their pedigrees after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, according to their polls.
On a set day the whole congregation gathers, and every man registers himself — not as a crowd, but family by family, name by name. The verse turns a headcount into a question for each man: can I show where I belong?
The census begins with God, not with Moses. He counts what is His own, and He counts with care.
He was careful to assert His title this way, and to survey His possessions. He wanted the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
That interest is not only about the future. It reaches into the ordinary hardships of the road ahead.
We can all understand the sweetness of being numbered for heaven. Most people's hearts turn to that. But some take the greatest comfort in looking at God's purposes securing them for eternity. Even they are apt to forget the present interest the Lord takes in all our movements, ways, conflicts and trials.
The older translation says they "declared their pedigrees" — each man produced his line. This mattered because a crowd of outsiders had attached itself to Israel when they left Egypt.
Those to be numbered were all from twenty years old and upward, able to go to war. They had to declare their pedigrees after their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because of the mixed multitude that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38). That mixed multitude among them fell to craving (Num. 11:4).
The two terms in the verse are not padding. One speaks of order, the other of the natural bond behind it.
In this muster the organisation is the natural one, by families or "fathers' houses." The two terms appear to cover the same ground, though that is not the usual thought. The word for "family" implies subjection to authority. The father's house shows that this authority rests on the natural relation. Such is God's relationship to His people, of which the father is the image. In family groups they were linked together in God's host, brother fighting alongside brother. It was an army so compacted that one might suppose it invincible.
Commentators read the register as a picture. Birth still decides who is counted — but a different birth. Nicodemus, named below, was a respected Jewish teacher.
All had to be enrolled, when "they declared their pedigrees after their families." So every man counted was without a doubt a genuine child of Israel. The test today is not natural descent but spiritual. Even Nicodemus had a natural pedigree that could not be faulted. But he had to discover that the necessary spiritual pedigree would only be his as he was "born of the Spirit." To be "in Christ" is the pedigree of supreme value.
An Israelite at the muster could not shrug. Commentators set the Christian's line beside Israel's, and press for the same certainty.
How different it is with the Christian! His pedigree is heavenly. His family tree has its roots in the new creation, and death can never break the line, because it is formed in resurrection. This first chapter of Numbers shows how essential it was that every Israelite could declare his pedigree. Uncertainty on this point would have proved disastrous; it would have produced hopeless confusion. It is hard to imagine an Israelite, called to declare his pedigree, speaking in the doubtful way many Christians speak today. We cannot picture him saying, "I am not quite sure. Sometimes I hope I am of the stock of Israel, but at other times I fear I do not belong to the congregation of the Lord at all."
Knowing your line settled where a man stood in the camp, under his own standard, or banner.
If a man did not know his pedigree, he could not recognise his standard. Everything would then fall into hopeless confusion. Instead of keeping rank and making steady progress, they would have been in each other's way, treading on one another. Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither was according to their own ideas — all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
- Counted — God calls for the number Himself, because the people are His own. The census shows His interest in each one now, not just His purposes for eternity.
- Cleared — declaring the pedigree sorted the true Israelite from the mixed multitude that had come out of Egypt with them.
- Claimed — God traced the line by families and fathers' houses, so men stood in His army beside their own brothers.
- Confirmed — the test today is spiritual birth, not natural descent. To be "in Christ" is the pedigree of supreme value, and death cannot break that line.
- Commissioned — a man sure of his pedigree could take his standard and his post. Doubt about the first leaves no order in the second.
As Jehovah had commanded Moses, so he numbered them in the wilderness of Sinai.
This verse gives no total. It gives a reason — "as the LORD commanded Moses" — and a place: the desert of Sinai.
The census begins with a command from God, and that command carries a claim. The careful, repeated totals say who Israel belongs to.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is how He expresses His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts (Psalm 147:4).
That is why the same act can later be a sin. When David numbered Israel, the count itself was not the problem; the counter was.
It was an offence against this peculiar right of the Lord that David was guilty of. He claimed something of the divine glory when he sought to number Israel, as though they had been his own people… It was a trespass on the divine rights. It was an insult to the majesty of Him who was Lord and King of Israel. He could number Israel, because they were His own special treasure.
The order matters. The Passover — the meal that marked Israel's rescue from Egypt — came before this count.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes one fact clear: God numbers and counts as His only those who have been redeemed.
The place named in this verse sets the tone for the whole book. Those counted are men of fighting age, and the ground under their feet is desert.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness." Only those "able to go to war" are counted. This stands out clearly. In Genesis the descendants of Israel were still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they were gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers they are seen in the wilderness.
The count also carries a comfort most readers miss. God numbers His people for the journey, not only for the destination.
We can all understand the sweetness of being numbered for heaven, and the heart of most people turns to that. But even those who take the greatest comfort in the counsels of God that secure them for eternity are apt to forget something. The Lord takes a present interest in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials. This is the first thing with which the book opens.
No one joined the list by claim alone. Each man had to state his family line. A large crowd of outsiders had attached itself to Israel on the way out of Egypt.
They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They needed that proof because of the mixed crowd of outsiders who had joined themselves to the people of God… Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And we are called to a spiritual war. It is not against flesh and blood, but against the devil, his schemes, and the wicked spirits (Ephesians 6:11-12).
Obedience is what the record praises here. One writer treats the phrase as a test that still applies.
Everything was done in obedience — "as the LORD commanded Moses." Eight times we read that everything was done according to the instructions he had received… As Samuel said to Saul, "To obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams"… There never was a time of greater energy and activity. Never did larger crowds gather for what they call worship. But measure these things by the test in the words "as the LORD commanded Moses," and you discover that man's will, and not the Lord's, is often the main spring of it all.
- Right. God counts Israel because Israel is His. He has the right to number what belongs to Him, just as He numbers and names the stars.
- Rescue. The Passover came first and the census followed — God counts as His those who have been redeemed.
- Roll. Each man had to declare his family line; the mixed multitude that came out of Egypt had no place on the list.
- Road. They are counted in the wilderness, as men able to go to war. God takes a present interest in every movement, conflict and trial — not only in the destination.
- Rule. One phrase measures the whole muster: it was done as the LORD commanded. Energy and crowds prove nothing where man's will, not God's word, drives the work.
And the sons of Reuben, Israel's eldest son, their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, according to their polls, every male from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:20 opens the tribe-by-tribe count of Israel's fighting men, and Reuben, Jacob's oldest son, comes first. The verse raises the questions the chapter turns on: why God counts His people, why only men fit for war, and why each man must prove his line.
This count is not bookkeeping.
He was careful to assert His title and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
The Lord's interest is not only in where His people end up.
We can all understand how sweet it is to be counted for heaven, and that is where most hearts turn. But even those who take the greatest comfort in God's purposes securing them for eternity easily forget one thing. The Lord takes a present interest in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials. This is the first thing the book opens with.
The setting explains the list. Only fighting men appear on it.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the list takes in only those "able to go to war." In the book of Genesis the seed of Israel were in the loins of their father Abraham. In the book of Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
Each man had to show his descent. That requirement had a practical cause: a mixed crowd had left Egypt alongside Israel, and not everyone in the camp belonged to the nation.
Each man had to declare his pedigree after his family. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because of the mixed multitude which had joined itself to the people of God. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Nothing in wilderness life worked without that certainty.
It is impossible for anyone to recognise and rally round the proper "standard" unless he can declare his "pedigree"... How could an Israelite of old have taken his place in the assembly, or stood in the ranks? How could he make any progress through the wilderness, if he could not plainly declare his pedigree? Impossible.
The age limit marks when a man counted as grown and fit for service.
The Israelites were numbered from twenty years old and upward. That was the age when they could go out to war, and when they reached manhood and were fit for the service of life (Num. 1:3; 14:29; Lev. 27:3). Each man had to bring a bekah, or half shekel, to make atonement for his soul, so that "there be no plague among them." (Ex. 30:12.)
The age limit falls differently today.
Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too — though some are less active because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age, which comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The firstborn heads the list, but his place in the line does not guarantee his future.
Reuben (Num. 1:20; Num. 26:5) heads the list. He is the firstborn, and so entitled by nature to the leadership. But because of sin he was not to have the first place. In these forty years of wandering his numbers dwindle; at the close we see him weaker than at the beginning. Looking at his history for a reason, we come to the rebellion of Dathan and Abiram, who were of this tribe (Num. 16:1). They wanted to be leaders. Pretending to claim the people's rights, they rebel against God's authority in Moses, turn back in heart to Egypt, and grumble at the trials of the way.
- Counted — God takes the number exactly because the people are His own; He calls them by name and knows their sum.
- Claimed — The census shows His interest in every movement, conflict and trial of the road, not just in a secured eternity.
- Certified — Each man declared his descent. The mixed crowd from Egypt had no place in the ranks, and neither did anyone unsure of his line.
- Conscripted — Twenty was the age of manhood and fitness for service. From then on, every man counted as a soldier.
- Cautioned — Reuben stands first by birth, yet sin costs him the first place. Rebellion in his tribe leaves him weaker at the end than at the start.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Reuben, were forty-six thousand five hundred.
Reuben's tribe gives the first tribal total of the chapter: 46,500 men. Behind that figure lie three questions. Why does God count His people? Why is Reuben's name first? And what can one total teach us now?
This is a call-up for war, not a head count of the nation. Only one kind of man appears in the total, and that sets the tone for the whole book.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the count includes only those who are "able to go to war." This stands out clearly. In Genesis Israel's descendants were still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness… As soon as we open the book of Numbers we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding alarm.
Scripture records more than one counting of Israel, and each had a different purpose.
The first numbering mentioned (Ex. 38:25-27) gathered the silver for the bases of the tabernacle pillars. So that counting was for the Lord, with a view to worshipping Him. The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. Its purpose was to find the number of men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
A total like 46,500 is exact, and the same care runs tribe by tribe through two chapters.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. Had He not had a right to them, had He nothing to expect from them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts (Psalm 147:4).
Two things could keep a man out of the total: being too young, or being unable to prove his descent. That second test mattered, because people outside Israel had left Egypt with them.
They had to declare their pedigrees after their families, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because of the mixed multitude that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)… Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Another leader once counted Israel, and it went badly wrong.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and 70,000 people died as a result. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, and that interest is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered… Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, and young and old too — though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity or full age. That comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Reuben's tribe comes first in the count. Birth put him at the head of the list, but birth is not the whole story.
Reuben (Num. 1:20; Num. 26:5) heads the list — the firstborn, and therefore entitled, according to nature, to the leadership; but because of sin he was not to have the excellency. In these forty years of wandering his numbers dwindle; at the close we see him weaker than at the beginning. Looking at his history for a reason for this, we come to the rebellion of Dathan and Abiram, who were of this tribe (Num. 16:1).
The figure means more when set beside the second census.
His numbers shrink from 46,500 at the beginning to 43,730 at the close. From that we may learn the loss that fleshly reasoning and self-important claims bring into our lives.
- Counted. The exact totals are God's claim of ownership — He counts what is His own, as He counts and names the stars.
- Qualified. No man entered the total without proving his descent. Today that place comes by the new birth.
- Aged. Twenty years and upward means conflict calls for maturity, which comes by growth in God's word.
- Armed. The census counted men for war, so each man had to grasp his own responsibility in the Lord's battles.
- Diminished. Reuben led the list by birth but ended the journey weaker, and the falling number shows what fleshly reasoning costs.
Of the sons of Simeon their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, those that were numbered of them, by the number of the names, according to their polls, every male from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1 records God's own count of Israel in the wilderness of Sinai, tribe by tribe, and verse 22 gives Simeon's turn in the roll call. Why did God want such a register, and why does Simeon's entry repay a closer look?
The census was not paperwork. Its purpose runs through the whole book.
God's wisdom made the census of the children of Israel necessary. The first thing the early chapters set before us is a count of the males who were fit for war. But the numbering goes beyond this, as we shall find. It has other purposes than war. In short, whatever the aim of a given part of the book, God impresses this on us. He shows the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but it is full of comfort to the soul.
The counting is also an act of ownership.
He was careful in this way to assert His title and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
Scripture records more than one numbering, and each had its own purpose.
The purpose of the first numbering mentioned (Ex. 38:25-27) was to gather the silver, a bekah per man, for the bases of the pillars of the tabernacle. So that numbering took place for the Lord, with a view to worshipping Him. The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. Its purpose was to find the number of men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his personal responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
The age limit of twenty carries its own lesson for today.
In Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered... Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women, and young and old too — though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. Real conflict needs maturity, or full age, and that comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
A man of Simeon could not be counted until he showed where he came from.
They had to declare their pedigrees after their families, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They needed to show their pedigree because of the mixed multitude that had joined itself to the people of God: "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Ex. 12:38)... Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
One writer turns the same detail into a question for the reader.
First, it raises this important question for the reader: "Can I declare my pedigree?" There is real reason to fear that hundreds, if not thousands, of professing Christians are completely unable to do so. They cannot say with clearness and decision, "we are God's children now" (1 John 3:2), or "The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God" (Rom. 8:16).
Simeon carried a dark family history. Yet the tribe's prince bore a name that answered it.
The prince of Simeon was Shelumiel (v. 6), meaning "at peace with God." This is a striking contrast to Simeon's character, as his father Jacob described it in Genesis 49:5-7. Simeon, with Levi, was guilty of cruel and vicious hatred in the murder of the men of Shechem (Gen. 34:25-26). Only the grace of God could make any difference in this dreadful case. Is the flesh in us any better than in Simeon and Levi? Not at all: "the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God" (Rom. 8:7). Yet God has in pure grace reconciled all believers to Himself (2 Cor. 5:18), and we are "at peace with God," as Romans 5:1 declares.
Simeon's number did not hold. A later count shows what happened in between.
But the tribe of Simeon dropped drastically in numbers during the wilderness journey, from 59,300 (ch. 1:23) to 22,200. What is the reason for this? Likely it is seen in Numbers 25:14. Zimri was a leader of a father's house among the Simeonites and became a leader in the corrupting mixture of Israel with the Midianites. Think of the rebellion seen in Reuben, with Dathan and Abiram. Even that did not have effects on the people of God as devastating as being yoked together with unbelievers or with principles of unrighteousness... Too often we do not suspect the harm in unholy associations until we are trapped by them.
- Counted — the register is God's own. He surveys what belongs to Him and knows each name.
- Qualified — every man had to declare his pedigree, because a mixed multitude had joined Israel. The believer's pedigree is the new birth.
- Aged — twenty years and upward points to maturity, which grows through God's word and which real conflict needs.
- Armed — the count was for war, and every man from twenty up had to own his part in the Lord's battles.
- Warned — Simeon's 59,300 fell to 22,200 after mixing with Midian. Mixture cost this tribe more than rebellion cost Reuben.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Simeon, were fifty-nine thousand three hundred.
Simeon's total puts the tribe third in strength at the start of the wilderness journey, yet the same tribe would finish that journey the weakest of all. Why does God count His people at all, and what makes a number like this rise or fall?
This count is more than record-keeping. God is claiming what is His, and He wants the number exact.
He was careful to assert His title and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and He knew their numbers.
The same care runs through the whole book, whatever the aim of each part.
In the early chapters the main object is a count of the males fit for war. But we will find that the numbering goes beyond this. It has other aims than war. Whatever the particular aim in different parts of the book, God impresses this on us: the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
The 59,300 are not just all the men of Simeon. They are the men who could prove their descent and were fit to fight.
The numbering was "by clans, by fathers' houses." Those to be numbered were "from twenty years old and upward, all in Israel who are able to go to war." They had to declare their descent by their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their descent because of the mixed multitude that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exodus 12:38). This mixed multitude among them fell to craving (Numbers 11:4). … Our descent, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare. It is not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Ephesians 6:11-12).
Set beside the count taken at the end of the journey, this figure is Simeon's peak. One writer traces the tribe's decline to the company it kept.
Association is the trouble all through: a spirit of dependence that seeks help from man and not from God. It may give them a brief look of prosperity, but in the end it proves disastrous. At the beginning of their wilderness history they are 59,300 strong, third among all the tribes. At the end they are only 22,200, absolutely the weakest of all. Nor do they ever afterwards come into prominence: no name of note occurs among them.
Commentators trace the loss to one episode: the mixing of Israel with Midian at Baal-peor, where a Simeonite leader took the lead in sin.
But the tribe of Simeon dropped drastically in numbers during the wilderness journey, from 59,300 (ch. 1:23) to 22,200. What is the reason for this? It is likely seen in Numbers 25:14. Zimri was a leader of a father's house among the Simeonites and became a leader in the corrupting mixture of Israel with the Midianites. How true it is that even rebellion (as seen in Reuben, with Dathan and Abiram) does not damage the people of God as much as being yoked together with unbelievers or with principles of unrighteousness… Too often we do not suspect the harm in unholy associations until they trap us.
Simeon was not the only tribe whose number changed by the end.
In the numbering of the children of Israel at the close of their journey, we find that some of the tribes had grown much larger, and some had shrunk. Some had barely held their own. Some had made just a little progress, others had lost a little… Take the tribe of Simeon. It had lost nearly half its number, and the reason is not hard to find: God's judgment fell on them for the corruption at Baal-peor.
The decline is not the last word. Grace speaks in the family names of Simeon, and in his own name, which means hearing.
God's grace stands in such great contrast with their history, and the names of the tribal families seem to speak of it in a remarkable way… Here, indeed, Simeon's own name is fulfilled: a hearing God has heard! Blessed be He — we know Him well.
- Counted — the census asserts God's title to a people who are all His own; He calls them by name and knows their number.
- Qualified — the count took only men who could prove their descent and were fit to fight; our descent is new birth, and our warfare is spiritual.
- Peak — 59,300 is Simeon's high point; by the end of the journey the tribe is the weakest of all, and no name of note ever comes from it.
- Collapse — Baal-peor, led by a Simeonite, cost the tribe more than half its strength. Unholy ties damage God's people more than open rebellion does.
- Grace — the numbers rise and fall, but Simeon's name still stands in the second list: the God who hears had heard.
Of the sons of Gad their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:24 gives Gad's turn in the count taken at Sinai, and the wording repeats what was said of every tribe. Behind that repetition sit real questions: why God counts His people, what the age limit means, and what marks out this tribe.
The count opens the book, and the reason lies deeper than military planning.
It was necessary in God's wisdom that the census of the children of Israel should be taken. The main purpose set before us in these early chapters is a reckoning of the males fit for war. But the numbering goes beyond this. It has other aims than warlike ones. Different parts of the book have different aims. But God impresses one thing on us throughout: the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him.
When a man took a count of the same people, it meant something very different.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel. That interest is just as true of His saints today.
Each man had to show where he came from. That mattered, because others had left Egypt alongside Israel.
They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do so had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their line because a mixed multitude had joined itself to the people of God. "And a mixed multitude went up also with them" (Ex. 12:38)... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth. By it we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare. We fight not flesh and blood, but the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
This was not Israel's only numbering.
The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. Its aim was to count the men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
The age is not arbitrary. It marks the point at which a man could stand in the line.
The earlier chapter in Exodus does not tell us why the age was fixed at "twenty years old and above," but Numbers 1 does. It adds, "all that are able to go forth to war in Israel." So these were the only ones counted or taken account of. If a man is not able to stand before the enemy, he is at present of no account. He is not yet on the ground of God's full age in the experience of his soul.
(The ESV renders the older "able to go forth to war" as "able to go to war.")
The same writer applies this to believers now.
Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, and young and old too. Yet to engage in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age, such as comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The name Gad carries a meaning that fits both halves of this verse — a people multiplied, and a people armed.
Gad lies next to Reuben: Gad, the type of spiritual increase, and of a militant condition too. Leah's exclamation, "A troop is coming," holds both ideas. Spiritual increase rarely comes without conflict in a world like this. In David's time we find the men of Gad standing out as warriors (1 Chron. 12:8-14).
The name of Gad's captain points to the source of that increase.
Gad means "increase." His captain Eliasaph, "God has added," son of Reuel, "known of God," shows the principle of true increase: "The Lord knows those who are His," and "The Lord added daily to the church."
The number did not hold. A second census came later, on the plains of Moab.
Gad's numbers were decreased also, from 45,650 (Num. 1:25) to 40,500 (v. 18), though we cannot point to any incident that might have caused this. Perhaps they sympathised with the rebellion of Dathan and Abiram, or shared in the corruption of Peor. Neither of these, it seems, stayed within one tribe.
- Counted — God numbers His people because He cares about each one who belongs to Him. David's later count came from pride, and cost 70,000 lives.
- Claimed — every man had to show his family line, which kept the mixed multitude out of the ranks. For the believer, that line is the new birth.
- Called — the census counted the fighting men. Each Israelite of twenty and upward had to grasp his own part in the Lord's battles.
- Capable — the age marks full growth. A man not able to stand before the enemy is not yet counted, and practical conflict still needs maturity today.
- Contested — Gad means increase, and his captain's name means "God has added." Yet increase brings conflict, and Gad's number later fell by over five thousand.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Gad, were forty-five thousand six hundred and fifty.
Numbers 1:25 gives the result for one tribe in God's count of Israel: 45,650 men of Gad. One line of numbers raises real questions. Why does God count His people? What qualified a man for the list, and why does this figure matter later?
The first purpose of the count was military. It was not the only one.
In God's wisdom it was necessary to count the people of Israel. The main purpose set before us in the early chapters is a count of the men fit for war. But we will find that the numbering goes beyond this... God presses this on us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but it is full of comfort to the soul.
The order of events in the book shows who gets counted. The Passover, when God rescued Israel out of Egypt, came first.
The Passover marked the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes the point that God numbers and counts as His only those He has redeemed.
King David counted Israel later too, and that count ended very differently.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam.24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today.
Gad's 45,650 were not simply all its men. Each man had to prove his family line and be fit for battle.
Those to be counted were "from twenty years old and upward, all in Israel who are able to go to war." They had to state their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be soldiers. They had to show their family line because a mixed crowd of outsiders had joined the people of God... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare — not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Israel's list stopped at an age limit. Today the reach is wider.
Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women too, and young and old — though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is clear for us as well. To take part in real conflict we need maturity, the full growth that comes through knowing the word of God and growing in it.
Gad's name and story suit a tribe on a war list.
From both his name and his history, Gad seems to be a warrior-tribe... In Jacob's prophecy he is overcome before he overcomes, and so he knows how to turn defeat into victory. When Leah named him, his name was a prophecy of increase, and his seven sons all survive in families.
The name of Gad's leader points to who supplies that growth.
Eliasaph, meaning "God has added," was the leader of Gad... so his name shows that God will give the increase that brings the triumph. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." Knowing that God knows us leads to spiritual increase in daily life. This too has to do with getting ready for conflict. But God is the source of all.
The figure was not left as a statistic. It fixed Gad's position in the marching camp around the tabernacle.
The tribe of Reuben was in the middle on the south side, and under his standard were also the tribes of Simeon and Gad on either side (vs.10-16), the total number of men in the three tribes 151,450. These under Reuben's standard followed those under Judah's standard when they broke camp.
At the second census, years later, Gad's number had fallen. Commentators differ on the cause, because Scripture names none.
Gad's numbers were decreased also, from 45,650 (Num.1:25) to 40,500 (v.18), though we cannot point to any incident that might have caused this. It is possible they sympathized with the rebellion of Dathan and Abiram or were involved in the corruption of Peor.
Another writer looks at Gad's neighbours in the camp for the reason.
Gad also shows a weakening at the end. His outward history shows no reason for this, unless his close link with Reuben and Simeon (Num. 2:10-16) made him a sharer in their sin and judgment. Keeping company with those who do evil weakens a person, even when outwardly he takes no part in it... Many of God's people are growing weaker through church, business, social, or family ties with people who drag them into worldliness.
- Redeemed first. The Passover came before the census — God counts as His only those He has already rescued.
- Counted personally. Behind the tribal total stands God's care and interest in every single one who belongs to Him.
- Qualified by birth. Each man had to show his descent; the pedigree that gives a place among God's people today is the new birth.
- Increase from God. Gad's name is a prophecy of increase, and his leader Eliasaph — "God has added" — points to who supplies it.
- Weakened by association. By the second census the 45,650 had fallen to 40,500. Writers point to shared rebellion, or just close company with failing neighbours.
Of the sons of Judah their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
The roll call at Sinai reaches Judah. The wording is the same for every tribe: family, father's house, names, age, fitness for war. So why does God count people at all? Who qualifies? And why does this tribe lead the army?
Why does God count anyone at all? The event just before the census answers that.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. In this way the picture made the point: God numbers and counts as His only those whom He has redeemed.
Judah's total is not national statistics. The care in the record says something about who owns these people.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their total. The same is said of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4)
The same act done from a different heart brought disaster later in Israel's history.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and the result was the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today.
Judah's men are listed "by their clans, by their fathers' houses." That rule filtered people out, because Israel had not left Egypt alone.
They had to declare their pedigrees after their families, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. This showing of their pedigree was necessary because of the mixed multitude that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Ex. 12:38). Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
Why does the count start at twenty? The last phrase of the verse gives the reason.
This chapter in Exodus does not give us the reason why those who were numbered had to be "twenty years old and above," but Numbers 1 does. It adds, "every man able to go to war." These, therefore, were the only ones to be numbered or taken account of. If a man is not able to stand before the enemy, he is at present of no account. He has not yet reached God's full age in the experience of his soul. So he is not one of the "perfect" named in 1 Corinthians 2. The Corinthians had fallen under the power of the enemy — the seductions of the world — and the apostle could not address them as "perfect," or full grown.
Who counts as fit to fight today reaches wider than the muster roll at Sinai.
The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered... Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too — though some are less active by reason of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us: to engage in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age. That comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God. To be "a good soldier of Christ Jesus" also calls for undivided devotion, and for not being tangled up in the affairs of this life (2 Tim. 2:3-4). We have been called to the exclusive service of our Lord, and so should please Him.
Judah comes fourth in the list of tribes, but not fourth in rank.
But why is Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel in this way? His name and what we have seen of his history account for it... We have read his motto in the words of Jacob: "The spirit of praise is the spirit of power." Judah is foremost here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat in a later day put his singers and trumpeters at the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down. (2 Chron. 20)
Judah's total of 74,600 is worth setting beside the count taken at the end of the wilderness years.
Judah, however, is in happy contrast to the earlier decline, for it increased from 74,600 (Num. 1:27) to 76,500 (v. 22). This testifies that we need not be weakened by the trials of the wilderness journey, but may be strengthened. It depends on the reality and consistency of our faith in the living God. Judah's name (meaning "praise") may remind us that the spirit of praise increases fruitfulness.
- Redeemed first. Passover comes before the census; God numbers as His only those He has redeemed.
- Owned, therefore counted. The exact record shows His title over people already His own. He counts out of interest in each one; David later counted out of pride.
- Registered by pedigree. Only those who could show their descent took a place in the ranks. The mixed multitude could not.
- Aged for war. Twenty and upward marks full growth. Anyone who cannot stand before the enemy is not yet fighting strength.
- Praise leads out. Judah goes at the head, and Judah came out of the wilderness larger than it went in. The spirit of praise is the spirit of power, and it increases fruitfulness.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Judah, were seventy-four thousand six hundred.
Numbers 1 records a head count of Israel, tribe by tribe, and the figure for Judah comes to 74,600. Behind that bare number lie two questions: why God wanted His people counted at all, and why this tribe stands at the front.
The count was a claim of ownership, made with care over what belonged to Him.
The book opens with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and Moses does it with great exactness and care. Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the number of each tribe, except Levi, again and again... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no future purposes in them, He would not have counted their total. Scripture says the same of His title over another part of His dominion: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
Counting Israel was not always right. One writer sets this count beside a later one taken by David.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is just as true of His saints today.
The men counted were those from twenty years old and upward who could go out to war. That one qualification sets the tone of the whole book.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the only people counted are those "able to go to war." The point stands out sharply... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of fighting men, armies, standards, camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
The age limit carries a lesson for readers who are not Israelite soldiers. Fitness for battle came with years.
The difference is that Israel counted only the males over 20 years of age. There would be a cut-off age too, since this involved only those who were fit for military service. Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women, young and old as well — though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is clear for us too. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age, and that comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The name of the tribe explains the place it holds among the twelve.
Judah means praise. It was the leading tribe of Israel. It marched at the front through the wilderness (Num. 10:14), and it led the fighting in Canaan (Judges 1:1-2). The kingship belonged to this tribe — to the family of David — and Jerusalem, the city of the great King, was on its border... Praise, flowing from a satisfied heart, occupied with the glories of God — this is His sceptre! What a rule, where joy holds sway instead of force, and the only constraint is love.
Why should the tribe named praise lead the whole camp? One writer answers from a later battle in Israel's history.
But why Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel in this way? His name and what we have seen of his history account for this... We have also read his motto in the words of Jacob: "The spirit of praise is the spirit of power." Judah is first here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat, in a later day, placed his singers and trumpeters at the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down. (2 Chron. 20.) And so it is here.
Numbers 26 records a second count at the end of the desert years. Others had declined. Judah had not.
Judah, however, is in happy contrast to the previous decline, for it increased from 74,600 (Num.1:27) to 76,500 (v.22). This shows that the trials of the wilderness journey need not weaken us. They may strengthen us instead. It depends on how real and consistent our faith in the living God is. Judah's name (meaning "praise") may remind us that the spirit of praise increases fruitfulness.
- Counted — God had every tribe counted because they were all His own. The census states His title over His people.
- For war — the list named only men of twenty and older who could fight. The book opens with armies, standards and alarm trumpets because it opens in the wilderness.
- Matured — the age limit teaches that practical conflict calls for growth through the word of God, not just willingness.
- Praise first — Judah means praise. This tribe marched at the head of Israel and led the battles in Canaan, just as Jehoshaphat later sent his singers ahead of his army.
- Increased — Judah grew from 74,600 here to 76,500 by the end of the journey. The wilderness need not weaken those whose faith in the living God stays real and steady.
Of the sons of Issachar their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:28 is Issachar's turn in a roll call that repeats the same formula for every tribe. Why does God count His people at all, why does He count them by family, and why is the test fitness for battle?
One writer explains why God wanted the exact number of Israel brought to Him.
He was careful in this way to assert His title, and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
The Passover, the feast that remembers Israel's rescue from Egypt, is described in chapter 9. But God gave those instructions about a month before the census of chapter 1.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. This picture stresses the fact that God only numbers and counts as His those who have been redeemed.
Every man had to show where he came from. A large group of non-Israelites had left Egypt with Israel, so descent mattered.
They had to declare their pedigree by their families, and only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They needed to show their pedigree because a mixed crowd of outsiders had joined the people of God... Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Another writer turns that same certainty into a test for Christians.
It is impossible for anyone to recognise and rally round the proper "standard" unless he can declare his "pedigree."... How could an Israelite of old have taken his place in the assembly? How could he have stood in the ranks? How could he expect to make any progress through the wilderness, if he could not clearly declare his pedigree? Impossible. It is the same with Christians now. Progress in wilderness life, and success in spiritual warfare, are out of the question if there is any uncertainty about the spiritual pedigree.
The age limit narrows the list to those fit for service. One writer notes that this limit does not carry over to today.
God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, and that interest is just as true for His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were counted... Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too — though age makes some less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us: to take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age, which comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Another writer sets this count beside the other two numberings and gives each its own purpose.
The first numbering (Ex. 38:25-27) collected the silver that formed the bases of the tabernacle pillars; that count was made for the Lord and for worshipping Him. The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. Its purpose was to count the men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord. The Word mentions a third numbering (Num. 26:2, 52-65) of those fit for military service, and this one looked ahead to dividing up the land.
The tribe's old character and the name of its leader in verse 8 pull in opposite directions.
The prince of Issachar was Nethanel (v.8), meaning "the gift of God." That name stands in contrast to Issachar's character in Genesis 49:14-15: a donkey brought under bondage for hire. In the same way Israel under law served for hire, instead of receiving every blessing as a gift from God.
Issachar's number here was not the tribe's final one.
At the first numbering there were of Issachar 54,400 fit for war, and at the second 64,300. They are described as "valiant men of might," and they furnished 36,000 men of war. 1 Chr. 7:4-5.
- Redeemed first. The Passover came before the census; God numbers as His only those He has already rescued.
- Owned next. The exact figure is a claim of ownership — He counts what belongs to Him, and calls them by name.
- Named after that. Outsiders had joined Israel, so each man had to declare his descent. Certainty about where you belong is what lets you stand in the ranks.
- Grown then. Twenty years and upward means maturity. Maturity comes through knowing and growing in God's word.
- Armed last. The count measures fitness for battle. Every man from twenty upward had to grasp his own responsibility in the Lord's wars.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Issachar, were fifty-four thousand four hundred.
This verse records the count of one tribe: Issachar, 54,400 men. Why would God have His people counted tribe by tribe, and what does one tribe's total have to do with us?
This counting is God laying claim to what belongs to Him. One writer sets it beside the way God numbers the stars:
They open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and this is done with great exactness and care... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His kingdom: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
The war lists are not the whole purpose of the count:
In the early chapters the main purpose is a count of the males who were fit for war. But we shall find that the counting goes beyond this. It has other aims besides war. Whatever the particular aim in various parts of the book, God impresses this on us: the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
Commentators contrast this count with the one David later ordered:
After Israel left Egypt, over a year passed before we read of this census being taken. In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today.
Issachar's 54,400 are fighting men, and that sets the tone of the whole book:
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where only those who are "able to go to war" are counted... In Genesis we listen to the call of God in election. In Exodus we look at the blood of the Lamb in redemption. In Leviticus we are taken up almost entirely with the worship and service of the sanctuary. But no sooner have we opened the book of Numbers than we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding alarm.
No man entered Issachar's total without proving where he came from. That requirement had a practical cause — and a personal application:
They had to declare their family descent, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be warriors. Proof of descent was needed because of the mixed multitude that had joined itself to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)... So only those who could show by their descent their rightful place among the people of God were counted and could go to war. Our own descent, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
The number here is not the end of Issachar's story. Set beside the later count, this tribe gained more than the famous ones did:
Issachar's increase was greater still, from 54,400 (Num. 1:29) to 64,300 (v. 25). This teaches at least one very valuable lesson. Someone who is not prominent in any public way may gain far more for the Lord than more prominent people do. The judgment seat of Christ will no doubt give us some surprises along this line.
One writer insists these totals are not filler. He puts the burden on the reader, not on the text:
We should be fully confident that there is spiritual significance in all these numbers. The reason is that "all Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable" (2 Tim. 3:16). If we cannot see the significance of these things, the fault is our own ignorance. The total number of men over 20 in the twelve tribes was 603,550.
- Counted because owned. God numbers Israel to assert His title; He counts them as He counts the stars, because they are all His own.
- Counted, then known. The census shows the care and interest God takes in everyone who belongs to Him — a simple truth, but full of comfort.
- Counted for conflict. God counted only men able to go to war. Numbers opens with armies, standards, camps and alarm trumpets.
- Counted by descent. No one entered the total without proving his family line. For the believer, that line is the new birth.
- Counted, then increased. Issachar's 54,400 later grew to 64,300. Those with no public prominence may gain the most, which hints at surprises at the judgment seat of Christ.
Of the sons of Zebulun their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:30 is Zebulun's line in a roll call. Every tribe gets the same wording: family, father's house, names, age, fitness for war. Two questions come out of that wording. Why does God count His people at all? And why count them as soldiers?
The census belongs to a sequence. God gave the Passover instructions about a month before this numbering. The Passover remembered Israel's rescue out of Egypt.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So this picture makes the point: God only numbers and counts as His those who have been redeemed.
A list of names can look like cold paperwork. The writers read it as the opposite.
In God's wisdom the census of the children of Israel had to be taken. The main object in the early chapters is a count of the males fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other concerns and purposes than war. In short, the aim may differ in various parts of the book. But God impresses this on us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
"By their generations, after their families" is not filler. Each man had to prove where he came from, and there was a reason.
They had to declare their pedigrees after their families, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because of the mixed multitude that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exodus 12:38)... So only those who could show by their pedigree their rightful place among the people of God were mustered and could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare — not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Ephesians 6:11-12).
A man had to settle his descent before he could stand in the ranks. The same question presses on anyone unsure of his standing with God.
There must be the witness of the Spirit that you are a child of God, and this witness always goes with simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ... We believe there are hundreds of the true spiritual Israel who are not able to declare their pedigree. But we ask, are such able to go out to war? Are they vigorous military men? Far from it. They cannot even know what true conflict is. Instead, people like this mistake their doubts and fears, their dark and cloudy seasons, for real Christian conflict.
The age limit decided who was counted in Israel. It also shows what fits a person for battle now.
The difference is that in Israel only the males over twenty years of age were numbered... Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too, though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age. That comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Zebulun's history had a weak spot in it. The name of the prince who led the tribe answers that weakness.
Listed next is the prince of Zebulun, Eliab. His name means "God is a Father." In Genesis 49:13 Zebulun pictures Israel living close to the other nations, a haven for ships, and so giving up her proper separation to God. In beautiful contrast, the name "God is a Father" reminds us of 2 Corinthians 6:14-18. There believers are urged to come out from unholy ties. In doing so God assures them, "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me."
Zebulun does not stand alone here. He is grouped with Issachar under Judah.
The last thought connects with Issachar. He and Zebulun fight under Judah's banner, and Issachar's captain is Nathaniel, whose name means "the gift of God." It is clear that they are both under the best of leadership. The one will not seek his own, nor the other stray off to the world, while Judah leads.
- Redeemed first. The Passover came before the census: God numbers as His only those He has already redeemed.
- Named next. The repeated wording is not bookkeeping but care. God takes personal interest in everyone who belongs to Him.
- Proved then. Each man had to prove his descent, because a mixed multitude had joined Israel. The believer's pedigree is the new birth.
- Matured then. Twenty years and upward points to maturity — the growth through the word of God that real conflict needs.
- Led last. Zebulun's pull toward the nations meets two answers: the name "God is a Father," and a place under Judah, where he will not stray off to the world.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Zebulun, were fifty-seven thousand four hundred.
Numbers 1:31 is one line in a long roll call: the tribe of Zebulun turns out 57,400 men fit to fight. Why would God want a headcount at all? And what does that number say about how He sees each person in the crowd?
Scripture records each tribe's total with care. That care says something about ownership. One writer reads the whole census as God's public claim on a people who already belonged to Him.
These chapters open with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes. Moses does this with great exactness and care. The number of each tribe, except Levi, appears again and again in Numbers 1 and Numbers 2, and Levi's in the same way in Numbers 3 and Numbers 4. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no claim on them, and no purpose ahead for them, He would not have counted them at all.
The order of events matters. God gave the Passover — the night He spared Israel in Egypt through the blood of a lamb — before this count. The order is deliberate.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes the point that God only numbers and counts as His those who have been redeemed.
Zebulun's 57,400 are not the whole tribe. They are the men twenty years old and upward who could take the field, and that limit carries meaning.
This chapter does not tell us why the age of those counted was set at "twenty years old and upward," but Numbers 1 does. It adds, "all in Israel who are able to go to war." So these were the only ones counted or taken into account. If a man is not able to stand before the enemy, he is at present of no account.
Another writer applies that limit to Christians today, and says what fitness for conflict costs.
Today God fits all of His saints for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too, though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age. That comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God. To be "a good soldier of Jesus Christ" also calls for undivided devotion. It means not getting entangled with the affairs of this life (2 Tim. 2:3-4).
The man over these 57,400 was Eliab. His name answers something in the tribe's own history.
Listed next is the prince of Zebulun, Eliab. His name means "God is a Father." In Genesis 49:13 Zebulun pictures Israel living close to the Gentile nations. The tribe is a haven for ships, and so compromises her proper separation to God. In beautiful contrast to this, "God is a Father" reminds us of 2 Corinthians 6:14-18. There believers are urged to come out from unholy associations. As they do, God assures them, "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me."
Counting is not the end of it. The next chapter gives each tribe a place, and sets Zebulun beside Judah.
The standard of Judah included two other tribes, Issachar and Zebulun (vv. 5-7), one camped on each side of Judah. All of this pictures God maintaining spiritual order in the church. It is not a precise physical order, but an order that glorifies His name through the submissive obedience of His saints in unity and devotion to His name.
Nearly forty years later, at the second census on the edge of the land, Zebulun's total is read again.
Zebulun likewise showed an increase, from 57,400 (Num. 1:31) to 60,500 (Num. 26:27) — not as great as Issachar's, but more than Judah's. Zebulun too was not as prominent as Judah was, or Reuben.
The second count says something about God, not just about Zebulun.
God took account of every one of His people when they entered the wilderness. The same grace shows that His love had not weakened, and that His personal interest in them was the same to the end. There was everything that could have turned Him aside, had that been possible. He loves to convince His people of His unwavering love, in spite of their failure.
- Claimed. The exact totals are God asserting His title; He counted Israel because they were His own.
- Redeemed. The Passover came before the census — God numbers as His only those He has redeemed.
- Equipped. God counted only men of twenty and upward who could go to war. Strength for conflict is what makes a person of account here.
- Placed. Zebulun was not just counted. God gave the tribe a place beside Judah, under Judah's standard — order that honours His name.
- Increased. 57,400 became 60,500 by the second census, proof that His interest in each one was unchanged to the end.
Of the sons of Joseph of the children of Ephraim their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Ephraim's tribe appears here under the name of Joseph — one father's name filling two places in the register. Behind that small detail lie a lost birthright, a reversed birth order, and God's own reckoning of who was fit to fight.
The verse ties Ephraim back to his father Joseph. That link points to an inheritance that moved out of the eldest son's hands.
1 Chronicles 5:2 tells us, concerning Israel, that "the birthright belonged to Joseph," and verse 1 tells us that Reuben's (the eldest son) birthright "was given to the sons of Joseph the son of Israel." We can see why Joseph had two sons and only two: so that he might have the double portion of the firstborn. So when the land was shared out, each of Israel's sons (Levi excluded for obvious reasons) had a single portion — one tribe each. Joseph had the double portion, two tribes: Ephraim and Manasseh.
One tribe had already dropped out of this military census. Splitting Joseph in two kept the count at twelve.
A little more than a year after the Exodus, the Lord told Moses to number the people who could bear arms, from twenty years old and upward. Levi was exempt from military service, so Moses numbered that tribe separately. But dividing Joseph into Ephraim and Manasseh made up the complete number, twelve.
Ephraim was the younger son, yet in this muster for war his name comes first. One writer contrasts two ways of listing the brothers — by birth, and by God's choice:
In the other list Manasseh again takes his place in relation to Ephraim according to the order of birth. But for combat Ephraim occupies his place according to the election of grace.
Jacob had already set that order when he blessed the two boys, and one writer follows it forward to Christ:
His name means "double fruitfulness." Think of the fruitfulness of the true Ephraim — the Christ of God. Ephraim was the younger of the two. Jacob knew what he was doing when he laid his hands on those two boys — his right hand on Ephraim, his left on Manasseh. He did it with spiritual understanding, for he says "I know it, I know it, my son." He understood that the second man was to have preference over the first. This world is content to go on with the first man, but our eyes have been opened to see the blessedness of the Second Man, the Christ from heaven.
Every man counted here had to show where he came from. There was a practical reason for that, and a lesson in it for us.
They had to declare their pedigrees, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this count, and only they could be warriors. They had to show it because a mixed multitude had joined itself to the people of God: "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)... So only the men who could prove their rightful place among the people of God were counted, and only they could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare. It is not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
The age limit of twenty carries its own point for readers today:
Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women too, and young and old — though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age, such as comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The census was not mere record-keeping. It was an act of ownership.
These chapters open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and Moses does it with great exactness and care... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted them. The same divine title is expressed in another part of His realm: "He tells the number of the stars; He calls them all by their names."
- Birthright. Ephraim is counted under Joseph's name because Reuben lost the firstborn's double portion. It passed to Joseph, so Joseph fills two places instead of one.
- Grace. Here the younger son is counted ahead of the elder — the order of grace, not the order of birth.
- Fruitfulness. "Ephraim" means double fruitfulness. Preferring the second son to the first points forward to Christ, the Second Man from heaven.
- Pedigree. Only men who could declare their descent were counted for war. Our descent is the new birth, and our warfare is spiritual.
- Ownership. God counts His people because they are His own. He would not count them if He had no right to them.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Ephraim, were forty thousand five hundred.
Numbers 1 records God's muster of Israel in the wilderness of Sinai, tribe by tribe, of every man fit to fight. Ephraim's total of 40,500 sits in that list. Why does a grandson of Jacob head a tribe at all, and what did God intend by counting these men one by one?
Ephraim appears in this census because Joseph's portion was split in two. With Levi set aside from military service, the arithmetic still reached twelve.
A little more than a year after the Exodus, the LORD commanded Moses to number the people. He was to count those able to bear arms, from twenty years old and upward. The tribe of Levi was exempt from military service, so Moses counted it separately. But the division of Joseph into Ephraim and Manasseh made up the complete number, twelve.
The double portion reached Joseph because Jacob's firstborn lost it.
Scripture confirms this. For instance, 1 Chronicles 5:2 tells us, concerning Israel, "the birthright was Joseph's." Verse 1 tells us that the birthright of Reuben, the eldest son, "was given to the sons of Joseph the son of Israel." We can see why Joseph had two sons and only two: so that he might have the double portion of the firstborn. So when the land was divided, each of Israel's sons had a single portion, that is one tribe each. Levi is left out, for obvious reasons. But Joseph had the double portion — two tribes, Ephraim and Manasseh.
This chapter puts Ephraim ahead of Manasseh, though Manasseh was the elder. The names of the two brothers explain why.
Manasseh means "forgetting" and Ephraim means "fruitful." The reason is that Joseph was made to forget the natural blessings of his father's house, and then became fruitful in Egypt. But forgetting is negative: fruitfulness is positive, and the positive must take the first place.
Elsewhere the two brothers appear in the other order, and one writer explains the difference.
This is like the numbering for combat, with one difference. Here Manasseh again takes his place in relation to Ephraim according to the order of birth. For combat, Ephraim occupies his place according to the election of grace.
The 40,500 were not every Ephraimite man. They were men of twenty and upward who could prove their descent, and that requirement had a reason.
The numbering was "after their clans, by their fathers' houses." Those to be numbered were all "from twenty years old and upward, all in Israel who are able to go to war." They had to declare their pedigrees after their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because a mixed crowd of outsiders had joined themselves to the people of God... So only a man who could show by his pedigree his rightful place among the people of God was mustered and could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
The war list is not the whole reason for the count.
In God's wisdom the census of the children of Israel had to be taken. The early chapters present it first as a reckoning of the males who were fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other considerations and aims than war and warlike purposes. In short, whatever the particular aim might be in various parts of the book, God impresses this upon us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
A second count came later, and Ephraim's total had fallen.
Ephraim, however, whose name means "fruitfulness," stands in sad contrast to Manasseh, for this tribe decreased from 40,500 (Num. 1:33) to 32,500 (v. 37). This may teach us that the fruit itself will be greatly depleted if we depend on our reputation for bearing fruit. The reason is that self has become our object rather than Christ. Self-complacency is one of the most damaging attitudes we can adopt.
Another writer draws out what this means for anyone who carries a God-given name:
Fruitful Ephraim seems to contradict his name, losing eight thousand men. It is one thing to have a name by grace, quite another to prove it in our walk.
- Name given. Ephraim means "fruitful." Reuben's birthright passed to Joseph, so Joseph's double portion became two tribes.
- Place given. This war census lists the younger brother before the elder. His place rests on God's choice, not on birth order.
- Muster taken. God counted only men of twenty and upward who could show their descent. Pedigree, not mere presence in the camp, qualified a man for war.
- Care shown. The count reaches past military need. God takes personal interest in everyone who belongs to Him.
- Walk tested. By the second count the fruitful tribe had lost eight thousand men. A name given by grace still has to be proved in daily life.
Of the children of Manasseh their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:34 is Manasseh's line in a roll call God Himself ordered: every tribe counted family by family, name by name, for the men old enough to fight. The wording is the same for every tribe. So why did God want such a register at all? And why does Manasseh, Joseph's older son, come after his younger brother Ephraim?
The count served the war, but commentators find a larger purpose behind it.
The main object presented to us in the early chapters is a count of the males fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other considerations and objects than war and warlike purposes. In short, whatever the particular aim in various parts of the book, God impresses this on us: He cares about everyone who belongs to Him, and takes an interest in them. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
The order of events matters. Israel kept the Passover before the count began.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So this picture stressed the fact that God only numbers and counts as His those whom He has redeemed.
The list counts Manasseh's men under one heading: able to go to war. That single phrase sets the tone of the whole book.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the count includes only those who are "able to go forth to war." This stands out clearly. In Genesis the descendants of Israel were still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they were gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness... But no sooner have we opened the book of Numbers than we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding alarm.
"Their generations, by their clans, by their fathers' houses" — a man could not simply volunteer. He had to show where he came from, because outsiders had attached themselves to Israel.
They had to declare their family line. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They had to show this because of the mixed crowd of outsiders who had joined themselves to the people of God... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Ephesians 6:11-12).
Mackintosh turns this into a question of assurance. No Israelite would have spoken about his descent the way many Christians speak about themselves.
We can hardly imagine an Israelite, when called on to declare his family line, speaking in the doubtful way many Christians use today. We cannot conceive him saying, "Well, I am not quite sure. Sometimes I cherish the hope that I am of the stock of Israel, but at other times I am full of fear that I do not belong to the congregation of the Lord at all."
Joseph's two sons each head a tribe here, and the older brother comes second. Commentators trace that order back to Jacob's prophecy.
Manasseh comes naturally under Ephraim's headship, according to Jacob's prophecy. Manasseh — "forgetfulness" — is only negative on its own. As a means to an end, it must be connected with that end and governed by it. Only then does it have its proper character.
Rossier sets this count beside another numbering of the tribes. There Manasseh's place follows his birth; in the count for war, Ephraim's place follows God's choice.
This other numbering is like the numbering for combat, except that Manasseh here again takes his place in relation to Ephraim according to the order of birth, whereas for combat Ephraim occupies his place according to the election of grace.
The figure recorded for Manasseh here was not the end of his story. Grant sets it beside the later count.
But Manasseh increased amazingly from 32,200 (Num. 1:35) to 52,700. Manasseh means "forgetting." It may impress on us Paul's words in Philippians 3:13-14: "Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." If we have Paul's attitude of forgetting past achievements and making Christ the object of living, we shall increase more and more in fruitfulness for God.
- Redeemed — the Passover came before the census; God counts as His those He has already rescued.
- Named — the register shows the care and interest God takes in everyone who belongs to Him.
- Proved — no one entered the muster without showing his descent, because a mixed crowd had joined the people of God.
- Armed — only men able to go to war were counted, and war is the keynote of the whole wilderness book.
- Growing — Manasseh means "forgetting," and his tribe nearly doubled; letting the past go makes room for increase.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Manasseh, were thirty-two thousand two hundred.
This number is one line in a long roll call of every tribe's men old enough to fight. So why did God want the count, and why does Scripture keep a figure like 32,200?
Scripture records more than one national count, and they are not all alike. One writer sets this census beside the one David ordered much later.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today. In Israel only the males over twenty years old were numbered, since this involved only those fit for military service. The lesson is clear for us too: to engage in practical conflict we need maturity, the full age that comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The chapter opens in the second year after Egypt, and the timing matters. Instructions about the Passover — the meal that marked Israel's rescue — were given shortly before this count.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes one fact clear: God numbers and counts as His only those He has redeemed.
Every man counted had to state his descent. A mixed crowd had attached itself to Israel, and this rule sorted out who belonged.
They had to declare their pedigree family by family, and only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They needed this proof because of the mixed crowd that had joined the people of God. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Manasseh was not a son of Jacob but a son of Joseph. His name appears here because Levi served the tabernacle and stood outside the count of fighting men. One writer explains how the arrangement of the tribes fills that gap.
The tribe of Levi, set apart to the service of the tabernacle, is not included in this allotment. Its place is made up by the dividing of the tribe of Joseph into Ephraim and Manasseh.
Manasseh's number follows Ephraim's, even though Manasseh was the elder. One writer sets out how this list is arranged, and where Ephraim and Manasseh stand in it.
Levi is omitted between Simeon and Judah, as not to be numbered. Asher and Gad are transposed. Ephraim and Manasseh replace Joseph. According to Jacob's prophecy (Gen. 48:14-22), Ephraim takes precedence over Manasseh.
The 32,200 recorded here is not the end of the story. A later count shows how the tribe fared.
But Manasseh increased amazingly from 32,200 (Num. 1:35) to 52,700. Manasseh means "forgetting." The name may impress on us Paul's words in Philippians 3:13-14: "Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." If we have Paul's attitude of forgetting past achievements and making Christ the object of living, we shall increase more and more in fruitfulness for God.
- Redeemed first. The Passover came before the count. God numbers as His own only those He has already redeemed.
- Counted personally. David's census sprang from pride. God's count here shows His interest in each person among His people, and that interest is just as real for His saints now.
- Armed next. A man joined the muster only if he could state his descent. Our pedigree is the new birth, and our warfare is against spiritual powers, not flesh and blood.
- Placed by grace. Manasseh counts as a tribe because Levi served the tabernacle and Joseph's portion became two. The elder brother comes after the younger, as Jacob said in Genesis 48.
- Grown at the end. 32,200 became 52,700 by the second count. Manasseh means "forgetting." Forget what lies behind, press on toward Christ, and fruitfulness follows.
Of the sons of Benjamin their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:36 is one line in a long roll call: the men of Benjamin, registered by family and counted for war. Three questions sit behind it — why God counts His people, who qualifies to be counted, and what this tribe's name means.
The count was God's own idea. Its purpose goes further than drawing up army lists.
It was necessary in God's wisdom that the children of Israel should be counted. The first thing set before us in the early chapters is a count of the males fit for war. But we will find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other concerns and aims here than war. In short, whatever the aim in a given part of the book, God impresses this on us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
The place matters. Numbers finds Israel in the wilderness, and that setting fills the book with the sound of war.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where God takes account only of those who are "able to go to war." This is clearly marked. In Genesis the seed of Israel were still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness. ... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding alarm.
The age limit carries a lesson for readers today:
God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, and that interest is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were counted. ... Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women too, and young and old, though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity or full age, which comes through knowing the word of God and growing in it.
The verse names clans and fathers' houses before it gives any number. Descent had to be proved, because not everyone travelling with Israel belonged to Israel.
They had to declare their family line by their clans. Only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be warriors. They had to show their family line because a mixed multitude had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Ex. 12:38). ... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Benjamin received his name twice: once from his dying mother, once from his father.
The youngest son of Jacob by his beloved wife Rachel. She died at his birth and named him BEN-ONI, meaning "son of my sorrow," but his father named him BENJAMIN, "son of the right hand." Gen. 35:18, 24. He is a picture of Christ in both names: exalted at God's right hand (Benjamin), and, as rejected, the cause of Israel's tribulation in the last days (Ben-oni). Rachel here is a picture of Israel (Micah 5).
Benjamin's total in this first census was among the lowest, and Scripture elsewhere calls the tribe little. Held together with its name, that smallness becomes instruction rather than embarrassment — though note that older translations read "little Benjamin" in Psalm 68:27, where the ESV has "Benjamin, the least of them."
In Psalm 68 the Spirit of the Lord calls Benjamin "little Benjamin" (v.27), because he was the smallest tribe. Keep these two names in mind: "son of my right hand," a place of power, and "little Benjamin," the place of weakness. How can these two opposites come together, a place of power and a place of weakness? Both are essential for any servant of the Lord who wants to be faithful in his testimony. He needs a sense of his own weakness, and a sense of the power of God that can work in that weakness.
- Counted — God ordered the census, and its message is the care He takes in everyone who belongs to Him.
- Qualified — Only men who could show their family line were counted. A mixed multitude had joined Israel, so birth decided who belonged.
- Armed — In the wilderness, only men able to go to war were listed. Maturity from God's word is what fits a believer for conflict.
- Named — Benjamin has two names: son of sorrow and son of the right hand. They picture Christ rejected and Christ exalted.
- Little — The smallest tribe bears the name of power. Every servant needs both: a sense of his own weakness, and a sense of God's power.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Benjamin, were thirty-five thousand four hundred.
Numbers 1:37 gives the fighting strength of Benjamin: 35,400 men. It is one line in a long roll call of Israel's tribes. Two questions sit behind the figure. Why did God want His people counted at all? And why was Benjamin's army one of the smallest?
The census was not just paperwork. Commentators read it as God taking stock of the people who belong to Him.
The first thing set before us in the early chapters is a count of the males fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other considerations and aims here than warfare. In short, whatever the particular aim may be in various parts of the book, God impresses one thing on us: the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
God's right to count them rested on ownership.
He was careful to assert His title this way, and to survey what was His. He would have the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and He knew their numbers.
The 35,400 were not every grown man in the tribe. Each one first had to prove his descent.
Those to be numbered were all the men from twenty years old and upward who were able to go to war in Israel. They had to declare their pedigrees after their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. This showing of their pedigree was necessary because of the mixed multitude that had joined themselves to the people of God... Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare — not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits.
Set beside the other tribes, this figure is low, and Scripture returns to it more than once.
Benjamin was the smallest of the tribes except Manasseh in the numbering of Numbers 1:37 and Numbers 2:22-23. In Psalm 68:27 it is called "little Benjamin"; but in the numbering before entering the land Benjamin exceeded four of the other tribes, Numbers 26:41. In Deuteronomy 33:12, where Moses prophesied of the tribes, he said of Benjamin: "The beloved of the LORD dwells in safety. The High God surrounds him all day long, and dwells between his shoulders."
The tribe's name works against its size. The man behind it carried two names, and both matter for anyone who serves God.
There are two things to be said about the name Benjamin. When he was born, his mother, as she was dying, gave him the name Ben-oni, that is, "son of my sorrow," but Jacob changed his name to Benjamin, "son of my right hand"... It is important to keep these two names in mind: "son of my right hand," a place of power, and "little Benjamin," the place of weakness. How can these two opposites be brought together, a place of power and a place of weakness? They are absolutely essential for any servant of the Lord who wants to be faithful in his testimony. He needs a sense of his own weakness, and a sense of the power of God that can work in that weakness.
Abidan led these 35,400. His name cuts across the tribe's reputation as fighters.
Abidan was the prince of Benjamin, his name meaning "My father is judge." In Genesis 49:27 Benjamin is called a ravenous wolf. In other words he was naturally a warrior. But it is not natural fighters the Lord needs. Peter found this out when he used a sword to cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. The Lord rebuked him, and healed the man's ear... So let us remember the lesson of Abidan, "my Father is judge." It is He who judges the value of our warfare, with perfect spiritual discernment.
A later count of the tribes shows what became of Benjamin.
Benjamin showed a lovely increase, to 45,600 (Numbers 26:41). Naphtali, in contrast, fell badly, from 53,400 to 45,400. Whatever the reasons for all of these, at least they tell us this: in glory some will be commended for their increase in spiritual fruit. Others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have.
- Owned. God had title to count Israel because they were all His own — He called them by their names and knew their numbers.
- Enrolled. Only men who could declare their pedigree joined the muster. The believer's pedigree is the new birth, and the calling is a spiritual warfare.
- Little. Benjamin's 35,400 made it the smallest tribe but one — the "little Benjamin" of Psalm 68:27, yet the tribe Moses called the beloved of the LORD, kept in safety.
- Strong. The same name means "son of my right hand." A sense of your own weakness and a sense of God's power belong together in anyone who serves.
- Grown. By the later count Benjamin had risen to 45,600 — a picture of the growth in spiritual fruit that God will commend in glory.
Of the sons of Dan their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1:38 gives the tribe of Dan its turn in the muster roll, in the same words used for every tribe before it. The repetition raises two questions. Why does God count His people at all? And why is Dan here in the ranks, when the tribe's later record fell so short?
One writer reads the careful, repeated counting of every tribe as God pressing a claim.
These chapters open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and Moses does it with great exactness and care. Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the number of each tribe except Levi, again and again, and Numbers 3 and Numbers 4 do the same for Levi. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. Had He not had a right to them, had He no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum.
Before a Danite made the list, he had to show where he came from. There was a reason for the strictness — outsiders had attached themselves to Israel on the way out of Egypt.
They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. This was necessary because of the mixed multitude which had joined itself to the people of God... Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
The order of events in the book matters. The Passover came first — the night the blood of a lamb spared Israel in Egypt. The head-count followed.
The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture stresses one fact: God only numbers and counts as His those He has redeemed.
The age limit and the words about going to war show what this list was for.
The second numbering (Num. 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to enter conflict with the enemy. Its purpose was to find the number of men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his own responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
The cut-off at twenty carries a lesson forward to God's people today.
Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too — though because of age some are less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us: to take part in real conflict we need maturity, the full growth that comes through knowing the word of God and growing in it. To be "a good soldier of Jesus Christ" also calls for undivided devotion, not being entangled with the affairs of this life (2 Tim. 2:3-4).
Dan's name carries the idea of judging. One writer shows what that rule was meant to be, and how easily people twist it.
Dan means "judgment": the spirit of rule, which, as Dan's origin points out, is really service. Yet how easily people turn it away from this! Instead of using his place to bless those in his care, a man uses it for himself... and becomes a rebel against the One who gave him his authority. But for this, as for everything else, God has a remedy. Dan is here in his place with his captain Ahiezer — "brother of help" — the son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty."
Dan came to this muster as one of Israel's strongest tribes. What happened later tells a different story.
Dan was the fifth son of Jacob, and the first son of Bilhah, Rachel's servant... The tribe of Dan was large. At the Exodus it had 62,700 fighting men, more than every tribe except Judah, and by the second numbering they had grown to 64,400... Yet once they were in the land, the Amorites forced the children of Dan into the hill country. The Amorites would not let them come down to the valley (Judges 1:34). This showed a great lack of faith.
- Counted because owned. God counts each tribe with care to press His own title. He numbers Israel because they are His.
- Counted after redemption. Passover came first, then the census — God registers as His only those He has redeemed.
- Counted by pedigree. Only a man who could show his descent made the list. Today the new birth gives that place.
- Counted for war. Twenty years old and upward marks maturity. Every man had to grasp his own responsibility in the Lord's battles.
- Counted despite the future. Dan's name speaks of rule that is really service, and his captain's name means "brother of help." A strong tribe still given its place, though its later history fell short.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Dan, were sixty-two thousand seven hundred.
This verse gives one tribe's result in a national count. Dan produced 62,700 fighting men, more than any tribe except Judah. A single number raises large questions. Why did God count His people? Who qualified? And what did such a number guarantee?
The numbers are written down with great care. Commentators read that care as a claim of ownership:
Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the number of each tribe except Levi again and again, and Numbers 3 and Numbers 4 do the same for Levi. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no purposes in them, He would not have counted their total.
Dan's 62,700 were not everyone who showed up. Each man had to prove his family line, and there was a reason for that:
They had to declare their pedigree, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this count, and only they could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because a mixed multitude had joined itself to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exodus 12:38). This mixed multitude that was among them fell to craving (Numbers 11:4). So only those whose pedigree showed their rightful place among the people of God were counted and could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
The count began at twenty years old. It marked the men fit to fight, and commentators carry that over to spiritual conflict:
The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered. There would be a cut-off age also, for this involved only those who were fit for military service. Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too — though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age. That comes through knowing and growing in the word of God.
This was not the first time Israel had been counted. One writer sets the two counts side by side:
The purpose of the first numbering mentioned (Exodus 38:25-27) was to gather the silver that formed the bases of the pillars of the tabernacle. That count took place for the Lord and with a view to worshipping Him. The second numbering (Numbers 1:2-3) came when Israel was about to fight the enemy. Its purpose was to count the men able to go to war. This was according to God. Every Israelite from twenty years old and upward needed to understand his personal responsibility in the battles of the Lord.
Dan's tribe heads the list of the sons of Jacob's servant wives. The name of the man who led these 62,700 stands against what Genesis says of Dan:
The list now comes to the sons of Jacob's servant wives, and Dan is mentioned first. The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." What a contrast that is to the character of Dan given in Genesis 49:17: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving a brother's help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict. Ahiezer was the son of Ammishaddai, meaning "the people of the Almighty." When the people's relationship to the Almighty is settled, a brother relationship follows.
The size recorded here did not turn into courage once Israel reached the land:
The tribe of Dan was large: when Israel left Egypt there were 62,700 fighting men, more than all the tribes except Judah (Numbers 1:39). Yet in the land the Amorites forced the people of Dan into the hill country. They would not let them come down to the valley (Judges 1:34). This showed a great lack of faith in the people of Dan. Deborah said in her song, "Dan, why did he stay with the ships?" — while the Lord's enemies were being destroyed.
Forty years later God counted the tribes again. The two lists work like a report card:
Dan, already large, showed some increase, from 62,700 (Numbers 1:39) to 64,400 (v.43). Naphtali, in contrast, fell badly, from 53,400 to 45,400 (v.50). Whatever the reasons for all of these, at least they tell us this. In glory some will be commended for their increase in spiritual fruit. Others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have (1 Corinthians 3:12-15).
- Counted — God numbered Israel because Israel was His. An owner counts what belongs to Him.
- Qualified — every man had to show his family line, because a mixed multitude had joined the nation.
- Equipped — the list held only men of twenty and over, fit to fight. Maturity for conflict comes through growth in the word of God.
- Helped — Genesis calls Dan a serpent, yet his prince is Ahiezer, "brother of help," son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty."
- Tested — 62,700 men, second only to Judah, still ended up pushed into the hills and missing from the battle. Numbers are not faith.
Of the sons of Asher their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
The census reaches Asher, and the wording does not change: clan, father's house, names counted, age, and fitness for war. So why count at all, why only fighting men, and why such care over one tribe among twelve?
The words "able to go to war" set the tone of the whole book.
Here we find ourselves, at once, "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go to war." This stands out clearly... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
Before a man of Asher could join the count, he had to show which clan and father's house he belonged to. That rule had a practical cause in the crowd that had left Egypt alongside Israel.
The numbering was "by their clans, by their fathers' houses." And those to be counted were "from twenty years old and upward, all in Israel who are able to go to war." They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They had to show their family line because of the mixed crowd that had joined the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual war, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
The age limit is not random. One writer compares this count with a later one that went badly wrong.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this led to the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is just as true of His saints today... Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age, and that comes through knowing and growing in the word of God.
Why record the totals tribe by tribe with such care? Because counting is what an owner does.
These chapters open with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and it is done with great exactness and care. The number of each tribe, except Levi, is set down again and again in Numbers 1 and Numbers 2... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own.
Asher's own name and the name of his prince carry one lesson together.
Asher's prince was Pagiel (v.13), which means "event of God," and his father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted."... Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered by God's dealings — events of God — that bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, even though we may not see it at first.
Asher's total is not the end of the story. The tribe went through two counts, and its history runs far past the wilderness.
When they were counted at Sinai there were 41,500 able to go to war, and when they were near the promised land there were 53,400... In Rev. 7:6, twelve thousand of Asher will be sealed, and in Luke 2:36, Anna, a prophetess of the tribe of Asher, gave thanks in the temple at the birth of the Saviour. Asher is one of the tribes still to come into blessing and to have a portion in the land. Ezek. 48:2-3.
One writer sees more than numbers here. The tribes moved in different directions over the same forty years.
Asher grew a great deal, from 41,500 (Num. 1:41) to 53,400 (v.47). Naphtali, in contrast, fell sharply from 53,400 (Num. 1:43) to 45,400 (v.50). Whatever the reasons for all of these, at least they tell us this: in glory some will receive praise for their growth in spiritual fruit, while others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have.
- Pedigree first. No man joined the count until he could name his clan and father's house. The mixed crowd from Egypt had no place in the ranks.
- Maturity next. Twenty years old and upward marks the age fit for war — a reminder that conflict calls for growth in the word of God.
- Muster then. Every man in the list was a soldier. Numbers opens with armies, standards, camps and trumpets.
- Ownership behind it all. God took the number Himself because Israel were all His own. David's count sprang from pride and cost 70,000 lives.
- Happiness at the end. Asher means "happy," yet his prince Pagiel was the son of Ocran, "afflicted." Happiness comes through God's dealings. Asher's 41,500 became 53,400 by the borders of the land.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Asher, were forty-one thousand five hundred.
Numbers 1 records a count of Israel, tribe by tribe, and Asher's fighting men come to 41,500. Why would God want a head-count at all? And why does a tribe whose name means "happy" appear here as an army?
One writer reads this careful counting as God claiming His rights over what belongs to Him:
They open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes. The counting is done with great exactness and care. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, if He had no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4) So the Lord says of His saints, "They shall be Mine… in the day when I make up My treasured possession." (Mal. 3) He may make up — that is, number, and hide, and secure them — because they are His own.
Asher's 41,500 are not the whole tribe. They are the men fit to fight. The motive behind this count also sets it apart from a later census in Israel:
In David's time, when he decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motives were pride in reigning over a great nation, and this resulted in the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered. There would be a cut-off age as well, since this involved only those fit for military service. Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, and young and old too, though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To engage in practical conflict we need maturity or full age. That comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Before a man of Asher could be counted, he had to prove where he came from:
The numbering was "according to their clans, by their fathers' houses." Those counted were "from twenty years old and upward, all who are able to go to war in Israel." Each man had to declare his pedigree after his family. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. This showing of their pedigree was necessary because of the mixed multitude which had joined itself to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Ex. 12:38). This mixed multitude among them gave in to craving (Num. 11:4). Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
The names around Asher pull in two directions at once:
Asher's prince was Pagiel (v. 13), which means "event of God." His father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted." Genesis 49:20 tells us, "Asher's food shall be rich, and he shall yield royal delicacies." Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered by God's dealings — events of God — to bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, little as we might appreciate this at first. How well Paul understood this when he wrote, "For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).
Asher's 41,500 was not the tribe's final figure. A later count records the change:
Benjamin showed a lovely increase from 35,000 (Num. 1:37) to 45,600 (v. 41). Dan, already large, showed some increase, from 62,700 (Num. 1:39) to 64,400 (v. 43). Asher was greatly increased, from 41,500 (Num. 1:41) to 53,400 (v. 47). Naphtali, in contrast, fell badly from 53,400 (Num. 1:43) to 45,400 (v. 50). Whatever the reasons for all of these, they tell us at least this much. In glory some will be commended for their increase in spiritual fruit. Others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have (1 Cor. 3:12-15).
- Counted — God's exact count of each tribe is the language of ownership. He numbers Israel as He numbers and names the stars, because they are His own.
- Enlisted — David's later count came from pride. This one musters the men fit to fight, and shows God's vital interest in each one who belongs to Him.
- Qualified — Only a man who could declare his pedigree had a place in the army. The mixed multitude did not. Our pedigree is the new birth.
- Tested — Asher means "happy." Yet his prince's name means "event of God" and his father's means "afflicted." True happiness comes through suffering.
- Increased — Asher's 41,500 grew to 53,400 by the later count. Growth, or the lack of it, comes under review in glory.
Of the sons of Naphtali their generations, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, by the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service
Numbers 1 ends its roll call with Naphtali, the last of the twelve tribes God counts at Sinai. Naphtali gets the same words as every other tribe — clan, father's house, name, age, fitness for battle. So why did God want this count at all?
The count could look like paperwork. One writer says God has more than war in view.
In the early chapters the main object put before us is a count of the males who were fit for war. But the numbering goes beyond this. There are other considerations and aims than war and warlike purposes. Whatever the particular aim in various parts of the book, God impresses this truth on us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
Each man had to show his line — "by their clans, by their fathers' houses." One writer explains why that mattered here.
They had to declare their pedigrees after their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because of the mixed crowd who had joined themselves to the people of God… Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth. By it we become children of God.
Another writer contrasts that new birth with the family line every person is born into.
The believer traces his pedigree directly up to a risen Christ in glory. This is Christian genealogy. As far as our natural pedigree goes, if we trace it back to its source and then declare it honestly, we must admit that we come from a ruined stock. Ours is a fallen family.
God set the bar at twenty years old. One writer draws out what that means for believers now.
God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel. That interest is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel God counted only the males over 20 years of age… Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too… Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity or full age, such as comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The name Naphtali carries a meaning of its own. One writer takes it as a picture of the new place a person now stands in.
Naphtali means "my wrestling" — not so much the idea of the struggle going on, but of its reaching a conclusion in victory, bringing freedom. It expresses the blessing of the new place in which a person now stands. Moses says of Naphtali, "satisfied with favor, and full of the blessing of the LORD," so that he becomes "a doe let loose" — all fear removed, and the tongue loosed to give beautiful words.
The chapter earlier names Ahira as the leader of this tribe. One writer asks whether his name points to a man who felt the sorrow around him.
This is perhaps the most difficult name to interpret of all we have had… Could it be that in Ahira we find a man whose eyes have affected his heart, like another Jeremiah? A man of sorrows, in sympathy with the sorrow around him? …and so the "brother of evil" would become the "brother born for adversity" that Proverbs speaks of.
God counted Israel again years later. One writer sets Naphtali's two totals side by side.
Asher was greatly increased, from 41,500 to 53,400. Naphtali, in contrast, fell badly from 53,400 to 45,400. Whatever the reasons, these numbers at least tell us this: in glory some will be commended for their increase in spiritual fruit, while others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have.
- Counted. Down to the last tribe, the same words repeat. God cares about each person who belongs to Him.
- Claimed. Each man had to declare his pedigree; the believer's pedigree is the new birth, traced up to a risen Christ.
- Capable. God counted men of twenty and over. Real conflict needs maturity, and that grows through the word of God.
- Carried. Naphtali means "my wrestling" — a struggle that ends in victory, freedom, and a loosed tongue giving beautiful words.
- Compared. By the second count Naphtali had dropped from 53,400 to 45,400. In glory some are commended for increase; others are not.
those that were numbered of them, of the tribe of Naphtali, were fifty-three thousand four hundred.
The verse closes the roll of Naphtali — the last tribe counted in the first census — with a figure of 53,400 men. Why did God count His people at all, who qualified to be counted, and what became of this number later?
The opening chapters list names and totals. One writer reads the whole count as God's way of showing where His attention rests.
In God's wisdom the census of the children of Israel had to be taken. The first purpose shown to us in the early chapters is a count of the males who were fit for war. But we will find that the numbering goes beyond this... In short, whatever the particular aim in various parts of the book, God impresses this upon us — the care and the interest He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
That care is easier to trust for eternity than for today:
We can all understand the sweetness of being numbered for heaven, and that is where the heart of most people turns. But even those who take the greatest comfort in God's purposes securing them for eternity are apt to forget the present interest the Lord takes in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials.
Naphtali's 53,400 were men of a set age and fitness. One writer sets this count beside David's later one, which brought disaster.
In David's time, when he decided to number the people, his motive was pride in reigning over a great nation, and it led to the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, and that interest is just as real for His saints today... Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity or full age, such as comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
The setting explains the standard:
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go to war."... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
Each man had to declare which family he came from.
They had to declare their pedigrees by their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors. They had to show their pedigree because a mixed multitude had joined itself to the people of God... Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare.
Another writer turns that requirement into a question for the reader:
It suggests this important question to the reader: "Can I declare my pedigree?" There is much reason to fear that hundreds, if not thousands, of professing Christians are completely unable to do so.
Naphtali's name itself carries a history of struggle, and the leader given to him matches it. His place in the camp fits that character:
Naphtali is "the wrestler," another militant name, marked by his prince Ahira, "brother for evil," the son of Enan, "open-eyed," suggesting that "Brother born for adversity," whose eyes are ever watchful against the foe. So the camp is properly ordered and prepared for the march.
At a second numbering the total had changed, and this figure becomes the measuring line:
Asher increased greatly, from 41,500 to 53,400. Naphtali, in contrast, dropped sharply from 53,400 (Num. 1:43) to 45,400. Whatever the reasons for all of these, they at least tell us this. In glory some will be commended for their increase in spiritual fruit, while others will have to bow to the sad fact that they did not produce as they might have.
Yet the words spoken over Naphtali look beyond any head count:
When Jacob prophetically announced to the tribes what would happen to them in the last days, he said, "Naphtali is a hind let loose: he gives goodly words." This is the remnant of Israel as the vessel of testimony. Moses said, "O Naphtali, satisfied with favour, and full with the blessing of the Lord." It is the full blessing of the remnant as Jehovah's people.
(These lines come from an older translation. The ESV reads "a doe let loose that bears beautiful fawns" and "sated with favor, and full of the blessing of the LORD.")
- Counted — the census shows God's care for everyone who belongs to Him: not only for eternity, but for today's movements, conflicts and trials.
- Qualified — only men of full age and fit for war were listed. Spiritual conflict also needs maturity, which comes by growth in God's word.
- Certified — each man declared his pedigree, because a mixed multitude had joined Israel. For the believer, that pedigree is the new birth.
- Named — Naphtali means "the wrestler," and his prince Ahira is a "brother born for adversity," watchful against the foe.
- Measured — 53,400 here became 45,400 at the second count. In glory some are commended for increase in fruit; others must own that they did not produce as they might have.
These are those that were numbered, whom Moses and Aaron numbered, and the princes of Israel, the twelve men each one was for the house of his fathers.
This line closes the census. Moses and Aaron did the counting, and twelve men helped them, one for each tribe. So why does God count people at all, and why through chosen representatives?
The census opens the book of Numbers. Commentators read it as God stating His own claim over the people.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to count them, because they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and nothing to expect from them, He would not have counted their total. Scripture says the same about His divine right in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
A large national total can feel impersonal. Yet the count had more than one purpose.
The first object set before us in the early chapters is a count of the males who were fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other aims here besides war and warlike purposes. In short, whatever the particular aim may be in various parts of the book, God presses this upon us — the care and the interest that He takes in everyone that belongs to Him.
The verse names two men above the twelve. One of them rules the people; the other serves as priest.
The people able to do the work of numbering are, first of all, Moses and Aaron, a double picture of Christ as King and Priest. He is indeed the One who knows those who are His, and His servants live under His eye: the Lord who rules, and the One who intercedes for them and sustains them. How good it is to be under an eye like this!
Each tribe had one leader working alongside Moses. How he got that role carries a lesson for today.
Our chapter records that as a preliminary a "head" or prince of each tribe was selected. The choice was not left to the people, or even to Moses. The word to him was, "These are the names of the men who shall assist you…" God chose His own leader for each tribe, and this is a helpful reminder that God today chooses His own servants and leaders, and does not submit the matter to a popular vote.
The count also had a shape, and a reason tied to the journey ahead.
A prince from each tribe is chosen, and he oversees the counting of that tribe. The count includes only the men of war, because it looks ahead to the dangers and trials of the journey. So right at the very start we meet the thought of order. Not one Israelite warrior is left out. Each one finds his place under his tribal prince, and all of them, as we shall see later, are arranged in relation to the tabernacle.
The phrase points to family line. Not everyone travelling with Israel truly belonged to Israel.
They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be warriors. They had to show their family line because of the mixed crowd of outsiders who had joined themselves to the people of God… So only those who could prove by their descent that they had a rightful place among the people of God were counted and could go to war. Our pedigree, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God.
The same act can spring from a very different motive.
When David decided to number the people (2 Sam. 24:2-10), his motive was pride in reigning over a great nation, and 70,000 people died as a result. But God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in each one of His people Israel. That interest is just as real for His saints today… Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age, which comes through knowing and growing in the word of God.
- His people. God counts Israel because Israel is His; the census is a claim of ownership, like His counting of the stars.
- His eye. Moses and Aaron head the count — ruler and priest together — a picture of Christ, who knows those who are His.
- His choice. God named the twelve who worked with them. The tribes did not elect them.
- His family. Only a man who could declare his descent had a place in the count. Today the new birth gives that place.
- His army. Those counted were the men fit to fight. That points to maturity, which grows from knowing God's word — not to pride in numbers, the motive that ruined David's census.
And all those that were numbered of the children of Israel, according to their fathers' houses, from twenty years old and upward, all that went forth to military service in Israel,
This verse closes the roll call of Numbers 1. It raises two questions. Why did God want a headcount of His own people? And why is readiness for battle the one qualification named?
Numbers opens in a different setting from the books before it.
Here we find ourselves, at once, "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go to war." This is clearly marked. In Genesis the seed of Israel was still in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were making bricks in Egypt. In Leviticus they were gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers they are seen in the wilderness... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding alarm.
The care taken over the figures says something about the One who ordered the count.
The book opens with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and it is done with great exactness and care... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted them. His divine title is spoken of the same way in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
Being counted for heaven is easy to love. The present side of it is easy to forget.
We can all understand the sweetness of being numbered for heaven, and that is where most hearts turn. But even those who take the greatest comfort in the counsels of God that secure them for eternity are apt to forget the present interest the Lord takes in all our movements, ways, conflicts, and trials. This is the first thing with which the book opens.
This count was not the first thing God gave them.
The Passover marked the basis on which the people's redemption rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So this picture stresses the fact that God numbers and counts as His only those He has redeemed.
Being on this list came at a price: half a shekel of silver from each man.
Every one is numbered, for the Lord has a personal interest in each. That is the Lord's side of it. On the people's side there had to be an acknowledgment: only on the ground of atonement could anyone be counted among His people. Here there is no difference between rich and poor. All stand on the same ground. Each man acknowledges by his half shekel that only on the ground of ransom is he a living soul among the people of God.
Every man had to show where he came from, family by family. Others had attached themselves to the people along the way.
They had to declare their family line, family by family. Only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be warriors. They had to show their family line because of the mixed crowd who had joined themselves to the people of God... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his wiles and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Certainty about that family line was what made a man steady in the ranks.
Not one man in that great host, camped "facing the tent of meeting," would have understood a single doubt, or the shadow of a doubt, about his own family line... Each of the six hundred thousand knew well where he had come from, and so where he was to take his stand. And just so with God's militant host now. Each member of it needs the clearest confidence about his relationship, or he will not be able to stand in the battle.
The census counted only men of twenty and over. That age line still teaches something about who fights today.
Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women too, and young and old, though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is clear for us as well. Real conflict needs maturity, or full age, which comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God. To be "a good soldier of Christ Jesus" also calls for undivided devotion, and not getting tangled up in the affairs of this life (2 Tim. 2:3-4).
The figure that follows this verse lets us estimate the whole camp.
The total that were numbered amounted to 603,550, as we are told in verse 46... In this census the mixed multitude were eliminated and we have more detailed and accurate figures. Since all males under twenty and all females were omitted, we are safe in assuming that the host must have numbered over two millions.
- Redeemed — the Passover came before the census. God counts as His only those He has already ransomed, and every man's half shekel said so.
- Recognised — the exact count is a statement of ownership. He has title to number them because they are His own, as He numbers and names the stars.
- Registered — each man was entered by family. Only a man who could show where he came from joined the ranks. That kept the mixed crowd out.
- Ready — from twenty years old and upward, able to go to war. The age bar pictures maturity that comes by growth in God's word, plus undivided devotion.
- Right now — this count is not only about being safe for heaven. It shows God's present interest in every movement, conflict and trial of the road.
all they that were numbered were six hundred and three thousand five hundred and fifty.
The verse closes the first census with one figure. Every man in Israel aged twenty and over, fit for war, came to 603,550. Two questions sit under it. Why did God want His people counted? And what does the total say about the camp He led into the desert?
This is not a population survey. It is a muster roll, and it sets the tone for the whole book.
Here we find ourselves at once "in the wilderness," where the only ones counted are those "able to go forth to war." This stands out clearly. In Genesis the offspring of Israel were still unborn, in their father Abraham. In Exodus they were in the brick-kilns of Egypt. In Leviticus they gathered round the tent of meeting. In Numbers we see them in the wilderness... But as soon as we open the book of Numbers, we read of men of war, of armies, of standards, of camps, and trumpets sounding the alarm.
Not everyone travelling with Israel was inside this figure. There was a test to pass first.
They had to declare their family line, and only those who could do that had a place in this mustering and could be warriors. This was necessary because of the mixed multitude who had joined themselves to the people of God. "A mixed multitude also went up with them" (Exod. 12:38)... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
So how many people were in the camp altogether?
Exodus 12:37-38 told us that about 600,000 men besides children left Egypt, and a "mixed multitude" went with them too... Since the count left out all males under twenty and all females, we can safely assume the whole company numbered over two million.
The count came with a payment attached, and one tribe stayed outside it.
At least 603,550 Israelite males, twenty years old and upward, paid the atonement money collected from the children of Israel in the wilderness, when God numbered His people. This number did not include the tribe of Levi (see Num. 1:46-47), which was set apart for the service of the tabernacle.
The money was not a tax. It answered a danger inside the counting itself.
The numbering gave flesh a chance to boast — about their numbers as a whole, and about each person being noticed. But they had to acknowledge this: the Lord could take account of them only on the ground of redemption. They had to be reminded that they belonged to God (Deut. 7:6), and each one had to pay a ransom for himself.
An owner counts what belongs to him. That is the reason behind this census.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to count them, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no future purpose in them, He would not have counted them. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4) So the Lord says of His saints, "They shall be Mine... in the day when I make up My treasured possession." (Mal. 3) He may make up, that is, number, and hide, and secure them, because they are His own.
The figure returns at the end of the journey — and the second count exposes what happened in between.
In it we have the record of the second numbering of the people, as they were about to enter upon the promised land. How sad to think that only two of the six hundred thousand men of war counted at the first census remain — Joshua and Caleb! All the rest lay in the dust, buried beneath the sand of the desert, all passed away. The two men of simple faith remained to have their faith rewarded. As for the men of unbelief, the inspired apostle tells us "their bodies fell in the wilderness."
- Counted — 603,550 men aged twenty and over were fit for war. Add women, children and younger males, and the camp likely passed two million.
- Claimed — God counted them because they were His own. He numbers what belongs to Him, just as He numbers and names the stars.
- Ransomed — that same total had paid the atonement money. No one entered the register except on the ground of redemption.
- Enlisted — every man counted had to declare his family line. That kept the mixed multitude out. This was a call-up for war, not a headcount.
- Tested — of that whole army, only Joshua and Caleb reached the land. The rest fell in the desert through unbelief.
But the Levites after the tribe of their fathers were not numbered among them.
The census in Numbers 1 ends with a total of 603,550 fighting men. Then one tribe is left out of the count. This was not an oversight. God commanded it. So why should one family in Israel stand outside the army list?
Levi was held back for other work.
The tribe of Levi is not included. The end of this chapter gives the reason. They were not to be among the warriors, but appointed over the tabernacle of testimony, over all the vessels, and what belonged to it. They were to bear it and their place was round about the tabernacle.
The choice of this tribe is startling once you know its record. The words spoken over Levi were a curse, not a blessing.
But why the Levites? Why was this tribe specially marked off from all the others, and set apart for so holy and elevated a service? Was there any special sanctity or goodness about them to account for their being so distinguished? Not by nature, and not by practice either. We can see this in the following words: "Simeon and Levi are brothers; weapons of violence are their swords… Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce, and their wrath, for it is cruel! I will divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel." Such was Levi by nature and by practice — self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that such a one should be singled out and brought into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely we may say it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases. It stoops to the lowest depths and gathers its brightest trophies from there.
Levi's place did not begin with their work. It began with being rescued.
They were redeemed by blood, and counted emphatically to belong to the Lord. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine."… So the Levites were identified with mercy — the great mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt and set them apart. That fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. How can anyone take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation precedes ministry.
Levi was not just skipped. The later count of this tribe followed different rules — a different starting age, and no land of its own.
The Levites were counted apart from the other tribes, because they had no property of their own as an inheritance. Also they were not required to go to war, but to serve the Lord. Therefore their census did not begin with those of the age of twenty years, but with one month old boys. Training in the things of God is to begin almost from birth. Training for physical warfare needs the strength of a grown man.
It is easy to read the numbered tribes and the uncounted Levites as two different groups of people. Commentators warn against that.
The very same persons are pictured in one aspect by the numbered tribes of Israel. In another aspect they are Levites, not numbered as yet, because they belong to God and to Him alone. This then is the double aspect… The natural mind is always prone to set the two things in opposition. It argues that the Levites were contrasted with the other tribes of Israel, so what each represents must hold a wholly different position now. This does not follow, and the reverse is true in fact; the types indicate different relations of the same persons.
Levi's place was at the centre of the camp, around the sanctuary. That position carries its own lesson.
In the centre of the camp stands the tent of meeting, with its Levite guard. The Levites were devoted to the sanctuary and surrounded it. They present the thought of consecration, and this is at the heart of all successful warfare. There is little said about Levi here: it is his glory to be overshadowed by the glory of God. And this is the moral character of all true consecration: what boasts of itself is not consecration at all.
- Grace chooses. Levi carried a curse for fierceness and cruelty, yet God singled out this tribe — proof that grace "takes up the very worst cases."
- Redemption qualifies. The Levites stood in place of the firstborn spared in Egypt. They belonged to God by blood before they ever touched a sacred vessel. Salvation comes before service.
- Separation shapes. No inheritance, no place in the army, counted from a month old instead of twenty. Training for God's things starts at the beginning of life, not at the age of strength.
- Nearness follows. Left out of the ranks, Levi camped at the centre, around the tent. Their consecration is what makes the camp's warfare succeed.
- Both are yours. The numbered soldier and the uncounted Levite are not two kinds of people. They are two relationships of the same believer: counted by God for the march, and His alone for the sanctuary.
For Jehovah had spoken to Moses, saying,
Numbers 1 has just counted Israel's fighting men, tribe by tribe. Then God speaks again, and this fresh word pulls one whole tribe out of the count — so why is Levi left off an army list?
This count measured fighting strength. Leaving Levi out points to a different calling:
God left the tribe of Levi out of this numbering altogether. Numbers 3 gives the reason. This whole tribe was to be set apart for the service of God, and the family chosen for the priesthood came from among them. This comes out in the closing verses of the first chapter. They were to serve the tabernacle. The rest of Israel camped at a set distance from it, while the Levites camped close around it, since it was in their charge.
Levi was not left uncounted. God numbered the tribe later, by a different rule:
God then numbered the Levites separately from the other tribes. This count included not only males twenty years old and over, but every male from one month old and up. This was not for military service but for service to God. They did not begin sanctuary service until thirty, and they served until fifty. Even so, they were trained with that service in view. This reminds us that the Lord Jesus Himself did not begin His public service until He was about thirty years of age (Luke 3:23). His earlier years were an important preparation for it.
Nothing in this tribe's own record explains the honour:
But why the Levites? Was there any special holiness or goodness in them to explain why God marked off this tribe from all the others for such a holy and high service? Not by nature, and not by practice either, as these words show: "Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce, and their wrath, for it is cruel! I will divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel" (Genesis 49). That was Levi by nature and by practice — self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that God should single out such a tribe and bring it into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely we may say it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases.
Two chapters later God gives the reason, and it reaches back to Egypt:
Numbers 3:12 uncovers the secret behind the special place of the Levites. God had chosen them "instead of all the firstborn." In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites on the basis of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. As a result they belonged to God. Now, this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
It would be easy to read the two groups as two classes of people. One commentator says the opposite. The soldier and the servant are the same person, seen twice:
The very same people who in one aspect are pictured by the numbered tribes of Israel are in another aspect Levites. They are not numbered as yet, because they belong to God and to Him alone... The natural mind is always prone to set the two things against each other. It concludes that, since the Levites were contrasted with the other tribes of Israel, what each of them stands for must hold a wholly different position now... The types show different relations of the same people. It does not matter whether we take the numbering of Israel or the absence of numbering of the Levites. Both are true of the Christian — not in the same aspect, of course, but equally true in distinct relationships.
Levi was left out of the land too. That called for a particular kind of trust:
God gave the Levites no inheritance in the land. The offerings made by fire to the LORD, the God of Israel — yes, the LORD Himself — were their inheritance, just as He told them. The Lord's workmen stood on different ground from the rest of His people. He called them to a special confidence in His provision for them and in His word about them. If they failed in this, could they wonder that their words had little power?
- Grace chose. Levi's record was violence and self-will. God gave this tribe its place near the sanctuary; it never earned it.
- Blood claimed. God took them instead of the firstborn He spared in Egypt. A Levite counted himself already bought, and already God's.
- Service replaced soldiering. God left them off the war census and gave them the tabernacle. Their count and training began at one month old, not at twenty years.
- Nearness cost possession. They received no share of the land. The Lord Himself was their portion, and that called for unusual trust in Him.
- Both rolls, one believer. Commentators apply both rolls to every Christian: counted among the fighters, and set apart as one who belongs wholly to God.
Only thou shalt not number the tribe of Levi, neither take the sum of them among the children of Israel.
Numbers 1 counts every man in Israel who could go out to war — and then God stops the count at one tribe. God Himself makes the exception. Why leave out the tribe that camped nearest to Him?
The reason is a calling that left Levi no place in the fighting ranks.
Also the tribe of Levi was completely excluded from this numbering. In Numbers 3 we get the reason for this. As a tribe they were to be set apart entirely for God's service. The family chosen for the priesthood came from among them. This fact indeed comes out in the closing verses of the first chapter. They were to serve the tabernacle. The rest of Israel pitched their tents at a set distance from it, while the Levites pitched theirs close around it, since it was in their charge.
They were counted later, and by a different rule.
The Levites were counted separately from the other tribes, because they had no property of their own as an inheritance. Also they were not required to go to war, but to serve the Lord. Therefore their census did not begin with those of the age of twenty years, but with one month old boys. Training in the things of God is to begin almost from birth. Training for physical warfare needs the strength of a grown man.
A census measures fighting power. It cannot measure work done for the sanctuary.
We are not only God's own people, each one of us counted by Himself as someone He relies on... but we also have to do with serving Him, and above all with the sanctuary. From this point of view, counting them like an army would be out of place. The aim is to give this service a character that is not of this earth.
Their place around the sanctuary carries a lesson, and so does the chapter's silence about them.
The Levites were devoted to the sanctuary and camped around it. They present the thought of consecration, and this is at the heart of all successful warfare. The account says little about Levi here: it is his glory to be overshadowed by the glory of God. This is the character of all true consecration: anything that boasts of itself is not consecration at all.
Does this split God's people into two classes, soldiers and servants? Kelly says no.
In one aspect the very same people are pictured by the numbered tribes of Israel. In another aspect they are Levites, not numbered as yet, because they belong to God alone. This then is the double aspect... The natural mind is always ready to set the two things against each other. It sees that the Levites were contrasted with the other tribes of Israel, and concludes that what each one pictures must hold a wholly different position now. That does not follow. In fact the opposite is true: the types show different relations of the same people.
Nothing in Levi's record earned the place.
Was there any special holiness or goodness in them to explain why God marked them out? Not by nature, certainly, nor yet by practice... Such was Levi by nature and by practice — self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that God should single out such a man and bring him into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely we may say it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases.
Grace did not leave Levi where it found him.
He could take him out of his home, which held instruments of cruelty, and bring him into the tabernacle to handle the holy instruments and vessels there. This was grace — free, sovereign grace. Here is where we must look for the basis of all Levi's blessed and high service.
Levi's separation goes back to Egypt, where God spared Israel's firstborn and then took this tribe in their place.
They were redeemed by blood, and counted as belonging in a special way to the Lord... The Levites were identified in this way with mercy — the great mercy that marked Israel out and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who dares to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation precedes ministry.
- Grace chooses. Levi's history was self-will, fierceness and cruelty. God chose this tribe anyway, so the whole arrangement displays grace, not reward.
- Grace redeems. God took the Levites in place of the firstborn He spared in Egypt. Redemption came first, then service.
- Grace reassigns. Hands that once held instruments of cruelty now carried the vessels of the sanctuary.
- Grace hides. The chapter says little about Levi. His glory is to be overshadowed by God's glory, and real consecration never boasts of itself.
- Grace covers both. Soldier and servant are not two classes of people. They are two relationships of the same believer: counted for the march, uncounted because he belongs wholly to God.
But thou, appoint the Levites over the tabernacle of testimony, and over all the vessels thereof, and over all things that belong to it they shall bear the tabernacle, and all its vessels; and they shall serve it, and round about the tabernacle shall they encamp;
Israel has just numbered its men for war. Then God leaves one tribe off the list, not because they matter less, but because He has other work for them. The command gives Levi a charge, a load to carry, and a place to camp.
The census counted fighting men. Levi is passed over because their business lies in a different direction, and one writer notes that this changes the whole character of what they do.
We are not only God's own people, every one of us counted by Himself as those on whom He reckons. That holds whatever the march may be, and whoever we may have to fight while passing through the wilderness. But we also have to do with serving Him, and above all in reference to the sanctuary. From that point of view, counting them like an army would be out of place. The object is to stamp service with an unearthly character.
The numbered tribes and the uncounted Levites look like two classes of people. The same writer says otherwise: both pictures describe the same believer in two relationships.
In one aspect the numbered tribes of Israel picture these very same people. In another aspect they are Levites, not numbered as yet, because they belong to God simply and only. This is the double aspect... It does not matter whether it is the numbering of Israel or the missing count of the Levites. Both are true of the Christian — not in the same aspect, of course, but just as true in distinct relationships.
Nothing in Levi earned this. His record was self-will, fierceness and cruelty, and one commentator calls the change pure grace.
God's eyes are too pure to look at evil, and He cannot look on wrongdoing. God could not come into Levi's secret, or be joined to his assembly. That was impossible... But He could bring Levi into His secret and unite him to His assembly. He could take him out of his home, which held instruments of cruelty, and bring him into the tabernacle to handle the holy instruments and vessels there. This was grace — free, sovereign grace. Here is where we must look for the basis of all Levi's blessed and elevated service.
"Over all its furnishings, and over all that belongs to it" is a charge, not a title. What those furnishings stand for explains why the charge is weighty.
A weighty service, for which they need to depend on the Priest. Indeed, they are wholly given to the service of the priests, for ministry belongs to those who worship. Its first and most pressing duty is to guard and care for the holy things they handle. We know that the tabernacle vessels set forth the truth of what Christ is in all His offices; and all ministry must watch over and preserve this.
"They are to carry the tabernacle" makes the work a journey. One writer draws out what God entrusts to His people in it.
This service is the carrying of the holy things through the wilderness. For us it pictures presenting Christ and the heavenly truths of Christianity in the world as we pass through it. It is true that these things are seen in travelling clothes, and only faith can know them as they really are, in their innermost reality. Yet this testimony is of the highest possible value, and God counts it so. If it pleases Him to go through the world in this way, He trusts Himself to the loving obedience of His people to carry Him through.
The last clause fixes where they live. Their tents ring the tabernacle, and that nearness shapes what comes first for them.
The Levites had to camp in the middle of the people's camp, right next to the tabernacle (Num. 2:17). Does this not show that the Levites were to have a special and constant sense of the presence of God? And their service for God came first, ahead of other concerns. If their service had to do with the tabernacle, they would live close to it.
Set among the armed tribes, this quiet circle of tents makes its own point:
The Levites are devoted to the sanctuary and surround it. They present the thought of consecration, and this is at the heart of all successful warfare. Little is said about Levi here: it is his glory to be overshadowed by the glory of God.
- Grace first — Levi's record was self-will and cruelty. The move from instruments of cruelty to the vessels of the sanctuary was sovereign grace, and all his service rests on it.
- Then a charge — guarding the tabernacle and its vessels means guarding what pictures Christ. It is weighty work, and it needs dependence on the Priest.
- Then a place — camping around the tabernacle keeps the servant near God and puts that service ahead of other claims.
- Then a journey — carrying the holy things through the wilderness is God trusting His people's loving obedience to bear Him through the world.
- Both at once — the same believer is the counted soldier and the uncounted Levite. The missing number stamps service with an unearthly character.
and when the tabernacle setteth forward, the Levites shall take it down; and when the tabernacle encampeth, the Levites shall set it up; and the stranger that cometh near shall be put to death.
Numbers 1:51 gives one job to one tribe: only the Levites may take down and set up the tabernacle, God's dwelling place, as Israel travels. Anyone else who comes near dies, which raises a hard question — why does God guard His own service so closely?
One writer links this job to the reason Levi was missing from the census earlier in the chapter.
The numbering did not include the tribe of Levi. The Lord had already told Moses that the Levites would be appointed to care for the tabernacle and its furnishings, both while it stayed in one place and while it was on the move. They were to take the tabernacle down when it was time to move, and set it up again at each destination (v.51). No one else was allowed any part in this work, under penalty of death.
The other tribes were counted; Levi was not, because Levi belonged to God.
The very same persons who in one aspect are pictured by the numbered tribes of Israel are in another aspect Levites. They are not numbered as yet, because they belong to God simply and only. When we think of a Christian, we have to remember the words of the Spirit of God in the New Testament: "All things are yours." Whether it is the numbering of Israel or the absence of numbering of the Levites, both are true of the Christian — not in the same aspect, but equally true in distinct relationships.
Nothing in Levi's past earned this place. One writer sets the tribe's character beside the honour it received.
Such was Levi by nature and by practice — self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that such a one should be singled out and brought into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely we may say it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases. It stoops to the lowest depths and gathers up its brightest trophies from there.
The same writer sums up the change in one line.
And oh what a marvellous contrast between Levi's position by nature and his position by grace! Between the instruments of cruelty and the vessels of the sanctuary!
The "outsider" here is not a foreigner. It is anyone outside the appointed circle, including an Israelite. God drew the line at more than one level.
The Levites are separated from among the people to be the special servants of the sanctuary. From among them the house of Aaron is separated in the same way, to be the only priesthood of that sanctuary. Israel was not to reach after the services of the Levites, nor were the Levites to reach after the priesthood of the family of Aaron. God was to be sanctified in those who drew near to Him, and to be approached in His holiness in the due and appointed order.
So the penalty falls on the intrusion itself, not on how the work is done.
All ministry in the house of God, whether in Old or New Testament times, is of divine appointment. There is no such thing recognised in Scripture as human authority in appointing to the ministry. Neither is there such a thing as a self-appointed ministry. None but God can make or appoint a minister of any sort or description.
The death penalty kept ordinary Israelites at a distance from God's dwelling.
Priests and Levites pitched their tents around the tabernacle. The people had to stay on the fringe of things, because there was always fear of wrath coming on them, as stated in verse 53 of Numbers 1. The whole system was evidently designed to show that "the way into the holy places is not yet opened" (Heb. 9:8).
Commentators carry the Levite pattern into Christian service.
If He took them to be His servants, He left it to no one, not even to Moses, to suggest what their work was to be. And the same principle is seen in God's arrangement in the Church of God. "God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers…" The Spirit, we read, apportions to each one individually as He wills (1 Cor. 12:11, 28). Would that this were more remembered.
One writer brings both roles together in the believer.
In one very real sense all believers today are priests and all are Levites. As priests they present acceptable sacrifices to God. As Levites they serve the needs of people. As the priests are worshippers, so the Levites have the privilege of ministry, but the two functions are distinct.
- Chosen, not counted. Levi was left out of the count because the tribe belonged to God alone — and both sides, numbered and unnumbered, are true of the believer.
- Grace, not merit. Levi was self-willed, fierce and cruel; grace moved those hands from instruments of cruelty to the vessels of the sanctuary.
- Assigned, not chosen. God Himself fixed the Levites' duties, leaving even Moses no say — and the same principle governs service in the church.
- Called, not self-appointed. The outsider dies for stepping into a place God never gave him, not for doing the work poorly.
- Guarded, not yet open. Priests and Levites camped round the tabernacle to show that the way into the holy places was not yet opened.
And the children of Israel shall encamp every man in his camp, and every man by his own standard, according to their hosts;
Numbers 1 closes with God telling Israel how to camp around His tent. Every family had a fixed spot and a known flag — so why would God care so much where each man pitched his tent?
The camp ran on two things a man had to know: who his family was, and which flag he belonged under. Lose either, and the whole march stalls.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together. That is how they made progress, did their work, and carried on their warfare. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his. Neither was to interfere with the other or cross his path. So it was with all the tribes. Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither was according to their own thoughts. All was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
Pollock presses the same point on each Israelite. His blessing hung on two things: the tent at the centre, and the spot God gave him.
As a nation they were the people of God. Their gathering centre in the wilderness was the tabernacle, God's dwelling place. The blessing of each Israelite lay in keeping in touch with the tabernacle, and in taking his appointed place among his own tribe. God appointed that place — east, west, north, or south of the tabernacle. He was not left to follow his own choice or inclination.
The verse arranges Israel by companies — an army in camp. Such a camp could have been chaos. Look instead at its shape, and at the hand behind it.
Nothing could be arranged more beautifully. Four camps of three tribes each formed a perfect square, and each side of the square showed its own standard… The God of the armies of Israel knew how to set His troops in order. It would be a great mistake to suppose that God's warriors were not ordered by the most perfect system of military tactics… We can be sure that the camp of Israel was ordered and supplied in the most perfect way. The reason is the simplest and most conclusive of all: the hand of God ordered and supplied it.
The counting of chapter 1 was not paperwork. It set up a home with God in the middle.
The first thing that catches our attention as we read the book is sweet and precious beyond all words. God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible! The twelve tribes guarded the tabernacle of the Lord… But one thing gave the camp in the wilderness its unity, strength, and glory: the presence of God in His tabernacle, at the centre of His chosen people. A blessed picture of good things to come — of Christ as the centre, life, and glory of His Church now!
The next verse gives Levi a different place. The other tribes camp under their own standards, while the Levites camp in a ring around the tabernacle. Everyone else stayed outside that ring.
Priests and Levites pitched their tents around the tabernacle. The people had to stay on the fringe of things, because they always had to fear wrath coming upon them, as verse 53 of Numbers 1 states. The whole system had one clear design: to show that "the way into the holy places is not yet opened" (Hebrews 9:8).
Mackintosh carries the same rule into Christian service today.
We as Christians are very apt to jostle one another. In fact we are sure to do it, unless each of us pursues his own divinely appointed line of work. We say "divinely appointed," and would press the word. We have no right to choose our own work… God has His quarrymen, His stone-squarers, and His masons. The work progresses by each man attending diligently to his own work. If all were quarrymen, where would the stone-squarers be?
- Centre. God's tent stood in the middle. The camp's unity, strength and glory all came from His presence there.
- Standard. Around that centre, God gave each man a flag and a post he did not pick for himself.
- Order. The square of four camps was no rough improvisation. God's own hand arranged it.
- Distance. Levi ringed the tent while the people stayed on the fringe, a standing sign that the way in was not yet open.
- Contentment. God gives the place and He gives the work. So comparison and jealousy have nothing to feed on — there is room and work enough for all.
but the Levites shall encamp round about the tabernacle of testimony, that there come not wrath upon the assembly of the children of Israel; and the Levites shall keep the charge of the tabernacle of testimony.
Israel camped in rings, with the tent that housed the testimony at the centre. Levi formed the innermost ring around it, and the verse gives the reason: so that wrath would not fall on the people.
The camp had a centre, and the centre was God Himself. Every tent faced Him.
The first thing that catches our attention in reading the book is sweet and precious to the heart beyond all words. God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible! The twelve tribes guarded the tabernacle of the Lord. The Levites camped right around the court. Moses, Aaron, and the priests guarded the entrance by which people came to God. The camp was arranged in this way, all facing the tabernacle, and people think it measured at least twelve miles around.
The tent is named here by what lay in its innermost room.
For the time being, a tent was all He would use. But that tent was the tent of meeting — not only where Israel was to meet, but where God was to meet them. It was also called the tabernacle of testimony. In its innermost room lay the ark, and the ark held the tables that bore witness to what God required from man.
The Levites stood between the people and the tent. One writer sets their post beside the work of the priests.
They are to be the bodyguard of the divine King. The priests go in to God to perform their intercessory service on behalf of the people. In the same way, the Levites keep the people from the wrath that would follow if a stranger forced his way into the tabernacle of God. They carry its holy things through the desert on all their journeys. They are in this way the distinct types of the ministry that goes from God to man, as priesthood goes from man to God.
Notice the timing of the command. It came before anyone had trespassed, not as a penalty announced after a tragedy.
All the people were redeemed, and the firstborn were God's in a special way. But He chose the Levites and gave them to Aaron and to his sons, to do the service of the children of Israel in the sanctuary. This was so that God would not have to deal with the people in judgment because any of them came near the tabernacle of the congregation. So on no plea or pretext were any of Israel, apart from the tribe of Levi, to come near to the tabernacle. Now this instruction did not come after someone had tried it and a terrible disaster had followed. God gave it, and Moses announced it, as the provision the Lord made to avoid the very thing that must otherwise have happened.
The arrangement that protected Israel also kept ordinary Israelites at a distance.
Priests and Levites pitched their tents around the tabernacle. The people had to remain on the fringe of things, because there was always the fear of wrath coming upon them, as stated in verse 53 of Numbers 1. The whole system was designed to show that "the way into the holy places is not yet opened" (Heb. 9:8).
The tribe given this holy post had a violent record behind it.
God could not come into Levi's secret, or be joined to his assembly. That was impossible. God could have nothing to do with self-will, fierceness, and cruelty. But He could bring Levi into His secret, and unite him to His assembly. He could take him out of his home, which held instruments of cruelty, and bring him into the tabernacle to handle the holy instruments and vessels there. This was grace — free, sovereign grace. Here is where we must look for the basis of all Levi's blessed and elevated service.
The Levites' work points to three callings of God's people now.
As men of war, we are called to fight. As priests, we have the privilege of worship. But as Levites, we are responsible to serve. Our service is to carry through this dreary desert what the tabernacle stood for, and the tabernacle stood for Christ.
- Centre. God's tent stood in the middle of the camp, with every tribe ranged around it. Nearness was the point.
- Testimony. The tent carries that name because the ark inside held the tables witnessing to what God required of man.
- Guard. The Levites ringed the tent as the King's bodyguard. They kept the people from the wrath that trespass would bring.
- Grace. The tribe given this holy station had a record of self-will and cruelty; God brought them near on grace alone.
- Limit. The guard protected Israel, but it also kept them on the fringe. It was a standing sign that the way into the holy places was not yet opened.
And the children of Israel did so; according to all that Jehovah had commanded Moses, so did they.
Numbers 1 ends not with a command but with a report: Israel carried out everything the Lord had ordered through Moses — the census, the setting apart of Levi, the placing of the tents. Two questions follow. What did Israel obey, and why does Scripture record that they did it?
The chapter's lists were not paperwork. They set every family and tribe in its place around the tent where God dwelt.
Notice first that God numbers His people exactly. Then, having recognised them in this way, He arranges them around His tabernacle. What a sweet thought — to be recognised like this and placed around God Himself! But here this had nothing to do with a call by faith. It had to do with families, households and tribes. That order was carefully kept whether they were camped at rest or on the march.
The order came from God, not from Moses. So the people carried none of the weight of planning their own march.
The people are to face the dangers of the way. The first thing they need is to be subject to their Leader — not Moses, but the Lord Himself. So first of all comes this mustering and marshalling of what is to be the host of God. For a soldier, keeping rank is an absolute necessity. Here a wisdom that cannot fail appoints for everyone his place and his company. In this way God's foresight can work for them, and they are free from uncertainty and anxiety. They have only to obey, and by obeying to cast all the responsibility of the future on Him. He has tied His own glory to the keeping of His promises to them.
That short report of obedience covers something costly. Nobody in the camp chose his own neighbours or his own distance from the centre.
Each Israelite's blessing lay in keeping in touch with the tabernacle. It lay in taking his appointed place among the tribe he belonged to — east, west, north or south of the tabernacle. He was not left to follow his own choice or inclination.
One of those commands kept Levi out of the count and put that tribe in a ring around the tent, so that no wrath would fall on the people. Note the timing: God gave that instruction before anyone had trespassed, not after.
God had a special claim on the firstborn of Israel. He took the Levites in their place, "to do the service of the people of Israel at the tent of meeting and to make atonement for the people of Israel, that there may be no plague among the people of Israel when the people of Israel come near the sanctuary." What care on God's part this showed for the welfare of His ransomed but stiff-necked people, and for keeping them clear of judgment! … Now God did not give this instruction after someone had tried to come near and disaster had followed. He gave it, and Moses announced it, as the provision the Lord made to prevent what would otherwise have happened.
Israel is not praised here for understanding the plan. The record says only that they did it — no reasons given, no questions asked.
Obedience is due from us to God's word, simply because it is His word. To raise a question, when He has spoken, is blasphemy. We are in the place of the creature. He is the Creator; He may therefore justly claim obedience from us. The unbeliever may call this "blind obedience," but the Christian calls it intelligent obedience. It rests on knowing that the word he obeys is God's word.
This clean note of obedience opens a book that soon fills with complaint.
In the history of the people of God in Numbers we see how God answered their murmurings time after time. Each time they murmured, God answered it by showing His glory; the people murmured, and the glory of God appeared. Look at the murmuring and the breakdown, the sorrow and the failure around us today. We may be sure that God has the answer to it all in Christ.
- Counted. God numbered His people exactly, then arranged them around His own dwelling. He counts, and He places.
- Placed. God appointed every position; no one chose his own. An Israelite's wellbeing lay in taking his place and staying near the tabernacle.
- Guarded. God kept the Levites out of the census and set them in a ring around the tent so that wrath would not fall. He gave that protection before anyone trespassed, not after.
- Freed. A wisdom that cannot fail assigned every place. Obedience freed Israel from planning their own future and laid that weight on God.
- Done. The chapter closes on the plainest possible report — they did it. We owe obedience to God's word because it is His word. That holds even in a book where the murmuring soon starts.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying,
God speaks to Moses and Aaron, and a map follows: where each tribe was to camp around the tabernacle. Why would God fix every tribe's place, and what does that show about how He orders His people now?
The orders come from God, not from the people:
The camp is now divinely arranged and put in order. They decided nothing for themselves. The LORD spoke and gave the instructions: every man of the people of Israel was to pitch his tent by his own standard, with the ensign of their father's house, facing the tabernacle and around it. The tabernacle where the LORD dwelt was in the middle.
The camp had a centre, and God Himself lived there:
The first thing that attracts our attention, in reading the book, is sweet and precious to the heart beyond all expression — God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible! ... But one thing gave the camp in the wilderness its unity, strength, and glory: the presence of God in His tabernacle, at the centre of His chosen people.
Israel camped by two kinds of marker, one for the tribe and one for the family:
Each tribe had its own standard, degel, and each family its own ensign, oth. In the camp the twelve tribes stood three on each side. One of each three gave its name to that side, or camp. So the standard of Judah is called the standard of the camp of Judah, which was on the east. The camp of Reuben was on the south, the camp of Ephraim on the west, and the camp of Dan on the north.
One writer carries this over to God's people today, where the many standards become one:
His New Testament people are also put in order by Him, and He is in the middle of them. They do not gather around different standards. There is only one standard, and it is Christ.
God gave each man his family line and his post. One writer draws out what that settled in the camp:
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. In this way they moved on together, made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his, and neither was to interfere with, or cross the path of, the other... Each had his family line, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
Judah is named first, and the meaning of his name fits his place:
The LORD now tells Moses where each tribe is to camp and in what order the tribes are to march. Judah is mentioned first, his name fittingly meaning "praise." His tribe camped directly in front of the tabernacle, on the east side. It stood back far enough to leave full room for the sons of Aaron near the tabernacle entrance.
The four sides face outward, and one writer reads the layout as a battle formation:
The four camps lie toward the four quarters — east, south, west, and north. The outside influences come from those quarters, and in a world like this any of them may be hostile. The people of God must meet them in the power of Him who is among them. They must not depend on circumstances. In this sense they carry their resources inside themselves. The whole arrangement has reference to these outside influences... the entire wilderness journey being a warfare, and the people's dwelling-place a camp.
Israel could see the cloud over the tent. One writer applies the same centre to God's people now:
The tabernacle, where the cloud showed the presence of God, stood at the centre of everything... The presence of God among His people today is not visible. Still, if the church of God is gathered, and the indwelling Holy Spirit is acting without hindrance in power, an unbeliever coming in would have to confess, "God is really among you" (1 Cor. 14:25).
- God speaks. God tells Moses and Aaron how the camp is to stand; Israel chose none of it.
- God centres. The tent where He dwelt stood in the middle, and His presence there gave the camp its unity, strength and glory.
- God places. Every man had a standard to camp by and a post to keep — assigned, not chosen — which left no room for comparing or envy. His people today gather under one standard only: Christ.
- God defends. The four camps faced the four quarters, so the whole nation was a war camp that carried its resources inside itself.
- God is praised. Judah, whose name means praise, camped right in front of the tabernacle, on the east.
The children of Israel shall encamp every one by his standard, with the ensign of their father's house; round about the tent of meeting, afar off, opposite to it shall they encamp.
Numbers 2 turns a counted people into an ordered one. Every tribe camps in a fixed place, under its own banner, facing the tent of meeting. Why does God fix the spot? What did the banners mean? And why the distance?
Everything in the camp points inward. The tribes are not just neighbours. Each tent stands in relation to one dwelling place.
The first thing that catches our attention as we read the book is sweeter and more precious to the heart than words can say. God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible! ... But one thing gave the camp in the wilderness its unity, strength and glory: the presence of God in His tabernacle, as the centre of His chosen people. A blessed picture of the good things to come — of Christ as the centre, life, and glory of His Church now!
The camp looked attractive, and no Israelite picked his own spot.
There was something very attractive about the camp of Israel. Clearly the tents stood in perfect order, and none was out of place. As you read, you picture rows of tents evenly placed. They could not camp where they liked, God ordered the arrangement for their benefit. With thousands of people involved, the order had to be strict. Everything was set in relation to the centre: the tabernacle where God dwelt.
Knowing your family line and knowing your banner belong together. Without both, order collapses. With both, there is no reason to compare yourself with anyone.
If a man did not know his family line, he could not recognise his standard. Then everything would have fallen into hopeless confusion. Instead of keeping rank and making steady progress, they would have been in each other's way, treading on one another. Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it... He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. So there was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his own place to fill and his own work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
The verse names two different markers, and the Hebrew keeps them distinct.
Each tribe had its own standard, degel, and each family its own ensign, oth. In the camp the twelve tribes camped three to a side. One tribe out of each three gave its name to that side, or camp. So the standard of Judah is called the standard of the camp of Judah, and that camp lay on the east. The camp of Reuben lay on the south, the camp of Ephraim on the west, and the camp of Dan on the north.
No one records what the banners looked like. Writers mark where tradition takes over from the text.
Scripture does not state the form of the standards and ensigns. The Rabbis say that the standard of Judah looked like a lion (cf. Gen. 49:9; Rev. 5:5); of Reuben a man; of Ephraim an ox (cf. Deut. 33:17); and of Dan an eagle... For the Christian, CHRIST is the only standard, and His banner (degel) is LOVE.
Some translations render the last clause "far off about the tabernacle." Israel's closeness to God was real, but limited.
Notice the words "far off" in verse 2. It is true that in Ephesians we read of Gentiles being "far off," in contrast to Jews, who were "near." But Israel's nearness was only relative. They were near only compared with the distance where the Gentiles lived. Priests and Levites pitched their tents around the tabernacle, and the people had to stay on the edge of things. There was always the fear of wrath falling on them... The whole system was clearly designed to show that "the way into the holy places is not yet opened" (Heb. 9:8).
Two things show God still in the middle of His people: the effect on an outsider, and a promise from Christ.
The presence of God among His people today is not visible. Still, if the church of God is called together, and the indwelling Holy Spirit is acting freely in power, an unbeliever coming in would have to confess, "God is really among you" (1 Cor. 14:25). We also have that great word of our Lord: "Where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I among them" (Matt. 18:20).
- Centre. God dwelt in the middle of the camp. That presence gave Israel its unity, strength and glory.
- Position. No Israelite chose his own ground. God set every tent in relation to the centre, for the people's benefit.
- Banner. Each tribe had its standard and each family its ensign. Knowing your place ended confusion and jealousy alike, for every man had work and room of his own.
- Distance. Camping "far off" showed that Israel's nearness was only relative. The way into the holy places was not yet opened.
- Nearness. What the camp pictured is now real: Christ is the centre, and He is among those gathered to His name.
And [for] those encamping eastward toward the sun-rising [there shall be] the standard of the camp of Judah according to their hosts; and the prince of the sons of Judah shall be Nahshon the son of Amminadab;
Numbers 2 gives every tribe its place in the camp, and the first place named is the front: Judah, on the east, under Nahshon. Why does Judah lead the whole nation, and why does the text tell us which way that camp faced?
One fixed point sets every position in the chapter. Each tribe camps in relation to the tent where God lived among His people.
The tabernacle has a central place: the tribes are all arranged in relation to it... God always insists on His own order.
Knowing that place mattered — both for the camp's order and for how each man saw his neighbour.
If a man did not know his family line, he could not recognise his standard, and everything would have fallen into hopeless confusion... Each man had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of these came from their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
Judah's place at the front was not random. One writer links it to a later battle, where singers marched ahead of the soldiers.
The standard of Judah was always in the lead when the tribes set out to march, for the spirit of praise to God is of first importance in travel or in warfare. When Jehoshaphat's army went out with singers praising the Lord, the victory was soon gained (2 Chron. 20:21-22).
Why does praise come first? One writer connects the praising heart to a soldier's readiness to obey.
The spirit of praise is also the spirit of obedience, and so Judah is qualified to be the lawgiver (Ps. 60:7). Wherever the heart is filled with God, His throne will be in that heart. And what an irresistible power there is in this spirit of obedience to the all-wise "Captain of salvation"! Who or what can defeat the King's army, so long as it obeys orders?
The verse gives the direction twice over — east, and toward the rising sun. The Hebrew carries two different ideas, and Judah's camp met both.
The camp of Judah was stationed in the front, toward the east. There are two words for the east — "that which opposes," and "sun-rising." They picture what meets us on our wilderness journey: the opposition in the world, and the blessed hope of the coming day, the morning without clouds.
Another writer looks the same way, past the desert to the goal, and then asks what holds God's people together now.
The Lord arranged the camp, with Judah facing toward the sunrise. This shows the promised goal. It also reminds us of the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, the coming of the Lord, when the wanderings of His people will end. And the Lord was in the midst of His people to guide and protect them, to supply their needs. He is still the same. His New Testament people are also put in order by Him, and He is in the midst. However, His people do not gather around many different standards. There is only One, and that is Christ.
The verse names the leader. His family ties run two ways — back to Aaron by marriage, and forward to Rahab and Boaz.
Nahshon was brother-in-law of Aaron (Ex. 6:23), and prince or head of the tribe of Judah (Num. 1:7; Num. 2:3; 1 Chron. 2:10). Salmon, son of Nahshon, married Rahab the prostitute, and was the father of Boaz (Matt. 1:5).
The same writer traces praise back to its source, and then to the One who came from Judah.
The spirit of praise must be first — praise that comes from knowing all the grace God has shown and will keep showing... From Judah, too, He has come who is our Lord Jesus, the leader of our praises, the captain of the Lord's host. Truly, we are "the people of the willing giver," who has given us His blessed Son.
- Centre. God put the tabernacle in the middle, and every tribe camped in relation to it. The order was His, not theirs.
- Post. God gave each man his place and his standard. Variety never became rivalry, because there was room and work enough for all.
- Front. Judah's standard led every march, because the spirit of praise comes first — as Jehoshaphat later sent singers ahead of his army.
- Obedience. Praise and obedience belong together. A heart full of God takes His orders, and no one can defeat that army.
- Sunrise. Judah faced the opposition of the world and the hope of the coming day. The Leader who came from that tribe is now the one standard His people gather to.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, were seventy-four thousand six hundred.
Numbers 2 gives each tribe its own place in the camp, and Judah's place is at the front. This verse counts Judah's strength there: 74,600 fighting men.
God asked for this count Himself. He was taking stock of what belonged to Him.
He was careful to assert His title this way, and to survey His possessions. He wanted the number of Israel brought to Him exactly, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and He knew their numbers.
The verse counts a company listed for war. Not everyone in Judah was counted.
God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is just as true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were counted. There would be an upper age limit too, since this involved only those fit for military service. Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare — women, and young and old too... Yet the lesson is clear for us as well: to take part in real conflict we need the maturity that comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Judah leads all twelve tribes. One writer explains this from Judah's name and history, and from a later king who sent his singers ahead of his army.
But why is Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel? His name and his history account for it... Judah is foremost here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat later put his singers and trumpeters at the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down.
Another writer sees in Judah's front rank a picture of praise leading God's people, and traces the tribe forward to Christ.
Here then we have a picture of the power that meets the opposition in the world. It leads God's people on to victory and the coming day. The spirit of praise must be first. This is praise that comes from knowing all the grace God has shown and will go on showing. Here, as always, the singers are to be at the front of the battle... From Judah, too, has come our Lord Jesus, the leader of our praises, the captain of the Lord's host.
Judah camps on the east side. Hebrew has two words for east, and they do not carry the same sense.
In a sense the two expressions are in contrast. Both speak of the east, where the sun rises. But sunrise always carries the idea of joy and blessing that comes with the returning day, while the other word implies the opposite. This word is qedem, "what faces" or "confronts you"... Judah's position, then, has two opposite things in view. One is the world as a place of hostile influence. The other is the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, which for us brings that to an end.
Judah's 74,600 did not choose their ground. Neither did anyone else. God set every man's place.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stand by it. That is how they moved on together... Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts. All was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Every tribe had its own banner. The same writer names the one banner God's army marches under today.
What is the standard of God's fighting host? Let us hear it and remember. It is Christ. This is God's only standard, and the only standard of that band of warriors who muster in this wilderness world to wage war with the hosts of evil and fight the battles of the Lord.
God counts Israel again at the end of the wilderness years. Other tribes had declined. Judah had grown.
Judah, however, is in happy contrast to the earlier decline, for it increased from 74,600 to 76,500. This shows that we need not be weakened by the trials of the wilderness journey; we may be strengthened instead. That depends on how real and steady our faith in the living God is. Judah's name, meaning "praise," may remind us that the spirit of praise increases fruitfulness.
- Counted — the census was God asserting His title to His own; He knew their names and their numbers.
- Enlisted — the count took only men fit for war, so Judah's 74,600 is an army list, not a headcount of the tribe.
- Praise first — Judah means praise, and praise leads the march. From Judah came Christ, the leader of our praises.
- Placed — no one picked his own post. God assigned it, and the one standard He gives His army is Christ.
- Increased — Judah came out of the wilderness larger than it went in, 74,600 becoming 76,500. A praising people grows.
And those that encamp next unto him shall be the tribe of Issachar; and the prince of the sons of Issachar shall be Nethaneel the son of Zuar;
Numbers 2:5 gives Issachar its address in the wilderness: beside Judah on the east, with Nethanel son of Zuar at its head. God fixed every detail, so why this place, this neighbour, this leader?
Nothing about the camp was left to the tribes' own preference:
The second chapter lays down the arrangement of the camp... The tabernacle has a central place, and all the tribes are arranged in relation to it... God insists always on His own order.
One writer traces the same order into the body of Christ:
Our God is a God of order... Jehovah Himself planned Israel's camp in the wilderness. He arranged the tribes around the tabernacle in four groups of three, each under its own standard (Num. 2). In the same way, God has placed every member in the body of Christ. He supplies each one from the infinite resources of the Head in heaven with all that is needed for the blessing and growth of the whole: "God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose" (1 Cor. 12:18).
Issachar camps next to Judah, so Judah's place shapes its own. One writer ties Judah's lead to his name and to praise:
But why is Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel in this way? His name and what we have seen of his history account for this... We have read his motto in the words of Jacob: the spirit of praise is the spirit of power. Judah is foremost here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat in a later day put his singers and trumpeters in the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down. (2 Chron. 20.)
The camp's east side is named twice over — eastward, and toward the sunrise. One writer says the two words pull in opposite directions:
They both speak of the east, where of course the sun rises. But the sunrise always carries the idea of joy and blessing that comes with the new day, while the other word suggests the opposite. That word is qedem, "what faces you" or "confronts you"... Judah's position, then, takes in two opposite things: the world as the place of hostile influence, and the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, which for us brings that influence to an end.
Issachar's name speaks of hire. The leader God gave this tribe answers that pull exactly:
Issachar's prince comes fourth in the list: Nathaniel, "the gift of God." The name fits him exactly. Issachar's name speaks of hire, and his tendency is to bend his shoulder to foreign yokes and pay his tribute out of love of ease... a true overcomer is this Nathaniel, who has learned that the "gift of God" cannot be purchased. Here too the family line shows plainly how grace is received: he is the son of Zuar, that is, "Little." The man who thinks of wages is bound to value himself too highly. The man who counts himself truly "little" is ready to appreciate the gift of God.
Another writer draws the same names into a lesson about faithfulness:
Linked with the spirit of praise is the sense of responsibility suggested by Issachar, "hire," reward for faithfulness. Yet his captain also shows what is to control the thought of reward. He is Nethaneel, "the gift of God," the son of Zuar, "little." There must always be the sense of our littleness, and the sense that the very grace that makes us faithful is God's gift.
None of this cancels reward; it purifies the motive behind it.
Yet there is a right thought of recompense — a reward of "mercy" (2 Tim. 1:18) that love insists on giving, and that is really only the gift of God. To the soul this can never become mere wages, the motive for service. The reason is that it is the reward of true devotedness alone, not of self-seeking. To work for the reward is to lose it.
Judah's lead keeps Issachar and its neighbour on course:
The one will not seek his own, nor the other stray off to the world, while Judah leads.
- Placed. Issachar did not pick its spot. God planned the camp around the tabernacle, and He insists on His own order.
- Led. Its place was next to Judah, whose motto is that the spirit of praise is the spirit of power. Praise in front wins the battle.
- Named. Issachar means hire, the instinct to serve for what can be got out of it.
- Given. Against that instinct God set Nethanel, "the gift of God," son of Zuar, "little." Grace comes to those who count themselves small.
- Rewarded. Reward remains real, but it is mercy and gift, never wages: work for it and you lose it.
and his host, even those that were numbered thereof, fifty-four thousand four hundred.
God gave Issachar his place in the camp. He was to pitch beside Judah on the east, and his company numbered 54,400. Two questions sit behind that number: why does this tribe stand where it stands, and why count it at all?
No tribe picked its own ground. One writer notes how far God's instruction reached:
Three tribes pitched their tents on each side of the tabernacle, and the group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march when they set out, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested. The arrangements were not left to their own choice or wishes. If they had disobeyed, thinking they knew a better order, they would only have produced disorder.
That assignment was also a recognition:
Each tribe had its own place and its own interest before the Lord. This is a picture of God's people: He acknowledges them, and He appoints each one a place in relation to His testimony.
Issachar camps on the east under Judah's standard. Two Hebrew words cover that direction:
The two expressions are in a sense in contrast. They both speak of the east, where the sun rises. But sunrise always carries the idea of joy and blessing with the returning day, while the other word suggests the opposite. That word is qedem, "what faces you" or "confronts you" — close to our word adversity, what comes toward you, only in a hostile way. So Judah's position looks at two opposite things: the world as the place of hostile influence, and the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, which for us brings that to an end. "The night is far gone; the day is at hand." Blessed be God, we who believe in Him are children of the day. So, says the apostle, "let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light."
Issachar does not march alone or first. The same writer looks at who leads him, and at what that prevents:
Issachar, with Zebulun, fights under Judah's banner, and his captain is Nethanel, "the gift of God." Both are clearly under the best of leadership. The one will not seek his own, nor the other stray off to the world, while Judah leads.
The names in this verse pull in two directions:
Along with the spirit of praise comes the sense of responsibility that Issachar suggests: "hire," reward for faithfulness. Yet his captain points to what must keep that thought of reward in check. He is Nethanel, "the gift of God," the son of Zuar, "little." We must always feel our own littleness, and know that the very grace that makes us faithful is God's gift. So Paul could say, "To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given."
One writer traces the yoke from slavery to willing service:
From Jacob's prophecy we see that Issachar stands for yoke-bearing. But there it is a slavery that speaks of indulging the flesh, and of the empty reward of sin's pleasure for a season. Here we are to think instead of deliverance by grace from that servitude. We come to the One whose loving voice calls us to hear Him and find true rest. So we come under His yoke and learn from Him. He is the gentle and humble One who stooped to bear our burden and carry our sorrows, even to death, the death of the cross. Then we enter a new service, set apart by the word of truth we have heard and received, and in this way we find the true reward. Issachar means, "There is reward."
This number is not the end of Issachar's story:
Issachar increased greatly, from 54,400 to 64,300. This may at least teach a most valuable lesson: someone who is not prominent in any public way may gain far more for the Lord than more prominent people do. The judgment seat of Christ will no doubt give us some sharp surprises along this line. Zebulun also showed an increase, from 57,400 to 60,500 — not as great as Issachar, but more than Judah.
- Placed — Issachar did not choose his ground. God set every tribe in its place, and a better idea of their own would only have made disorder.
- Led — Under Judah's banner, Issachar will not seek his own and Zebulun will not stray off to the world.
- Given — His captain is Nethanel, "the gift of God," son of Zuar, "little." Reward has its place, but the grace that makes us faithful is God's gift.
- Yoked — The old yoke was slavery. Grace frees us for a new service, learned from the One who carried our sorrows to the cross.
- Rewarded — The 54,400 counted here had grown to 64,300 by the second census. The least prominent may gain the most for the Lord.
[With them shall be] the tribe of Zebulun; and the prince of the sons of Zebulun shall be Eliab the son of Helon;
The verse names the last of the three tribes camped on the east side of the tabernacle, and the man set over it. Two questions sit behind that short line. Why does God record where each tribe camped? And why is a tribe named "dwelling" placed under the banner of praise?
Zebulun has no standard of its own. It joins the camp named after its leading tribe, and the arrangement is deliberate.
Judah is mentioned first, and his name fittingly means "praise." His tribe stood directly in front of the tabernacle, toward the east. The standard of Judah included two other tribes, Issachar and Zebulon (vv. 5-7), one camped on each side of Judah. All of this pictures how God keeps spiritual order in the church. It is not a precise physical order. It is an order that glorifies His name through the submissive obedience of His saints, united and devoted to His name.
The name goes back to Leah, and to what she said when she named him.
And now we come to Zebulon, whose meaning is plain from his name and from the way Leah uses it. She called him Zebulon (dwelling), saying, "This time my husband will dwell with me." The spiritual thought tied to Zebulon is dwelling in the relationship God has given us to Himself. That is the only true idea of consecration.
Judah, whose name means praise, leads this camp. Zebulun comes third, and its place names what keeps that praise alive.
In the same way Zebulon, "dwelling," speaks of abiding communion with God. That communion must be there if the spirit of true praise is to continue, and if the sense of responsibility is to keep its rightful place. His captain is Eliab, "God is Father," the son of Helon, "the mighty one." That name speaks of the Spirit of adoption, which is both the power and the pledge of an abiding communion. "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty."
Elsewhere in Scripture Zebulun looks less happy. The tribe lies by the sea, close to the nations around it. Against that background the leader's name stands out.
Listed next is the prince of Zebulon, who was Eliab, his name meaning "God is a Father." In Genesis 49:13 Zebulon pictures Israel living close to the Gentiles, a haven for ships, and so compromising her proper separation to God. In beautiful contrast, the words "God is a Father" remind us of 2 Corinthians 6:14-18. There believers are called to come out from unholy associations. In doing so they have God's own assurance: "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me." Such godly separation from evil is another thing required if we are to be "good soldiers of Jesus Christ." Eliab was the son of Helon, but the meaning of that name is so doubtful that we cannot be certain of its significance.
Commentators differ on Helon. Ridout takes it as "the mighty one"; Grant finds the meaning too doubtful to build on.
The warning is not for ancient Israel alone. One writer names what such mixing costs God's people.
God is the Father of His believing people. But if they mix with the world and forget whose they are, they force Him, as it were, to forget their special relationship to Himself. He cannot be to them a Father as He would. How terrible this loss is, and how little many think of it! And how powerfully Zebulon's captain speaks to us in this way — Eliab, "God is a Father!"
With Zebulun named, Judah's camp is complete. One writer draws its three tribes into a single picture.
Taken as a whole, then, the camp of Judah expresses the spirit of righteousness. The standard under which Judah gathers is that of righteousness. It is a spirit to which God's statutes are songs, and so it is free from legality. And it keeps the enjoyment of relationship to God as Father, where Issachar and Zebulon give the complementary thoughts.
- Placed — Zebulun gets no banner of its own. It stands beside Judah, in an order that honours God through the submissive obedience of His people.
- Dwelling — The name means dwelling. It comes from Leah's words when she named him, and it stands for staying in the relationship God has given us to Himself.
- Sustaining — Abiding communion keeps praise going and keeps responsibility in its place. So Zebulun completes what Judah begins.
- Fathered — Eliab means "God is a Father." The name is the pledge of that communion, and it points to God's promise to those who come out from unholy ties.
- Forfeited — Mixing with the world does not end the relationship. It dims it, so that God cannot be a Father to His people as He would.
and his host, even those that were numbered thereof, fifty-seven thousand four hundred.
This verse closes the east side of the camp: Zebulun, last of the three tribes under Judah's standard, 57,400 men strong. The count looks like a bare statistic, yet it belongs to a larger picture: God numbered every man and gave every tribe its place.
Nobody in Israel picked his own spot. His family line and his post both came from God, and that left no ground for rivalry.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together; that is how they made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare. Each had his family line, and each had his post, and neither was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy between them. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Zebulun camped on the east side, and two different words lie behind that direction.
The camp of Judah stood in the front, toward the east. There are two words for the east — "that which opposes," and "sun-rising." They picture what meets us on our wilderness journey: the opposition in the world, and the blessed hope of the coming day of the morning without clouds.
Zebulun's 57,400 did not lead the east camp; they marched behind Judah. One writer asks why Judah goes first, and answers from a later battle.
But why is Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel in this way? His name and what we have seen of his history account for this… We have also read his motto in the words of Jacob: "The spirit of praise is the spirit of power." Judah is foremost here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat later put his singers and trumpeters at the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down.
Zebulun and Issachar both march under that banner, and Judah's lead keeps each from a different wrong turn.
Issachar, with Zebulun, fights under Judah's banner… It is plain that they are both under the best of leadership. The one will not seek his own, nor the other stray off to the world, while Judah leads.
Praise at the front needs something steady behind it. One writer finds it in the meaning of Zebulun's own name.
In the same way, Zebulun, "dwelling," speaks of abiding communion with God. That communion must be present if the spirit of true praise is to continue and the sense of responsibility is to stay in its rightful place. His captain, Eliab, "God is Father," the son of Helon, "the mighty one," speaks of that Spirit of adoption. That Spirit is at once the power and the pledge of an abiding communion. "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty."
Zebulun's picture in Genesis has a shadow in it. One writer sets that shadow against the name of Zebulun's prince, Eliab, "God is a Father."
In Genesis 49:13 Zebulun pictures Israel living close to the Gentiles. The tribe is a haven for ships, and so compromises her proper separation to God. In beautiful contrast to this, the expression "God is a Father" reminds us of 2 Corinthians 6:14-18. There God calls believers to come out from unholy associations. In doing so they have His promise: "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me."
Commentators differ on the name Helon. Ridout takes it as "the mighty one." Leslie Grant says the meaning is too doubtful to build on.
The camp had four standards. One writer asks what that arrangement means for God's people now.
The Lord arranged the camp, with Judah facing towards the sunrise. This points to the promised goal. It also reminds us of the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, the coming of the Lord, when the wanderings of His people will end. And the Lord was in the midst of His people to guide and protect them, to supply their needs. He is still the same. His New Testament people are also put in order by Him, and He is in the midst. However, His people do not gather around different standards. There is only One, and that is Christ.
- Counted — God numbered Zebulun's 57,400. Each man's family line and post came from Him, not from his own choosing.
- Placed — the east camp faced the opposition ahead and the sunrise at once. One place held both the conflict and the hope.
- Led — praise went first. Judah at the head kept Zebulun from straying off to the world.
- Dwelling — Zebulun's name speaks of abiding communion with God. His captain Eliab, "God is Father," speaks of the adoption behind it.
- Gathered — four standards stood in the camp. God's people now have one standard, Christ, with the Lord Himself in the midst.
All that were numbered of the camp of Judah were a hundred and eighty-six thousand four hundred, according to their hosts. They shall set forth first.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The standard of the camp of Reuben shall be southward according to their hosts; and the prince of the sons of Reuben shall be Elizur the son of Shedeur;
The south side of the camp belongs to Reuben, Jacob's oldest son, and Elizur the son of Shedeur leads it. Two questions follow. Why does the firstborn camp second? And why does a man named "God is a rock" lead the tribe of one whom Scripture calls "unstable as water"?
Nobody in the camp chose his own position. God gave each man his place, and that left nothing to compete over.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together; so progress was made, work done and warfare carried on... Each had his family line, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts. All was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy of one another. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Losing the first place did not leave Reuben without honour.
The next camp is that of Reuben, in which the rejected firstborn humbly takes the second place... His place is on the south. The south literally means "the right hand," the place of power and dignity, though held in dependence. How completely this marks the position of Reuben — again the child's place (Reuben means "see, a son!").
Reuben's loss was his own doing, and it pictures something bigger than one man.
Reuben was Jacob's firstborn. He pictured Jacob's might and strength, first in dignity and power. But he failed badly in self-control, and so he lost all claim to the rights of the firstborn. He stands for the boasted strength of man in the flesh. In the end that strength turns out to be pathetic weakness, as it did with King Saul... The flesh is as unstable and uncontrolled as the water of the seas.
The two names over this camp answer the tribe's weakness point by point.
Elizur means "God is a Rock." What a contrast to his father Reuben, of whom we read, "Unstable as water, you shall not have preeminence" (Gen. 49:4). Reuben in the flesh was utter weakness, just as the flesh proves in all of us. But the strength and stability of God is the portion of the new nature. That is what all believers are "in Christ Jesus." Shedeur means "the Almighty is fire," which adds the thought of God's consuming holiness judging the flesh and all its works. We cannot truly know the strength and steadying energy of God unless we "share His holiness," of which the fire speaks — holiness which must judge Reuben's sin.
Note: the older translation reads "you shall not excel"; the ESV has "you shall not have preeminence."
Reuben's honoured place carries a danger with it.
But he needs this place, for the influences of the south are relaxing ones. How good that he has to lean only on Another — that the place of his strength is beyond the reach of any possible attack! The power of faith shows itself most clearly when it resists the relaxing influences of what men count prosperity... Though the influences of the south are pleasant for a season, they end in fierce, furnace heat. Before it the fruits of the earth dry up and perish. How many have found the hot breath of worldly prosperity to be the destruction of spiritual fruit!
Verse 10 opens a group of three tribes.
The tribe of Reuben was in the middle on the south side. The tribes of Simeon and Gad camped on either side under his standard (vv. 10-16). The three tribes together numbered 151,450 men. These under Reuben's standard followed those under Judah's standard when they broke camp.
Those neighbours were not random. Commentators read the grouping as a single lesson carried by three related names.
Simeon too has learned dependence on the God who hears prayer, and has the peace of a mind conformed to God's... If Reuben's prince is Elizur ("God is a rock"), the father of Simeon's prince is Zurishaddai — "my rock is the Almighty." So they are well suited companions... Gad is in the same line of dependence, with his captain Eliasaph — "God has added" — growth through faith. So Reuben's camp is finished and furnished. On his standard we may read "faith."
- Assigned, not chosen. Position and family line both came from God. That left no room for comparison or jealousy.
- Deposed, not discarded. The rejected firstborn takes second place. Yet the south is "the right hand" — dignity held in dependence.
- Rock against water. Reuben was unstable as water. His captain's name, Elizur, confessed that God is a rock.
- Fire behind the rock. Shedeur, "the Almighty is fire," teaches that only those who share His holiness know the strength of God.
- Faith on the standard. Simeon and Gad name the same rock. So the whole south side marches under one lesson: strength borrowed from God, tested by easy times.
and his host, even those that were numbered thereof, forty-six thousand five hundred.
This verse is just a number: 46,500 fighting men counted in the camp of Reuben. Why does God count His people and write down the totals? And what does Reuben's place on the south side say about a tribe that had lost the leadership?
The totals in these chapters repeat again and again. One writer reads the count as God's claim on a people who are His own:
They open with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and Moses does it with great exactness and care. The number of each tribe, except Levi, appears again and again in Numbers 1 and Numbers 2... This showed His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their total. Scripture says the same of His right over another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That shows His sovereignty over the heavenly hosts (Psalm 147:4).
The 46,500 were not the whole tribe. They were the men who qualified for the muster, and qualifying meant proving who you were:
Those to be counted were "all from twenty years old and upward, all who are able to go to war in Israel." They had to state their family line, family by family, and only those who could do that had a place in this count and could be warriors. They had to show their family line because a mixed crowd of outsiders had joined the people of God... So only those who could show their rightful place among the people of God had a place in the count and could go to war. Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual war, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his tricks and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Reuben leads the second camp, not the first, though the leadership had once been his. One commentator sees his dignity restored on another footing:
Reuben — "See, a Son" — leads the camp stationed on the south, "the right hand." He was displaced from the leadership because he was unstable (see Gen. 49:4). Yet here he keeps the place of dignity and responsibility, held not by a strength of his own, which fails, but by divine stability through true sonship.
Reuben's 46,500 was one part of a larger group, and that group had a fixed turn on the march:
The tribe of Reuben was in the middle on the south side, and under his standard were also the tribes of Simeon and Gad on either side (vs. 10-16). The total number of men in the three tribes was 151,450. These under Reuben's standard followed those under Judah's standard when they broke camp.
Each man also had to know his standard — the banner of his own tribe. Both things went together, and neither was his own choice:
If a man did not know his family line, he could not recognise his standard, and everything would have fallen into hopeless confusion. Instead of keeping rank and making steady progress, they would have been in each other's way, treading on one another. Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it... Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of them came from their own choice; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Forty years later the same tribe was counted again, and the number had gone down:
At the Exodus the tribe numbered 46,500 men fit to go to war; and at the close of the wanderings they had decreased to 43,730.
Commentators differ on the cause. Some link the drop to the rebellion of Dathan and Abiram, two Reubenites; another draws a wider moral:
In the drop in his numbers — from 46,500 at the beginning to 43,730 at the close — we may learn what we lose in our lives through self-confident reasoning and empty claims.
- Counted — God had each tribe counted because the people were His own. Counting is what an owner does. The same God numbers and names the stars.
- Qualified — the 46,500 were men over twenty who could go to war. Only those who could prove their family line took a place in the ranks. The birth that gives a place among God's people now is the new birth.
- Placed — Reuben lost the leadership, yet still holds a place of dignity. He leads the southern camp with Simeon and Gad, 151,450 men, marching second behind Judah.
- Ranked — family line and standard belonged together, and God gave both. That left no room for confusion, comparison or jealousy.
- Diminished — by the end Reuben had fallen to 43,730. One writer reads that loss as the cost of self-confident reasoning.
And those that encamp by him shall be the tribe of Simeon; and the prince of the sons of Simeon shall be Shelumiel the son of Zurishaddai;
Numbers 2:12 gives Simeon a fixed address in the wilderness: beside Reuben, on the south side of the tabernacle. Two questions follow. Why does God assign each tribe a place? And why does a tribe with Simeon's record get a prince whose name means "at peace with God"?
Nothing about where Simeon stood was left to Simeon. The whole layout came from God, and commentators see the same principle running into the church, where believers are described as members of one body.
Our God is a God of order. Jehovah Himself planned Israel's camp in the wilderness. The tribes camped around the Tabernacle in four groups of three, each under its own standard (Num. 2). In the same way, God has placed every member in the body of Christ. From the endless resources of the Head in heaven, He supplies each one with all that is needed for the blessing and growth of the whole: "God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as He chose" (1 Cor. 12:18).
Simeon does not head a camp. He stands beside Reuben, with Gad on the other side, and the three move out together as the second company.
Reuben — "See, a Son" — leads the camp stationed on the south, "the right hand." He had been displaced from the leadership because of his instability (see Gen. 49:4). Yet here his place of dignity and responsibility is beautifully kept — not by an energy of the flesh that fails, but by divine stability through true sonship. With Reuben are Simeon, "obedience," and Gad, "increase." Simeon's prince Shelumiel, "at peace with God," the son of Zurishaddai, "my rock is the Almighty," emphasises the same truth. So the camp on the south, which sets out second, is established. It supplies stability and the assurance of increase, joined to the spirit of obedience.
Commentators differ on Simeon's own name: some read it as "obedience," others as "hearing."
The prince's name cuts against his tribe's past.
His paths had not been peace, nor with Him who is "the God of peace." So Simeon could not know peace with God — the deep, sweet rest of a mind shaped to His mind. Now with the Simeonite prince all this is changed. As to Simeon's special evil he too is an overcomer, and his also is the victory of faith. There is no evil which faith cannot overcome, because He to whom faith links itself is the Almighty.
The change had to come from outside Simeon, and the same is true of anyone reading the verse today.
Only the grace of God could make any difference in this dreadful case. Is the flesh in us any better than in Simeon and Levi? Not at all: "the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God" (Rom. 8:7). Yet God has in pure grace reconciled all believers to Himself (2 Cor. 5:18), and we "have peace with God," as Romans 5:1 declares.
The verse names the prince's father too: Zurishaddai. That name says what the peace stands on.
Shelumiel was the son of Zurishaddai, meaning "My rock is the Almighty." This reminds us that peace with God depends on the stability of God Himself, the Almighty. And in this case He is not only the Rock, but "my rock." How good it is for us if we take this living truth as our own! This is a wonderful support in warfare.
Jacob had sentenced Simeon and Levi to be divided and scattered.
Notice how the thought of agreement — confederacy — runs through what Jacob says. Their doom is to be disunited, "divided," "scattered"; and that doom, as with Reuben, works for blessing. To be brought into loneliness, individuality, weakness would be both the rebuke and the cure for that "strength" which comes of "union," and which shows itself again and again in deeds of violence. The doom is here the remedy. It brings Simeon and Levi back to the true meaning of their names: Simeon — "hearing," to find the answer God gives to human prayer; and Levi — "joined," to own only the ties that have divine origin and sanction.
- Placed — Simeon did not pick his ground. God designed the camp around the tabernacle, and the same God still sets each member in the body as He chooses.
- Pardoned — the tribe marked by violence is led by "at peace with God," a name only grace could hang over Simeon's tent.
- Rooted — that peace is the son of Zurishaddai: it stands on the Almighty as "my rock," not on the tribe's improvement.
- Supported — a rock you can call "my rock" is what carries a fighting man through the desert.
- Restored — the scattering Jacob pronounced was a cure. It drove Simeon back to the meaning of his own name: the God who hears prayer.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, fifty-nine thousand three hundred.
Numbers 2:13 gives Simeon's fighting strength: 59,300 men, camped second on the south side under Reuben's standard. Behind that plain number lie three questions: why God counted His people, why Simeon stood here, and what became of this total later.
No Israelite picked his own spot. Each man had a pedigree — his family line — and a standard, the banner his group camped under. Commentators find one lesson in the pair: know who you are, and know where you belong.
If a man did not know his pedigree, he could not recognise his standard. Everything would have fallen into hopeless confusion. Instead of keeping rank and moving steadily forward, they would have been in each other's way, treading on one another. Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it... Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. No one needed to compare himself with another. No one had any ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
A number like 59,300 can look like bare statistics. Commentators compare two counts of Israel, taken from two very different motives.
In David's time he decided to number the people out of pride in reigning over a great nation, and 70,000 people died as a result. But God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered. There would be an upper age limit too, for this involved only men fit for military service. Today all of His saints are fitted for spiritual warfare, women and young and old too, though some are less active than others because of age. Yet the lesson is clear for us too: to take part in real conflict we need maturity, or full age. That comes through knowing and growing in the word of God.
Reuben's standard leads the south side, and Simeon camps under it. Commentators read the south as the direction of warmth and ease.
Reuben needs this place, for the influences of the south are relaxing ones... It is in resisting the relaxing influences of what men count prosperity that the power of faith is most clearly shown. Moses is a beautiful example. When he was grown up, he "refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin." ... How many have found the hot breath of worldly prosperity to be the destruction of spiritual fruit!
Commentators also hear the names of this camp's leaders echoing one another:
Simeon too has learned dependence on the prayer-hearing God, and has the peace of a mind conformed to God's. Reuben's prince is Elizur, which means "God is a rock." The father of Simeon's prince is Zurishaddai — "my rock is the Almighty." So they are well-suited companions. But the communion that Simeon stands for must follow Reuben's lead: a will that clings to God and submits to Him. Only then can it stand the desert warfare.
Simeon's prince is named in the verse just before: Shelumiel. His name cuts against his tribe's history.
The prince of Simeon was Shelumiel, meaning "at peace with God." This is a striking contrast to Simeon's own character. His father Jacob describes it in Genesis 49:5-7: together with Levi, Simeon was guilty of cruel, vicious hatred in the murder of the men of Shechem. Only the grace of God could make any difference in such an atrocious case. Is the flesh in us any better than in Simeon and Levi? Not at all... Yet God has in pure grace reconciled all believers to Himself, and we "have peace with God," as Romans 5:1 declares.
Commentators trace the loss that followed to one leader from this tribe.
The tribe of Simeon fell sharply in numbers during the wilderness journey, from 59,300 to 22,200. What is the reason for this? Likely it is seen in Numbers 25:14. Zimri was a leader of a father's house among the Simeonites. He became a leader in the corrupting mixture of Israel with the Midianites. How true it is that even rebellion — as seen in Reuben, with Dathan and Abiram — does not damage the people of God as badly as being yoked together with unbelievers... Too often we do not suspect the harm in unholy associations until we are trapped by them.
- Counted. God takes a vital interest in each of His people. David counted for pride, and 70,000 died.
- Placed. No one chose his own ground. God gave the pedigree and the standard, so no tribe had reason for jealousy.
- Posted. Simeon camps on the south, where the pull is prosperity. Faith shows its power by resisting comfort.
- Paired. Simeon camps under Reuben and leans on the same rock — "my rock is the Almighty," the name of his prince's father.
- Lost. By the second census these 59,300 had fallen to 22,200. Commentators blame mixing with the Midianites: what open rebellion did not do, bad company did.
And [with them shall be] the tribe of Gad; and the prince of the sons of Gad shall be Eliasaph the son of Reuel;
Numbers 2 gives every tribe its place around the tent of meeting. Verse 14 names the last tribe of the southern camp, with its leader and his father. Three questions follow: why Gad camps where he does, what the names mean, and what God teaches by recording them.
Gad does not camp alone. He is one of three tribes gathered under one banner, and God sets his place beside the leading tribe of that group.
Reuben's tribe was in the middle on the south side. The tribes of Simeon and Gad camped on either side of him, under his standard (vs. 10-16). The three tribes had 151,450 men in all. When they broke camp, those under Reuben's standard followed those under Judah's standard.
No tribe picked its own spot, and no family either:
The second chapter sets out the arrangement of the camp, and here another important principle comes before us. The tabernacle has the central place, and all the tribes are positioned in relation to it. "The people of Israel shall camp each by his own standard, with the banners of their fathers' houses."… God always insists on His own order.
The same care that placed Gad beside Reuben shows in how God places His people now.
Our God is a God of order… The Lord Himself planned Israel's camp in the wilderness. He arranged the tribes around the tabernacle in four groups of three, each under its own standard (Num. 2). In the same way, God has placed every member in the body of Christ. He has supplied each one from the endless resources of the Head in heaven with everything needed for the blessing and growth of the whole: "God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as He chose" (1 Cor. 12:18).
The name carries two ideas at once:
Gad lies next to Reuben. Gad is the picture of spiritual increase, and of a fighting condition too. Leah's cry holds both ideas: "A troop is coming." In a world like this, spiritual increase can hardly come without conflict. In David's time we find the men of Gad standing out as warriors. (1 Chron. 12:8-14.)
Older translations read "a troop" in Genesis 30:11 and 49:19; the ESV has "Good fortune has come!" and "Raiders shall raid Gad." Jacob's dying words over Gad set the pattern: first loss, then victory.
It goes on: "Gad, a troop, shall overcome him, but he shall overcome at the last." That is the unavoidable character of the new order of things — conflict, defeat at first, but victory in the end. So Christ says, "The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with Me on My throne, as I also conquered and sat down with My Father on His throne."
The leader named here has a name that answers how a tribe called "increase" ever grows.
Eliasaph, meaning "God has added," was the prince of Gad… Genesis 49:19 is a prophecy of recovery and triumph, so Eliasaph's name shows that the triumph will come through God's giving the increase. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." The sense that God knows us leads to spiritual increase in daily life. This is also connected with preparation for conflict. But God is the source of it all.
This verse spells the father's name Reuel. Numbers 1:14 and other places spell it Deuel. Two Hebrew letters explain the difference:
Father of Eliasaph, 'prince' of Gad. Num. 1:14; Num. 7:42, 47; Num. 10:20. In Num. 2:14 he is called REUEL. This is clearly a case where the letter ד (D) has been mistaken for the letter ר (R).
Being known by God means more than God knowing all things:
How good a thing it is to be known by God! This does not simply mean the knowledge God has of everything. It means the knowledge we have of someone we are close to, and it implies approval. This is the real secret of the spiritual increase that Eliasaph's name speaks of… Do we need to be told that increase should be looked for in a child of God? Or how sad a proof it is of a lack of closeness with God when it is missing? Yet some are so stagnant that they seem to have no thought of it. If they are safe, that is enough for them. They do not "grow in grace"; they remain babies.
- Known — the father's name means "known of God." That closeness carries God's approval, and this verse begins there.
- Added — next comes the son's name, "God has added." The growth is a gift, not an achievement.
- Increase — "Gad" means both a troop and increase. Growth like that seldom comes without conflict.
- Placed — God set Gad beside Reuben on the south side. The same hand places every member in the body of Christ.
- Overcome — Jacob's prophecy over Gad runs from defeat to victory at the last. Christ promises the same to the one who conquers.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, forty-five thousand six hundred and fifty.
Numbers 2:15 closes the roll of the southern camp: 45,650 fighting men from Gad, led by Eliasaph, camped beside Reuben and Simeon. One total in a long list raises real questions — why God counts at all, why Gad stands here, and what the number was for.
Gad is the third tribe in the camp on the south side. One writer adds up that camp as it sets out:
Behind them you would see the standard of the camp of Reuben, setting out according to their companies. The company of the tribe of Simeon joined Reuben, and so did that of the tribe of Gad. Together they numbered 151,450 men who could go out to war.
These repeated totals are not bookkeeping. They rest on a claim about who Israel belongs to:
These chapters open with His command to Moses to take the number of the tribes. Moses does this with great exactness and care… This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4)
Gad's leader is Eliasaph. His name, and his father's, explain where a number like 45,650 comes from:
Eliasaph, meaning "God has added," was the prince of Gad. Genesis 49:19 says, "Gad, a troop shall tramp upon him, but he shall triumph at last." This is a prophecy of recovery and triumph. So Eliasaph's name shows that God brings the triumph by giving the increase. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." Knowing that God knows us leads to spiritual increase in practical life. This too has to do with preparing for conflict. But God is the source of all.
(The writer uses an older translation here. The ESV reads: "Raiders shall raid Gad, but he shall raid at their heels.")
Gad stands for two things at once:
Gad is the picture of spiritual increase, and of a fighting condition too… Spiritual increase can hardly happen without conflict in a world like this. In David's time we find the men of Gad outstanding as warriors. (1 Chron. 12:8-14)
Every figure in the chapter counts men fit to fight, and each man had to prove he belonged:
Those to be numbered were "all in Israel from twenty years old and upward who are able to go to war." They had to declare their ancestry by their families. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster and could be warriors… Our ancestry, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare. It is not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his schemes and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
Gad camps on the south side. One writer reads the south as a picture of ease and prosperity:
The influences of the south are relaxing ones… Faith shows its power most clearly when it resists the relaxing influences of what people count prosperity… The influences of the south are pleasant for a time. But they end in fierce, furnace heat, and that heat dries up the fruits of the earth and they perish. How many have found the hot breath of worldly prosperity to be the destruction of spiritual fruit!
- Known — God counts Israel because Israel is His. The exact figure 45,650 is a claim of ownership, like His naming of every star.
- Added — Eliasaph means "God has added," so the number is not Gad's achievement but God's gift of increase.
- Growing — increase and conflict travel together. Gad pictures both, and his descendants became noted fighters.
- Armed — everyone counted was of age, of proven descent, and fit to fight. Our descent now is the new birth, and our war is a spiritual one.
- Placed — Gad camps on the south, the side of relaxing ease. There faith must resist prosperity, not hardship.
All that were numbered of the camp of Reuben were a hundred and fifty-one thousand four hundred and fifty, according to their hosts. And they shall set forth second.
Israel camped and marched under standards, each tribe in a place God assigned. This verse totals the camp led by Reuben and sets it second in the march — an odd spot for the tribe of Jacob's firstborn.
Reuben did not camp alone, and he did not march first.
The tribe of Reuben was in the middle on the south side, and under his standard were also the tribes of Simeon and Gad on either side (vs.10-16), the total number of men in the three tribes 151,450. These under Reuben's standard followed those under Judah's standard when they broke camp.
Reuben was Jacob's firstborn, yet he moves second. Commentators find no loss of dignity in that lower place.
The next camp is Reuben's, where the rejected firstborn humbly takes the second place. The will of man is now brought under. It shows itself in him as a dependent holding fast to God, and that is true "strength" and stability. "God is a rock" — the meaning of the name Elizur — is the principle that now leads him on in victory. His place is on the south, which literally means "the right hand." That is the place of power and dignity, yet held in dependence. How completely this marks Reuben's position: again the child's place (Reuben means "see, a son!").
The names of Reuben's neighbours and their leaders carry meanings of their own.
Reuben keeps his place of dignity and responsibility here, not by a strength of his own, which fails, but by the stability God gives through true sonship... With Reuben are Simeon, "obedience," whose prince Shelumiel means "at peace with God," son of Zurishaddai, "my rock is the Almighty," and he stresses the same truth; and Gad, "increase," whose captain Eliasaph means "God has added," son of Reuel, "known of God," and he shows the principle of true increase... So the camp on the south, which sets out second, is settled. It supplies stability and the assurance of increase, joined to the spirit of obedience.
The south brought its own danger, and it was a soft one.
But he needs this place, for the influences of the south are relaxing ones. How good that he has only Another to lean on! How good that the place of his strength is beyond the reach of any attack! Faith shows its power most plainly when it resists the relaxing pull of what men count as prosperity. What a beautiful example Moses is! When he was grown up, he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt... How many have found that the hot breath of worldly prosperity destroys spiritual fruit!
The column held together because each tribe kept the place given it.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay with it. So they moved on together; so they made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare... Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of them was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
God's care for order did not stay in the wilderness.
But this shows the care of God in providing the best order possible. In the Church of God today He surely uses no less wisdom in providing a spiritual order that will glorify His name, and He expects His people to honour that order when the assembly gathers, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 shows: "But all things should be done decently and in order."
- Counted — 151,450 covers Reuben, Simeon and Gad: Reuben in the middle of the south side, the other two on either hand.
- Placed — God gave the family line and God assigned the standard. No one had ground to compare or to envy.
- Second — The firstborn who lost the lead takes second place humbly. He still holds a place of dignity, kept by dependence on God, not by strength of his own.
- Tested — The south stands for the softening pull of prosperity. Faith shows its power most plainly by resisting it.
- Moving — The same God who ordered a marching nation still orders His people, so all things should be done decently and in order.
And the tent of meeting shall set forth, the camp of the Levites in the midst of the camps; as they encamp, so shall they set forth, every man in his place, according to their standards.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The standard of the camp of Ephraim according to their hosts shall be westward; and the prince of the sons of Ephraim shall be Elishama the son of Ammihud;
Numbers 2:18 puts Ephraim's banner on the west side of the tabernacle, under Elishama the son of Ammihud. It reads like camp paperwork. Yet the writers find in it a picture of fruitfulness — where it stands next to God's dwelling, and who leads it.
Ephraim's camp stood on the side closest to the holy place. One commentator ties that to a line in Psalm 80 about God shining out.
The tribe of Levi had been separated from the rest. Even so, the splitting of Joseph's tribe into two kept the number at twelve. So three tribes pitched their tents on each side of the tabernacle. The group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. The one under Ephraim was on the west side, and so nearest to the holy place with the cloud of the Divine Presence. This explains the reference in Psalm 80 to God shining out "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh."
Scripture names the standard but never describes it. One source passes on a Jewish tradition about the four banners.
Scripture does not state the form of the standards and ensigns. The Rabbis say that Judah's standard looked like a lion (compare Genesis 49:9; Revelation 5:5). Reuben's was a man. Ephraim's was an ox (compare Deuteronomy 33:17). Dan's was an eagle. If that is so, the same figures appear in the faces of the living creatures in Ezekiel 1:10 and in Revelation 4:4-7. For the Christian, CHRIST is the only standard, and His banner is LOVE.
Ephraim camps with Manasseh and Benjamin, all descendants of Rachel. One writer reads the direction, the tribe names and the leaders' names together.
Westward stand Ephraim, Manasseh and Benjamin, the children of Rachel. The west, the opposite of the east, is "toward the sea," the place of storm, but also of refreshing showers from it. Here Ephraim, "fruitfulness," has his place. His captain marks it out: Elishama, "God has heard," the son of Ammihud, "the people of majesty." Fruitfulness comes from God. Manasseh means "forgetting." His prince is Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," the son of Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed." These names urge us to forget the things that are behind, and to seek our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us.
The pairing of Ephraim with Elishama is not treated as accidental. Fruit can be dangerous to the person carrying it.
Joseph claims his double portion in his two sons. Of these, Ephraim comes first, because Jacob's prophetic word gave this place to the younger born. Ephraim's prince is Elishama, "God has heard." The "fruitfulness" that Ephraim's own name speaks of may be a snare to us. It becomes one when we fail to credit it, with reverence, to the One who hears His people's prayer. The second name, Ammihud, means "the people of Majesty." It may hint at a conscious relationship with the infinite Greatness. That relationship gives successful prayer both its ground and its drive. All these names breathe a spirit of dependence and nearness — of lowliness, yet of closeness. The two always go together.
Another writer counts the three western tribes and sets them in the line of march.
The armies of these three totalled 108,100. These followed the Levites when travelling.
Each man's standard told him his post. One writer shows how that produced order without sameness.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together. That is how they made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare. The man of Benjamin had his post, and the man of Ephraim had his. Neither was to interfere with the other, or cross his path... Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
A name can outlast the thing it describes. Ephraim's later numbers tell a sad story.
Ephraim's name means "fruitfulness." Yet Ephraim stands in sad contrast to Manasseh, for this tribe fell from 40,500 to 32,500. The lesson may be this: if we depend on our reputation for bearing fruit, the fruit itself will shrink badly, because self has become our object instead of Christ. Self-satisfaction is one of the most damaging attitudes we can adopt.
- Place. Ephraim camped on the west, nearest the holy place. The presence at the centre fixed his position.
- Name. Ephraim means fruitfulness. His place is "toward the sea" — the side of storms and of refreshing showers alike.
- Source. His captain is Elishama, "God has heard," son of Ammihud, "the people of majesty." Fruit comes from the God who answers prayer.
- Order. 108,100 men marched behind the Levites under one banner. Each man knew his own standard, so variety never became confusion.
- Warning. A fruitful name still has to be lived out. Ephraim later shrank, which shows what happens when reputation replaces Christ as our object.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, forty thousand five hundred.
The number here, 40,500, is Ephraim's fighting strength. Ephraim's standard gathered the west side of Israel's camp. A bare total raises two questions. Why does God count His people at all? And why does He decide where each tribe camps, instead of leaving it to Israel?
Ephraim's 40,500 is part of a larger sum. Three tribes camped and marched under one standard:
The standard of the camp of Ephraim was on the west side, and with Ephraim were Manasseh and Benjamin (verses 18-23). The armies of these three totalled 108,100. These followed the Levites in travelling.
Another writer sets Ephraim in the marching column, where the two largest groups took the two ends:
The next standard to appear was Ephraim's, joined by the tribes of Manasseh and Benjamin — 108,100 men able for war in all. Behind them came the rear guard: the standard of the camp of Dan, with the armies of Asher and Naphtali... The rear guard amounted to 157,600 fighting men. So of the two largest hosts, one led the way and the other brought up the rear.
This count is not statistics for its own sake. It is God taking stock of what belongs to Him:
He was careful to assert His title this way, and to survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and He knew their numbers.
Another writer looks at the census as a whole and finds the same care behind it:
God's wisdom required that the children of Israel be counted. In the early chapters the main purpose set before us is a count of the males who were fit for war. But we shall find that the numbering goes beyond this. There are other concerns and aims here than war and warlike purposes. In short, whatever the particular aim might be in various parts of the book, God impresses this upon us — the care and the interest that He takes in everyone who belongs to Him. It is a very simple truth, but certainly full of comfort to the soul.
The names in this camp carry meaning. Writers read the west side as a picture of spiritual increase:
Westward, Ephraim, accompanied by Manasseh and Benjamin, the children of Rachel, are grouped... Here Ephraim, "fruitfulness," has his place. His character shows in his captain, Elishama, "God has heard," the son of Ammihud, "the people of majesty" — fruitfulness comes from God. Manasseh means "forgetting." His prince is Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," the son of Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed." Manasseh encourages us to forget the things that are behind and to seek our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us... This is the true spirit of fruitfulness, which can gather material for spiritual increase out of the very trials of the way.
The west side was not a random allotment. It put these three tribes nearest the holy place, and a psalm later looks back to that:
The tribe of Levi had been set apart from the rest. But the split of the tribe of Joseph into two kept the number at twelve. So three tribes pitched their tents on each side of the tabernacle. The group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. The group under Ephraim was on the west side. So it was nearest to the holy place with the cloud of the Divine Presence. This explains the reference in Psalm 80 to God shining out "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh."
God gave each man his family line and his post, so no one had grounds to envy another:
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together; so they made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his. Neither was to interfere with the other or cross the other's path... Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of them came from their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
- Counted. The exact figure is God surveying what is His own; He knew their names as well as their numbers.
- Placed. Counting leads straight to placing. Ephraim heads the west side with Manasseh and Benjamin — 108,100 men in all.
- Fruitful. Ephraim means fruitfulness. The names around him point to its source: fruitfulness comes from God, drawn even out of the trials of the way.
- Near. The west camp lay closest to the holy place, the side Psalm 80 names when it speaks of God shining out.
- Content. No tribe picked its own spot; God gave each its post, so there was no room for jealousy and work enough for all.
And by him shall be the tribe of Manasseh; and the prince of the sons of Manasseh shall be Gamaliel the son of Pedahzur;
Numbers 2 gives every tribe a fixed place around the tabernacle, and verse 20 puts Manasseh on the west side beside Ephraim. Why does the older brother camp beside the younger, and why does God record a prince's name at all?
Manasseh camps on the west side, in one of four groups of three tribes. One writer explains what that side of the square meant:
The tribe of Levi had been separated from the rest. But the tribe of Joseph was divided into two, and that kept their number at twelve. So on each side of the tabernacle three tribes pitched their tents. The group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. The group under Ephraim was on the west side. That put it nearest to the holy place, with the cloud of the Divine Presence. This explains the reference in Psalm 80 to God shining out "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh."
In every other group the younger tribe follows the elder. Manasseh is the single exception, and the reason goes back to Jacob's blessing:
In the grouping of the tribes into four great camps we may observe a plan. The four leaders were Judah, Reuben, Ephraim, and Dan. The tribes attached to each moved after their standards, and in each case, except Manasseh, the younger followed the elder. No one could justly complain about this one exception. Jacob had settled that Ephraim came before Manasseh when he blessed them, guiding his hands on purpose, as we read.
Commentators read that crossing of hands as a statement about how God gives blessing:
When we come to Jacob's sons, we find Reuben, the eldest, set aside. Judah, the lawgiver, is not chosen either. Joseph is chosen for the birthright. That double portion appears in two tribes, Ephraim and Manasseh. And Ephraim, the younger, gets a greater blessing than Manasseh, the elder. Jacob's crossed hands proclaimed the sovereignty of God.
The name Joseph gave his son turns into a picture of the Christian life:
And now we come to Manasseh. "Manasseh" means "forgetting." "God has made me forget," says Joseph, "all my relatives and my father's house." Translated into Christian experience, it is the spirit of the runner. He no longer looks at what is behind him as he presses on toward the prize ahead. And Manasseh's prince supplies this last thought. His name is Gamaliel — "God is a rewarder." As it is said of Moses, "He looked to the reward."
Gamaliel's name promises reward. His father's name guards against pride:
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder." In a time of conflict this is a wonderful encouragement. There is no reason to look for men's approval or rewards. If we fight with the simple desire to please God, we shall be content to wait for God's time of rewarding. Gamaliel's father, Pedahzur, means "the rock has redeemed." That reminds us that the rewards of service must not become occasions of pride. We are only sinners redeemed by Him who is the one stable Rock.
No tribe chose its own ground, and no man chose his own place in it:
Each man had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together, made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his, and neither was to interfere with the other or cross his path. So it was with all the tribes throughout the camp of the Israel of God. Each had his family line, and each had his post, and neither was according to their own ideas; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
God fixed the marching order too, not only the camping ground:
God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march when they set out on their journeys, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested. He did not leave the arrangements to their own choice or desires. If they had disobeyed, thinking they knew some better order, they would simply have produced disorder.
- Placed — Manasseh camps beside Ephraim on the west, the side nearest the holy place. Psalm 80 names these three tribes together.
- Humbled — here alone the elder follows the younger. Jacob crossed his hands on purpose, so God's choice, not birth order, fixed the rank.
- Forgetting — the name means letting go of what is behind, like a runner pressing toward the prize.
- Rewarded — Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," means no need to chase human approval. A soldier can wait for God's time.
- Redeemed — Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed," keeps reward from turning into pride. Every man in the camp stands there as a sinner redeemed, in a post God assigned.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, thirty-two thousand two hundred.
The verse records Manasseh's total: 32,200 men, camped beside Ephraim on the west side of the tabernacle. Three questions sit behind that plain number: where Manasseh camps, why he follows his younger brother, and why God counts a tribe this small at all.
Manasseh camps under Ephraim's standard, so the group's place decides his. One writer explains how the twelve tribes were arranged, and what stood nearest the west side:
The tribe of Levi stood apart from the rest. But the tribe of Joseph was split in two, which kept the number at twelve. So three tribes pitched their tents on each side of the tabernacle. The group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. The group under Ephraim was on the west side. That put it nearest to the holy place, with the cloud of the Divine Presence. This explains the reference in Psalm 80 to God shining out "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh."
Manasseh was Joseph's firstborn, yet the list puts him second, under Ephraim's standard. One writer treats this as the only exception in the whole arrangement:
The tribes attached to each leader moved behind their standards. In every case except Manasseh, the younger followed the elder. No one could justly complain about this one exception. Jacob had settled Ephraim's place ahead of Manasseh when he blessed them, guiding his hands knowingly, we read... No tribe, then, could complain of its place in the order of march. It could not have made anyone jealous.
Joseph gave Manasseh his name out of what he had lived through in Egypt:
During the seven years of plenty Asenath bore Joseph two sons. He named the first Manasseh, which means "forgetting." As he says, "God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father's house." This is typical of the truth of Christianity: it makes us forget the first creation with its natural relationships and its wearing trials. But that is because it brought in something better, the new creation, of which Christ is the Head... Manasseh therefore stands for the negative side of the truth, Ephraim the positive.
The other names on the west side point the same way, including the prince of Manasseh named in the verse before:
Here Ephraim, "fruitfulness," has his place, marked by his captain, Elishama, "God has heard," the son of Ammihud, "the people of majesty" — fruitfulness comes from God. Manasseh means "forgetting." His prince is Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," the son of Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed." These names encourage us to forget the things that are behind and to look for our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us... This is the true spirit of fruitfulness, which can gather material for spiritual increase out of the very trials of the way.
How does 32,200 compare with the rest of the camp?
Benjamin was the smallest of the tribes except Manasseh in the numbering of Numbers 1:37 and Numbers 2:22-23.
A small tribe gets the same careful count. One writer reads that repeated count as God claiming what is His:
The book opens with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes. The count is made with great exactness and care. Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the total of each tribe, except Levi, again and again... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the title to take their number, for they were all His own. Had He not had a right to them, had He no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum.
Every man in these lists had a standard to camp by:
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together. So they made progress, did the work, and carried on the warfare. The man of Benjamin had his post, and the man of Ephraim had his. Neither was to interfere with the other or cross his path... Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
- Counted — God numbers even the smallest tribe to the last man. He would not count a people He had no claim on.
- Placed — on the west side, Manasseh's group camped nearest the holy place. Psalm 80 recalls that position.
- Ranked — Manasseh followed his younger brother and lost nothing by it. Jacob's blessing had settled the order long before, so no tribe had grounds for jealousy.
- Named — Manasseh means forgetting. That is the negative side of the truth; Ephraim, fruitfulness, is the positive.
- Kept — every man knew his standard and stayed by it; variety of posts, one camp, and room enough for all.
And [with them shall be] the tribe of Benjamin; and the prince of the sons of Benjamin shall be Abidan the son of Gideoni;
Numbers 2:22 is one line in a camp plan drawn up by God Himself. Benjamin takes third place on the west side, under Ephraim's standard, led by a man named Abidan. The short verse carries a name, a position and a leader — and God chose all three.
God fixed Benjamin's place on the west side, near His own dwelling place. One writer explains why that side matters, and why Israel had no say in it:
The group under Ephraim was on the west side, and so it was nearest to the holy place with the cloud of God's presence. This explains why Psalm 80 speaks of God shining forth "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh." Notice that God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march when they set out, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested. The arrangements were not left to their own choice or wishes. If they had disobeyed, thinking they knew a better order, they would have produced only disorder.
A dying mother named him once; his father named him again. One writer sees Christ in both names:
The youngest son of Jacob by his beloved wife Rachel. She died at his birth and named him BEN-ONI, meaning "son of my sorrow," but his father named him BENJAMIN, "son of the right hand." Gen. 35:18, 24. He is a picture of Christ in both names: as exalted at God's right hand (Benjamin), and as rejected — the cause of Israel's suffering in the last days (Ben-oni). Rachel pictures Israel (Micah 5).
Psalm 68 calls the tribe "Benjamin, the least of them." One writer uses the older wording, "little Benjamin," and sets that title beside the name his father gave:
In Psalm 68 the Spirit of the Lord refers to Benjamin as "little Benjamin" (v. 27); this was because he was the smallest tribe. It is important to keep these two names in mind: "Son of my right hand," a place of power, and "little Benjamin," the place of weakness. How can these two opposites be brought together? Both are essential for any servant of the Lord who wants to be faithful in his testimony: he needs a sense of his own weakness, and a sense of the power of God that can work in that weakness.
The leader's name carries a lesson. Set beside the description of Benjamin as a wolf, it corrects what a fighting tribe might assume about itself:
Abidan was the prince of Benjamin, his name meaning "My father is judge." In Genesis 49:27 Benjamin is called "a ravenous wolf." In other words, he was a warrior by nature. But the Lord does not need natural fighters. Peter found that out when he used a sword to cut off the ear of the high priest's servant (John 18:10-11), and the Lord rebuked him and healed the man's ear. "For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds" (2 Cor. 10:4). So let us remember the lesson of Abidan, "my father is judge." God as a Father judges according to every person's work (1 Peter 1:17). It is He who judges the value of our warfare, with perfect spiritual discernment.
Benjamin does not head its own camp. God places the fighting tribe under Ephraim, and one writer says that pairing shapes the spirit of its warfare:
Benjamin would also lack the true spirit if it were not found under Ephraim. The spirit of controversy, without an eager desire for fruit for God, would be nothing but the spirit of Ishmael — warfare for its own sake — a spirit to be hated. How different it is when a burning zeal for Christ and for His glory drives a person, and, as we have seen, Abidan is the captain of the army!
Why count people at all? One writer answers from God's own right over Israel:
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. The same divine right is claimed in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts (Psalm 147:4). So the Lord says of His saints, "They shall be Mine … in the day when I make up My treasured possession" (Malachi 3:17). He may make up — that is, number, hide and keep them safe — because they are His own.
- Counted — God numbers Benjamin because Benjamin is His. He counts, hides and keeps safe what belongs to Him.
- Named — "Son of my sorrow" became "son of the right hand" — a picture of Christ rejected and Christ exalted.
- Placed — the west side put Benjamin nearest God's dwelling place. God commanded the spot; Israel did not choose it.
- Led — Abidan, "my father is judge," reminds a fighting tribe that God, not the fighter, weighs the value of the warfare.
- Little — the smallest tribe marches under Ephraim. Weakness needs God's power, and zeal needs fruit.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, thirty-five thousand four hundred.
This verse closes Benjamin's entry in the wilderness camp with one figure: 35,400 fighting men, placed under Ephraim's standard on the west side. It reads like bare arithmetic. Yet it raises the two questions behind the whole chapter. Why does God count His people at all? And why does He give each tribe its own side of the camp?
This figure belongs to the camp on the west side.
The standard of the camp of Ephraim was on the west side, and with Ephraim were Manasseh and Benjamin (vv. 18-23). The armies of these three totalled 108,100. These followed the Levites in travelling.
That position was not a matter of convenience.
Each tribe had its own standard, and each family its own flag. In the camp the twelve tribes were set three on each side, and one of each three gave its name to that side or camp. So the standard of Judah is called the standard of the camp of Judah, which was on the east. The camp of Reuben was on the south, the camp of Ephraim on the west, and the camp of Dan on the north.
The three tribes on the west all came from Rachel. One writer reads the meaning of their names as one lesson.
Westward, Ephraim is grouped with Manasseh and Benjamin, the children of Rachel. The west, the opposite of the east, is "toward the sea," the place of storm, but also of refreshing showers from it. Here Ephraim, "fruitfulness," has his place... Manasseh, "forgetting"... encourages us to forget the things that are behind and to seek our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us. Benjamin, "the son of my right hand," tells of the dignity of our position... This is the true spirit of fruitfulness, which can gather out of the very trials of the way material for spiritual increase.
35,400 was one of the lowest totals in the camp — and that smallness did not stay fixed.
In the numbering of Num. 1:37 and Num. 2:22-23, Benjamin was the smallest of the tribes except Manasseh. Ps. 68:27 calls it "little Benjamin." But in the numbering before Israel entered the land, Benjamin was larger than four of the other tribes... In Ps. 80:2, where God is asked to save them, Benjamin is named with Ephraim and Manasseh, the three tribes which followed the ark.
The chapter keeps repeating totals. One writer traces the counting back to ownership.
He was careful in this way to assert His title, and survey His possessions. He would have the number of Israel exactly brought to Him, for they were all His own. He called them by their names, and knew their numbers.
That interest did not stop with this first count.
Later there is a fresh numbering of the men of Israel, in view of going to war. They were now on the borders of the holy land. The same grace of God which took account of every one of His people when they entered the wilderness shows that His love had not lessened, and that His personal interest was the same to the end. There was everything that could have turned Him aside, if that had been possible.
The order of the camp reached down to each single man.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it... The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his. Neither was to interfere with the other, or cross the other's path... Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of them was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Commentators read the name over this camp as pointing forward.
Benjamin was the youngest son of Jacob by his beloved wife Rachel. She died at his birth and named him Ben-oni, which means "son of my sorrow," but his father named him Benjamin, "son of the right hand." He is a picture of Christ in both names: as exalted at God's right hand (Benjamin), and, as rejected, as the occasion of Israel's tribulation in the last days (Ben-oni). Rachel is a picture of Israel.
- Counted — God claimed these 35,400 as His own. He knew their names and He knew their number.
- Placed — the count led to a place. Benjamin camped on the west, under Ephraim's standard, in a group of 108,100.
- Posted — the place led to a post. Each man kept his own standard, and no tribe crossed another's path.
- Small — and still counted in full. Later, "little Benjamin" grew larger than four other tribes.
- Named — the name over that small camp means "son of the right hand." Commentators read it as a picture of Christ exalted.
All that were numbered of the camp of Ephraim were a hundred and eight thousand one hundred, according to their hosts. And they shall set forth third.
This verse closes the description of the western camp: three tribes, one standard, one total, and a set place in the line of march. It reads like bookkeeping. Yet God chose every part of it — the side they faced, the names on the banner, the count, and the turn they took.
The position given here is not a rank the tribes negotiated. The same God who told them where to pitch told them when to move.
We notice that God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march when they set out on their journeys, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested. Arrangements were not left to their discretion or desires. If they had disobeyed, thinking they knew a better order, they would only have produced disorder.
Ephraim's camp lay on the west, nearest the ark. Centuries later a psalm prayed on the strength of that position.
The whole opening of Psalm 80 rests on the position of the tribes. In the last days of Israel's desolation, the psalmist asks God to lead them and to show His power as He did when He led them through the wilderness... Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh were the three tribes nearest the ark in the camp of Israel. That is why verse 2 of the Psalm says, "before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh."
The three tribes here are Rachel's line. Their names spell out where fruitfulness comes from.
Westward, Ephraim accompanied by Manasseh and Benjamin, the children of Rachel, are grouped. The west, the opposite of the east, is "toward the sea," the place of storm, but also of refreshing showers from it. Here Ephraim, "fruitfulness," has his place. His character is shown by his captain, Elishama, "God has heard," the son of Ammihud, "the people of majesty" — fruitfulness comes from God. Manasseh means "forgetting." His prince is Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," the son of Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed." Manasseh encourages us to forget the things that are behind and to seek our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us. Benjamin, "the son of my right hand," tells of the dignity of our position. That position is to be marked by the prince Abidan, "my father is judge," the son of Gideoni, "the one who cuts down" — giving us the sense of adoption, and the godly fear that removes pride from us. This is the true spirit of fruitfulness, which can gather out of the very trials of the way material for spiritual increase.
Ephraim, not Manasseh, gives this camp its name. One writer explains why:
We find the law of spiritual increase in Joseph, shown by the name of his son "Ephraim" — "fruitfulness." But the way to fruitfulness runs through "Manasseh" — "forgetfulness," as with the apostle: "Forgetting what lies behind, I press on." The end is greater than the means. So Ephraim is, in the mind of God, greater than Manasseh.
The placing of the four camps was deliberate.
The next standard on display was Ephraim's, joined by the tribes of Manasseh and Benjamin, numbering in all 108,100 men able for war. Behind them, forming the rear guard, flew the standard of the camp of the children of Dan... So of the two largest hosts, one led the way and the other brought up the rear.
The practical lesson: no one had to work out his own place, and no one had cause to envy another's.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together. So they made progress, did the work, and carried on the warfare. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his. Neither was to interfere with the other or cross his path... He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
- Assigned, not chosen. God set both the camping order and the marching order. Choosing a "better" arrangement would only have made confusion.
- Placed near. This camp stood on the west, nearest the ark — a nearness a later psalm appeals to when praying for God to act again.
- Named for growth. Ephraim is "fruitfulness," Manasseh "forgetting," Benjamin "son of my right hand" — and fruitfulness comes from God.
- Ranked for a reason. Forgetting is the road. Fruitfulness is the goal, which is why Ephraim's name heads the standard.
- Kept in post. Third place was still an appointed place — enough work and enough room for all, with no ground for comparison.
The standard of the camp of Dan shall be northward according to their hosts; and the prince of the sons of Dan shall be Ahiezer the son of Ammishaddai;
The camp order closes on the north side, where Dan's standard flies with Ahiezer at its head. Dan was a servant woman's son, yet God gave his tribe the last side of the camp and one of its two largest commands — why there, and what for?
Every Israelite knew two things: his family line and the flag he belonged under. One writer draws out what that settled:
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together. So they made progress, did the work and carried on the fight. The Benjaminite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his, and neither was to interfere with the other, or cross his path... Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither came from their own thoughts. All was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
Asher and Naphtali pitch under Dan's banner, and the grouping is not random:
Dan, the chief of the last camp, had Asher and Naphtali attached to his standard. All three were children of the servant women. But Dan was the eldest of the three, so it was fitting that he had the first place here. No tribe, then, could complain of its place in the order of march. No jealousy over it could have risen in anyone's heart.
When the camp moved, the north side became the back of the column. The names in this camp fit that job:
Last of all, on the north, forming the rear guard on the march, we have the camp of Dan. With him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. Some of these names have a military ring, fitting the place they occupy. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers. They must also guard against sudden attacks like that of Amalek, who inflicted loss on the rear of the children of Israel.
The rear was no place for a small force:
The rear guard amounted to 157,600 fighting men. So of the two largest hosts, one led the way and the other brought up the rear.
One writer sets the captain's name against Dan's character in Genesis 49:
The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." The character of Dan in Genesis 49:17 is a sharp contrast: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving brotherly help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict. Ahiezer was the son of Ammishaddai, meaning "the people of the Almighty." When the people know their relationship to the Almighty, you would expect a brother relationship among them.
Dan's name means judgment, and one writer draws a lesson about rule from his origin:
The first of the servant women's sons is Dan, "judgment," the spirit of rule. Dan's origin shows that rule is really service. Yet how quickly man's hand turns it away from this!... Instead of using his place to bless those in his care, he uses it for himself. He feeds his ambition or his greed with it in some form. He becomes a rebel against the One who gave him his authority... But for this, as for everything else, there is a remedy with God. Dan is here in his place with his captain Ahiezer — "brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai — "the people of the Almighty." Let that relationship be real, and the ruler becomes what God designed: the "helping brother" of those in his charge.
Dan's camp sits on the north, and one writer presses the meaning of that direction:
The north (tsaphon) means "what is hidden." For those living in the northern half of the world, the sun travels through the southern sky, so the north side of anything is the dark side. The north itself would be thought of as the home of darkness, the place of gloom and mystery.
- Placed — Dan did not pick the north. God gave the family line and God assigned the standard. No tribe had grounds for jealousy.
- Helped — Dan, once likened to a serpent in the way, now marches behind Ahiezer, "brother of help," son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty." Grace alone makes that change, and brotherly help grows where a people know the Almighty.
- Serving — Dan means judgment, and rule is really service. Forget that, and the ruler becomes a rebel against the One who gave him his authority.
- Guarding — the north side became the rear on the march. There one of the two largest hosts held the place where stragglers are lost and where Amalek struck.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, sixty-two thousand seven hundred.
Numbers 2 sets out where each tribe camped around the tabernacle. This verse records the fighting strength of the camp on the north: 62,700 men under the standard of Dan. Why does God count them at all, and why does this particular group hold the last place in the line of march?
The repeated totals in these chapters are not bookkeeping. One writer reads the careful reckoning of each tribe as God asserting a claim.
They open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes. Moses does this with great exactness and care. Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the number of each tribe, except Levi, again and again... This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
The figure itself is striking when set beside the other tribes.
The tribe of Dan was large. At the exodus there were 62,700 fighting men, more than any tribe except Judah. At the second numbering they had increased to 64,400.
Describing the order of march, one writer notes where the two largest divisions marched:
Behind them, forming the rear guard, flew the standard of the camp of the children of Dan. With it were the host of Asher and that of Naphtali, which closed the long procession. The rear guard amounted to 157,600 fighting men. So of the two largest hosts, one led the way and the other brought up the rear.
Commentators who look for meaning in the four quarters point out what the north stood for.
It lies to the north. Just as the other quarters of the sky have meaningful names, so does this one. The north (tsaphon) means "what is hidden." It carries that name because, for those living in the northern hemisphere, the sun travels through the southern sky, so the north side of anything is the dark side. People would naturally think of the north itself as the seat of darkness, the home of gloom and mystery.
The rear is the exposed end of a marching column, and the men numbered here were the ones who had to cover it.
Last, on the north, and forming the rear guard on the march, we have the camp of Dan. Associated with him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. There is a military ring about some of these names, fitting the place they occupy. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers. They must also guard against sudden assaults such as that of Amalek, who inflicted loss on the rear of the children of Israel.
Commentators read the names of the leaders in this camp as a picture of what rear-guard duty asks for.
Dan means "judge." His prince is Ahiezer, "the brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty." These names combine the thoughts of alertness, power and helpfulness. Associated with him is Asher, "happy," whose prince is Pagiel, "the event of God," son of Ocran, "afflicted." These names show us the paradox which grace alone can explain. Affliction under the stroke of God produces a happiness which is not that of the world. That happiness is a fitting safeguard against assaults from the rear. With him is Naphtali, "the wrestler," another militant name.
Another writer takes Dan as standing for judgment, and finds him fully in place in this camp.
Born to a servant as he is, he represents the spirit of rule or judgment... Here, however, all is different: he is in his place in every way.
From this arrangement one writer draws a lesson for the church today.
On the north side the tribe of Dan bore the standard that included also Asher and Naphtali. Their armies together came to 157,600 men, and travelled last... this shows the care of God in providing the best order possible. Certainly in the Church of God today He uses no less wisdom in providing a spiritual order that will glorify His name. And in the gatherings of the assembly He expects a fitting recognition of His order, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 shows: "But all things should be done decently and in order."
- Counted — the exact total is God asserting ownership; He numbers what is His own, as He numbers and names the stars.
- Strong — 62,700 men, more than any tribe but Judah; of the two largest divisions, one led the march and the other closed it.
- Placed — on the north, whose name means "what is hidden," the dark side, long thought of as the home of gloom and mystery.
- Last — that strength closed the column and guarded stragglers against attacks from behind, like Amalek's.
- Ordered — God counted every camp, set its place, and set its turn to march. Commentators apply the same pattern to the church, where all things should be done decently and in order.
And those that encamp by him shall be the tribe of Asher; and the prince of the sons of Asher shall be Pagiel the son of Ocran;
Numbers 2:27 places Asher beside Dan on the north side of the camp, with Pagiel son of Ochran named as its leader. One line of a camp list raises a real question. Why does Scripture record who camped next to whom, and why keep these men's names?
No tribe picked its own ground. God told Asher where to pitch, and next to whom.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together; that is how progress was made, work done and warfare carried on... Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
Where a tribe camped also fixed where it marched. Asher's side moved last.
Lastly, on the north, and forming the rearguard on the march, we have the camp of Dan; associated with him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. There is a military ring about some of these names, suited to the place they occupy. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers, and against sudden attacks. Amalek made one such attack, and it inflicted loss on the rear of the children of Israel.
The verse gives two names, and commentators who read Hebrew names for their meaning find a deliberate pairing in them. Asher's name and his leader's family name pull in opposite directions.
Asher's prince was Pagiel, which means "event of God." His father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted." Genesis 49:20 tells us, "Asher's food shall be rich, and he shall yield royal delicacies." Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered by God's dealings — events of God — that bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, little as we might at first appreciate this. Paul understood this well. He wrote, "For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).
Another writer reads the same names as fitting Asher's post at the back of the column.
These names show us the paradox that grace alone can explain. Affliction under the stroke of God produces a happiness that is not the world's. It is a fitting safeguard against attacks from the rear.
Asher does not camp alone. He is set under the banner of Dan, and the names of Dan's leaders give that camp its character.
Dan, "judge," his prince Ahiezer, "the brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai, "the people of the Almighty": these names bring together the thoughts of alertness, power and helpfulness.
One writer ties Asher's happiness to the awakened conscience that Dan's standard stands for.
Dan's standard, then, is truly that of exercise. Under him and next to him comes Asher, the "happy." For happiness clearly depends on this awakened conscience. It is found in the way of the brotherly helpfulness that Ahiezer speaks of: "If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them" (John 13:17). We have seen that Asher's captain shows how God keeps us happy through the ministry of a chastening sorrow. That is enough to explain why Asher is under the standard of "exercise."
Older translations render John 13:17 as "happy are you" — the same word as Asher's name.
Asher's name points to happiness, and one writer takes the tribe as a picture of Christian character.
Asher means "happy." That surely implies that in our present inheritance "in the heavenly places in Christ" we have every reason for rejoicing. So this is another lovely feature of Christian character, as illustrated by the tribes of Israel. Paul tells us in Philippians 4:4, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." Joy is not to be an object, for it is "in the Lord." That plainly makes the Lord the Object. But joy will be the spontaneous result of contemplating Him.
- Assigned. God gave Asher his post and his neighbour. Place and pedigree alike were "not according to their own thoughts."
- Exposed. The north side marched last, so Asher's ground was the rearguard. That is where the sudden attack from behind lands, as Amalek's raid showed.
- Afflicted. The names in the verse hold the paradox: Pagiel, "event of God," son of Ocran, "afflicted" — God's dealings temper the blessing.
- Happy. Asher means happy. The chastening produces that happiness; it does not spoil it. Weakness is where strength appears.
- Guarded. This joy is itself the defence at the weakest point in the line. It rests on the Lord, not on circumstances.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, forty-one thousand five hundred.
This verse counts Asher's fighting men: 41,500. The tribe camps on the north side, under the standard of Dan. Why does God record a number for every tribe? And why does "happy" Asher march at the back of the host?
The north camp marched at the back of Israel, and that place came with its own duty.
Last of all, on the north side, the camp of Dan forms the rearguard on the march. With him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. Some of these names have a military sound that suits the place they hold. Those who bring up the rear must watch for stragglers and for sudden attacks. Amalek, for instance, attacked the rear of the children of Israel and caused them loss.
Asher's 41,500 join Dan and Naphtali to form one large camp. One writer sees God's care in the whole arrangement.
On the north side the tribe of Dan carried the standard, and Asher and Naphtali were under it too (vs.25-30). Their armies came to 157,600 men in all, and they travelled last. All the men counted came to 603,550... The whole congregation must have been between two and three million. But this shows the care of God in providing the best possible order. In the Church of God today He surely uses no less wisdom in providing a spiritual order that will glorify His name. And when His people gather, He expects them to honour that order, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 shows: "But all things should be done decently and in order."
A head count can be an act of pride or an act of love, and Scripture records both kinds.
In David's time he decided to count the people (2 Sam.24:2-10). His motive was pride in ruling over a great nation, and the result was the death of 70,000 people. But God's census in Numbers shows His own deep interest in every one of His people Israel. He has that same interest in His saints today. The difference is that in Israel He counted only the males over 20 years of age... Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women too, and young and old — though age makes some less active than others.
Asher's name means "happy." The names of his prince and of his prince's father sound nothing like it.
Asher follows Dan. His prince is Pagiel — "event of God" — the son of Ocran — "afflicted." These are strange names to find with Asher, the "happy" one, whose portion in Jacob's prophecy matches his name. Yet "for those who love God all things work together for good," and sorrow in His hands is turned into joy. Real happiness here seems to need some thread of sorrow mixed into it, both to keep it true and to guard it from its own dangers. Sorrow is something in which the soul has to submit itself to God — to say it is the Lord, "the event is of God." The apostle received his thorn in the flesh after the joy of the third heaven. That may tell us the same about even the most spiritual joys.
Why is the happy tribe placed under Dan's standard at all? One writer ties happiness to a conscience that is awake and to help given to others.
Dan's standard, then, is truly the standard of exercise. Next to him, and under him, comes Asher, the "happy" one. Happiness depends on this awakened conscience. It is found in the kind of help to one another that Ahiezer speaks of: "If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them" (John 13:17). We have seen how Asher's captain shows that God keeps us happy through the work of a sorrow that corrects us. That is enough to explain why Asher stands under the standard of "exercise."
(Older translations read "happy are you" in John 13:17 — the link to Asher's name.)
Every tribe was given a number, but no tribe was told to measure itself against a neighbour.
Each man had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together. So they made progress, did the work, and carried on the warfare... Each man had his family line, and each had his post. Neither of them came from his own thoughts. All of it came from God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. No one needed to compare himself with another, and no one had any ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
- Counted — God's census shows His interest in every one of His people. David's count sprang from pride instead.
- Placed — Asher's 41,500 stood on the north with Dan and Naphtali, 157,600 in all. They were the rearguard, watching for stragglers and sudden attacks.
- Named — Pagiel ("event of God"), son of Ocran ("afflicted"), led "happy" Asher. Sorrow in God's hands turns into joy.
- Exercised — Happiness grows where the conscience is awake and where people help one another: blessed are you if you do these things.
- Content — God gave each man his family line and his post, so no one had ground for jealousy. Writers see the same order when God's people gather today.
And [with them shall be] the tribe of Naphtali; and the prince of the sons of Naphtali shall be Ahira the son of Enan;
Numbers 2:29 closes the roll call of the camp: Naphtali comes last, under Dan's standard on the north side, led by Ahira the son of Enan. Why name a leader we never hear speak, and why does the wrestler's tribe come last?
The north side was also the back of the column when Israel moved. That position carried its own danger, and the tribes there needed a certain character:
Last, on the north, and forming the rearguard on the march, we have the camp of Dan. With him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. There is a military ring about some of these names, suited to the place they occupy. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers. They must also guard against sudden attacks, like the attack of Amalek, who inflicted loss on the rear of the children of Israel.
The same writer reads the three names in this verse together:
With him is Naphtali, "the wrestler," another military name, marked by his prince Ahira, "brother for evil," the son of Enan, "open-eyed." This suggests the "brother born for adversity," whose eyes are always watchful against the foe. So the camp is properly ordered and ready for the march.
Rachel gave her son this name after a struggle, and commentators read it as the mark of one who comes through:
Naphtali follows Asher in the sixth place. "With divine wrestlings" — wrestlings given strength by God? — says Rachel at his birth, "I have wrestled with my sister and have prevailed." So his name is Naphtali, "my wrestling," and in the sixth place here it speaks clearly of the overcomer.
The wrestler's strength is not his own:
Naphtali means "a wrestler." In a spiritual sense he is no longer a wrestler of the flesh, trusting his own power. He is a mighty wrestler for God. That is what he is in the mind of God, and in the sense of his sonship as belonging to God. He represents that spirit of power of man with God, the weak with the mighty One.
Writers read Ahira's name in more than one way. A second reading points to shared trouble rather than watchfulness:
This is perhaps the most difficult of all the names we have had to interpret, the words also being open to other meanings, though these are the simplest. May it be that in Ahira we find one whose eyes have affected his heart, like another Jeremiah, and made him a man of sorrows in sympathy with the sorrow around him? Such a spirit one would suppose to be needed among these leaders of Israel, and so the "brother of evil" would become the "brother born for adversity," of which Proverbs speaks.
Set beside Jacob's picture of this tribe as a deer let loose, that reading turns a hard name into a description of service:
Ahira, "brother of evil," is the hardest name to interpret. "Brother of evil" can be understood only in the sense of "brother of trouble." It could refer to the sympathetic character of the believer, who bears the burden of others. This would be in some contrast to the deer let loose. But it would remind us of Paul's words: "For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all." Ahira's father was Enan, meaning "having eyes," and this may speak of the concern that looks on the sorrows of others.
The Hebrew word for north carries the idea of what cannot be seen:
The camp of Dan lies to the north. The other quarters of the sky have meaningful names, and so does this one. The north (tsaphon) means "what is hidden." Why is it called this? For those living in the northern hemisphere the sun travels through the southern sky, so the north side of anything is the dark side. So it was natural to think of the north itself as the seat of darkness, the home of gloom and mystery.
Naphtali did not pick the north, and Ahira did not appoint himself:
Each had his pedigree, and each had his post. Neither came from their own thoughts. All was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all.
That is also why the names in the verse are worth reading at all:
About these men we are told nothing but their own names and their fathers' names. For that very reason, if there could otherwise be doubt, we may be sure their names are meant to speak to us.
- Named — God records Ahira and Enan and nothing else. That silence is the reason to expect their names to teach us something.
- Assigned — God gave Naphtali its side of the square and Ahira his post. No one chose his own place, so no one had ground to compare or envy.
- Exposed — the north is the dark side, the quarter of mystery, and this camp also brings up the rear, open to stragglers and sudden attack.
- Burdened — Ahira, "brother of evil," reads as the brother born for adversity, and Enan's "eyes" speak of concern for the sorrows of others.
- Overcoming — Naphtali means "my wrestling." The wrestler prevails not by his own strength, but as the weak one joined to the mighty One. His name completes the camp.
and his host, even those that were numbered of them, fifty-three thousand four hundred.
This closing line of the census counts Naphtali last. Its 53,400 fighting men camped on the north side under Dan's standard, at the very end of the marching order. Why does God record the exact size of the tribe that marched at the back?
The number closes out the fourth and final group in the census. One writer ties these verses together and draws out what the arrangement teaches:
On the north side the tribe of Dan bore the standard that included also Asher and Naphtali (vv. 25-30). Their armies together came to a total of 157,600 men, and were the last to travel. All the numbered men therefore came to 603,550. This did not include the Levites, nor women and children... But this illustrates the care of God in providing the best order possible. Certainly in the Church of God today He shows no less wisdom in providing a spiritual order that will glorify His name. And He expects the gatherings of the assembly to give fitting recognition to His order, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 says: "All things should be done decently and in order."
Naphtali's men closed the whole marching column. That position was not a demotion but an assignment, and the size of the force fits the danger it faced:
Last of all, on the north, and forming the rearguard on the march, we have the camp of Dan. Associated with him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. Some of these names have a military ring, suited to the place they occupy. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers, and against sudden attacks like that of Amalek, who inflicted loss on the rear of the children of Israel.
Another writer points out where the two largest divisions stood:
The standard of the camp of the children of Dan flew behind them, forming the rear guard. Grouped with it were the host of Asher and that of Naphtali, and Naphtali closed the long procession. The rear guard amounted to 157,600 fighting men. So of the two largest hosts, one led the way and the other brought up the rear.
Naphtali's name comes from wrestling. One writer notes that it points past the struggle itself:
Naphtali means "my wrestling," not so much with the idea of the struggle going on, but of its having reached a conclusion in victory, bringing freedom.
Another writer sets two kinds of strength side by side in that name:
Naphtali means a wrestler. In a spiritual sense he is no longer a wrestler of the flesh, trusting in his own power, but a mighty wrestler for God... He stands for that spirit of the power of man with God, the weak man with the mighty One. Yet here again the sad story of failure is told. The weak one has forgotten his weakness, and so he has forgotten God, the source of his strength.
A total like 53,400 exists because the One who ordered the count owned the people He was counting:
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His divine title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
Israel counted only the men over twenty. One writer asks who is fit to fight today:
God's census in Numbers shows His own vital interest in each one of His people Israel, an interest that is no less true of His saints today. The difference is that in Israel only the males over 20 years of age were numbered... Today all of His saints are fit for spiritual warfare — women, young and old too, though age makes some less active than others. Yet the lesson is also clear for us. To take part in practical conflict we need maturity, or full age, and that comes through knowledge and growth in the word of God.
Naphtali's figure sits beside eleven others, and the list invites no ranking:
Each had his pedigree, and each had his post. Neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
- Counted — the number exists because God owned them; He had title to take their sum, as He names the stars.
- Placed — every man had a post he did not choose, which removed both uncertainty and jealousy.
- Last — Naphtali closed the column, and God put one of His two heaviest forces at the rear.
- Guarded — the back of a marching people is where stragglers fall behind and sudden attacks land.
- Wrestling — the name of the tribe in that spot means a struggle that ends in victory, won in God's strength, not our own.
All that were numbered of the camp of Dan were a hundred and fifty-seven thousand six hundred. They shall set forth last according to their standards.
Numbers 2 closes with the last camp. Dan, Asher and Naphtali camp on the north, count 157,600 men, and set out last of all. Why put a tribe at the back, and what do the north side and Dan's name teach?
This number completes the full count of Israel's fighting men. One writer draws a lesson from the whole arrangement.
On the north side the tribe of Dan carried the standard that also covered Asher and Naphtali. Their armies came to 157,600 men, and they traveled last. So all the men counted came to 603,550... But this shows God's care in giving the best order possible. In the Church of God today He shows no less wisdom in giving a spiritual order that will glorify His name.
The verse links setting out with the standards. One writer shows what that order ruled out.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay with it. That is how they moved on together. That is how they made progress, got the work done and carried on the fight... There was no need to compare one man with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all.
Going last was an assignment, not a demotion.
Last, on the north, forming the rear guard on the march, we have the camp of Dan. With him are the tribes of Asher and Naphtali. Some of these names have a military ring that suits the place they hold. Those who bring up the rear must guard against stragglers, and against sudden attacks like that of Amalek, who struck the rear of the children of Israel and caused loss there.
The same writer finds a further danger at the back of the march.
The lusts of the flesh have no power over those who press forward and forget the things behind. But they have special power over those who lag, who forget that they are pilgrims and become stragglers, following far behind. It was when Peter followed at a distance that he gave in to cowardice, which is one of the marks of the flesh.
One writer traces the Hebrew word for north and what that direction stood for.
It lies to the north. We have found that the other points of the compass have meaningful names, and it is the same here. The north (tsaphon) means "what is hidden." It is called that because, for those living in the northern half of the world, the sun travels through the southern sky. So the north side of anything is the dark side. The north would then be thought of as the seat of darkness, the home of gloom and mystery... Here still, as with Moses on the mountain, it is impossible to see God's face.
The same writer reads Dan's name as judgment, and sees him set in his place.
Son of a servant woman though he is, he stands for the spirit of rule or judgment... Here, however, everything is different. He is in his place in every way, and his prince is Ahiezer, "brother of help."... The mind on its own is left puzzled and beaten, and guesswork leads us into error, or into that pride which is the most deadly error of all. But the spirit of self-judgment comes through without effort, finding safe footing where the other falls.
Set against Dan's later reputation, the name of his leader reads as a reversal.
The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." What a contrast to the character of Dan described in Genesis 49:17: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving brotherly help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict.
Two more tribes camp under Dan's standard, and their names also fit the rear.
With him is Asher, "happy," whose prince is Pagiel, "the event of God," son of Ocran, "afflicted." These names show a paradox that only grace can explain. Affliction under God's hand produces a happiness that is not the world's, and it guards well against attacks from the rear. With him is Naphtali, "the wrestler," another fighting name. His prince is Ahira, "brother for evil," son of Enan, "open-eyed" — the brother born for hard times, whose eyes always watch for the enemy.
- Placed — the numbers and the positions were God's arrangement. It shows "God's care in giving the best order possible," with room and work enough for every tribe.
- Last — the rear was an appointed post. Those at the back "must guard against stragglers" and sudden attacks like Amalek's.
- Exposed — the rear is where danger falls. The flesh has "special power" over those who lag and follow far behind.
- Dark — the north is "the dark side," the place of gloom and mystery, where no one can see God's face.
- Helped — into that darkness God puts Dan, "judgment," led by Ahiezer, "brother of help." Self-judgment keeps its footing where reasoning falls, and grace turns a future serpent into a help in battle.
These are those that were numbered of the children of Israel, according to their fathers' houses all those that were numbered of the camps, according to their hosts, were six hundred and three thousand five hundred and fifty.
The long roll of tribes and standards ends in one figure: 603,550 men, counted camp by camp. Two questions follow. Why does God count His people at all? And what did that number teach them in the wilderness?
God ordered this count Himself. One writer asks what gave Him the right to take it.
They open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and this is done with great exactness and care. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. The same is said of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This shows His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4)
Not every Israelite was on this roll. Two things decided who was: age and ancestry.
The count was made "by clans, by fathers' houses." Those counted were "from twenty years old and upward, all in Israel who are able to go to war." Each man had to prove his family line. Only those who could do that had a place in this muster, and only they could be warriors. This proof of family line was needed because a mixed crowd of outsiders had joined itself to the people of God... Our family line, which gives us a place among the people of God, is the new birth, by which we become children of God. And our calling is to a spiritual warfare, not with flesh and blood, but against the devil and his wiles and the wicked spirits (Eph. 6:11-12).
This figure had already appeared in the accounts of the tabernacle, the tent where God lived among His people.
Verse 26 [of the tabernacle accounts] refers to the half shekel of silver that each person in Israel over 20 paid as atonement money. The number of people was 603,550. The 100 talents of silver were used for the sockets under each of the boards of the sanctuary and under the pillars for the veil.
Knowing your family line was only half of it. Each man also had to know his standard.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. So they moved on together. So they made progress, did the work, and carried on the warfare. Each had his family line, and each had his post. Neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy. Each had his place to fill and his work to do. There was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
The 603,550 were only the fighting men. The whole camp was far larger.
All the numbered men therefore totaled 603,550, as chapter 1:46 reported, and chapter 2:32 confirms. Again, this did not include the Levites (v.33), nor of course women and children. The total of the congregation must have been between two and three million. What a company for Moses to lead through the wilderness! But this illustrates the care of God in providing the best order possible. In the Church of God today He shows no less wisdom in providing a spiritual order that will glorify His name. And He expects the assembly to recognise His order in its gatherings, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 shows. "All things should be done decently and in order."
One thing stood at the centre of all four camps.
The first thing that attracts our attention, in reading the book, is sweet and precious to the heart beyond all expression — God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible!... The camp, arranged in this way with everyone facing the tabernacle, is thought to have measured at least twelve miles around. But one thing gave the camp its unity, strength, and glory in the wilderness: the presence of God in His tabernacle, at the centre of His chosen people.
- Counted because owned. God ordered the count because Israel was His own. The same right lets Him name every star.
- Counted as ransomed. The same total appears in the tabernacle accounts. There each man's half shekel of atonement money became the silver sockets of the sanctuary.
- Counted as soldiers. The roll took men able to go to war who could show their family line. Our family line is the new birth. It gives a place among God's people and a call to spiritual warfare.
- Counted into a place. Family line and standard both came from God. So each man had his post, with work enough and room enough — great variety, perfect unity, no jealousy.
- Counted around Himself. The strength of a camp twelve miles around was not its 603,550 fighting men but the God who dwelt at its centre.
But the Levites were not numbered among the children of Israel; as Jehovah had commanded Moses.
Chapter 2 ends with a total: every fighting man in Israel counted and placed under his standard. Then comes one exception: a whole tribe kept off the register at God's own command.
The reason for leaving Levi out comes at the end of chapter 1. One writer sums up the duties given instead:
The tribe of Levi is not included. The end of this chapter gives the reason. They were not to be among the warriors. They were appointed instead over the tabernacle of testimony, over all its vessels, and over what belonged to it. They were to carry it, and their place was all around the tabernacle.
The count in chapters 1 and 2 was a count of men able to fight. Levi's work lay elsewhere, and leaving the tribe out of the count says something about that work:
In one case the census counts those whom God has put in the place of trial and provocation... Still, there are conflicts in the wilderness for the people of God, and patience is always tested. But there is another truth we also need to grasp, and it brings just as much comfort to our souls. We are not only God's own people, every one of us counted by Himself as those He counts on, whatever the march may be and whoever we have to fight on the way through the wilderness. We also have to do with serving Him, and above all in what concerns the sanctuary. Seen that way, counting men like an army would be out of place. The aim is to stamp service with a character that is not of this earth.
It would be easy to read the two groups as two classes of people: soldiers here, servants there. One writer warns against that reading:
So the very same people pictured in one aspect by the numbered tribes of Israel are in another aspect Levites, not numbered yet, because they belong to God simply and only. This is the double aspect... the natural mind is always ready to set the two things against each other... The truth is that when we think of a Christian, we must remember the words of the Spirit of God in the New Testament: "All things are yours." It makes no difference whether it is the numbering of Israel or the leaving of the Levites out of the count. Both are true of the Christian — not in the same aspect, of course, but equally true in distinct relationships.
Another writer lines up three relationships and what each one means for us:
As men of war, we are called to fight. As priests, we have the privilege of worship. But as Levites, we are responsible to serve. Our service is to carry through this dreary desert what the tabernacle stood for, and that tabernacle was a figure of Christ. This is our distinct line of service. God calls us to it and sets us apart for it.
Nothing in Levi's record earned this position. One commentator goes back to Jacob's words over his sons to make the point:
But why the Levites? Why did God mark this tribe off from all the others and set it apart for such a holy and high service? Was there any special holiness or goodness in them to explain the honour? Not by nature, and certainly not by practice: "Simeon and Levi are brothers; weapons of violence are their swords... Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce, and their wrath, for it is cruel" (Genesis 49). That was Levi by nature and by practice — self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that God should pick out such a tribe and bring it into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely we may say it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases.
The older Bible he quotes reads "instruments of cruelty are in their habitations" where the ESV has "weapons of violence are their swords."
Levi stands outside Israel's count because God had already claimed the tribe. It stood in the place of Israel's firstborn sons:
God chose the Levites as a redemption for all the firstborn of Israel, whom He claimed for Himself. So they became wholly His. He gave them to Aaron to serve in everything connected with the tabernacle, except the priesthood, which He kept for Aaron and his descendants.
- Claimed — God kept Levi out of the count because He had already taken the tribe for Himself, in place of Israel's firstborn. They became wholly His.
- Grace — nothing in Levi deserved this. Grace takes up the worst cases, and it took a tribe known for fierce anger and self-will into a holy service.
- Set apart — a head count of fighting men had no place here. Leaving Levi uncounted stamps service with a character that is not of this earth.
- Both — the counted soldier and the uncounted servant are not two groups of people. They are two relationships, both true of the same believer.
- Carry — service is the result. We fight as men of war, worship as priests, and as Levites carry Christ through the desert.
And the children of Israel did according to all that Jehovah had commanded Moses so they encamped according to their standards, and so they journeyed, every one according to their families, according to their fathers' houses.
Chapter 2 ends with a record of obedience: Israel camped and moved just as God had told them. He had set every detail, so the closing line raises a real question — why did the place of each tent matter so much to Him, and what does His order mean for His people now?
Where each tribe camped was not a matter of taste. God fixed both the resting order and the marching order, and Israel was not free to improve on either.
Notice that God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march when they set out on their journeys, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested. The arrangements were not left to their own choice or wishes. If they had disobeyed, thinking they knew a better order, they would only have produced disorder.
Two things held the camp together: each man knew his family line, and he knew which standard he stood under. Neither was his own choice, and that left no room for rivalry.
Each had to know his post and keep it — to know his standard and stay by it. That is how they moved on together; that is how they made progress, did the work and carried on the warfare... Neither his family line nor his post was according to his own thoughts; all was of God. He gave the family line, and He assigned the standard. There was no need to compare one with another, and no ground for jealousy of one another. Each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity.
The tribes were placed in relation to the tent at the centre, where the cloud marked God's presence. Commentators draw a line from that camp to the church today.
Notice first that the tabernacle, where the cloud showed the presence of God, stood at the centre of everything. So much so that when Israel gathered together at rest, the token of God's presence was truly in the midst of them. It was visible, as suited that stage of God's dealings... The presence of God among His people today is not visible. Still, if the church of God is called together, and the Holy Spirit who lives in it is acting freely in power, an unbeliever coming in would have to confess, "God is really among you" (1 Cor. 14:25). We also have that great word of our Lord, "Where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I among them" (Matt. 18:20).
The four camps faced the four points of the compass. That shape says something about where the pressure on God's people comes from.
The four camps lie toward the four quarters: east, south, west, and north. The outside influences come from those quarters, and in a world like this any of them may be hostile. The people of God must meet them in the power of Him who is among them. They must be independent of circumstances, carrying their resources, in this sense, within themselves. The whole order has to do with these outside influences, as we shall soon see, since the entire wilderness journey is a warfare, and the people's dwelling-place a camp.
The order also decided who went first. The same tribe always led the march, and commentators see a reason for it.
The standard of Judah was always in the lead when the tribes set out to march, for the spirit of praise to God is of first importance in travel or in warfare. When Jehoshaphat's army went out with singers praising the Lord, the victory was soon gained (2 Chron. 20:21-22).
The size of the camp is what makes this order remarkable. Writers apply the lesson straight to the church today.
The total of the congregation must have been between two and three million. What a company for Moses to lead through the wilderness! But this illustrates the care of God in providing the best order possible. In the Church of God today He certainly shows no less wisdom. He provides a spiritual order that will glorify His name, and when the assembly gathers He expects a fitting recognition of that order, as 1 Corinthians 14:40 shows. "All things should be done decently and in order."
- Order commanded. God fixed the shape of the camp. Israel did not design it, and trying to improve on it would only have made disorder.
- Order assigned. God gave each man his family line and his standard, so every man had a post, real work, and no reason for jealousy.
- Order centred. The tent where God's presence was seen stood at the centre of everything the camp did.
- Order outward. Four camps faced four quarters. The pressure came from outside, and the strength came from the God in their midst.
- Order today. The same wisdom that arranged millions in the wilderness orders God's people now, and He expects His people to recognise it.
And these are the generations of Aaron and Moses in the day that Jehovah spoke with Moses on mount Sinai.
Numbers 3 turns from the fighting men counted in the first two chapters to the one tribe left out of that count. It opens with a family record dated to the time God spoke with Moses at Sinai. Two questions follow. Why does the priest's family stand at the head of a chapter about service? And why is Aaron named before Moses?
The chapter is about the Levites and their duties, yet it begins with the priests. One writer draws out the principle. God calls the men who draw near before He calls the men who serve.
God gives His call to them clearly here, although there have been hints of it before this. As we already see, He must have called the priests first, because the call of the Levites depends on the call of the priests. Communion and worship must come first and lead into service, if that service is to be real and effective.
Everywhere else the pair is "Moses and Aaron." Here Aaron comes first, and that switch means something.
This chapter mentions the generations of Aaron and Moses first. Elsewhere we read of Moses and Aaron, but here Aaron's name stands first. His name comes first because he pictures Christ as Priest. Everything depends on His intercession.
The verse promises the generations of two men. But the names that follow are Aaron's sons alone.
It begins with the "generations of Aaron and Moses," the spiritual heads of the tribe. Yet it gives only the name of Moses, since his children take their place as ordinary Levites. This makes it all the plainer that they come in here as heads of the tribe. In type, we see Christ as Priest and King in relation to ministry, as its source and its director. Aaron is first, because ministry depends above all on mediation, and is the fruit of it.
Moses' line took a different position, which later history fills in.
The sons of Moses "the man of God" could not serve as priests, as their relatives the sons of Aaron did. They were counted in the tribe of Levi (1 Chronicles 23:14-17). During David's reign, "Shebuel the son of Gershom," Moses' eldest son, was "ruler of the treasures." Shelomith came from Moses' second son. He and his relatives kept "all the treasures of the dedicated things," which were given for the upkeep of the house of the LORD (1 Chronicles 26:24-28).
"Generations" means natural descent. This family shows what natural descent cannot secure. The next verse names four sons. Two of them were already dead.
Aaron was the high priest. Israel passed the priesthood down by natural descent, which is not true in the Church of God today. In fact, a special priesthood is not scriptural now, for all true believers are priests (1 Peter 2:5), not by natural birth, but by spiritual birth. Aaron had four sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar (v.2), all consecrated as priests. But their service showed the weakness of natural succession at the very start. Nadab and Abihu disobeyed the Lord, offered forbidden incense, and died for this sin (Leviticus 10:1-2).
After naming the priest's family, the chapter sets the Levites before Aaron. That order carries a warning.
The first and chief point to grasp in the type is the link between the service and the High Priest — Christ Himself. Separate ministry in any form. Cut off the service of the saints from Christ Himself in the presence of God. Then you falsify and degrade it. One false principle has ruined service here on earth: people have tied it to the church, instead of to Christ.
- Priest first. The chapter on service opens with the priest's family. "Communion and worship must come first and lead into service." The Levites' call depends on Aaron's.
- Named first. Aaron is placed ahead of Moses because he pictures Christ as Priest, "on whose intercession everything depends."
- Listed first. Only Aaron's sons appear under the heading. Moses' children "take their place as ordinary Levites," and later kept the treasures in David's day.
- Failing first. The line by natural birth broke down at once with Nadab and Abihu. Commentators note that no priesthood by descent exists now, since all believers are priests by spiritual birth.
- Serving last. Everything begins at the priest. So service cut off from Christ is "falsified and degraded."
And these are the names of the sons of Aaron Nadab the firstborn, and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar.
Numbers 3 opens the record of the tribe of Levi, and it starts with Aaron's four sons, listed in birth order. Two of the four were cut off within days of being made priests.
The chapter names Aaron before Moses, reversing the usual order. The reason lies in who Aaron pictures.
This chapter mentions the generations of Aaron and Moses first. Elsewhere we read of Moses and Aaron, but here Aaron's name stands first. His name is put first because he is a picture of Christ as Priest, and everything depends on Christ's intercession.
Another writer ties that order to ministry itself.
As a picture, Christ as Priest and King is seen here in relation to ministry: He is its source and its director. Aaron comes first, because ministry depends above all on mediation and is the fruit of it. Aaron is also the head of that priestly family which is a picture of our own.
These four sons held the highest place among the Levites.
So the third chapter sets before us the names of the sons of Aaron, who had the highest place among the Levites... Then it records the death of the first two, Nadab and Abihu, leaving Eleazar and Ithamar to serve in the sight of Aaron their father.
The verse pairs the two older sons, then the two younger. One writer asks whether that pairing pointed ahead.
The reader may notice how the two older sons are paired together, and then the two younger. Was this God's way of pointing ahead to what would happen to those first two? They were cut off by God's judgment on the eighth day of Aaron's consecration. That left the two younger sons to carry out the duties of priests through the whole wilderness journey.
All four sons were set apart as priests at the same time.
Aaron had four sons: Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar. Leviticus 8 and 9 give us a very interesting and very solemn account of the consecration of Aaron and his four sons. They were brought nearer to God than anyone else in Israel. No other young men had the privileges given to them.
In Israel the priesthood passed from father to son. That is not how it works for believers now, and the family line failed at once.
Aaron was the high priest, and in Israel the priesthood passed down the family line. That is not true in the Church of God today. In fact, a special priesthood is not scriptural now, for all true believers are priests (1 Peter 2:5), not by natural birth, but by spiritual birth. However, Aaron had four sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar (v. 2), all consecrated as priests. But this principle of natural succession showed its weakness at the very start of their service. Nadab and Abihu disobeyed the Lord, offered forbidden incense, and died for this sin (Lev. 10:1-2).
The two who fell were among the most privileged men in Israel.
The two who died under judgment, almost as soon as they were consecrated as priests, had no excuse for their sin. They fell despite great privilege. It is often the way that failure is greatest in those who are most highly privileged.
One writer finds God's answer to the failure in the meanings of the two surviving names.
Here we find terrible failure and the judgment of God. The first two sons are cut off. The third, Eleazar, whose name means "help of God," speaks in this way of the resurrection-power by which God acts when all human power has come to an end. Ithamar, whose name means "where the palm tree is," follows Eleazar. His name seems to stand for the uprightness and fruitfulness that Scripture always links with the palm tree; the righteous flourish like the palm tree (Ps. 92:12). This is the true order here. The history bears it out: when Ithamar's descendants are raised above Eleazar's, as in Eli, the result is sad failure and collapse.
The chapter goes on to call the Levites to their service. The priests' call comes first, and that order matters.
As we see already, the call of the priests must have taken place first, since the calling of the Levites depends on the calling of the priests. Communion and worship must come before service and introduce it, if service is to be real and effective.
- Priest first. Aaron's name comes before Moses', because everything here depends on the priest.
- Privilege first. The four sons were consecrated together into the nearest place to God that anyone in Israel held.
- Failure first. Nadab and Abihu fell despite that privilege — failure is sharpest where privilege is greatest.
- Grace last. Eleazar, "help of God," speaks of God acting when human power is finished; Ithamar follows in his order, not above it.
- Service last. The priests are called before the Levites. Worship comes first, or service is not real.
These are the names of the sons of Aaron, the anointed priests, who were consecrated to exercise the priesthood.
Numbers 3 opens with the names of Aaron's sons. Two acts define them: an anointing, and an ordaining to serve as priests. Their whole standing before God rests on those two acts — which raises the question of who may draw near to God, and on what basis.
The chapter turns from the ordering of the whole nation to the family and tribe set apart for the sanctuary. One writer notes that this is where the book of Numbers finds its own subject, and that the believer stands in every one of these positions at once:
In the book of Numbers, where the walk on earth is set out, service has its chief place. What is true of Levite service is exactly true of priesthood: the Christian, who from one point of view is of Israel and from another a Levite, is no less a priest. But priesthood sets out drawing near to God Himself in the heavenly sanctuary — no longer the figure, but the true reality. Levitical service, on the other hand, has to do with the service of the sanctuary while the people of God are passing through.
The office was never theirs to claim:
Aaron and his sons had not earned this privilege. It came to them by pure grace. Hebrews 5:4 says it plainly: "no one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God, just as Aaron was." So priestly standing and service come by divine appointment.
The verse names them "the sons of Aaron." Birth, not ability, was the qualification — and it still is:
Aaron's sons were priests by birth — priests as sons of Aaron. Any son born to Aaron automatically became a priest at a certain age. No one else in Israel could be a priest. No influence, talent, wealth, or anything else could gain the office. These alone were priests. These alone were recognised by God. They had to be Aaron's sons. So now no one is a priest who is not born of God. Everyone who is born of God is a priest. Every believer is this through grace, for he is born of the Spirit. He is a child of God. He is in everlasting relationship with Jesus the great High Priest.
The verse calls all of them "the anointed priests." Who did that anointing cover?
The anointed priest seems to mean all the sons, the descendants of Aaron. Some have thought the anointing was distinctive of Aaron or the high priest. But compare Exodus 29:7, Leviticus 8:12 and 21:10 with Exodus 29:21 and Leviticus 8:30. It appears that pouring oil on the head was distinctive of the high priest, while all priests were anointed by sprinkling.
One writer draws out what the oil pictured, and what it rules out:
They were anointed with oil, an unmistakable type of our being anointed with the Holy Spirit. One inspired apostle writes: "it is God who establishes us with you in Christ, and has anointed us." Another apostle writes: "the anointing that you received from Him abides in you." This is our power for service. It makes the character of priesthood now spiritual and holy — not merely human or educational, still less successional.
The word "consecrated" here has a literal sense:
The word consecrate here means to fill their hands. Aaron and his sons were a company whose hands were filled with the excellencies of Christ. They entered into the delight of God in Him. The sweet savour of Christ to God filled their hands.
Being named among the priests was the highest privilege in Israel — and it was immediately a job:
One of the blessed places in which we are set, as children of God, is that of being made "priests" to Him. But we are apt, and rightly so, to think of this as a position of highest privilege. In practice we too often forget that it is one of constant service. Set in blessed nearness to God, the priests in Israel became, by that very nearness, simply servants of all the people.
- Called — no one took this honour for himself; the office came by God's appointment and pure grace.
- Born — the only qualification was being Aaron's son, which answers to being born of God.
- Anointed — the oil pictures the Holy Spirit. Priesthood now is spiritual, not passed down by human succession.
- Filled — consecration washed them, clothed them, and filled their hands with the excellence of Christ.
- Sent — nearness to God is not a resting place; those set closest became servants of all the people.
And Nadab and Abihu died before Jehovah when they offered strange fire before Jehovah in the wilderness of Sinai, and they had no sons; and Eleazar and Ithamar exercised the priesthood in the presence of Aaron their father.
Numbers 3 names Aaron's four sons as it begins to order the tribe of Levi. Two of them were already dead, struck down for offering "unauthorized fire" — called "strange fire" in older translations.
The chapter first sets the four sons in order, then immediately records what became of the two eldest.
The third chapter accordingly brings before us the names of the sons of Aaron, who had the highest place among the Levites — "Nadab the firstborn, and Abihu, Eleazar, and Ithamar." "These are the names of the sons of Aaron, the priests who were anointed, whom he consecrated to minister in the priest's office." Then the death of the two former, Nadab and Abihu, is mentioned, Eleazar and Ithamar remaining to minister in the sight of Aaron their father.
The offering itself was not the problem. The source of the flame was.
Before the day closed, the two elder sons of Aaron broke away from under his direction and offered incense on "strange fire" before the Lord. The incense was right but the fire was wrong. As far as we know, the only instruction given in this matter is found in Exodus 30:7-8, where the fire is connected with the lighting of the lamps in the holy place. They may have thought that if the incense was right, any fire would do to bring out its fragrance. But no, the fire must be God's fire and not man's. Learn from this: right words in worship are still wrong if the energy behind them comes from the flesh. Worship must be by the Spirit of God.
Another writer weighs the exact wording of the charge against them.
Notice that it is not said the Lord commanded that they should not do what they did, but He had not commanded them to do it. This is most serious where worship of the Lord is concerned. Only what He has indicated is acceptable to Him. If we add any humanly conceived notions to this, God will consider it "strange fire."
The verse says twice that this happened before the LORD. One writer asks who these men were, and where the fire that killed them came from.
Here we see men who look like they are getting ready to worship God. There is the fire, the incense, the censer, and the priest. And note: they were not false or fake priests. They were true sons of Aaron, part of the priestly house God had set apart, wearing the priestly robes God Himself appointed. Yet despite all this, they were struck dead — and by whom? By Him whom we call our God and Father! How solemn! The fact is more solemn still when we remember where the fire that consumed these false worshippers came from. It did not come from the top of Mount Sinai. It came out "from before the Lord," who was dwelling "between the cherubim above the mercy-seat."
The timing is part of the lesson. The priesthood had barely begun.
Lastly, we have what, sadly, is always the case with man. On its very first day, the priesthood falls short of the glory of God. Nadab and Abihu offer strange fire. They deal with God as natural men, and they do not base their service on the altar of sacrifice. So they die.
One writer turns it into a rule that reaches beyond this one story.
It is often the way that failure is most pronounced in those who are most highly privileged.
The verse ends by noting that these two left no children.
In Israel a natural succession was practised, as is not true in the Church of God today. In fact, a special priesthood is not scriptural now, for all true believers are priests (1 Peter 2:5), not by natural birth, but by spiritual birth. However, Aaron had four sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar (v.2), all consecrated as priests. But the weakness of the principle of natural succession was shown at the very beginning of their service.
The two names left standing carry meaning of their own, and their order matters.
Here we find terrible failure and the judgment of God. The first two sons are cut off. The third, Eleazar (whose name means "help of God"), speaks in this way of the resurrection-power by which God acts when all human power has ended. Ithamar ("where the palm-tree is") follows Eleazar, and this seems to point to the uprightness and fruitfulness that Scripture always ties to the palm-tree. Together and in the right order, Eleazar and Ithamar serve as priests in their father's presence.
The broken record of Aaron's house is not the end of the matter.
God said, "The priesthood has failed, but I will raise up another priest" — none other than the Lord Jesus Christ.
- Fire. The incense was right; the fire was wrong. Worship can fail at its source while the surface looks correct.
- Silence. Their sin was not something God forbade but something He never asked for. What He has not indicated is not acceptable.
- Mercy-seat. The fire did not come from Sinai. It came from the mercy-seat, and it fell on genuine, anointed, robed priests.
- Childless. Two of the four sons died leaving no children. A priesthood carried by natural birth is weak from the start.
- Another. Eleazar ("help of God") and Ithamar carry on before their father. And God promised to raise up another Priest — the Lord Jesus Christ.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Bring the tribe of Levi near, and present them before Aaron the priest, that they may minister unto him;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
and they shall keep his charge, and the charge of the whole assembly, before the tent of meeting, to do the service of the tabernacle.
Numbers 3:7 sets out the working life of the tribe of Levi. At the tent of meeting they had a charge to keep: Aaron's, the people's, and the service of the tabernacle. What does keeping a charge involve? And does work assigned this closely by God still shape how believers serve today?
The verse names more than one party the Levites answered to, and the order matters. One writer traces it outward, from Aaron to the people (his wording follows an older translation):
So the Levites were commanded to "keep the charge of Aaron" — this was the primary consideration — and to keep "the charge of the whole congregation before the tabernacle of the congregation, to do the service of the tabernacle" (Num. 3:7). Christian service is for Christ, but it is carried out for the benefit of God's people and for the sake of the testimony for God.
A "charge" is not just a task to do. It is a trust to protect. God gave the tabernacle vessels into the Levites' keeping:
The Levites are now to be brought near and given to Aaron and his sons, to serve him and to keep the charge of the vessels of the tabernacle. It is a weighty service, and for it they must depend on the Priest. They are given wholly to the service of the priests. Ministry belongs to those who worship, and its first and most urgent duty is to guard and care for the holy things they handle. The tabernacle vessels, we know, set forth the truth of what Christ is in all His offices; and all ministry must watch over and preserve this.
No Levite chose his own post. One writer calls that a mercy, though not every heart feels it as one:
The priest appointed each Levite's service. Self-will had no more room among the Levites than it had among the men of war. God settled it all, and this was a marked mercy to everyone whose heart was in a right condition. A man whose will was unbroken might feel it a hardship, a tiresome task, to have to stay in the same place and do exactly the same work… But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
The same point is pressed on the question of who does the choosing:
It was no question at all of picking out those who might seem best for carrying the boards and the curtains, or the vessels of the sanctuary. God arranged it all, taking it completely out of man's hands: He chose suited men Himself.
The tabernacle filled a Levite's whole working life. One writer turns that into a test for the Christian:
It is just the same for Christians now. Their exclusive business — their one great work — their absorbing service, is Christ and His belongings… A true Levite of old could say, "To me to live is the tabernacle;" and a true Christian now can say, "To me to live is Christ." In everything that comes before the Christian, the great question is this: "Can I connect Christ with it?" If not, I have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
One writer asks who the Levites are today, and counts practical help as real service:
The Levites now, as then, are to minister to the priests, that is, the church. Who are the Levites? They are the ones who watch over the saints and care for the flock of God: they teach, explain the word, do pastoral work, rebuke, and warn against the evil around them. In Israel there were different orders of Levites, each with its own duties. In the same way, those who had to serve tables (Acts 6:1-4) were doing true Levitical service. All, whether teachers or simply caring for the wants of the poor, ministered to the saints of God. These servants are called by the Master, and they take up the service willingly, not under compulsion… The Lord distributes to each according to his ability.
The priests and the Levites picture two sides of the Christian's place, and many prize one and neglect the other:
If Aaron and his sons represent the Church as a holy priesthood offering up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God through Jesus Christ, then the Levites picture the saints as set apart to God for His will and service… Some prize the privilege of being in God's presence as worshippers above everything else. Others count it the highest favour that they are allowed to serve. But the perfection of the Christian life lies in the combination of the two, as seen, for instance, in Elijah. "As the Lord of hosts lives," he says, "before whom I stand." He lived within, and so he was ready to serve without. The one who most enjoys his priestly privilege will be the best qualified for his Master's service.
- Charge, not career. God handed the Levite a trust to keep: Aaron's charge first, then the people's, then the tabernacle service.
- Keep means guard. The charge covered the holy vessels, so the first duty was to watch over and preserve them.
- Assigned, not chosen. God fixed each man's post; self-will had no room, and a subdued heart finds that a mercy.
- One thing only. The tabernacle was the Levite's whole business, as Christ is the Christian's.
- Inside, then outside. Standing before God as a worshipper is what equips anyone to keep the charge for others.
And they shall keep all the utensils of the tent of meeting, and the charge of the children of Israel, to do the service of the tabernacle.
God set the Levites apart from the rest of Israel and placed them around the tabernacle. This verse hands them two charges — the furnishings of the tent of meeting, and the people of Israel — and both raise one question: what does God want from those He calls to serve Him?
The duty here points two ways. The Levites served Aaron the priest, but their work also met the needs of the whole camp.
As well as serving Aaron, the Levites attended to the needs of the whole congregation of Israel (v.7). Those needs centered on the tabernacle and its service. They had to care for all the furnishing of the tabernacle (v.8). Today the answer to this is the ministry God has provided for the Church of God. Are we concerned to minister what will be of real help and blessing to the people? Every believer should have such a concern.
The order matters. One commentator puts the priest first and the people second:
So the Levites were commanded to "keep guard over" Aaron — this was the primary consideration — and to keep guard "over the whole congregation before the tent of meeting, as they minister at the tabernacle" (Num. 3:7). Christian service is for Christ, but we carry it out for the benefit of God's people and for the sake of the testimony for God.
The verse tells the Levites to guard. Commentators read the tabernacle's vessels as pictures of Christ, so guarding them comes first for anyone who serves.
God now commands that the Levites be brought near and given to Aaron and his sons, to serve him and to keep the charge of the vessels of the tabernacle. It is a weighty service, and for it they must depend on the Priest. They are given wholly to the service of the priests. Ministry belongs to those who worship, and its first and most urgent duty is to guard and care for the holy things they handle. We know that the tabernacle vessels set forth the truth of what Christ is in all His offices, and all ministry must watch over and preserve this.
God left nothing here to the servant's preference. The priest directed the work, and each Levite kept the place given to him.
All who would be true Levites — proper workmen, intelligent servants — need to weigh this point with all seriousness. The priest's appointment regulated Levite service. Self-will had no more room in the service of the Levites than it had in the position of the men of war. God settled it all, and this was a clear mercy to everyone whose heart was in a right condition.
The same point is drawn from God's choosing of the men themselves:
It was no question at all of picking out those who might seem best for carrying the boards and the curtains, or the vessels of the sanctuary. God arranged it all, taking it completely out of man's hands: He chose suited men Himself. Where is there any happiness except in simply carrying out the will of God?
Their service also had a boundary. The tabernacle and its belongings were their whole occupation.
Their service had to do only with the tabernacle and its belongings. They had nothing else to do. If a Levite had turned his hand to anything else, he would have denied his calling, abandoned the work God gave him, and defied God's commandments… A true Levite of old could say, "To me to live is the tabernacle." A true Christian today can say, "To me to live is Christ."
Behind the duty stands an earlier fact: God had already taken the Levites for Himself.
Verse 12 of Numbers 3 reveals the secret behind the special place of the Levites: God had chosen them "instead of all the firstborn". In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites on the basis of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price that redeemed the firstborn. So they belonged to God. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
- Redeemed. God took the Levites for Himself in place of the firstborn He had spared. They served as men who already belonged to Him.
- Given. God then gave them to Aaron. Commentators apply this to service done for Christ, and wholly for Him.
- Guarding. Their first duty was to watch over the holy vessels. These picture what Christ is in all His offices, so ministry guards the truth about Him.
- Reaching. The charge reached the whole congregation. Work done for the priest brought real help to the people.
- Assigned. No Levite chose his own place or load. God settled it, and happiness lay in simply obeying.
And thou shalt give the Levites to Aaron and to his sons they are wholly given to him out of the children of Israel.
Numbers 3 sets the tribe of Levi apart for service. Verse 9 settles who they belong to, and commentators read that handover as a picture of every servant of Christ. The word that carries the weight is "wholly."
The order matters. God claims the Levites as His own first, and only then do they pass into the priest's hands.
Notice too, on the passage just quoted, that the Levites are first declared to be God's property. Only then are they "WHOLLY GIVEN TO AARON." So we read: "Yours they were, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word" (John 17:6).
Levites and priests are not the same thing. One group pictures believers serving; the other pictures them coming near to God.
In Numbers 3 we have the Levites set apart, according to the thoughts of God, for service. They are a figure of the church, or rather of the members of the church in their service. The priests are the figure of Christians drawing near to the throne of God. Both are a shadow, not a perfect image.
Commentators read Aaron as a picture of Christ. That changes how a Christian sees his own life: God does not only rescue him; He gives him away.
The Levites were given as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, for service in the tent of meeting. Seen in this light, the Levites picture all believers as servants. So we learn that the Church is given to Christ for His service on the earth. We were given to Him for salvation, as every believer is. But we must also remember that we are a gift to Him for His absolute disposal. Our only proper attitude, therefore, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what do you want me to do?"
A total gift leaves nothing for a second owner. One writer traces what that means for a servant: how God separates him, how plainly his call must show, and whom he stands for.
They were separated "from among the people of Israel, and the Levites shall be Mine." It is no light thing, then, to enter on the Lord's service... They were marked out for their work by the Lord Himself. So every true servant must be marked out by God, and so plainly that his call will be clear to God's people. They were wholly the Lord's. He claimed them completely, for they were His through redemption. In the same way now the servant must recognise that he is not his own, that he is wholly devoted to the Lord's will. He must never allow any other claim to come between him and the Lord. In their service they stood for the whole congregation.
The Levites also had the tabernacle's furniture in their care. One writer takes those objects as standing for Christ Himself, which makes the job far bigger than carrying equipment.
The Levites are now told to be brought near, and to be given to Aaron and his sons. They are to minister to him and keep charge of the vessels of the tabernacle. It is a weighty service, and for it they need to depend on the Priest. Indeed, they are wholly given to the service of the priests. Ministry belongs to those who worship. Its first and most urgent duty is to guard and care for the holy things they handle. The tabernacle vessels, as we know, set out the truth of what Christ is in all His offices. All ministry must watch over and preserve this.
Levi's character earned him nothing. Something had to change first — and the place he was given is not the fighter's or the worshipper's.
What a place for the self-willed, fierce and cruel Levi! What a triumph of grace! What an illustration of the power of the blood of atonement and the water of purification! By nature and by practice they were far off from God. But the "blood" of atonement, the "water" of cleansing and the "razor" of self-judgment had done their blessed work. So the Levites were now fit to be presented as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, and to be joined with them in the holy services of the tent of meeting. In all this the Levites were a striking picture of God's people now... As men of war, we are called to fight; as priests, we are privileged to worship; but as Levites, we are responsible to serve.
- Owned. The Levites are God's property before they are Aaron's. Verse 9 hands on what God already owned.
- Given. God hands what He owns to the priest — the Church given to Christ for His service on earth, at His absolute disposal.
- Wholly. A total gift leaves no room for a second claim. The servant is not his own, and God marks out his call plainly enough for others to see.
- Guarding. The gift comes with a charge: care for the holy things, which show what Christ is. That weighty task keeps the servant leaning on the Priest.
- Grace. Blood, water and self-judgment made fierce, self-willed Levi fit to serve. The whole arrangement is a triumph of grace, not a reward.
And Aaron and his sons shalt thou appoint that they may attend to their priest's office; and the stranger that cometh near shall be put to death.
The chapter has just given the Levites to Aaron as helpers for the tabernacle, and this verse draws the line where their work stops. Only Aaron and his sons may serve as priests, and anyone else who steps in faces death — so why did God guard the way to Himself so closely?
The death sentence here has a positive truth behind it: God gave the priesthood, and no man could take it. One writer ties that rule to Christ, and to men who ignored it.
As to the appointment of the earthly priest, "no one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God, just as Aaron was." Here again there is an analogy to the priesthood of Christ. No one can truly take the place of priest, in any sense of the word, who is not called of God. The judgment that overtook Korah and those with him shows how serious it is to neglect this great truth. They sought to establish themselves in the priesthood without being called of God.
The threat was not idle. One writer points to a king who tested it.
Aaron's family had a great privilege. It was forbidden — under penalty of death — for an outsider to take up the priest's office (see Numbers 3:10, 38). When king Uzziah presumed to claim this office and tried to burn incense, he was struck with leprosy. He remained a leper until the day of his death (see 2 Chronicles 26:18-21).
Verse 10 follows straight after God gives the Levites to Aaron, and the two halves belong together. Writers draw a lasting principle from that link.
The ministry of the tabernacle depended at its root on the priesthood of Aaron; apart from that it had no place and no right to exist. The value and acceptance of the outward service hung entirely on the inner worship... All real service flows from the Lord, and so it depends on Him in the sanctuary and refers to Him there. Otherwise it becomes false — when its source becomes human, or its motives worldly.
Another writer draws out where ministry should lead, and what happened to the intruder.
Verse 9 insists again that the Levites were to be given to Aaron and his sons, reminding us that all true ministry is subject to the more important function of worship. Ministry done right will lead the hearers to worship the Lord. But if a man who was not a priest or Levite dared to come near, as though he had some place there, he would suffer the penalty of death (v. 10).
Verse 10 shuts one door. The verses around it show how the Levites came to be inside at all.
Jehovah took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel, who were spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and counted in the fullest sense as belonging to Jehovah... So the Levites, tied in this way to mercy — the great distinguishing mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt — were all the better fitted to do the service of the sanctuary. Who can presume to undertake the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation precedes ministry.
The barrier still stands, but the line has moved. One writer says who may now come near to worship.
First, it is evident that worship is the privilege only of the children of God. Worship is offered "in spirit and truth," and it is offered to Him who cannot admit sin into His presence. So only those who are washed in the blood of the Lamb, and who have received the Spirit, can draw near to God to adore Him. If a man who is not converted thinks he can draw near to God, that only proves he does not know what he is in himself, or who the God is whom he means to serve.
No one could install himself among Aaron's sons. One writer applies that to the practice of ordaining a separate class of priests today.
Forgetful or ignorant of the truth that all true believers, and no others, are priests (1 Peter 2), they have devised a way of making priests — of filling their "holy" offices by a human ordination. And such, when appointed this way, claim for themselves the exclusive right of approach to God... God alone makes priests, and everyone who is washed with water (born again) is brought under the value of the one sacrifice of Christ... and is set apart by Him for this office.
- Called — Priesthood was never taken; it was given. "No one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God, just as Aaron was."
- Redeemed — The Levites stood in for the firstborn spared in Egypt. Salvation comes before service; no one serves God who has not first been accepted on the ground of redemption.
- Given — Handed to Aaron, their work had no meaning apart from him. Service cut loose from Christ in the sanctuary becomes false.
- Guarded — The outsider who pushed in died. Uzziah's leprosy and Korah's judgment show the warning was carried out.
- Opened — Now every believer is a priest, and no human ordination can make one. The line now runs between those brought near by the blood of Christ and those still outside.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
The Lord speaks to Moses again, and what follows is startling: God takes a whole tribe for Himself in place of every firstborn son in Israel. The verses that follow explain why God had any claim on those sons, and what it cost when the Levites came up short of the number.
God's claim on the firstborn was not new. It went back to the night of the Passover in Egypt.
The Lord spoke to Moses again (v.11). He insisted that He Himself had set the Levites apart from among the people of Israel to stand in place of every firstborn in Israel. God had declared the firstborn His from the time of the Passover in Egypt, when the firstborn of Egypt were killed. The blood sprinkled on the doorposts and crossbars of their homes had in effect redeemed them. It is good for us too to recognise that God's rights come first.
The Levites did not simply volunteer. The Lord took them in place of sons He had already spared, and that shaped the service they gave.
The Lord took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel. Those firstborn were spared when the destroying angel visited Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and counted without question as belonging to the Lord. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites: "They shall be mine." So they stand as a lasting witness that the firstborn are the Lord's due, from people and animals alike. The grace of God had spared those whom they replaced at the time of judgment. So the Levites were identified with mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who can presume to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry.
The two counts did not match. God did not round the figure off or waive the difference.
At the census, the firstborn in Israel outnumbered the Levites by 273. God claimed these 273 just as much as the 22,000 who each had a Levite as a substitute. So five shekels each had to be paid for them as redemption money. According to Exodus 13 the firstborn were to be redeemed at their birth. Our chapter stresses again the principle that redemption comes before the service of God.
The Levites did not serve on their own terms. God gave them to the priest, and one writer reads that as a picture of service now.
The Levites were given to Aaron the high priest, and to him alone. The service of the church, or of its members, depends completely on Christ in the presence of God. It has no other object than what concerns Him. It is tied to the place and service He Himself renders to God in the true tabernacle, and it flows from that... The service of God's people has no value — in fact it is sin — except as it is joined to the priesthood. That is, joined to Christ on high, in the presence of God for us.
Standing in the firstborn's place marked the Levites out. One writer draws the line from there to the church.
The Levites pictured the Church — or the individual Christian — in service, just as the priests pictured the Church in worship. Taking them for the service of the Lord in place of the firstborn gave them a very special character. They were firstfruits to the Lord. So it is that the Church is as the firstfruits, holy to the Lord — "the church of the firstborn ones."
The same picture comes with an appeal.
The Levites were in a special way a redeemed company. So they are clearly typical of Christians, both in our redemption and in the claim God has on us for service as redeemed. "I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God" — redemption-mercies here — "to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship."
- Claim. God owns the firstborn because He spared them under the blood in Egypt; His rights come first.
- Substitute. Levi is taken in their place, so the whole tribe stands as a living reminder of that night of mercy.
- Price. Five shekels redeem each of the 273 firstborn beyond Levi's number. God counts the shortfall.
- Priest. The redeemed tribe is then given to Aaron; service that is not joined to the high priest has no value.
- Possession. Redemption comes first, then service — salvation before ministry, ownership before work.
And I, behold, I have taken the Levites from among the children of Israel instead of every firstborn that breaketh open the womb among the children of Israel, and the Levites shall be mine;
On the night He spared Israel's firstborn in Egypt, God claimed them as His own. Here He takes a whole tribe in their place, and the verse asks what it means to belong to God.
The phrase "instead of" reaches back to the night in Egypt when the blood of a lamb kept Israel's eldest sons alive.
Verse 12 reveals the secret behind the special place of the Levites: God chose them "instead of all the firstborn." In Egypt, God had spared Israel's firstborn because of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. As a result they belonged to God. Now, this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
Levi did not earn this place. What fitted the tribe for holy service was its link with mercy.
In a very special way Jehovah took them as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel, the ones spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and counted beyond question as belonging to Jehovah... God's grace had spared the very ones they stood for when judgment fell. So the Levites were identified with mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued it from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who can take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation precedes ministry...
Notice the order. God says whose they are before He says what they must do.
The service of the Levites flowed entirely from their being the Lord's. "The Levites shall be mine." For as it is written, "You are not your own, for you were bought with a price" (1 Corinthians 6:20). It is blessed to say, "My beloved is mine," but it is greater progress and a deeper joy to say, "I am His."
The exchange was not vague. God counted it person by person, and where the tribe fell short, silver made up the difference.
The history of the firstborn was this: God had His tabernacle, with its many and varied services. Performing them took a huge number of men. This service belonged to the firstborn, but their places were taken by the tribe of Levi. Each Levite represented a firstborn man in Israel. The eldest sons who outnumbered that tribe were redeemed at five shekels of silver each (Numbers 3:46-48, and 8). So the Levites were in a special way a redeemed company. Clearly they are in this way a picture of Christians, both in our redemption and in the claim God has upon us for service as redeemed... Looked at this way, the firstborn has, so to speak, a double history from his redemption, and so have we. First he dies in his substitute; then he lives as a servant in the Levite.
Belonging to God did not leave the tribe free to run itself. God handed them over to Aaron the priest as a gift.
The Levites were given as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, for service in the tent of meeting. Viewed in this way, the Levites picture all believers as servants. So we learn that God gives the Church to Christ for His service on the earth. We were given to Him for salvation, as every believer is. We must also remember that we are a gift to Him, for Him to use as He pleases. Our only proper attitude, therefore, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what will you have me to do?"
God's care for the firstborn did not stop with Egypt. One writer follows that line forward, carefully, to the church.
God in His grace has always had the firstborn before His mind. So as soon as He had sheltered His people from judgment in Egypt by the blood of the Passover lamb, He claimed all their firstborn, and the firstborn of their cattle too... Later God took the Levites instead of the firstborn and gave them to Aaron and his sons, to do the service of the people of Israel in the tent of meeting. In this way they stood for the firstborn of Israel. They were joined to Aaron, who was himself a firstborn. So they became a shadow, if not a type, of the church of the firstborn.
- Blood first. The claim began in Egypt. Israel's firstborn lived because a lamb died, and what blood saves belongs to God.
- "Mine" next. Before any duty in the tent, God says, "The Levites shall be mine."
- Substitutes counted. The exchange was exact, man for man, with five shekels paid for every firstborn the tribe could not cover.
- Given away. Those who were God's were handed to Aaron as a gift, which points to the servant's proper question: "Lord, what will you have me to do?"
- Then service. Salvation comes first. No one can serve God without knowing He has accepted him on the ground of redemption.
for every firstborn is mine. On the day that I smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, I hallowed unto me all the firstborn in Israel, both of man and beast; mine shall they be I am Jehovah.
God's reason for taking the Levites reaches back to one night in Egypt. That night He spared Israel's firstborn and struck down Egypt's. The verse tells us what that night created: a permanent divine claim, and a tribe set apart to answer it.
The firstborn who lived through that night did not simply escape death. Commentators point out that the same act which spared them also claimed them.
If we follow the history of the firstborn further, it is full of interest and instruction. The blood at the passover saved the firstborn of Israel. But those redeemed in this way were God's in a special and particular way. "Consecrate to me all the firstborn... is mine." So the firstborn was not only redeemed from death. He was bought for God — "you were bought with a price, so glorify God in your body."
The tribe of Levi did not earn its position. God accepted them in exchange for men who owed their lives to blood already shed.
The LORD took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel. Those firstborn were spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and counted emphatically to belong to the LORD. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine." So God made them the standing witness of the firstborn owed to Him from man as well as beast. The grace of God had exempted those they answered for in the time of judgment.
God counted the exchange man for man. Where the numbers did not match, silver made up the difference.
God had His tabernacle, with its many varied services. Performing them required a huge number of men. This service belonged to the firstborn, but the tribe of Levi took their places. Each Levite represented a firstborn man in Israel. Five shekels of silver redeemed each of the eldest children beyond that number.
Writers turn God's claim into a question about who may serve Him at all.
Who can dare to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry. That is clear if we listen to God and take seriously the solemn warning of the Lord and His apostle.
The redemption money paid for the extra firstborn makes the same point.
The redemption money went to Aaron for the service of God. This showed that it met His claims on the redeemed. Let us never forget that as redeemed people we belong to God. On this fact rests the life of service to His name, to which we are committed.
Several writers read the tribe of Levi as a shadow of believers set apart for work. They are careful to call it a shadow, not an exact image.
The Levites were firstfruits offered to God, for they stood in place of the firstborn in whom God had taken Israel to Himself, when He struck down the firstborn of the Egyptians... The number of the firstborn being greater than that of the Levites, those left over were redeemed, as a sign that they belonged to God, and the Levites became God's possession for His service (verses 12, 13). It is the same with the church: it belongs wholly to God to serve Him down here.
Being God's did not leave the Levites free. God then handed them over to the high priest.
The Levites were a separated people — God's special possession. They took the place of all the firstborn in Israel — those whom the blood of the lamb saved from the sword of the destroyer. In type they were a dead and risen people, set apart to God. God then presented them as a gift to Aaron the high priest, to do the service of the tabernacle.
That double ownership settles who chooses the servant's work.
God gave us to Christ for salvation, as He does every believer. We must also remember that we are a gift to Christ, for Him to use as He pleases. Our only right attitude, then, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who asked, "Lord, what will You have me to do?" How precious to remember that we are wholly the Lord's! As His, there is no room at all for self-will or for pleasing people.
- Spared — Israel's firstborn lived through the night Egypt's firstborn died. The blood of the lamb was the only reason.
- Owned — being spared made them God's property: not merely rescued from death, but bought for Him.
- Exchanged — God took the Levites man for man in their place, and silver paid for the extra. The whole tribe stood as a redeemed company.
- Qualified — redemption, not merit, fits anyone for the service of the sanctuary. Salvation comes before ministry.
- Given — God handed His own possession to Aaron for the work of the tabernacle. Writers see there a picture of believers given to Christ, with no room left for self-will.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, saying,
God speaks to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai and orders a second count — this time of one tribe only. Why does God count Levi apart from Israel, and why from one month old, when chapter 1 counted men fit to fight?
This separate count goes back to something that happened earlier, in Egypt. God had spared Israel's firstborn sons when the blood of the Passover lamb was on the door, and He then took Levi in their place:
Verse 12 of Numbers 3 unveils the secret behind the special place of the Levites: they had been chosen by God "instead of all the firstborn". In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites on the basis of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. As a result they belonged to God. Now, this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore see himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
Another writer ties this ownership to joy rather than loss.
Those whom He delivers He claims, and only in being His can deliverance be known. This is the joy of salvation, that we then belong to Him, and that He gains in us what He has been seeking.
The order matters for anyone who wants to serve God:
Who can take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry.
Chapter 1 counted men of twenty and upward who could go to war. Here the line drops to one month old, because this roll served a different purpose.
The Levites were then numbered separately from the other tribes of Israel. Yet not only the males twenty years old and above were numbered, but all males from one month old and over. For this was not for military service, but for service to God. They were not to serve in the sanctuary until they were thirty, and their service ended at fifty. Even so, they were plainly trained with that service in view. This reminds us that the Lord Jesus Himself did not begin His public service until He was about thirty years of age (Luke 3:23). His earlier years were an important preparation for it.
An infant of one month has no strength to serve. Yet he is on the roll.
Here they are numbered — apart from Israel, but still numbered — from infants of days, marked out for service long before it could begin. (Compare Galatians 1:15.) Strength is given before service is claimed; but from their earliest days they are counted apart according to the grace and intentions of God.
F. W. Grant asks what it would suggest if only strong men were worth counting:
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If only men in their strength were to be redeemed or numbered, would it not look as if God took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Psalm 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
Levi is counted family by family. Picture what that looked like in the wilderness:
It must have been beautiful to watch God's workers in the wilderness. Each one was at his post, and each moved in the sphere God had appointed him. So the moment the cloud was lifted up and the order came to move, every man knew what he had to do, and he gave himself to that and to nothing else. No man had any right to think for himself. The Lord thought for all.
Darby draws out three principles for our own service:
So, as regards our service, we have these three principles. First, we are redeemed, delivered from the judgments under which the enemies of God lie, and taken out from among those enemies. Second, as a result of this first fact, we belong entirely to God. Bought with a price, we are no longer our own, but God's, to glorify Him in our bodies, which are His. Third, we are entirely given to Christ, who is the Head of the house of God, the Priest, for the service of His tabernacle.
- Redeemed. The blood of the Passover lamb spared Israel's firstborn, and Levi's separate count rests on that rescue.
- Claimed. Those God delivers, He claims. He took Levi "instead of all the firstborn", and the tribe became His own possession.
- Counted early. God puts month-old infants on the roll. He values the soul, not a man's strength, and He marks out His servants long before their work begins.
- Trained. This roll is for service to God, not for battle. The years before thirty were preparation, as they were for the Lord Jesus.
- Assigned. God appointed each man his place. The question is not what he prefers, but what the Lord has given him to do.
Number the sons of Levi according to their fathers' houses, after their families; every male from a month old and upward shalt thou number them.
God tells Moses to count Levi on a different basis from every other tribe: not fighting men of twenty, but every male from a month old, listed by household. Two questions follow — why does God count babies, and why does He count them by household?
Moses counted the other tribes from twenty years old and up. He counted Levi from a month old, and the reason lies in the place this tribe now filled.
Notice the difference between the numbering of the tribe of Levi and the other tribes. In the previous chapter the count took in those who were twenty years old and over. The count of the Levites took in "every male from a month old and upward." The difference is that the Levites stood in the place of the firstborn — and the firstborn were either redeemed or given up at that tender age of weakness and helplessness (18:16).
That substitution is no bookkeeping detail. It settles who the Levites belong to, and who may serve God at all.
Jehovah took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel, who were spared when the destroying angel visited Egypt. Blood had redeemed them, and they were counted as clearly belonging to Jehovah. Instead of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine." ... Who dares take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God and take seriously the solemn warning of the Lord and His apostle. (Matt. 7:22; 1 Cor. 9:27)
Counting one-month-old boys makes no military sense. One writer draws out why: God does not count by strength.
The count takes them from a month old and upward, as it takes the firstborn, and for the same reason. If God redeemed or counted only men in their strength, would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Ps. 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
A baby of one month can do nothing at the sanctuary. Yet his name is already on the roll.
Here the count includes them (apart from Israel, but still counted) from babies whose age is still measured in days. God marks them out for service long before that service can begin. (Compare Gal. 1:15) He gives strength before He claims service. Yet from their earliest days He counts them as a people apart, according to His own grace and purpose.
Another writer asks how early God's eye rests on a servant.
With the Levites, an exception was made. Everyone was counted, almost from birth (from a month old – Num. 3:15). Does this detail not show that God takes notice of everyone He intends to use in His service, even from the earliest age? Paul tells us that God had 'separated him', and not only from the time of his conversion but 'from his mother's womb' (compare Jer. 1:5).
The gap between the count at one month and the work at thirty is not wasted time. One writer reads those years as training.
This count was not for military service, but for the service of God. The Levites did not take up sanctuary service until they were between 30 and 50, yet clearly they were trained with that service in view. This reminds us that the Lord Jesus Himself did not begin His public service until He was about 30 years old (Lk. 3:23). His earlier years were an important preparation for it.
The second half of the command matters as much as the age. Each Levite is listed under his father's house, and that listing fixes the work he will do.
The Levites were arranged by their families, and each one's service was clearly assigned. The servant always has his own particular service from God, to be carried out under responsibility to the Lord. He is never left to choose his service for himself.
The servant's part is to find that work and hold to it.
Nothing is more important in practice than that each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and should stick to it once he knows it. It also matters never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this: He divides the work according to His own will.
- Redeemed. Levi was counted from a month old because Levi replaced Israel's firstborn. Blood spared those sons in Egypt, so they belonged to God.
- Owned. Redemption comes before work. No one takes up God's service before knowing that God has accepted him.
- Valued. God counts infants because He values the soul, not the strength — He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man.
- Marked. God marks a servant out long before he can serve. He gives strength before He claims service.
- Placed. Each Levite is counted inside his own family. With the family comes his own work, and the Lord, not the servant, divides it.
And Moses numbered them, according to the commandment of Jehovah, -- as he had been commanded.
Numbers 3 sets one tribe apart from the rest of Israel, and verse 16 records that Moses counted them just as God told him. Two questions follow: why does the way of this census matter, and why does the list start with babies a month old?
God set the whole arrangement of this tribe. He gave each family its work and its place around the tabernacle, Israel's tent of worship. No part of it came from human preference.
In Numbers 3 we get the details of God's order for the tribe of Levi. God took this tribe for the service of His house, working under the priests, in place of all the firstborn from every tribe, whom He had claimed for Himself. Levi had three sons, Gershon, Kohath and Merari, and each of them became the head of a section of the tribe. God gave each section its own special service at the tabernacle, and each pitched its tents in a set position around the tabernacle. They decided nothing for themselves.
In Israel's other tribes, the count began at twenty years old. Levi's count began much earlier, because Levi's work was different.
God counted the Levites separately from the other tribes, because they had no land of their own as an inheritance. They were also not called to go to war, but to serve the Lord. So their census did not start with men of twenty years old, but with boys one month old. Training in the things of God is to start almost from birth, while training for physical war needs the strength of a grown man.
The starting age also shows what God values in a person.
They are counted from a month old and up, just as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. Suppose God redeemed or counted only men in their strength. Would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
The list holds the names of children who could not yet carry a thing. Their names still stood on it.
Now we come to their special numbering, which marks out the place given to each family. Here they are counted — apart from Israel, but still counted — from infants only days old, marked out for service long before that service could begin. God gives strength before He asks for service. But from their earliest days He sets them apart, according to His own grace and purpose.
Each Levite family had its own work. The family you were born into settled which work was yours.
So not every Levite had the same area of work — and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not take care of the vessels of the sanctuary; that charge belonged to the Kohathites. It is the same with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
God had already given the orders, so the Levites had nothing left to organise.
Each man had his own specific work. There could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide up the work and direct it! All that would have brought in disorder. All they had to do was the work the Lord had called them into. They had all the instructions already. Obeying them, and carrying the work out faithfully, were the essential things.
The reason this tribe is counted at all is that its men stand in place of Israel's firstborn sons, whom God had claimed for Himself. When the totals did not match, money made up the difference.
When they took the census, the firstborn in Israel outnumbered the Levites by 273. God claimed these 273 just as much as the 22,000 who each had a Levite standing in for them, so five shekels each had to be paid for them as redemption money. In this chapter we again see the principle that redemption comes first, before the service of God.
- Claimed — the Levites stand in place of Israel's firstborn, whom God claimed. His claim comes first, and redemption opens the door into service.
- Counted — the list starts at one month old. God does not measure muscle. He values the soul, and an infant's soul is precious to Him.
- Called — God writes infants onto a service list years before they can serve. He gives strength first and asks for the work later.
- Assigned — every family receives its own charge, so no one chooses his own service and no one has to guess.
- Obeyed — Moses counts by God's word alone. Nothing in the whole arrangement comes from human choice, and that still holds wherever God's work goes on.
And these are the sons of Levi by their names Gershon, and Kohath, and Merari.
Three names look like a simple family record. But everything that follows in the chapter — who camps where, who carries what, who serves whom — runs along these three lines.
The verse is a heading. The chapter then takes each name in turn and gives that family its own load to carry.
Levi had three sons: Gershon, Kohath, and Merari (Num. 3:17). Their families and descendants formed three different groups, each with different tasks. The Gershonites looked after the tabernacle, the tent and the coverings (v. 25). God entrusted the instruments of the sanctuary to the Kohathites (v. 32). The Merarites took care of the boards, the bars, the pillars and sockets of the tabernacle (v. 37).
Levi's family did not earn this position. It rests on what God did in one night in Egypt.
The Levites were firstfruits offered to God. They stood in place of the firstborn, in whom God had taken Israel to Himself when He struck down the firstborn of the Egyptians.
A Levite knew whose he was before he knew what he carried. That belonging goes back to a price paid in Egypt.
In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites on the basis of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. So they belonged to God. Now, this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore see himself as redeemed by God, and so as God's possession.
Commentators note that each name matches the load that family carried. Gershon means "stranger," and his family carried the coverings.
This is what makes the saint "a stranger" in the world — which is what the name Gershon means. If we walk showing the character of the Lord Jesus, and so realise that our place is the wilderness, we can be sure of the result. It will plainly mark us out as strangers in the world.
The middle family carried the ark, and their name matches that charge.
"Kohath," all are agreed, means "assembly." He does indeed have the ark in his charge, the centre of gathering. God reveals Himself to us in Christ, and as the fruit of His work. So to lift up Christ is to draw people to Him, just as He promised.
Merari's family handled the frame — the boards, bars, pillars and sockets that held the tabernacle up. Their name matches that work too.
So Merari's service has to do with the house of God... with supporting, strengthening and steadying what is His witness in the world. He stands for the workman, as Gershon stands for the "stranger" and pilgrim, and Kohath for the one occupied with Christ. His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of how painful this service is, and self-love will break down under it.
The split into three families was never a ranking.
Although the whole tribe of Levi stood "joined with Aaron," for service they fell into different classes. "They did not all have the same office"... Paying careful attention to this important point would save us from much of that "unwise" comparing of ourselves and our service with other people and their service. Such comparing is most unholy, and as a result most unhealthy.
Birth decided which of the three families a man belonged to, and with it his work. He did not apply for it.
So not every Levite had the same area of work – and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not look after the vessels of the sanctuary, which God had entrusted to the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
One mind lay behind all three assignments.
God puts the families of the tribe into their different places. He is sovereign in appointing them, so of course everything stands in its place, perfectly ordered — Kohath with his precious vessels, Gershon with his fine linen, Merari with his boards and pillars. Service is a gift, and so the gift is what appoints a man to his service, since the Giver can make no mistake.
- Redeemed first. God took the Levites in place of the firstborn He spared in Egypt. They belonged to Him before they carried anything.
- Named for the work. Gershon means "stranger," and his family carried the coverings. Kohath means "assembly," and his family carried the ark. Merari means "bitterness," and his family carried the frame.
- One standing, three offices. All alike stood joined with Aaron, yet they did not all have the same job. So there is no ground for comparing yourself with others.
- Assigned, not chosen. A Merarite could not take a Kohathite's job. The Giver makes no mistake, so the place He gives is the right one.
- Bitterness included. Merari's name means "bitterness": holding up God's witness is painful work, and self-love breaks down under it.
And these are the names of the sons of Gershon according to their families Libni and Shimei.
Numbers 3 sets the tribe of Levi apart for the work of the tabernacle. The chapter moves by names: Levi's three sons, then the sons under each of them. Verse 18 names Gershon's two sons, and with the name comes a family line and a load to carry.
The Levite count did not start at working age. It started in infancy. Kelly notes how early it began, and what that shows about God's grace.
Here they are counted — apart from Israel, but still counted — from infants only days old, marked out for service long before it could begin. (Compare Gal. 1:15) God gives strength before He asks for service; but from their earliest days He sets them apart, according to His grace and His purposes.
Libni and Shimei did not step forward to claim a role. Kelly points to who did the choosing.
It was not at all a question of picking out the men who seemed best suited to carry the boards and the curtains, or the vessels of the sanctuary. God arranged it all, taking it completely out of man's hands: He chose suited men Himself.
Birth decided the branch, and the branch decided the task, with no crossing over:
So not every Levite had the same area of work – and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not take care of the vessels of the sanctuary; God entrusted those to the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
One writer reads the names themselves, joining the two sons to their father.
"Gershon" means "exile." His two sons are Libni, "white," and Shimei, "my report" — names that are not hard to join into one meaning. A true exile is someone who feels his exile from the home of his heart, even if it lasts only a while. Out of that spirit of being a stranger comes power for purity and freedom from defilement. And the last name may well speak of what has the greatest value for him here: the "report" of things he cannot yet see.
after-check: meaning kept
Later in the chapter these two families receive the tent and its coverings to carry. Mackintosh asks what those coverings stood for.
There was little to attract anyone in the rams' skins and badgers' skins. But little as there was, it was the Gershonite's high privilege to take them all up and carry them gladly on his shoulders across the trackless sands. So what are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? I believe that, in a word, it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was the part that met the eye.
Mackintosh ties that carrying back to the name Gershon itself:
This is what makes the believer "a stranger" in the world — which is what the name Gershon means. If we walk showing the character of the Lord Jesus, and in doing so know our place is in the wilderness, we can be sure it will give our character a very clear mark of the stranger in this world.
Gershon's load was not Kohath's or Merari's. Mackintosh shows how the separate loads still leaned on each other.
The boards and sockets were no use without the curtains, and the curtains were no use without the boards and sockets. And the pins looked so small — yet who could measure how much they did to hold things together and keep the visible unity of the whole? So everything worked to one common end, and each man reached that end by attending to his own special line.
- Named — God counted the Levites while they were still infants, marking them out for service "long before it could begin," because He gives strength before He asks for service.
- Placed — Libni and Shimei did not apply for a post; God "chose suited men Himself," and no Levite could swap branches.
- Burdened — the Gershonites carried the tent and its coverings, which Mackintosh reads as a picture of "the character of the Lord Jesus Christ" — the part that met the eye.
- Strangers — carrying curtains instead of settling in a house stamped the family with the meaning of their father's name, "exile."
- Joined — curtains needed boards, boards needed curtains, and even the pins held the whole together. Different tasks, one end.
And the sons of Kohath according to their families Amram and Izhar, Hebron and Uzziel.
This verse lists four names: Amram, Izhar, Hebron and Uzziel — the families of Kohath. Commentators read the list as a picture of how God hands out work, and of the limits He sets on it.
These families had a fixed place in the camp and a fixed set of holy things in their care.
Kohath (which means assembly), with the Amramites, Izharites, Hebronites and Uzzielites, numbered 8,600 people. Their place was on the south side, and they had charge of the ark, the table, the lampstand, the altars, the screen, and all the service that went with them.
What they carried points beyond itself.
The things the Kohathites carried are all pictures of the objective truths of Christianity — not the subjective ones, as we have seen in Gershon. For all this furniture speaks of Christ and His perfect work. So Kohath stands for the ministry of the glory of the Lord Jesus, set out in unique excellence, far above and apart from any human understanding or appreciation of it. It is absolute, living and real. John's Gospel presents this beautifully, and so does Hebrews 1.
Read in the order the verse gives them, the meanings of the four names fit together.
Kohath's first son is Amram, "people of the Exalted One." It is a beautiful name, if we link it with that gathering to Christ which Kohath's own name seems to speak of. The next is Izhar, "oil," the undoubted type of the Spirit as the Anointer. Then we have Hebron, "union," as some put it, or "communion," as we have taken it elsewhere. Either way, it is the effect of the Spirit's work. Last comes Uzziel, "the power of God," the father of Elizaphan. Plainly these names run together in the most natural way, and they harmonize in a blessed picture of what Kohathite ministry produces.
The count of these families did not start with grown men.
They are counted from one month old and upward, just as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If God redeemed or counted only strong men, would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
This family received nothing from the princes' offering. What they carried explains why.
The sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying all that was most precious among the instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they received no part of the princes' offering. It was their high and holy service to carry these things on their own shoulders, and not to use wagons or oxen. The more closely we look at the things put in the charge of the Kohathites, the more we shall see that they set forth, in type, the deeper and fuller ways God has shown Himself in Christ.
Each family of Levi had its own work, and no one was to take up another's.
Korah came from Izhar, the second name in this verse.
Korah was the son of Izhar, a son of Kohath. With Dathan and Abiram he led the rebellion against Moses and Aaron, saying that they took too much on themselves, when all the people were holy.
The tragedy was not that Korah had too little, but that he would not stay with what he had.
How much better it would have been for Korah if he had stayed content with his Levite service, which was of the very highest order. His work as a Kohathite was to carry some of the most precious vessels of the sanctuary, but he aimed at the priesthood, and fell into the pit.
- Named — Amram, Izhar, Hebron and Uzziel head the four families of Kohath. They camped on the south side, with the ark, table, lampstand and altars in their charge.
- Counted — the count starts at one month old. God values the soul, not a man's strength, and the soul of an infant is precious to Him.
- Meaning — in order, the names make one picture: a people of the Exalted One, anointed by the Spirit, brought into communion, and held by the power of God.
- Carried — this family used no wagons and no oxen. What they carried spoke of Christ, and it went on their own shoulders.
- Kept — each family had its own load and was not to reach for another's. Korah, of Izhar's line, refused that limit, aimed at the priesthood, and fell.
And the sons of Merari according to their families Mahli and Mushi. These are the families of the Levites according to their fathers' houses.
Numbers 3 counts the tribe of Levi family by family. This verse closes the list with Levi's third son, Merari, and his two sons, Mahli and Mushi. The list looks like plain record-keeping. But commentators see God giving names, places and work to the people He had taken for Himself.
God chose the Levites in place of Israel's firstborn. That choice had a price behind it:
In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites on the basis of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. So they belonged to God. Now this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
The names are strange for a tribe set apart to serve. One writer ties their meaning to the work these families were given:
The last of Levi's three sons is Merari, "bitter," with his two sons, Mahli, "sick," and Mushi, "yielding." These are the strangest names of all for sons of Levi. These families have charge of the boards of the tabernacle and its bars, its pillars and sockets, and those of the court and the pegs and cords. Here it is clear that Merari is taken up not so much with Christ Himself as with the people of the Lord... His work is mainly what we may call church work. And who has ever done this work without finding the bitterness that Merari's name expresses?
Each of Levi's three sons led a group with its own charge. Merari's group got the framework, not the furniture or the coverings:
The Gershonites looked after the tabernacle, the tent and the coverings (v. 25). The Kohathites were trusted with the vessels of the sanctuary (v. 32). The Merarites had the care of the boards, the bars, the pillars and sockets of the tabernacle (v. 37).
Those parts held the whole structure together. One writer sees a picture in that:
Merari had charge with his sons of the boards, the sockets, pins and cords. These held the building together... In the framework of the tabernacle, bars of acacia wood join the boards. This is a picture of the building Ephesians speaks of, "the whole structure, being joined together" — the church. The work of Merari suggests the thought of union.
The verse groups these men by clan and father's house. Nobody chose his own role, one writer notes:
Merari, with the Mahlite and Mushite families, numbered 6,200, and their place was on the north side, opposite Dan... Each had his specific work given, and there could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide the work and direct it! ... God had given all the instructions. Obeying them and doing the work faithfully were the essential things. The same is true in connection with the church. Every member in the body of Christ has a service to render. The Lord Himself puts each member in place, and He gives each one his service. He did the same for these sons of Levi and their families, giving them their specific work in and around the tabernacle.
Merari's portion was the boards, sockets, pegs and cords — the plainest load in the camp. One writer ties that to the meaning of his name:
His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of how painful such service is. Self-love breaks down under it, or runs off into some odd path that is easier on flesh and blood... Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the small details of divine appointment? Who wants work of this menial kind, costing so much and bringing in so little? ... It calls only for steady accuracy and careful obedience.
Yet one writer makes the smallest item in Merari's charge a test of whose taste the work serves:
Putting one "pin" in its true place may mean giving up your own will to God. It means willingly taking up what is little, and not counting it little. It means listening carefully to God's words, which is sweeter to Him than much that people think a costlier sacrifice. Service about God's house must own Him as Master, and that He may have things to His taste, not we to ours.
- Redeemed. God took Levi in place of the firstborn He spared by the blood of the Passover lamb. Every man in this list belonged to God before he ever served Him.
- Named. Merari, Mahli and Mushi mean "bitter," "sick," "yielding." They are strange names for a serving tribe, and commentators tie them to the work these families were given.
- Assigned. Merari's families carried the boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs and cords. These parts held everything together — a picture of the church joined together.
- Ordered. God gave the work; nobody chose it, and no committees divided it. The Lord Himself still places each member of the body of Christ.
- Costly. Self-love runs from this service: plain, unnoticed, detailed. Yet putting one pin in its true place is obedience God values above showier offerings.
Of Gershon, the family of the Libnites, and the family of the Shimites these are the families of the Gershonites.
This verse takes Gershon, the first of Levi's three sons, and names his two clans. Behind that dry roll-call lies a question the rest of the chapter answers: why does God count a family at all, and who decides what each branch of it will do?
The census reaches down to babies one month old, long before any of them could lift a curtain.
Here they are counted — apart from Israel, but still counted — from babies only days old. They are marked out for service long before that service could begin. God gives strength before He claims service. But from their earliest days He sets them apart according to His grace and His intentions.
Another writer asks why the count did not start with grown men.
The count runs from a month old and upward, as it does for the firstborn, and for the same reason. If God redeemed or counted only men in their strength, would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Ps. 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight.
The three names form one picture, each feeding the next.
"Gershon" means "exile"; his two sons are Libni, "white," and Shimei, "my report": these names are not hard to join into one meaning. A true exile is someone who feels his exile, even if it lasts only a while, from the home of his heart. Out of that spirit of being a stranger comes power for purity and freedom from defilement. The last name may point to what has the fullest value for him in this case: the "report" of things not now seen.
The Gershonites carried the outside of the tabernacle, not its treasures. That load was no small honour.
Here was Gershon's work, to carry through the waste and howling wilderness the tabernacle and its coverings. There was little that was attractive about the rams' skins and badgers' skins. Yet it was still the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up. He was glad to carry them on his shoulders across the trackless sands. What, then, are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? I believe it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was what would meet the eye.
One commentator reads the same charge forward into Christian service and names the ministry it stands for.
The Gershonites were responsible for the coverings of the tabernacle, the hangings for the entrance of the tabernacle, all the hangings of the court, its entrance hangings and cords, and so on. These all speak of the practical moral character of the Lord Jesus or of His saints. Gershon would therefore stand for the ministry that insists on the moral perfection of the Lord Jesus. It also insists on the practical righteousness that should mark all believers, as a witness to our faith in the perfect one.
The tent they carried matched the name they bore.
This is what makes the believer "a stranger" (as the name Gershon means) in the world. Suppose we walk in the display of the character of the Lord Jesus. Suppose that, in doing so, we realise that our place is in the wilderness. Then we may be sure it will give our character in the world the clear tone of a stranger. The curtain pictured another feature of the stranger character: looking ahead. This was most blessed. God dwelling in curtains made it clear that neither He nor the ark of His strength had found a resting place. Both were still travelling on towards "a rest that remained."
Splitting Levi into named clans was not bookkeeping; it fixed who did what.
So not every Levite had the same sphere of activity – and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not look after the vessels of the sanctuary. Those were the Kohathites' charge. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
The clan lines divided the work without dividing the tribe.
In standing, the whole tribe of Levi was "joined with Aaron." In service, they fell into different classes. "All had not the same office." I know of nothing in the walk and service of the Christian that demands more attention than this. Proper attention to it would save us from much of that "unwise" comparing of ourselves and our service with other people and their services.
- Counted — God counted Gershon's clans from a month old. He marked them out for service long before they had strength for it. He values the soul, not the legs.
- Named — Gershon is "exile," Libni "white," Shimei "my report." The sense of exile produces purity, and purity lives on the report of what is not now seen.
- Charged — they carried the coverings and hangings, the outside that meets the eye. It pictures the character of Christ and the practical righteousness expected in His people.
- Strangers — they carried a tent, not a house. Neither God nor the ark had found a resting place, so they kept moving toward a rest still ahead.
- Assigned — no Levite chose his own work, and in standing they were all one. That leaves no room for comparing your service with anyone else's.
Those that were numbered of them, according to the number of all the males, from a month old and upward, those that were numbered of them were seven thousand five hundred.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The families of the Gershonites encamped behind the tabernacle westward.
Numbers 3 gives each Levite family its own station around God's tent, and verse 23 puts the Gershonites at the back, on the west. Why did God fix where each family camped, and what did that spot have to do with their work?
Each Levite house received its own line of service from God. One writer draws out what that means for anyone who serves:
There were three principal houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. They, with their sons, each have a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4... In practice, nothing is more important than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And once he knows it, he should stick to it. It also matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
God placed each family; none of them chose. Another writer ties that placing to the gift behind it:
In the first part of this section God puts the families of the tribe into their different places. He is sovereign in appointing them. So everything is of course in its place and perfectly ordered — Kohath with his precious vessels, Gershon with his fine linen, Merari with his boards and pillars. Service is gift, and therefore gift is the appointment to service, since the Giver can make no mistake.
Set the Levite positions side by side and a square appears:
It should be noted that Merari's camping north of the tabernacle is significant. Kohath camps to the south, Gershon to the west, while Moses, Aaron, and his sons camp toward the east. So they fill Judah's place in the inner circle.
Moses and Aaron camped on the east, at the entrance the priests guarded. Gershon lay at the far end, behind the tent, with Ephraim camped further out on the same side:
Gershon (exile) with his sons, Libni and Shimei, were 7,500 souls. Their place was on the west side of the tabernacle, opposite Ephraim... They had charge of the tabernacle, the tent, the coverings and the hangings of the door of the tabernacle.
The reason for all this ordering was the One in the middle of it:
God has His people numbered and gathered around Himself. He dwelt in the camp — "in the midst of which I dwell." Could love do more? Impossible! The twelve tribes guarded the tabernacle of the Lord. The Levites camped right around the court. Moses, Aaron, and the priests guarded the entrance through which people came to God... But what gave the camp in the wilderness its unity, strength, and glory was the presence of God in His tabernacle, at the centre of His chosen people.
The name Gershon carries its own lesson:
First, his name — "exile" — speaks plainly of separation from the place he belongs to. For us that place is heaven. Gershon belongs by birth to Canaan, and his life afterward in Egypt fits his name. Is this not to be our character too — "strangers," because we belong to heaven, "partakers of the heavenly calling"?
What they carried matched the name they bore:
Notice too that the curtains, coverings, and hangings that Gershon handles are in fact all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or they mark off the court and separate it from the wilderness around. So they speak easily and naturally of the boundary lines of God's special enclosure — which is what the Church is in the world.
One writer applies this to the Church:
If we walk showing the character of the Lord Jesus, and in doing so realise that our place is in the wilderness, we can be sure of the result. It will mark us out clearly as strangers in the world... The Church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character. In other words, the Church has stopped walking in the footsteps of her rejected Lord and Master. So she is no longer the weary, worn stranger she should be, walking the dry and barren desert with the burden on her shoulders. She has settled down in the green places of the world and made herself at home.
- Centre. God dwelt in the middle of the camp. Every tent, Levite or tribal, took its place from Him.
- Assigned. God gave Gershon the west side. No family chose its own ground.
- Named. Gershon means exile — a family whose very name marked them as people away from home.
- Matched. Their charge was the curtains and hangings, the lines that separated God's enclosure from the wilderness around it.
- Kept. Do not lay the burden down. Carrying it is what keeps a believer a stranger instead of a settler.
And the prince of the father's house of the Gershonites was Eliasaph the son of Lael.
Numbers 3 sets the tribe of Levi around the tabernacle — Israel's tent sanctuary — family by family, and this verse names the man put over the Gershonite branch. God chose this leader; the people did not. And both his name and his father's fit the work his family carried.
The whole arrangement of Levite service came from God, down to who would head each family.
It was not at all a matter of picking out those who might seem best for carrying the boards and the curtains, or the vessels of the sanctuary. God arranged it all, taking it completely out of man's hands: He chose suitable men Himself. Where is there any happiness except in simply doing the will of God? Nothing else is so sweet.
The verse calls Eliasaph chief of his father's house — head of one branch of the family. Older translations call him its prince. Both his name and his father's point past the man himself.
His prince is Eliasaph, "God has added" — a name we met before in the leader of the tribe of Gad, and close in meaning to Joseph. "Increase" fits the practical line of Gershon's work. The reminder that increase comes from God is a good one for those on this path. They may be in danger of self-occupation, and that always means self-confidence. He is the son of Lael, "of God," or "belonging to God." The name seems to well up out of the deep joy of a soul that has found here the secret of its strength and progress.
The most honoured load — the holy vessels — did not go to the eldest line.
Here the principle of election was displayed. Gershon was the eldest son of Levi, so his descendants might have expected the task of carrying the sacred vessels on their shoulders. Instead God gave that work to the descendants of Kohath, Levi's second son. How often we see in Scripture that blessing and privilege do not run in the order of nature.
Their load looked plain — skins and cloth. One writer reads the outer covering as a picture of what people saw in Christ.
Here was Gershon's work: to carry the tabernacle and its coverings through the barren, howling wilderness. This was true Levite service, and most blessed service. There was little that was attractive in the rams' skins and the badgers' skins. Yet it was the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up and carry them cheerfully on his shoulders across the trackless sands. What, then, are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? I believe, in a word, it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was the part the eye would see.
Carrying that covering marked the man who carried it. One writer applies this to the church of today.
This is what makes the believer a stranger in the world — and "stranger" is what the name Gershon means. Suppose we walk in the character of the Lord Jesus and, in doing so, realise that our place is the wilderness. Then we may be sure it will give us the clear mark of a stranger in the world… The Church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character. She has stopped walking in the footsteps of her rejected Lord and Master. She should be the tired and worn stranger, treading the dry and barren desert with the burden on her shoulders. Instead she has settled down in the green places of the world and made herself at home.
Naming a head over the Gershonites drew a line around their work. Neighbouring families depended on them but could not do their job for them.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and the pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. Yet they were closely connected and depended on each other. The boards and sockets would not do without the curtains, and the curtains would not do without them… Suppose a Gershonite took it into his head to leave the curtains and turn to the pins. He would leave his own work undone and interfere with the work of the Merarite. That would never do.
- Chosen — God appointed the head of the Gershonites. No one picked the man who seemed best suited.
- Named — Eliasaph means "God has added," Lael "belonging to God." Increase comes from God, which leaves no room for self-confidence.
- Passed over — Gershon was the eldest, yet the holy vessels went to Kohath's line. In Scripture, privilege often ignores the order of nature.
- Loaded — the coverings they carried had little to attract the eye. They pictured the character of the Lord Jesus as people saw Him.
- Distinct — the curtains were Gershon's, the pins Merari's. Leave your own charge to take up another's, and both jobs suffer.
And the charge of the sons of Gershon in the tent of meeting was the tabernacle and the tent, its covering, and the curtain of the entrance to the tent of meeting.
God handed one Levite family the soft parts of the tabernacle: its curtains, its coverings, and the screen at the door. Why this family, and what does a job made of cloth and cords teach about serving God?
Gershon was Levi's firstborn son. The most honoured job might have gone to his line. It did not:
God appointed the duties of the Levites as it pleased Him. So each Levitical family could set to work, and no one was to interfere with them. They were responsible to God, and from Him they had received authority for their service. Here the principle of election showed itself. Gershon was the eldest son of Levi. His descendants might have expected to be chosen to carry the sacred vessels on their shoulders. But God entrusted that work to the descendants of Kohath, Levi's second son. How often we see in Scripture that blessing and privilege do not run in the order of nature.
The verse names fabrics and skins, not gold. Each material carries meaning:
These curtains are made of goats' hair or fine twined linen. The coverings are rams' skins and badgers' skins. From Revelation 19:8 we are clear that the "fine linen" is "righteousness" — practical righteousness. The curtains that form the tabernacle itself represent this righteousness in Christ. In His flesh the divine Word "tabernacled," as John 1:14 puts it. The hangings for the court represent the righteousness of saints, shown outside the sanctuary in the world. The hangings for the "door" and "gate" again represent Christ, the only way of access.
All these pieces have one thing in common. They are edges:
The curtains, coverings, and hangings that Gershon has to do with are in fact all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or mark off and separate the court from the wilderness around. They speak, then, easily and naturally, of the boundary lines of God's special enclosure — which the Church is in the world.
The outer covering was the plainest part of the structure, and the part everyone saw:
Here was Gershon's work: to carry the tabernacle and its coverings through the waste and howling wilderness. There could be little attractiveness in the rams' skins and badgers' skins. Yet even so, it was the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up and carry them cheerfully on his shoulders across the trackless sands. What, then, are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? I believe, in a word, it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was what would meet the eye.
The family's name fits the job:
Gershon and his sons had charge of the coverings and the fine linen. Gershon means exile, a stranger. His service shows us that we are separated ones and strangers in the world. This separation must show itself in practical righteousness.
Curtains also said something about God: He had no settled house yet. That brings a warning:
The Church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character. In other words, the Church has stopped walking in the footsteps of her rejected Lord and Master. She should be a tired and worn stranger, crossing the parched and barren desert with the burden on her shoulders. Instead she has settled down in the green places of the world and made herself at home. But there was another feature of the stranger character pictured in the curtain — anticipation. God dwelling in curtains showed plainly that neither God nor the ark of His strength had found a resting-place. They were journeying on toward "a rest that remained."
Each family had its own job, and that was the point:
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. Yet the two depended on each other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains," and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. Suppose a Gershonite had decided to abandon "the curtains" and turn his hand to "the pins." He would have left his own work undone and interfered with the work of the Merarite.
This removed all competition over which task was grander:
Seen in this light, it would be a matter of complete indifference whether a man had to carry a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
- Chosen — God assigned each family's work. Being firstborn won Gershon nothing; privilege in Scripture often runs against the order of nature.
- Covering — this family carried the outer fabric and skins: a picture of the character of Christ, the part that met the eye.
- Boundary — curtains, hangings and screens are all lines of separation. They mark off God's enclosure from the wilderness around.
- Stranger — the name Gershon means exile or stranger, and the work fitted the name. A people carrying curtains has not settled down.
- Content — God assigns every task, so pin and curtain and lampstand rank alike. One question is left: is this the work He gave me?
And the hangings of the court, and the curtain of the entrance to the court, which surrounds the tabernacle and the altar, and the cords thereof for all its service.
Numbers 3 gives each Levite family its share of the tabernacle, and Gershon's share ends here: the linen wall of the courtyard, the curtain at its gate, and the ropes. Why would God spell out ropes and curtains by name, and what did this humble charge teach the people who carried it?
No Levite picked his own job. One writer draws out what that means for every servant of God:
Nothing is more important in practice than this: every servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it he should stick to it. It also matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
A fixed task feels different depending on the heart:
To someone whose will was unbroken, it might seem a hardship and a very tiresome task to have to keep the same position, or to do exactly the same line of work. Such a person might long for something fresh — some variety in his work. But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
One writer reads the fine linen of these hangings as a picture of righteousness — first in Christ, then in His people:
Revelation 19:8 makes it clear that the "fine linen" is "righteousness" — practical righteousness. The curtains that make up the tabernacle itself represent this righteousness in Christ. In His flesh the divine Word "tabernacled," as John 1:14 puts it. The hangings for the court represent the righteousness of saints, shown outside the sanctuary in the world.
One writer sums up what this family's work stood for:
Gershon would therefore stand for the ministry that insists on the moral perfection of the Lord Jesus. It also insists on the practical righteousness that should mark all believers, as a witness to our faith in the perfect One.
Notice what all of Gershon's items have in common: they mark edges.
Notice that the curtains, coverings and hangings Gershon deals with are all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or they mark the court off from the wilderness around it. So they speak, easily and without strain, of the boundary lines of God's special enclosure — and the Church is such an enclosure in the world.
That boundary is no theory. Linen means conduct:
Gershon's separation is not imaginary. It is not a line drawn in the air. Practical righteousness keeps it up, as these linen hangings suggest. How much depends on it! If God cannot walk with the world, then my walking with Him needs one thing first: separation from it.
The verse names the screen for the entrance apart from the hangings around the court:
Here, then, was the entrance to the court. There was only one. To see inside, people had to come to that many-coloured hanging. The white curtains on the other three sides were five cubits high, about seven and a half feet — only a giant could look over them.
The plain linen speaks of the character of God's people. The curtains at the door and gate speak of someone else — they "represent Christ, as the only way of access" (Frederick W. Grant).
The verse ends with cords. One writer imagines dropping the man whose whole job is pins and cords:
Why not let this sad-faced Merarite go, with his pins and cords of the tabernacle always getting tangled, and be content with Kohath and Gershon? But if we are to set up the Lord's tabernacle in the wilderness, we must have the pins and cords.
Which is why the size of the task was never the point:
Seen in this light, no one would care whether a man had to carry a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply: "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
- Assigned. God handed out the work, family by family. Know your own task and leave other people's alone — that is the first mark of a real servant.
- Linen. Gershon carried fine linen — a picture of righteousness: perfect in Christ, then seen in the daily conduct of His people.
- Boundary. Those hangings drew the line between God's enclosure and the wilderness outside. Practical righteousness keeps that line up, not talk.
- Door. The wall had one entrance only. Commentators read the curtain at that gate as Christ, the one way in.
- Cords. The ropes look like nothing, but the tent will not stand without them. The only question is this: did the Lord give you this work?
And of Kohath, the family of the Amramites, and the family of the Izharites, and the family of the Hebronites, and the family of the Uzzielites these are the families of the Kohathites.
The verse lists four families that came out of Kohath — Amram, Izhar, Hebron and Uzziel. Why does God name and count households like this, and what did it mean to belong to this branch of Levi?
The list is not filler. One writer sees in it God's care to leave no guesswork in His service.
Their number is given, and they were to camp on the south side of the tabernacle. Everything was set out with the greatest possible care. God would avoid confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and also room for human will. He would make it the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience.
Kohath's line is where the priests came from. So this short list of families stands close to the ark and the priesthood.
Out of Kohath came Aaron and the priestly family, and the sons of Kohath had special charge of the ark and the other vessels of the sanctuary.
Kohath was not Levi's eldest son. Yet his families carried the holiest things, and one writer sees a pattern in that.
Whilst Gershon was the eldest son of Levi, and so his descendants might have expected that they would be selected to carry the sacred vessels on their shoulders, that work was entrusted to the descendants of Kohath, who was Levi's second son. How often do we see in Scripture that blessing and privilege do not run in the order of nature.
The Kohathites got no cart to help them. That was an honour, not a hardship.
Gershon and Merari might need wagons and oxen to carry the boards, but not Kohath. His charge was too precious to hand over to anyone or anything but himself. So it was his high and honoured place to carry it all on his shoulders. What a privilege it was to carry the ark, the table, or the golden lampstand! Would it not show he could not value his high calling at all, if he had looked for oxen to help him in his holy service?
One writer finds these names hard to read, then draws out what the leader's name says about this service.
Kohath comes next with his four sons, whose names (with his own) are much harder to read. His charge was the ark, the table, the lampstand, the altars, and the utensils belonging to all this. As a picture, the Kohathite service looks outward: he is occupied with what is outside himself, in Christ. Fittingly, his prince is Elizaphan, "whom God has hidden." Here, in the presence of God and taken up with Christ, self is lost. He is the son of Uzziel, the "power of God."
Korah was one of these Kohathites. The highest privilege did not keep him from wanting more.
How much better it would have been for Korah if he had stayed content with his Levite service. It was of the very highest order. His work as a Kohathite was to carry some of the most precious vessels of the sanctuary. But he aimed at the priesthood, and fell into the pit.
Birth settled what each Levite handled. One writer carries that over to Christian service today.
Not every Levite had the same area of work — and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not care for the vessels of the sanctuary. God had entrusted those to the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
- Named — God names four families, leaving no room for confusion or human will in His service.
- Chosen — Kohath was not the eldest, yet his families got the holiest charge. Privilege does not follow the order of nature.
- Carried — No wagon spared them. They bore the most precious vessels on their own shoulders, and that was their honour.
- Hidden — Their leader's name points to a service where, in the presence of God, self is lost.
- Content — Korah held this very charge and still reached for the priesthood. The greatest privilege is wasted on a heart that wants someone else's place.
According to the number of all the males, from a month old and upward, there were eight thousand six hundred, who kept the charge of the sanctuary.
The count of Kohath's families ends with more than a number. It gives 8,600 males, counted from babyhood, and a job: "keeping guard over the sanctuary." Two questions follow. Why does God count babies among His servants? And what does it mean for a whole family to stand guard over holy things?
God counted Levi from the nursery, long before any of them could serve. One writer draws out what that says about God's timing:
Here they are counted — apart from Israel, but still counted — from infants only days old, marked out for service long before that service could begin. God gives strength before He claims service. But from their earliest days He sets them apart according to His own grace and intentions.
Another writer gives the reason God did not wait for strength:
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If God redeemed or counted only men in their strength, would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight.
The guard had a King to protect. One writer sets the Levites' work beside the priests' work:
They are to be the bodyguard of the divine King. The priests go in to God to perform their intercessory service on behalf of the people. In the same way, the Levites keep the people from the wrath that would follow if a stranger intruded into the tabernacle of God. And they carry the holy things of that tabernacle through the desert on all their journeys.
These 8,600 men were not priests. One writer shows where the line fell:
The priests were given the ministry of the sanctuary. There they acted as worshippers and intercessors. The work of the Levites as given in this chapter, and the one that follows, was of a more outward nature. They had to guard the tabernacle. They put it up and took it down. They carried its different parts. The LORD ordered every detail of this work.
The 8,600 did not pick their post. One writer reads the care behind that as the lesson:
God laid it all down with the greatest possible care. He would avoid confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and He would leave no room for human will. He would make it the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience. Their charge, we gather, was to be a most honourable service: the ark, the table, the lampstand, the altars, the vessels of the sanctuary that they minister with, and the screen, and all its service.
The limits went further than the choice of job:
They could not choose their burden. They were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. First the priests covered them in the ordered way and put them on bars or poles. Only then did the Kohathites come forward, each to receive his appointed service and learn what his duty was.
The family name itself points to what this guard duty was for:
"Kohath," all are agreed, means "assembly." He has indeed in his charge the ark, the centre of gathering. In Christ, and as the fruit of His work, God reveals Himself to us. To lift Christ up in that way is to draw men to Him, just as He promised.
Another writer warns what follows when the Church stops carrying them:
The Church grew weary of the curtains and the boards, and laid aside her Gershonite and Merarite character. In the same way she has laid aside her Kohathite character, because she has stopped carrying the ark and the table on her shoulder.
No Kohathite carried alone. The load itself set the rule:
They must walk together. No vessel of the sanctuary could be carried without a bar, which supposes at the very least two bearers. They had to set aside every personal consideration. One might be stronger than another, or able to walk faster. But neither the strong nor the weak could decide the pace or the time. That depended on the cloud alone, which directed every movement of the camp.
- Redeemed — God counted the Levites like the firstborn, and for the same reason: they were His own before they were His workers.
- Counted — the count starts at one month old. God values the soul, and He marks out His servants long before they can lift anything.
- Assigned — no Kohathite chose his burden. God fixed every detail, leaving no room for human will, only obedience.
- Guarding — they stood as a bodyguard around the King's tent. They kept the stranger out, and so kept the wrath away.
- Carried together — every holy vessel needed two bearers on one bar. The cloud set the pace, not the strongest man in the pair.
The families of the sons of Kohath encamped on the side of the tabernacle southward.
Numbers 3 gives each Levite family its own place around the tabernacle, the tent where God lived among His people. Kohath's descendants get the ground to the south. One line about a compass direction raises real questions. Who chose the spot? What came with it? Why record it at all?
The families do not select their ground. One writer sees a purpose behind such exact instructions:
Their number is given; and these were to be on the side of the tabernacle southward. Everything was laid down with the greatest possible care. God would avoid confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and also room for human will. He would make it to be the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience.
The south side was not a neutral address. The priests came from this branch of Levi, and its charge was the holy furniture itself:
Out of Kohath came Aaron and the priestly family, and the sons of Kohath had special charge of the ark and the other vessels of the sanctuary. Kohath was to pitch tent on the south side of the sanctuary. Aaron and the priests, along with Moses, had to dwell on the east side, facing the entrance to the court. They kept charge there, and no stranger could come near, on pain of death.
Wagons and oxen could carry the loads of other Levite families. Not Kohath's. One commentator treats that as an honour, not a hardship:
Gershon and Merari might need wagons and oxen to carry the boards, and so on, but not Kohath. His charge was too precious to trust to anyone or anything but himself. So it was his high and honoured place to carry it all upon his shoulders. What a privilege, for example, to be allowed to carry the ark, the table, or the golden lampstand! And would it not have shown a complete failure to appreciate his high calling if he had looked for the help of oxen in his holy service?
The name Kohath also carries meaning. One writer links it to what the family carried:
"Kohath," all are agreed, means "assembly." He has indeed in his charge the ark, the centre of gathering. To lift up Christ as the One in whom, and as the fruit of His work, God reveals Himself to us, is to draw men, according to His assurance, to Him.
The names of Kohath's own sons are read the same way — Amram as "people of the Exalted One," Izhar as "oil," Hebron as "union" or "communion" — and the leader named in the next verse fits the pattern too: "His prince is beautifully Elitzaphan, 'whom God has hidden,' for here it is indeed in the presence of God, and in occupation with Christ, that self is lost."
One writer draws a lesson for teaching today from what they carried:
Everything the Kohathites carried pictures the truths of Christianity as they are in themselves. They are not truths about our own experience, which is what we saw with Gershon. For all this furniture speaks of Christ and His perfect work. So Kohath stands for the ministry that sets out the glory of the Lord Jesus in unique excellence. That glory is far above and apart from anything we can understand or appreciate of it.
The south side had another occupant. Reuben's tribe camped on that same side. One writer sees grievances growing out of that closeness:
Turn to Numbers 2, which gives the order in which the tribes were to encamp around the tabernacle. Then turn to Numbers 3, which gives similar details about the Levites. We find that both the tribe of Reuben and the Kohathites had their place on the south side. As a result they were close together to discuss and stir up their imagined grievances.
Korah was a Kohathite. He held the privilege this verse describes, and reached past it:
How much better it would have been for Korah had he rested content with his Levite service, which was of the very highest order. His work as a Kohathite was to carry some of the most precious vessels of the sanctuary. But he aimed at the priesthood, and fell into the pit.
- Place — God chose the south side; Kohath did not. He ordered the camp so there was no confusion and no room for human will.
- Charge — That place came with the ark, the table, the lampstand and the other vessels of the sanctuary, held by the family that gave Israel its priests.
- Shoulder — No wagons for Kohath. The most precious load rode on men's shoulders.
- Assembly — Kohath means "assembly." He carried the ark, the centre of gathering. Lifting up Christ draws people to Him.
- Contentment — Korah held this very honour and reached past it. The highest service becomes ruin the moment it stops being enough.
And the prince of the father's house of the families of the Kohathites was Elizaphan the son of Uzziel.
Numbers 3 gives every branch of the tribe of Levi its place in camp, its leader, and its exact work at the tabernacle — the tent where God lived among Israel. Verse 30 names the leader of the Kohathites: Elizaphan son of Uzziel, set over the families who carried the holiest furniture of all.
God fixed every detail here. He chose which side of the tent each family slept on, and who led them. One writer draws out why God left nothing loose:
Their number is given; and these were to be on the side of the tabernacle southward. Everything was laid down with the greatest possible care. God would avoid confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and also leave no room for human will. He would make it the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience.
A dictionary entry gathers what else is recorded about him:
Son of Uzziel, and a 'chief' of the Kohathites. Numbers 3:30; 1 Chronicles 15:8. He is called ELZAPHAN in Exodus 6:22; Leviticus 10:4. With Mishael he had the painful duty of removing the dead bodies of Nadab and Abihu.
The man who once carried out those dead bodies is now the head of the families who carry the holy things.
after-note: DELETE
The Kohathite charge was the ark, the table, the lampstand, the altars. This was the one load no cart could carry:
Gershon and Merari might need wagons and oxen to carry the boards and so on, but not Kohath. His charge was too precious to hand to anyone or anything but himself. So it was his high and honoured place to carry it all on his shoulders. What a privilege, for example, to be allowed to carry the ark, the table, or the golden lampstand!
And the men under Elizaphan handled these things without ever looking at them:
Whenever Israel travelled, the Kohathites carried these things, though they did not see them. Before they could carry them, the priests had to cover them with the right coverings and insert the carrying poles.
Some commentators read the Hebrew names as part of the picture:
His charge was the ark, the table, the lampstand, the altars, and the utensils belonging to all this... So it is easy to see that, in the picture, the Kohathite ministry looks outward. His occupation is with what is outside himself in Christ... His prince is fittingly Elizaphan, which means "whom God has hidden." For here it is indeed in the presence of God, and in occupation with Christ, that self is lost. He is the son of Uzziel, the "power of God."
Mackintosh draws a lesson for Christians out of the family name:
Nothing shows higher character in the world than the gathering spirit expressed in the name of Kohath. Should not Christians rebuke man's often-repeated attempts at forming associations, by a real union in everything? And how can they do that? Only by gathering more closely around their common centre, Christ, in all the blessed fullness and variety of that Name.
Elizaphan did not campaign for the post. God placed him, as God placed each family of the tribe:
In the first part of this section God puts the families of the tribe into their several places. He is sovereign in His appointment here, and so of course everything is perfectly ordered in its place — Kohath with his precious vessels, Gershon with his fine linen, Merari with his boards and pillars. Service is gift, and therefore gift is the appointment to service, since the Giver can make no mistake.
Another writer imagines what would have happened had the Levites organised themselves instead:
Each had his specific work given. There could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide the work and direct it! All this would have brought in disorder. All they needed to do was the work into which the Lord had called them.
- Placed — the south side, the named chief, the listed vessels. God fixed each family's position, leaving no confusion and no room for human will.
- Given — Elizaphan's headship was appointment, not ambition. Service is gift, and the Giver makes no mistake in handing it out.
- Honoured — the men he led carried the ark and the table on their shoulders. No cart, no oxen: the charge was too precious for that.
- Hidden — his name means "whom God has hidden," son of "the power of God": in occupation with Christ, self is lost.
- Enough — the Levites needed no committees to divide the work. Knowing the task God gave, and doing it, was the whole of their obedience.
And their charge was the ark, and the table, and the candlestick, and the altars, and the utensils of the sanctuary with which they ministered, and the curtain, and all that belongs to its service.
Numbers 3:31 gives the Kohathites, one family of the tribe of Levi, the most valuable load in the camp. Why did God hand the holiest things to men who were not even allowed to touch them, and what did carrying such a load do to those men?
The charge is a specific inventory, not a general duty, and the priests had to prepare each piece before a Kohathite could touch it.
They were responsible for the care of the ark, the table, the lampstand, the two altars together with the utensils and the veil, with all that related to these things. Whenever Israel travelled the Kohathites carried these things, though they did not see them, for before they were allowed to carry them, the priests were required to cover them with their appropriate coverings and insert the carrying poles.
These were not just expensive furnishings. One writer explains what the tabernacle vessels stood for, and how carefully they reached a Kohathite's shoulder.
The special service of the Kohathites had to do with the vessels of the tabernacle, the dwelling-place of God among His people. Those vessels each set forth a different aspect of Christ's glory. When the camp moved on — and travelling was the mark of the wilderness — their duty was to carry the holy vessels. They could not choose their burden. They were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. But after the priests had covered them in the appointed way and put them on bars or poles, the Kohathites came forward. Each one received his appointed service and learned what his duty was.
Another writer goes through the same list and asks what such a charge does to the man himself. He finds the same lesson in the leader's name from the previous verse.
His charge was the ark, the table, the lamp-stand, the altars, and the utensils belonging to all this. With them went the one linen item, which speaks, as we know well, of the humanity of Christ. So it is easy to see that the Kohathite ministry, as a picture, looks outward. The man is occupied with what is outside himself, in Christ… His leader is beautifully named Elizaphan, "whom God has hidden," for here it is indeed in the presence of God, and in occupation with Christ, that self is lost.
The other Levite families could use wagons. Kohath got none, and one writer calls that an honour, not a hardship.
Gershon and Merari might need wagons and oxen to carry the boards and so on, but not Kohath. His charge was too precious to trust to anyone or anything but himself. So it was his high and honoured place to carry it all on his shoulders. What a privilege, for example, to be allowed to carry the ark, the table, or the golden lampstand!
But an outsider saw none of that honour. The coverings hid everything.
From the outside, no one could tell what these vessels were, though each Kohathite might know his own appointed charge. Nothing in the service itself, or in what could be seen of it, brought glory to the men doing it. To an onlooker, the Kohathites simply looked like the men picked out for the hardest labour.
God handed out the duties in this chapter. One writer takes that straight over to Christian service today.
Not every Levite had the same area of work — and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not take care of the vessels of the sanctuary; those were entrusted to the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
God assigned the work. So the size of the load in a man's hands stopped being the point.
Seen in this light, it made no difference at all whether a man carried a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
The poles needed more than one man. The timing was never theirs to set.
They had no choice in the matter. Their service was one of simple obedience, yet it kept them very near to God, and if their heart was in it, it was a delight like no other. And notice too, they had to walk together. No vessel of the sanctuary could travel without a pole, and a pole needs at least two bearers… Neither the strong nor the weak could decide the pace or the time. That depended only on the cloud, which directed every movement of the camp.
One writer warns what follows when Christians stop carrying this load.
If we knew more of Christ in these blessed aspects of His character, we would not be what we are — a proverb and a byword because of our deep divisions. The Church grew tired of the curtains and the boards, and laid aside her Gershonite and Merarite character. In the same way she has laid aside her Kohathite character, because she has stopped carrying the ark and the table upon her shoulder.
- Charge given. God assigned Kohath's load: the ark, table, lampstand, altars, utensils and screen. No Levite picked his own work, and Christian service runs the same way.
- Charge covered. The priests covered each vessel and fitted the poles first. Only then did a Kohathite step forward to receive his load.
- Charge shouldered. No wagons carried these things. The most precious load went on a man's own shoulders, and its honour stayed hidden from every onlooker.
- Charge shared. Every pole needed at least two bearers, and the cloud set the pace — the work forced them to walk together and to look up.
- Charge kept. What Kohath carried was a picture of Christ. When His people stop carrying the ark and the table, they lose that character and fall into division.
And the prince of princes of the Levites was Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest he had the oversight of them that kept the charge of the sanctuary.
Numbers 3 gives each family of the Levites its own place around the tabernacle, God's tent, and its own work. At the end of that list one man stands over them all: Eleazar, son of Aaron the priest. Who decides what a servant of God does, and who is he answerable to?
Chapter 3 fixes every detail. Preference and strong personalities decide nothing.
God laid down everything with the greatest possible care. God would avoid confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and would leave no room for human will. He would make it the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience. Their charge, we gather, was to be a most honourable service.
The Levite families did not all do the same work. God chose who did what.
The order of the service of the Levites, on the other hand, was according to the sovereignty of God, who put each one in his place. So in the service of the church you find the greatest differences, and God gives each one his own place.
The verse sets Eleazar over men who were leaders in their own right.
Verse 32 tells us that Eleazar the priest, son of Aaron, was chief over the leaders of the Levites. He appointed them to the particular work they had to do.
Eleazar oversaw the work as a priest. One writer carries that forward to today.
All of this happened under the priestly supervision of Eleazar, son of Aaron (verse 32) — just as Christ directs Christian service.
Because the priest appointed the work, the Levite's part was obedience. The same rule met two kinds of heart in opposite ways.
The priest's appointment regulated the Levite's service. The Levites had no more room for self-will than the fighting men had. God settled it all, and this was a clear mercy to everyone whose heart was right. To someone whose will was unbroken, it might seem a hardship to be kept in the same position. It might seem a most tiresome task to do the very same line of work. Such a person might long for something fresh — some variety in his work. But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
Eleazar was a priest, not only a Levite. His name and his later history point beyond him.
The priest did have a nearer place than the servant, the Levite — a place of enjoyment of the Lord's presence... Eleazar's name means "God is Helper," and he succeeded Aaron in the high priesthood when Aaron died (Numbers 20:23-28). He is therefore a picture of Christ as High Priest in resurrection.
Eleazar's oversight fell on the Kohathites, the family that carried the sanctuary furniture. What they carried shows what their ministry means.
These things the Kohathites carried all picture the objective truths of Christianity — truth that stands outside us, not our inward experience. All this furniture speaks of Christ and His perfect work. So Kohath stands for the ministry of the glory of the Lord Jesus. That glory is shown in unique excellence, far above and apart from anything we can understand or value in it. It is absolute, living and real... May we prize such ministry, and seek grace to present it faithfully.
- Appointed, not chosen. God's sovereignty set the order of Levite service: He "put each one in his place." The same variety marks service in the church.
- Assigned by the priest. Eleazar was chief over the leaders, and "appointed them to the particular work they had to do."
- Answerable to Christ. That priestly supervision pictures how Christ Himself directs Christian service.
- Obeyed without self-will. Where the will is subdued, the servant answers, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
- Helped by a living High Priest. Eleazar's name means "God is Helper." He pictures Christ as High Priest in resurrection, so this oversight helps the servant rather than burdens him.
Of Merari was the family of the Mahlites, and the family of the Mushites these are the families of Merari.
Numbers 3 gives each branch of the tribe of Levi a place around the tabernacle and a share of the work. This verse names Merari's two clans, the Mahlites and Mushites — the men who carried the heaviest and least admired load, and whose names speak of bitterness, weakness and yielding.
God took the whole tribe of Levi for Himself. Then He split the work among Levi's three sons.
In Numbers 3 we get the details of God's order for the tribe of Levi. God took this tribe for the service of His house, under the hand of the priests, in place of all the firstborn in the other tribes, whom He had claimed for Himself. Levi had three sons, Gershon, Kohath and Merari, and each of them became the head of a section of the tribe. God gave each section its own service at the tabernacle, and each camped in its own set place around it. Nothing was left for them to arrange.
The Mahlites and Mushites carried the frame of the tabernacle. One writer reads that frame as a picture of believers held up and held together.
before-note-none
They camped on the north side of the tabernacle. They were given the work of caring for the boards of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars and sockets, the pillars of the court, their sockets, pegs and cords. The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and as united in one building, the Church of God. They were of acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver — that is, believers upheld on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold) and united together with bars of the same materials… Merari therefore emphasizes the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another as dependent on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
The names in this verse are unexpected. One writer reads them as a description of how such work feels to the person doing it.
Last of Levi's three sons we find Merari, "bitter," with his two sons, Mahli, "sick," and Mushi, "yielding." These are the strangest words of all to find attached to Levi's sons… Here it is clear that Merari is occupied not so much with Christ Himself as with the people of the Lord… His work is mainly what we may call church work; and who has done this work without finding the bitterness that Merari's name expresses? Anyone who could not feel it would be poorly fitted for ministry.
The two clan names split the load between them: the strain of the work, and the temper it takes to bear it. Their leader's name answers both.
Mahli may express the faintness that comes from too much labour, while Mushi may point to that spirit of patience and gentleness which, where the truth allows, can give way in everything else. How necessary that spirit is in just such a relation to the Church of God as is hinted at here! The lack of it may be as common a cause of trouble among believers as any. Merari's captain stands in striking, comforting contrast to these names: Zuriel, "my rock is God," the son of Abihail, "the father of valor."
Setting up the sockets of silver was Merari's work. One writer applies it to taking a stand for Christ in the world, and asks why so few do.
Let anyone take a firm, clear stand for Christ in the world… and there let him begin to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of this: he will find that such a course brings much sorrow and bitterness of soul. In a word, he will find it a path where the cross has to be taken up "daily," and not only taken up, but carried… There are very few of the hard-working Merarite character to be found. Why is this? Because showing such a character will always bring much labour and sorrow to nature, and nature loves ease… nothing will make us true Merarites but deep fellowship with Him who was "THE MAN OF SORROWS."
Pins and cords attract no attention. The point is that God specified them, and the servant's job is accuracy, not improvement.
Merari represents the workman, as Gershon does the stranger and pilgrim, and Kohath the one occupied with Christ. Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the details of divine appointment? Who desires work of this menial kind, costing so much and bringing in so little? The pattern is old, and will not adapt itself to the fashion of changed times. It gives no room for human invention to display itself in. It requires only plodding accuracy and diligent obedience.
Naming the clans one by one means the work was distributed before anyone volunteered or argued.
Their service consisted in handling the boards of the tabernacle, pillars, sockets, pins and cords. Each had his specific work given. There could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide the work and direct in it! All this would have brought in disorder. All they needed to do was to do the work into which the Lord had called them.
- Named. God lists Merari's two clans, the Mahlites and Mushites, one by one. He assigns service family by family and leaves nothing for them to arrange.
- Given. Their charge was the framework: boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs and cords. Writers read it as a picture of believers upheld by redemption and joined to Christ and to each other.
- Costly. The names carry the tone of the work: Merari "bitter," Mahli "sick," Mushi "yielding." The job costs bitterness and spent strength, and it asks for gentleness that gives way where truth allows.
- Steadied. Against those three names stands their leader Zuriel, "my rock is God," son of Abihail, "the father of valour."
- Fitted. Few take up this work. It demands plodding accuracy and obedience to an old pattern, and only deep fellowship with the Man of Sorrows makes anyone fit for it.
And those that were numbered of them, according to the number of all the males, from a month old and upward, were six thousand two hundred.
The census of Numbers 3 stops at the family of Merari and records a plain figure: 6,200 males, counted from a month old. That number raises two questions — why God counts babies, and why He tracks one branch of one tribe so closely.
The chapter before counted Israel's men from twenty years old and up. The Levite count works differently, and one writer links the change to whom the Levites replace:
Notice the difference between the numbering of the tribe of Levi and the numbering of the other tribes. In the previous chapter the count took those who were twenty years and over. The count of the Levites took "all the males from a month old and upward." The reason for the difference is that they stood in place of the firstborn. At that tender age of weakness and helplessness, the firstborn were either redeemed or given up.
The starting age also says something about what God values. One writer asks what a count of grown men only would suggest:
God numbers them from a month old and upward, as He numbers the firstborn, and for the same reason. If He redeemed or numbered only men in their strength, would it not look as if He took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? But He values the soul, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight.
This list records men who already belonged to God, and one writer explains how they came to be His:
Verse 12 of Numbers 3 uncovers the secret behind the special place of the Levites. God had chosen them "instead of all the firstborn." In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites because of the blood of the Passover lamb. That blood was the price that redeemed the firstborn. So they belonged to God. Now this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
The figure belongs to the last of Levi's three sons. One writer weighs the family names against the work these men carried:
Last of Levi's three sons we find Merari, "bitter," with his two sons, Mahli, "sick," and Mushi, "yielding." These are the strangest words of all to find among Levi's sons. These families have charge of the boards of the tabernacle and its bars, its pillars and sockets, and those of the court and the pegs and cords… Merari's work is mainly what we may call church work. And who that has taken up this work has not found the bitterness that his name expresses?
Merari's share of the tabernacle was the timber and metal — the heavy freight. One writer notes how God treated the families with the heaviest loads:
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this… Moses gave the Gershonites two wagons and four oxen, and the Merarites four wagons and eight oxen. These came from the offering of the princes of the twelve tribes when the Tabernacle was set up. God took thought for both of these great families, and the one which had the heaviest burden had the greatest help… Carrying burdens took strength, and God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to work for Him. So no Levite was called to carry burdens before he was thirty, nor asked to continue after fifty.
Levi's three families — Kohath, Gershon and Merari — each had their own total and their own charge. That division guards against a temptation:
Each family had a particular work to do… The family of Merari carried the boards of the tabernacle and the bars, also the pillars around the court and their sockets and pins and cords. It was also their work to set up the tabernacle when they moved to a new site… Each had his own work to do. They were not to covet the work of another. The man who carried the tent-pegs was not to envy the Kohathites, who carried the furniture of pure gold.
- Counted early. The Levite roll begins at one month, not twenty years. These men stood in place of the firstborn, so God records a life before it can do anything for Him.
- Counted as redeemed. Blood spared the firstborn in Egypt. God then took the Levites in their place, so every name on the list marked someone who already belonged to Him.
- Counted as Merari. The 6,200 belong to a family whose name means "bitter." Their load — boards, bars, pillars, sockets — has often proved bitter to those who take it up.
- Counted and supplied. The family with the heaviest load received the most wagons and oxen. A call from God arrives with the means to carry it.
- Counted separately. Each family had its own total and its own charge, so the man carrying pegs had no cause to envy the man carrying gold.
And the prince of the father's house of the families of Merari was Zuriel the son of Abihail. They encamped on the side of the tabernacle northward.
Israel camped in rings around God's tent, with the three Levite families closest to it. This verse sets the last of them in place: Merari camps on the north side under Zuriel son of Abihail, and the names, the direction, and the family's load all carry meaning.
Each Levite family had one side of the tabernacle. One writer notes how deliberate the arrangement is:
It is significant that Merari camps north of the tabernacle, Kohath to the south, and Gershon to the west. Moses, Aaron, and his sons camp toward the east, filling Judah's place in the inner circle.
Merari carried the frame and fastenings of the tabernacle. One commentator reads a picture of believers in it:
Their work was caring for the boards of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars and sockets... The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and as united in one building, the Church of God. They were of acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are upheld on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold) and united together with bars of the same materials... So Merari highlights the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another, a ministry that depends on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
The names in this branch of Levi are dark. One writer reads them as describing the work itself:
Last of Levi's three sons we find Merari, "bitter," with his two sons, Mahli, "sick," and Mushi, "yielding." These are the strangest words of all to find among Levi's sons... Here it is clear that Merari is taken up not so much with Christ Himself as with the people of the Lord. His work is mainly what we may call church work. Who that has done this work has not found the bitterness which expresses itself in Merari's name? Anyone who could not feel it would be poorly fitted for ministry.
The two names in this verse say something different:
Merari's leader stands in striking, comforting contrast to these names: Zuriel, "my rock is God," the son of Abihail, "the father of valour."
One writer carries Merari's work over into Christian life, and counts its cost:
Let anyone take his stand firmly and decisively in the world for Christ. Let him go into those places where "the world" is seen in its full strength. Let him set himself, firm as a rock, against the deep and rapid tide of worldliness. Let him begin there to set up "the sockets of silver," and be sure of it: such a course brings much sorrow and bitterness of soul... There are very few of the hard-working Merarite character to be found. Why is this? Because showing such a character always costs nature much labour and sorrow, and nature loves ease. Nothing will make us true Merarites but close fellowship with Him who was "THE MAN OF SORROWS."
The verse names a leader, a family and a place. That precision is the lesson:
Merari (bitter) with the family of Mahlites and Mushites numbered 6,200, and their place was on the north side, opposite Dan... Each had his specific work given. There could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide the work and direct it! All that would have brought in disorder. All they needed to do was the work the Lord had called them into.
The Lord did not leave that labour unpaid:
If the Gershonite and the Merarite had to take a place where they endured much of the burden and heat of the day, the Lord graciously met them in that with a very rich reward... If they had to labour and toil among their brothers, they were richly served by their brothers in return: "Two wagons and four oxen he gave to the sons of Gershon, according to their service. And four wagons and eight oxen he gave to the sons of Merari according to their service."
- Placed. God gave Merari one side of the tabernacle: the north. Kohath had the south, Gershon the west, the priests the east.
- Named. Merari means "bitter," his sons "sick" and "yielding." Anyone fit to serve God's people tastes that bitterness.
- Strengthened. Over that bitterness God set Zuriel, "my rock is God," son of Abihail, "father of valour." The leader's name answers the family's name.
- Loaded. Merari carried the framework: boards, bars, pillars and sockets. One writer reads it as believers upheld by redemption and joined to one another.
- Supplied. The heaviest service drew the largest gift — four wagons and eight oxen, double what Gershon received.
And the charge of the sons of Merari consisted in the oversight of the boards of the tabernacle, and its bars, and its pillars, and its bases, and all its furniture, and all that belongs to its service,
God gives Merari's family the heavy, structural part of the tabernacle: the frames, bars, pillars and bases that hold the whole tent up. Every item on that list pictures something. So the writers ask what this plain, heavy work says about the workers God chooses. (Older translations, which they quote, call these the "boards," "sockets," "pins" and "cords.")
This work belongs to Merari and to nobody else. One writer shows how the jobs never overlapped, yet each one needed the others:
All this was clear and distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. Yet they were closely connected, for each depended on the other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains," and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. And what about "the pins"? They look so unimportant. Yet who could measure their value in holding things together and keeping the whole visibly one?
Each frame stood upright in bases of silver. One writer reads the materials as a picture of believers:
The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and of their union in one building, the Church of God. They were made of acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on bases of silver. That is, believers are upheld on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold), and joined together with bars of the same materials. … So Merari's work stands for the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another, and that ministry rests on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Such ministry matters greatly in our own day.
The bars ran through golden rings to lock the separate frames into one wall. A second writer draws out what the ring adds:
The bars of acacia wood, covered with the same gold and fitted into golden rings on the boards, speak of special gifts given to hold everything in place. But those gifts need a matching openness in each believer before they can be used: the "bar" was of no use without the "ring."
Merari also cared for the pillars around the courtyard, with the pegs and ropes that held them steady. One writer reads them as a picture of public witness:
The pillars of the court rest on bronze bases, and their tops are covered with silver, while the fine linen curtains hang from them on silver hooks. So grace enables us to hold up the character of Christ before the world, and divine strength is what we rest on while we do it. The pins and cords come in as well, bracing everything against opposing forces that are too strong for us on our own.
A tent peg is the smallest thing on Merari's list. Yet the writers refuse to rank the items by size:
In the whole world there was nothing to compare with that boarded tent and all its symbolic furnishings. It was a holy dignity and privilege to touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to sit on the throne of Egypt or Assyria.
Merari means "bitterness" or "sorrow." Both writers tie the name to the work itself. One pictures the contrast between what Merari carried and where he set it up:
Could anything be more unlike than silver and barren sand? But Merari must not shrink back from all this. No — when he reached a spot in the desert where the cloud stopped, he said, "I have come to set up the patterns of things in heaven right in the middle of all the desolation and misery of the wilderness around." All this was very hard work. No doubt it gave Merari's character a tone of sadness or sorrow, and his very name expressed it, for it means "sorrow."
The other writer says why this work is rare, and what it asks of the worker:
His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of the painful character of such service. Self-love breaks down under it, or runs off into some odd path that is easier on flesh and blood… Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the small details He has appointed?… It leaves no room for human invention to show itself. It calls only for plodding accuracy and diligent obedience.
- Redemption holds. Each frame stood upright in bases of silver: believers are "upheld on the basis of redemption."
- Gold holds. The wood was overlaid with gold: those same believers are "covered with Christ."
- Bars hold. Gifts lock the separate frames into one building, but a bar needs a ring — the gift needs a readiness to receive it.
- Pins hold. The smallest peg braces the whole against forces too strong for us alone. To touch it was a greater dignity than a throne.
- Sorrow is the cost of holding. Merari's name means bitterness. Setting up silver in barren sand gives self-love nothing. It calls only for "plodding accuracy and diligent obedience."
and the pillars of the court round about, and their bases, and their pegs, and their cords.
This verse ends the list of what Merari's family carried — no golden vessels, no curtains, just the fence around the court and the hardware that held it up. Why would God name tent pegs and ropes at all, and why give one family that work for life?
The tabernacle was God's tent at the centre of Israel's camp, and the Levites were the tribe who carried it. Merari's share was all structure: frames, bars, pillars, bases, pegs, cords. One writer sees a picture of the church in that framework.
Merari had charge with his sons of the boards, the sockets, pins and cords. These held the building together... The framework of the tabernacle joins the boards with bars of acacia wood. It is a picture of the building we read about in Ephesians — "the whole structure, being joined together" — the church. The work of Merari suggests the thought of union.
The court was the outer fence around God's tent, and the bases are the sockets its pillars stood in. Pegs in the ground held the cords that steadied them. One writer reads each material here as a picture of the Christian life.
The pillars of the court stand on copper sockets and carry silver tops. The fine linen curtains hang from them by silver hooks. So grace enables us to hold up before the world the character of Christ, and divine strength is what we rest on while we do it. The pins and cords come in further to brace it all against opposing forces that are too much for our unaided strength.
Commentators differ on who the pillars stand for. Another writer sees Christ in them.
The pillars of the court were made of copper and rested on copper sockets. They speak of Christ as the One who holds His people up. The hooks that held up the curtains were silver, the picture of redemption. So in holding His people up, He also unites them together. Merari's work therefore highlights the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another, resting on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
Merari's job began the moment the camp stopped. He had to set up God's dwelling on open desert ground. One writer applies that to anyone who takes a stand for Christ in the world.
Let anyone take his stand firmly in the world for Christ. Let him go into the places where "the world" is seen in its full force. Let him set himself, firm as a rock, against the deep and rapid tide of worldliness, and there let him begin to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of it: he will find such a course brings very much sorrow and bitterness of soul. He will find it a path where the cross is to be taken up "daily," and not only taken up, but carried... There are very few of the hard-working Merarite character to be found. Why is this? Simply because showing such a character will always cost nature very much labour and sorrow, and nature loves ease. So human nature never could be a Merarite. Nothing will make us true Merarites but deep communion with Him who was the Man of Sorrows.
A peg is the least impressive object in the whole list. What raises it is not the peg but what it belongs to.
Doing what we are told always has moral worth. But there was also a special dignity in the work of a Merarite, even though that work was only looking after a few "pins" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the deepest interest and highest value... To touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tent in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins than to hold the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria.
No Levite picked his own load. God handed each family its task.
Nothing is more important in practice than that each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And when he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure of this too: it is of no small importance never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
It is tempting to admire the sacred vessels and the curtains and write off the thankless part of the work. One writer imagines letting Merari's family go and keeping the other two.
Why not let this sad-faced Merarite go, with his pins and cords of the tabernacle always getting tangled, and be content with Kohath and Gershon? But if the Lord's tabernacle is to be set up in the wilderness, we must have the pins and cords.
- Union. Merari's frames, bars, pegs and cords held the building together — a picture of the church joined into one.
- Bracing. The pegs and cords existed to steady the pillars against forces stronger than they were on their own.
- Cost. Setting up God's dwelling out in the world is sorrowful, daily, cross-carrying work. That is why so few take it up.
- Dignity. The smallest peg belonged to God's own tent. Handling it outranked holding the sceptre of Egypt.
- Assignment. No Levite chose his load; know the work given you, stick to it, and never interfere with another's.
And those who encamped before the tabernacle eastward, before the tent of meeting toward the sunrising, were Moses, and Aaron and his sons, who kept the charge of the sanctuary for the charge of the children of Israel; and the stranger that cometh near shall be put to death.
Numbers 3 gives each Levite family its post around God's tent. This verse fills the last side of that inner square — Moses, Aaron and his sons at the front, facing the entrance — and it raises two questions: why the east, and why an outsider who came near had to die.
The camp formed rings. Twelve tribes made the outer square. The Levite families closed three sides of an inner square, and this verse supplies the fourth.
To complete the inner circle of residents around the tabernacle, Moses, Aaron and his sons take the east side (v.38). That is the front. They guard, as it were, the entrance of the court, keeping charge of the sanctuary. Any outsider who trespassed on what belonged to the priests was to be put to death.
They did not choose their spot. It faced the one way in to God.
Three tribes on each side of the court kept the tabernacle of Jehovah. Levi alone was the exception, to be consecrated to the service of God. So the tribe of Levi camped by families right around the court. Moses, Aaron, and the priests took the place facing the entrance, the way of approach to God.
God fixed each family's place and each family's work.
Levi had three sons, Gershon, Kohath and Merari, and each of them became the head of a section of the tribe. God gave each section a special service connected with the tabernacle, and each pitched its tents in a set position round the tabernacle. They arranged nothing for themselves.
The care behind these details had a purpose.
All was laid down with the greatest possible care. God would rule out confusion in the service of the tabernacle, and rule out any room for human will. He would make it the humblest thing on earth — a matter of simple obedience.
Their front position set the priests beside one particular tribe.
At the front are Moses and the priestly family of Aaron, so they stand in direct relationship with the tribe of Judah. Priesthood and praise go together. Levi takes the place of the firstborn of all the tribes spared in Egypt. They are "joined" to the priesthood as a connecting link between worship and warfare.
Later builders copied this east-facing layout.
In putting up their religious buildings (cathedrals and the like) men have copied the position. But true priestly instincts will always hold the sunrise in their affections (Numbers 3:38).
Where a tent stood in that camp said something about it.
Facing the east, the tents of Moses and Aaron guard the entrance to the court of the tabernacle. (Num. 3:38.) … Here, again, the eastward position is that of honour.
Later, Israel said that anyone who came near the tabernacle would die. One writer shows what that fear cost them.
They said that anyone who came near the tabernacle would die, and the result is that they are forbidden to come near. From then on the people of Israel must not "come near the tent of meeting, lest they bear sin and die" (Numbers 18:22). Their unbelief and mistrust of God does more damage to their standing before God than their earlier presumption did. They are brought down to the level of the outsider. "Any outsider who came near was to be put to death." Now Israel can come no nearer than the outsider; that privilege is lost.
These men stood in for Israel's firstborn, who were spared in Egypt on the night of judgment.
The grace of God had exempted those whom the Levites answered for in the time of judgment. So the Levites were identified with mercy — the great distinguishing mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who can dare to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation precedes ministry.
- Redeemed. Mercy spared Israel's firstborn in Egypt, and the Levites stood in their place — salvation comes before service.
- Assigned. Every family's tent and task was fixed by God, leaving no room for human will and making the work "a matter of simple obedience."
- Front. Moses, Aaron and his sons filled the east side, facing the one way of approach to God.
- Guarded. Their charge protected the way in; an outsider who pushed past it forfeited his life.
- Facing the dawn. The place of honour looked toward the sunrise, and true priestly instinct still keeps that direction in view.
All that were numbered of the Levites, whom Moses and Aaron numbered at the commandment of Jehovah, according to their families, all the males from a month old and upward, were twenty-two thousand.
Numbers 3 ends its count of Levi with one figure: 22,000 males. That is the size of the company God took for Himself in place of Israel's firstborn — and, as the next verses show, it falls short.
Levi stands apart in the count because God claimed this tribe for Himself. The reason goes back to a night in Egypt:
Verse 12 of Numbers 3 unveils the secret behind the special place of the Levites: God chose them "instead of all the firstborn." In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites because of the blood of the Passover lamb. This was the price by which the firstborn had been redeemed. As a result they belonged to God. Now, this is the place God gave the Levites: He chose them instead of all the firstborn. A Levite would therefore regard himself as redeemed by God and so as God's possession.
Chapter 1 counted fighting men from twenty years old. For Levi the line falls at one month, and the substitution explains why:
The difference between the numbering of the tribe of Levi and the other tribes must be noted. The previous chapter counted men who were twenty years old and over. The count of Levi took in "every male from a month old and upward." This difference was because they stood in the place of the firstborn. The firstborn were either redeemed or given up at that tender age of weakness and helplessness.
Infants could carry nothing. That is part of the point:
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If only men in their strength were to be redeemed or numbered, would it not look as if God took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
Add up the three clan figures earlier in the chapter and the sums do not agree. Commentators admit it:
The number of the Levites is given as 22,000. If we add the number of the Gershonites, Kohathites and Merarites — 7,500, 8,600 and 6,200 — we get 22,300. Here is a difficulty which seems to remain unsolved. The total in verse 39 must be correct. Verse 46 tells us that the firstborn outnumbered the Levites by 273.
The Levites were counted to replace the firstborn. The two numbers did not match:
Then the day came to count the Levites (remember, they were replacing the firstborn). As it turned out, there were 22,000 Levites, but there were 22,273 firstborn. In other words, the Levites were short of 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom to be paid for the 273 missing Levites.
Silver covered the gap, and the silver carries a lesson:
To make up this difference, the Lord said the 273 would be redeemed by paying five shekels of silver for each person. It is not likely that 273 people each had to give five shekels. More likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming the 273. This was to be given to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites were also given to them. Silver was used in such cases to illustrate the truth of redemption. But we must always remember that today "you were ransomed… not with perishable things such as silver or gold… but with the precious blood of Christ" (1 Peter 1:18-19).
The shortage never went away:
Over the course of history, the lack of Levites became more pronounced. In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce. We find just 74 in Ezra 2, and when, in chapter 8, Ezra sends eleven men to search for Levites, they find only 38. Today, there is still a search for Levites: people willing to carry the burden that goes with God's testimony.
Commentators read the Levites as a picture of service, and the priests as a picture of drawing near to God:
In Numbers 3 we have the Levites set apart, according to the thoughts of God, for service. They are a figure of the church — or rather of the members of the church in their service. In the same way, the priests are the figure of Christians drawing near to the throne of God. Both are a shadow, not a perfect image.
- Redeemed — the Levites stand where the firstborn stood. The blood of the lamb spared those firstborn in Egypt, so they belonged to God.
- Counted — from a month old, not twenty, because God values the soul, not the strength of a man's legs.
- Short — 22,000 Levites against 22,273 firstborn. God notices the 273 and asks a ransom of five shekels each, shared by the tribes.
- Unsolved — the clan totals add up to 22,300. Commentators admit the gap with verse 39 is still a difficulty.
- Wanted — few then, fewer in Ezra's day, and still sought now: those willing to carry the burden of God's testimony.
And Jehovah said to Moses, Number all the first-born males of the children of Israel from a month old and upward, and take the number of their names.
Moses has just counted the tribe of Levi; now God has him count the firstborn sons of every other tribe, name by name, from a month old. Why does God count people at all, and why does He want one tribe standing in for the eldest sons of the rest?
A census is an act of ownership.
He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, if He had nothing to look for in them, He would not have counted their total. Scripture says the same about His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." This is the expression of His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4.)
God has a specific reason for this count. He is making a swap, and He wants exact numbers on both sides.
The Levites were to be dedicated to the Lord in place of the firstborn in Israel. So it was necessary to find out how closely the number of the Levites matched the number of the firstborn. That is why the Lord told Moses to number all the firstborn males, from one month and above, just as Moses had numbered the Levite males (v.40).
God's claim on the firstborn did not come out of nowhere. It rests on a rescue He paid for.
If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems... So every firstborn son in Israel was bought with a price — the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, a picture of the precious blood of Christ.
The Levites stood in for people God had already spared. One writer asks what that means for anyone who wants to serve God.
God's grace had spared the firstborn whom the Levites stood for when judgment fell. This tied the Levites to mercy — the great, distinguishing mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt. It fitted them all the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who dares to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God and fear the solemn warning of the Lord and His apostle.
Moses counted Israel's fighting men from twenty years upward. Here the line falls at one month.
In the previous chapter Moses numbered those who were twenty years old and over. But the Levites were numbered "every male from a month old and upward." The difference was that they stood in the place of the firstborn. At that tender age of weakness and helplessness, the firstborn were either redeemed or given up.
The same age limit shows what God values in those He counts.
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If only men in their strength were to be redeemed or numbered, would it not look as if God took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Ps. 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight.
The two figures did not match. The gap was small enough to ignore.
As it turned out, there were 22,000 Levites, but there were 22,273 firstborn (Num. 3:39-42). In other words, the Levites were short by 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom to be paid for the 273 missing Levites (v. 46, 47).
The shortage did not stop there. It became a pattern in Israel's later history.
Over the course of history, the shortage of Levites grew worse. In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce... Today the search for Levites goes on: people willing to carry the burden that goes with God's testimony.
- Claimed. God's claim on the firstborn dates from the night in Egypt; those He redeems by blood, He owns.
- Counted. He numbers what is His own — the count itself is the proof of the title, as He numbers and names the stars.
- Valued. God counts from a month old, not from fighting age. He is not measuring strength; He values the soul.
- Substituted. The Levites are taken in place of the firstborn, and the swap is exact to the last 273, who are redeemed by a price.
- Serving. Mercy is what fits a person for service — salvation first, ministry after. And the search for willing Levites has never closed.
And thou shalt take the Levites for me (I am Jehovah) instead of all the firstborn among the children of Israel; and the cattle of the Levites, instead of all the firstlings among the cattle of the children of Israel.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And Moses numbered, as Jehovah had commanded him, all the firstborn among the children of Israel.
Numbers 3 ends with an unusual census: not soldiers, but the firstborn son of every family in Israel, counted one by one against the tribe of Levi. Why does God claim these sons, and what happens when the numbers do not match?
The claim goes back to the night Israel left Egypt. Death passed over every house marked with the blood of a lamb.
Verse 12 of Numbers 3 reveals the secret behind the special place of the Levites: God chose them "instead of all the firstborn." In Egypt, God had spared the firstborn of the Israelites because of the blood of the Passover lamb. That blood was the price that redeemed them. So they belonged to God.
So the claim does not rest on being a creature. It rests on being sheltered — and one writer carries that on to Christians today.
Of course, every creature ought to serve God. But He made this claim only on those whom He had sheltered from judgment. Generation after generation were to learn that claim and the ground it rests on (Exodus 13:14-16)... Christians, as we learn in Hebrews 12:23, are the assembly of firstborn ones... sheltered from divine judgment, like the firstborn males of Israel, we should accept His claim on us to serve Him. It is His claim, and there is no doubt about that. Yet seen in another light, we can and should call it a privilege — the privilege of serving our God, as the Levites did.
The count exists because God is making a swap. He takes the whole tribe of Levi in place of the firstborn sons of the other tribes.
Jehovah took them instead of the firstborn sons of the whole nation. The blood in Egypt had sheltered those firstborn sons from judgment, and Jehovah claimed them as His own. But He took the tribe of Levi instead of them for special service in His house and for His Name. They were a privileged people, called to give themselves to God's interests, and He gave them special care (Numbers 3:40-51 tells us all about this).
The line here falls at a month old, so babies are in the list. That choice carries its own message.
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If only men in their strength were to be redeemed or numbered, would it not appear as if God took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Ps. 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight: His "delight" is "in the sons of men."
A census can look like cold bookkeeping. In Numbers it says something about who owns the people being counted.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and no plans for them, He would not have counted their total. The same is said of His divine title in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names."
Moses' total came to 273 more firstborn sons than there were Levites. God did not waive the extra ones.
When the census was taken, the number of the firstborn in Israel exceeded the number of the Levites by 273. God claimed these 273 just as much as the 22,000 who had a Levite as a substitute. So five shekels each had to be paid for them as redemption money... Our chapter again stresses the principle that redemption comes before the service of God.
That silver carries a meaning, but it is only a picture.
It is not likely that 273 people each had to give five shekels. More likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming the 273... Silver in such cases pictures the truth of redemption. But we must always remember that today we are "ransomed... not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ" (1 Peter 1:18-19).
- Blood — God's claim goes back to the night He sheltered them from judgment in Egypt. Blood was the price, so they were His.
- Exchange — He took the tribe of Levi instead of those sons, for the work of His house. They were a privileged people, called to His interests and cared for by Him.
- Every soul — The count starts at a month old, because it is the soul God values, and the soul of an infant is precious to Him.
- Title — He numbers because He owns; the God who counts the stars and names them counts His people too.
- Shortfall — God still claimed the 273 who had no Levite substitute. Silver redeemed them — a picture of the precious blood of Christ. Redemption always comes before service.
And all the firstborn males, by the number of the names, from a month old and upward, according to their numbering, were twenty-two thousand two hundred and seventy-three.
God ordered this census for one purpose. He was taking the tribe of Levi in place of the firstborn sons of Israel, and the two lists had to match man for man. The totals do not quite match, and what God does about that small gap is where the meaning lies.
The two lists almost matched. One commentator works through the numbers and the gap:
The count of Levite males came to 22,000 (v.39). Now the number of the firstborn was very close to the same, but 273 larger than the number of the Levites (v.43). To make up this difference, the Lord set a redemption price of five shekels of silver for each of the 273 (vv.46-47). It is not likely that 273 people were each required to give five shekels, but rather that the tribes should share the cost of redeeming the 273. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since God had given the Levites to them too. In such cases silver illustrated the truth of redemption. But we must always remember that today we are not ransomed "with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ" (1 Peter 1:18-19).
God counted the firstborn "from a month old and upward" — the same age as the Levites. One writer sees a reason for counting infants:
They are numbered from a month old and upward, as the firstborn are, and for the same reason. If only men in their strength were to be redeemed or numbered, would it not appear as if God took "pleasure in the legs of a man"? (Ps. 147:10.) But it is the soul He values, and the soul of an infant is precious in His sight.
Another writer sees God's eye on a servant long before the service begins:
When counting the people, the normal threshold was 20 years (Num. 1:3). The Levites were an exception. Everyone was counted, almost from birth (from a month old – Num. 3:15). Does this detail not show that God takes notice of everyone He intends to use in His service, even from the earliest age? Paul tells us that God had "separated him", and not only from the time of his conversion but "from his mother's womb".
No Levite could be found for the extra 273. God claimed them all the same:
When the census was taken, the number of the firstborn in Israel exceeded the number of the Levites by 273. These God claimed equally with the 22,000 for whom a Levite was found as a substitute, and so five shekels apiece had to be paid for these as redemption money. According to Exodus 13 the firstborn were to be redeemed at their birth. Our chapter again stresses the principle that redemption comes before the service of God. Did the Levites during Israel's history realize that God brought them into His service only as redeemed people? That may be open to question. But we should not miss the fact pictured here.
The claim goes back to the night in Egypt. One writer names the price paid then, and what it means for us now:
All the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price, the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, a picture of the precious blood of Christ. The basis of the Lord's claim upon the Levites was the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems. Now all these things were pictures, written for our instruction. They show that we belong to the Lord, on the ground of redemption, as completely as the Levites did. We are not speaking here of gifts, or of those called out for service in a special and extraordinary way, but of all Christians. All alike have been redeemed, bought with a price, and are therefore the Lord's servants.
The shortfall is small — barely one percent — yet the record preserves it. One writer refuses to treat it as a rounding error:
As it turned out, there were 22,000 Levites, but there were 22,273 firstborn (Num. 3:39-42). In other words, the Levites were short of 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom be paid for the 273 missing Levites.
The same writer traces that shortage forward into Israel's later history, where those willing to serve grew fewer still:
Over the course of history, the lack of Levites became more pronounced. In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce. We find just 74 in Ezra 2, and when, in chapter 8, Ezra sends 11 men to search for Levites, they find only 38. Today, Levites are still being looked for: those who are willing to bear the burden connected with God's testimony.
- Claimed. The firstborn belonged to God. The Passover blood had spared them in Egypt, and God claims those He redeems.
- Counted. God counted them from a month old, not from fighting age. He values the soul, and He notices His servants from the earliest age.
- Short. The Levites fell 273 people short of the firstborn, and God refused to let that small gap pass unnoticed.
- Ransomed. Five shekels each covered the gap, paid to the priests. Redemption always comes before service.
- Wanted. Levites grew scarcer through Israel's history. The search for those willing to carry God's work has never ended.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
The count is finished, and the numbers do not match: Israel has more firstborn sons than Levites to stand in their place. God speaks to Moses again to settle it, and He shows both why He claims Israel's firstborn and what it costs to make that claim exact.
The exchange God commands here is not a matter of convenience. It reaches back to the night in Egypt. Blood spared Israel's firstborn, and God kept what He had saved.
The Lord took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel, who were spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and they plainly belonged to the Lord. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be Mine." ... So the Levites were linked with mercy — the great mercy that marked Israel out and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That link fitted them all the better to serve in the sanctuary.
God does not accept a rough match. The tribe of Levi covers the firstborn as far as it goes. Every man past that number must still be redeemed.
The substitution was made so solemnly and so exactly that the 273 firstborn of Israel who were more than the number of the Levites all had to be redeemed. The price was God's own estimate of their value. Now all these things were pictures, and they are written to teach us that we belong to the Lord, on the ground of redemption, as fully as the Levites did.
Silver covers the shortfall, at a fixed rate, and it goes to the priests. One writer thinks the tribes carried that cost, not the 273 men themselves.
To make up this difference, the Lord commanded that the 273 be redeemed at five shekels of silver each. Probably the 273 men did not each pay five shekels themselves. Instead, the tribes shared the cost of redeeming them. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, because the Levites were also given to them. The total came to 1,365 shekels.
Money could settle this case. But silver was only a picture of a better price.
Their fathers had been redeemed with silver and gold. That was a picture of redemption, carried out under Jewish law. Sometimes actual money was paid, as in Exodus 30:11-16 and Numbers 3:44-51. Sometimes it was by sacrifice, as in Exodus 13:13-15. Even then silver and gold came into it, because money was needed to buy the animal for the sacrifice. Silver and gold are the least corruptible of metals, yet they are corruptible. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
The order matters, and one writer presses it home as a question.
Who can dare to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God and take to heart the solemn warning of the Lord and His apostle (Matthew 7:22; 1 Corinthians 9:27).
Commentators see the Levites as a picture of believers today: claimed by God, then given over to serve.
The Levites were to be offered to God in place of the firstborn. God took all the firstborn to Himself when He struck down the firstborn of the Egyptians. The firstborn outnumbered the Levites, so the rest were redeemed. This is a picture of the saints seen as firstborn ones, and as redeemed. They are wholly claimed as God's, and given to Aaron (that is, to Christ), to serve in God's house. He is set as Lord over that house.
The writer quoted earlier is careful about who this covers.
In saying this, we are not speaking of "gifts," or of those called out for service in a special and extraordinary way. We are speaking of all Christians. All alike have been redeemed, bought with a price, and are therefore the Lord's servants.
One writer follows that shortfall of 273 forward, and finds the shortage never ended.
God notices the difference and commands that a ransom be paid for the 273 missing Levites. ... As history went on, the lack of Levites grew worse. In the days of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce. Only 74 are listed in Ezra 2, and when Ezra sends eleven men to look for Levites in chapter 8, they find only 38. Today, Levites are still being looked for: those willing to bear the burden connected with God's testimony.
- Claimed. God's right to the firstborn dates from the night He spared them in Egypt; the blood that saved them also bought them.
- Counted. The swap is exact — one Levite for one firstborn, and every extra man is written down.
- Covered. The 273 left over cost five shekels each — 1,365 shekels, paid to Aaron and his sons.
- Costly. Silver settled the picture; the real price behind it cannot decay.
- Consecrated. Redemption comes first, service follows — the Levites belonged to God before they served, and so do His people.
Take the Levites instead of all the firstborn among the children of Israel, and the cattle of the Levites instead of their cattle; and the Levites shall be mine I am Jehovah.
On the night God passed through Egypt, He claimed every firstborn son of Israel, and here He names the exchange that settles the claim: a whole tribe taken in their place, animals and all. Why does God accept a substitute, and what does it mean to belong to Him?
The claim behind this verse reaches back to the night the destroying angel passed through Egypt.
The LORD took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for Israel's firstborn, who were spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. Blood had redeemed them, and they were counted, beyond all doubt, as belonging to the LORD. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine." So they stand as the lasting witness that the firstborn belong to the LORD, from man as well as from beast. In the day of judgment God's grace had spared the very ones they match. The Levites are therefore tied to mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better to serve in the sanctuary.
The exchange is not symbolic or approximate. It is counted out, and it includes the animals.
Since the Levites were to be dedicated to the Lord in place of the firstborn in Israel, it was necessary to ask how closely the number of the Levites matched the number of the firstborn. So the Lord told Moses to number all the firstborn males, from one month old and upward, as the Levite males had been numbered (v. 40). Verse 41 also notes that the livestock of the Levites would take the place of the firstborn livestock of the other tribes, though we are not told that the livestock were numbered.
Normally a firstborn son was bought back with money. What happens here stands outside that pattern.
The normal method, and the one that was to hold good for all time, was a money payment of five shekels to the priest (Num. 18:16). There was one exception, and only on one occasion. It is the one before us now. We call it an exception because this transaction was never repeated, though it held good for ever. The tribe of Levi was taken instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes, as far as man could be exchanged for man. The extra firstborn among the people of Israel were then redeemed by five shekels each, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, which was fixed at twenty gerahs.
It is easy to read this exchange as though the Levites absorbed a punishment.
The redemption we are speaking of here was in no sense a redemption from judgment. People have too often confused the two. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and every child of God shares in it. That is provided by the blood of Christ (Eph. 1:7; Col. 1:14). Now the redemption of the firstborn males was in no way like that. This will be clear to the simplest reader if he notices two things. The clean animal could not be redeemed at all. And the males of Israel were redeemed at the outset, when the Levites were taken in their place, as far as that could be done. Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to minister to Aaron.
The count did not come out even.
When the census was taken, the number of the firstborn in Israel was 273 more than the number of the Levites. God claimed these 273 just as much as the 22,000 who each had a Levite as a substitute. So five shekels had to be paid for each of them as redemption money. According to Exodus 13 the firstborn were to be redeemed at their birth. Our chapter stresses again the principle that redemption comes before the service of God.
What made the Levites servants was whose they were.
Here is the true character of service — "first gave themselves to God," then God employs them… The service of the Levites was entirely the result of their being the Lord's. "The Levites shall be mine." For as it is written, "you are not your own, for you were bought with a price." It is a blessed thing to say, "My beloved is mine." But it is greater progress and a deeper joy to say, "I am His."
The firstborn son and the Levite who replaced him together sketch two sides of one life.
The firstborn, seen this way, has a double history from his redemption onward, and so do we. First he dies in his substitute, then he lives as a servant in the Levite… So the Israelite father might say, "My son has died in that lamb." That history ends there. But even so, "I live." Now we have a new life — "Christ who lives in me." At this point we have the Levite before us: saved from death, but devoted to God.
- Mine by blood. God's claim goes back to the night He spared Israel's firstborn. Blood redeemed them, and He counted them as His.
- Mine by exchange. God takes a whole tribe, man for man and cattle for cattle — a transaction never repeated, yet holding good for ever.
- Mine, down to the last 273. God overlooks no one. Five shekels are paid for each of the 273 extra, because redemption comes before service.
- Mine, but not punished. This is not redemption out of judgment. The Levites were taken to serve Aaron, not to bear a penalty.
- Mine, therefore Yours to use. Service follows ownership. The firstborn died in his substitute and lived on in the Levite, and the redeemed can say, "I am His."
And for those that are to be ransomed, the two hundred and seventy-three of the firstborn of the children of Israel, which are in excess over the Levites,
In this chapter God counts the tribe of Levi alongside the firstborn sons of Israel, man for man. The firstborn outnumber the Levites by 273. This verse deals with that surplus. Why did God claim the firstborn at all? And what does a payment of silver settle that a substitute could not?
Why did God own these firstborn sons at all? It goes back to Egypt, where the blood of the Passover lamb spared their lives.
First, notice that the basis of the Lord's claim on the Levites was the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those He redeems... So all the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price — the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, a picture of the precious blood of Christ.
Paying five shekels for a firstborn son was the standing rule in Israel. What happens here is different — a swap of one whole tribe for a nation's firstborn, done once and never repeated.
The normal method, as we would call it, and the one that was to hold good for all time, was a money payment of five shekels to the priest (Num. 18:16). There was one exception to this, and only on one occasion. That is what we are looking at now. We call it an exception because it was a transaction that was never repeated, though it held good for ever. The tribe of Levi was taken instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes, as far as man for man such an exchange could be made.
273 out of more than twenty-two thousand is a rounding error by any human accounting. God stops and legislates for it.
As it turned out, there were 22,000 Levites, but there were 22,273 firstborn (Num. 3:39-42). In other words, the Levites were short of 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom be paid for the 273 missing Levites.
Who paid the money is worth asking.
It is not likely that 273 people each had to give five shekels. More likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming the 273. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites were given to them too. The total came to 1365 shekels.
The next verse fixes the price "according to the shekel of the sanctuary," twenty gerahs to the shekel — God's own weight, not the market's.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh — at first, perhaps, to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have been heavier than the usual one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unchanging.
It is easy to read this payment as buying a child out of condemnation. One writer argues that it is not that at all.
So the redemption we are speaking of here was in no sense redemption from judgment, though the two have too often been confused. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and every child of God shares in it. The blood of Christ provides that... This will be clear to the simplest reader if he notices two things: the clean animal could not be redeemed at all, and the males of Israel were redeemed at the outset when the Levites were taken in their place... Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to serve Aaron.
The silver went to the priests, and where it went carries the lesson.
The redemption money was handed to Aaron for the service of God, showing that it met His claims on the redeemed. Let us never forget that as redeemed people we belong to God. On that fact rests the life of service to His Name, to which we are committed.
Commentators read the Levites as a picture of Christians for this reason.
Each Levite stood for a firstborn man in Israel. The eldest sons who were more than the number of that tribe were redeemed for five shekels of silver each. So the Levites were, in a special way, a redeemed company. Clearly they picture Christians, both in our redemption and in the claim God has on us for service as redeemed people.
- Claimed — God owned Israel's firstborn because the blood of the lamb spared them in Egypt. Redemption is what creates His claim.
- Exchanged — God took the Levites in their place, man for man. The swap was never repeated, yet it held good for ever.
- Counted — The extra 273 were too few for a statistician to notice, and too many for God to ignore. Each cost five shekels.
- Weighed — The sanctuary shekel set the price, twenty gerahs — God's estimate of value, not the market's.
- Given — The money went to Aaron and his sons. The redeemed belong to God, and they are redeemed into His service. Commentators add that this payment was not a ransom from judgment. That redemption comes by the blood of Christ, not by silver.
thou shalt take five shekels apiece by the poll, according to the shekel of the sanctuary shalt thou take them, -- twenty gerahs the shekel;
Numbers 3 ends with an arithmetic problem that God Himself solves. God had taken the tribe of Levi in place of Israel's firstborn sons, but 273 firstborn were left over. This verse sets their price: five shekels each, weighed by the sanctuary standard of twenty gerahs.
The count left a shortfall, and silver settled it. One writer walks through the figures and names who paid and who received.
The count of the Levite males came to 22,000 (v. 39). Now the number of the firstborn was very close to the same, but 273 larger than the number of the Levites (v. 43). To make up this difference, the Lord told them to redeem the 273 by paying five shekels of silver for each person (vv. 46-47). It is not likely that each of the 273 paid five shekels himself; more likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming them. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites were also given to them. The total amounted to 1,365 shekels.
A gap of 273 could look too small to bother with. God did not treat it that way.
When the Levites were counted, there were 22,000 of them, but there were 22,273 firstborn (Num. 3:39-42). In other words, the Levites were short of 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom be paid for the 273 missing Levites (v. 46, 47).
The same writer traces that shortage forward through Israel's history.
Over the course of history, the lack of Levites became more pronounced. In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce. We find just 74 in Ezra 2, and when, in chapter 8, Ezra sends 11 men to search for Levites, they find only 38. Today, there is still a search for Levites: those who are willing to bear the burden connected with God's testimony.
The verse names which shekel to use, and defines it. Everyday trade in Israel may have used another weight.
The Old Testament mentions two shekels. One goes by "the king's weight," and was probably the standard shekel used for all ordinary business (Ex. 38:29; Joshua 7:21; 2 Sam. 14:26; Amos 8:5). The other is called the "shekel of the sanctuary," and of it we read, "the shekel is 20 gerahs" (Ex. 30:13; Lev. 27:25; Num. 3:47; Num. 18:16). This implies perhaps that the common shekel was different.
Convenience had no say in the matter. The standard came from God's house.
One more law held firm through all these dealings. "And all your valuations shall be according to the shekel of the sanctuary: twenty gerahs shall be the shekel." Israel might wish to pay with whatever coin was most convenient in their dealings with the nations. But as in relation to the temple service and their redemption price, so here they must make their payments "according to the shekel of the sanctuary."
The payment is not an afterthought tacked onto a census.
God claimed these 273 extra firstborn just as much as the 22,000 for whom a Levite stood in as a substitute, and so the people had to pay five shekels apiece for them as redemption money. According to Exodus 13 the firstborn were to be redeemed at their birth. Our chapter again stresses the principle that redemption comes first and service follows.
One writer presses a careful distinction here about what this money did and did not buy.
The redemption we are speaking of here was in no way redemption from judgment, though people have too often confused the two. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and every child of God shares in it. That is provided by the blood of Christ (Eph. 1:7; Col. 1:14). The redemption of the firstborn males was nothing like that. … Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to minister to Aaron.
Silver was a picture, and pictures have limits.
They knew, and so do we, that we are redeemed with the precious blood of Christ. Their fathers had been redeemed with silver and gold — a redemption under Jewish law that pictured something greater. Sometimes they paid actual money, as in Exodus 30:11-16 and Numbers 3:44-51. … Silver and gold are the least corruptible of metals, yet they are corruptible. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
- Counted — 22,000 Levites stood in for 22,273 firstborn. God counted the 273 short rather than passing over them.
- Ransomed — five shekels covered each of the 273 left over, 1,365 shekels in all, paid to Aaron and his sons. The tribes likely shared the cost.
- Weighed — the price used the sanctuary shekel of twenty gerahs, not whatever coin was handiest in trade.
- Claimed — redemption came first, service after. The Levites were taken to minister to Aaron, not to bear punishment.
- Surpassed — silver pictured redemption, but silver corrupts. The price paid for believers was incorruptible and precious.
and thou shalt give the money unto Aaron and unto his sons for those in excess among them who are to be ransomed.
The count of Levi came up 273 short of the firstborn sons of Israel, and God required a payment for every extra son. This verse names the price and the hands it went into, raising three questions: why silver, why Aaron, and what the arrangement says about belonging to God.
Levi had been taken in exchange for the firstborn of the whole nation, man for man, as far as the numbers would stretch. They did not stretch far enough.
The Levite males numbered 22,000 (v.39). The number of the firstborn was very close to the same, but 273 larger than the number of the Levites (v.43). To make up this difference, the Lord instructed that the 273 be redeemed by paying five shekels of silver for each one (vs.46-47). It is not likely that 273 men each had to give five shekels. More likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming the 273. This money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites too were given to them.
The money is weighed out "according to the shekel of the sanctuary." One writer explains what that standard was.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh, and perhaps at first to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have weighed more than the usual one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never changing, for "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10). This shekel was divided into twenty gerahs.
A five-shekel payment was the standing rule for firstborn sons. The exchange with Levi was the one-off exception:
The normal method, as we would call it, and the one that was to hold good for all time, was a money payment of five shekels to the priest (Num. 18:16). To this there was an exception, but only on one occasion... We call it an exception because it was a transaction that was never repeated, though it held good forever. The tribe of Levi was taken instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes, as far as man for man there could be such an exchange.
The silver went to the priest. Where it went says something about who the redeemed now belong to.
Aaron received the redemption money for the service of God, which showed that it met His claims on the redeemed. Let us never forget that as redeemed people we belong to God. That fact is the basis of the life of service to His Name that we are committed to.
It is easy to read "redemption price" as a payment that turns away punishment. One writer says this is not what happens here, and gives two reasons from the text.
The redemption we are speaking of here was in no sense redemption from judgment, though people have too often confused the two. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and every child of God shares in it. The blood of Christ provides that (Eph. 1:7; Col. 1:14). The redemption of the firstborn males was nothing like that. This will be clear to the simplest reader if he notes two things. The clean animal could not be redeemed at all. And the males of Israel were redeemed at the start by the Levites being taken in their place, as far as that could be done. Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to serve Aaron.
One writer reads Aaron here as standing for Christ, and the whole arrangement as a picture of believers.
The Levites were to be offered to God in place of the firstborn, all of whom God took to Himself when He struck the firstborn of the Egyptians. Since the firstborn outnumbered the Levites, the rest were redeemed. This is a picture of the saints seen as firstborn ones and as redeemed. They are wholly claimed as God's and given to Aaron (that is, to Christ), to serve in God's house, over which He is set as Lord.
Silver could settle the account for 273 boys in the desert. It could never settle more than that.
They knew, and so do we, that we are redeemed with the precious blood of Christ. Their fathers had been redeemed with silver and gold — a redemption in picture form, carried out under Jewish law. Sometimes actual money was given as in Exodus 30:11-16; Numbers 3:44-51... Silver and gold are the least corruptible of metals, yet they are corruptible. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
- Counted — Levi fell 273 short of the firstborn, and God required a price for every extra son.
- Priced — five shekels each, weighed by the sanctuary standard. God fixed that measure, not the payer.
- Handed over — the silver went to Aaron, showing that God's claim on the redeemed was met.
- Owned — redemption is what makes a person God's, and being God's is the ground of a life of service.
- Surpassed — silver is the least corruptible metal, yet it still corrupts. The price that redeems us is the precious blood of Christ.
And Moses took the ransom-money from them that were over and above those who were ransomed by the Levites;
Numbers 3 ends with an exchange: God takes the tribe of Levi in place of Israel's firstborn sons, man for man — but the firstborn outnumber the Levites by 273. Verse 49 records Moses collecting silver for that surplus, which raises two questions: why did God claim these sons, and why did 273 matter?
The claim goes back to the night God struck the firstborn of Egypt, when the blood of the Passover lamb marked Israel's homes. From that night the firstborn sons of Israel belonged to God.
All the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price, the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb... From chapters 3 and 4 we learn that afterwards all the Levites were taken instead of the firstborn of the children of Israel. The transaction that made the substitution was so solemn and exact that the 273 firstborn of the children of Israel, who were more than the number of the Levites, all had to be redeemed according to God's estimate of their value.
The chapter's arithmetic is what creates verse 49. One writer works through the totals and shows who carried the cost.
The count of Levite males came to 22,000. The number of the firstborn was very close to the same, but 273 larger than the number of the Levites. To make up this difference, the Lord told them to redeem the 273 by paying five shekels of silver for each one. It is not likely that 273 people each had to give five shekels. More likely the tribes shared the cost of redeeming the 273. This was to be given to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites were also given to them.
The shortfall looks small enough to ignore.
The Levites were short of 273 people. A coincidence? A negligible difference? Hardly. God notes the difference and commands a ransom be paid for the 273 missing Levites.
God fixed the price, and He weighed it against His own standard. The word shekel itself points to weighing.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh — at first, perhaps, to balance. It is that which forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have been heavier than the usual one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unvarying, for "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Proverbs 20:10).
The five-shekel payment was not invented for this moment. It was the permanent price for a firstborn son — what made this occasion unusual was the swap of a whole tribe.
The normal method, as we would call it, and the one that was to hold good for all time, was a payment of five shekels to the priest (Numbers 18:16). To this there was an exception, but only on one occasion... It was a transaction that was never repeated, though it held good for ever. The tribe of Levi was taken instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes, as far as man for man such an exchange could be made. The surplus of the children of Israel were then redeemed by five shekels each.
What kind of redemption is this? One writer answers with a sharp distinction.
The redemption we are speaking of here was in no sense redemption from judgment. People have too often confused the two. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and every child of God shares in it. That is provided by the blood of Christ. Now the redemption of the firstborn males was in no sense like that... Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to serve Aaron.
Moses did not keep the silver or give it back. It went to Aaron the priest.
The redemption money was handed to Aaron for the service of God, showing that it met His claims on the redeemed. Let us never forget that as redeemed people we belong to God. The life of service to His Name that we are committed to rests on that fact.
- Claimed — the Passover blood spared Israel's firstborn on the night Egypt's firstborn died. They were bought with a price, so they were God's.
- Substituted — a whole tribe was accepted in their place, man for man, as far as the numbers of Levi could stretch.
- Counted — 273 had no Levite to stand for them, and God refused to treat the shortfall as too small to matter.
- Priced — five shekels each, by the sanctuary standard: the just and unvarying measure of the King of kings.
- Serving — the silver passed to Aaron for the service of God. What met God's claim also became the ground of a life given to Him.
of the firstborn of the children of Israel he took the money, a thousand three hundred and sixty-five [shekels], according to the shekel of the sanctuary.
The 1,365 shekels here were a redemption price for the firstborn sons of Israel who had no Levite to stand in their place. Two questions sit behind the number: why did God claim these children, and what could silver buy?
The number comes from subtracting one census from another:
The count of Levite males came to 22,000 (v.39). The number of the firstborn was very close to the same, but 273 larger than the number of the Levites (v.43). To make up this difference, the Lord required five shekels of silver to redeem each of the 273 (vv.46-47). Most likely the 273 did not each give five shekels themselves. Instead the tribes shared the cost of redeeming them. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites too were given to them. The total came to 1,365 shekels.
God's claim on these children goes back to the night Israel left Egypt:
The basis of the Lord's claim on the Levites was the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems. So all the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price — the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, a picture of the precious blood of Christ. From chapters 3 and 4 we learn that afterwards God took all the Levites instead of the firstborn of the children of Israel. The substitution was so solemn and exact that the 273 firstborn beyond the number of the Levites all had to be redeemed according to God's own estimate of their value.
The verse names a price and also the standard that weighs it. Israel traded with other nations and could have paid in their coin:
One law applied without exception throughout these transactions. "And every valuation shall be according to the shekel of the sanctuary: twenty gerahs shall make a shekel." Israel might wish to pay with whatever coin was most convenient in their dealings with the nations. But as with the temple service and their redemption price, so here they had to make their payments "according to the shekel of the sanctuary." ... We are under grace, not law. But what a serious error to think that we as Christians are left to our own will or wisdom! We are bought with an infinite price, and we are in no way our own.
The law treated three cases differently, and that difference shows what this payment was not:
God required redemption for the males of Israel. For the firstborn male of a donkey it was optional, and depended on the owner's will. For the firstborn male of a clean animal it was impossible. That went onto God's altar. So the redemption we are speaking of here was in no sense redemption from judgment, though people have often confused the two. There is a redemption from God's judgment, and every child of God shares in it. The blood of Christ provides it. But the redemption of the firstborn males was nothing like that. Even the simplest reader can see it. The clean animal could not be redeemed at all. And God redeemed the males of Israel at the start by taking the Levites in their place, as far as that could be done. Did God choose the Levites to bear His punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. He took them to serve Aaron.
The chapter sets an order the Levites themselves may not have grasped:
Our chapter again emphasises the principle that redemption comes before the service of God. Did the Levites through Israel's history realise that they came into God's service only as a redeemed people? That may be open to question. But we should not miss this fact, which is set out here in picture form.
Silver settled the account for these 273. It could never settle the deeper one, and the payment was only a picture:
Their fathers had been redeemed with silver and gold — a redemption in picture form, carried out under Jewish law. Sometimes they gave actual money, as in Exodus 30:11-16 and Numbers 3:44-51... Silver and gold are the least corruptible of metals, yet they are corruptible. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
- Counted. The census left 273 firstborn with no Levite to stand for them, and God required a price for each one.
- Claimed. The firstborn were His because blood had spared them in Egypt — bought first, then counted.
- Weighed. God fixed the price by the sanctuary shekel, twenty gerahs — His estimate of their value, not the market's.
- Commissioned. God took the Levites to serve Aaron, not to bear punishment. Redemption came first, service followed.
- Surpassed. Silver and gold are the least corruptible metals, yet they still corrupt. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
And Moses gave the money of them that were ransomed to Aaron and to his sons, according to the commandment of Jehovah, -- as Jehovah had commanded Moses.
Israel's firstborn sons outnumbered the Levites who stood in their place, so silver had to cover the gap. Here Moses hands that silver over — and commentators ask what it bought, who took it, and what it pictures for us.
The sum in this verse comes from a gap in the numbers. One writer shows how the count worked out and who paid:
The count of Levite males came to 22,000 (v.39). The number of the firstborn was very close to that, but 273 larger (v.43). To make up this difference, the Lord told them to redeem the 273 by paying five shekels of silver for each person (vs.46-47). Probably the 273 did not each pay five shekels themselves. Instead the tribes shared the cost of redeeming them. The money went to the priests, Aaron and his sons, since the Levites were also given to them. The total amounted to 1365 shekels.
God claimed the extra 273 as fully as the rest, and someone had to pay for each of them:
When they took the census, the firstborn in Israel outnumbered the Levites by 273. God claimed these 273 just as He claimed the 22,000, who each had a Levite as a substitute. So five shekels of redemption money had to be paid for each of them. According to Exodus 13 the firstborn were to be redeemed at their birth. Our chapter again stresses the principle: redemption comes first, before the service of God.
The silver went to Aaron, and where it went carries the point of the verse:
The redemption money was handed to Aaron for the service of God, showing that it met His claims upon the redeemed. Let us never forget that as redeemed people we belong to God. On this fact rests the life of service to His Name, the life we are committed to.
Writers read Aaron here as a picture of Christ, and the redeemed as those handed over to Him for His use:
The Levites were to be offered to God in place of the firstborn, all of whom God took to Himself when He struck down the firstborn of the Egyptians. The firstborn outnumbered the Levites, so the rest were redeemed. This is a picture of the saints, seen as firstborn ones and as redeemed. They are wholly claimed as God's, and given to Aaron (that is, to Christ). They serve in God's house, and He is set as Lord over it.
It is easy to read the five shekels as a payment that saved these sons from punishment. One writer warns against that reading, and argues from the animals in the same law:
So the redemption we speak of here was in no sense redemption from judgment. People have too often confused the two. There is a redemption from divine judgment, and in that every child of God shares. That is provided by the blood of Christ (Ephesians 1:7; Colossians 1:14). Now the redemption of the firstborn males was in no sense like that. Even the simplest reader will see this clearly. Notice that the clean animal could not be redeemed at all. Notice too that the Levites were taken in place of the males of Israel at the outset, and so redeemed them as far as that could be done. Were the Levites chosen to bear divine punishment instead of the firstborn males of the twelve tribes? No. They were taken to minister to Aaron.
One writer sets a payment like this one beside the price that redeems us:
They knew, and so do we, that we are redeemed with the precious blood of Christ. Their fathers had been redeemed with silver and gold. That redemption under Jewish law was a picture of something greater. Sometimes actual money was given, as in Exodus 30:11-16 and Numbers 3:44-51. Sometimes it was by sacrifice, as in Exodus 13:13-15. Even then silver and gold came into it, since they bought the animal used for sacrifice. Silver and gold are the least corruptible of metals, yet they are corruptible. The price of our redemption was incorruptible and precious.
- Counted — The firstborn outnumbered the Levites by 273, and God claimed every one of them.
- Bought — Five shekels each, 1,365 shekels in all, and the tribes carried the cost, not the 273 alone.
- Given — The silver went to Aaron, meeting God's claim on the redeemed and marking them out as His.
- Different — This was not a ransom from judgment. The Levites served the priest; they did not bear punishment.
- Surpassed — Silver wears away. The price here points past itself to the precious blood of Christ.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying,
Numbers 4 opens with God speaking to Moses and Aaron. Who serves, at what age, and with what load — the whole chapter flows from this one word, not from human choice.
The orders that begin here split the tribe of Levi into families, each with work of its own:
There were three principal houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. They and their sons each have a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4. There the count runs again from thirty years old and upward. This also matters greatly. Nothing is more important in practice than that each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. Once he knows it, he should stick to it. It is also no small matter never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
The word comes to Moses and Aaron together, and the priests' part comes first:
Preparing the contents of the tabernacle for transit was the work of the priests alone. No eyes but theirs were to look at the ark and the other holy objects and vessels there. The Kohathites could lift them only after the priests had covered them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If even they were open to priestly eyes alone, we may take a lesson to heart. We grasp the far holier Reality, now revealed to us, only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit.
No Levite picked his own task. That limit was a kindness:
The priest's appointment was to regulate Levite service. The Levites had no more room for self-will in their service than the fighting men had in their position. God settled it all, and this was a real mercy to everyone whose heart was in a right condition. To someone whose will was unbroken, it might seem a hardship and a tiresome task to stay in the same position, or to keep to the very same line of work. But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
The chapter then turns to Kohath's family:
The chapter takes up in detail what the Kohathites had to do: carrying the vessels of the sanctuary through the wilderness. It was the highest form of service; it brought the service closest to Christ. Outwardly it did not look so fine. It does not follow at all that the service which makes the greatest show or noise among men has the most honourable character in the eyes of God.
Their load also tied them to one another:
Notice too, they had to walk together. No one could carry a vessel of the sanctuary without a bar, and a bar needs at least two bearers. They had to set aside every personal consideration. One might be stronger than another, or able to walk faster. But neither the strong nor the weak could decide the pace or the time. That depended on the cloud alone, which directed every movement of the camp.
The count in this chapter fixes an age to start and an age to stop:
Depending on the exact task, Levites began their active service at 25 or 30 years of age. They retired into an advisory role at 50. Christian service needs a certain amount of maturity, and different tasks need different levels of it. A time comes when active service is over. That may not be at 50; it could be at any time. When the Lord comes, our window of opportunity to serve Him in the desert will be gone.
The order in this chapter is not only for Israel:
Survey the whole of Numbers 4, and one thing strikes us. God ordered everything connected with His wilderness house, leaving nothing to man's preference or choice. It reminds us at once of 1 Corinthians 12 and 14. There we learn that in God's present house, "the church of the living God" (1 Timothy 3:15), the Spirit of God is sovereign, acting under the lordship of Christ. He divides "to each one individually as He wills." We are only right as we serve under the direction of the Spirit of God. It is not for us to pick and choose.
- God speaks. Everything in the chapter starts with His word. The Lord divides the work according to His own will.
- God appoints. No Levite chose his task. An unbroken will feels that as confinement. A settled heart finds mercy in it: the path is plain, and obedience is enough.
- Priests prepare. Priestly hands covered the holy things before anyone lifted them. We grasp the deeper realities only as we take up our priestly privileges in the Spirit.
- Levites carry. Kohath's burden looked the least impressive, yet it brought service closest to Christ. Show and noise are not what God honours most.
- Seasons close. Levites served between fixed ages and stepped back at fifty. Our window for serving Him will not stay open.
Take the sum of the sons of Kohath from among the sons of Levi, after their families, according to their fathers' houses,
Israel is in camp in the wilderness. Before the tribes can move, God orders a head count of one Levite family — Kohath — clan by clan and household by household. Three questions follow: why this family first, what were they counted for, and who decides a servant's work?
Levi's firstborn was Gershon, yet the census opens with Kohath. One writer treats this as a pattern running through Scripture.
Kohath is one more example — and there have been many — where the firstborn naturally loses his place to another. Kohath is not the firstborn of Levi, but Gershon is. Grace, not nature, rules.
What were these men counted for? The answer is in what they had to carry — and in what they were not given to carry it with.
When we studied Numbers 3 and 4, we noticed that the sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying the most precious instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they did not receive any of the princes' offering. It was their high and holy service to bear these things on their shoulders, and not to make use of wagons or oxen. The more closely we look at what was put into the care and charge of the Kohathites, the more we will see that these things picture the deeper and fuller ways God has made Himself known in Christ. The Gershonites and Merarites, by contrast, had to do with things that were more external.
The count goes "by their clans and their fathers' houses." God fixes a man's place in the work; the man does not pick it.
In the first part of this section God puts each family of the tribe in its own place. He is sovereign in what He appoints — Kohath with his precious vessels, Gershon with his fine linen, Merari with his boards and pillars. Service is gift, and therefore gift is the appointment to service, since the Giver can make no mistake.
Another writer notes where this fresh count starts, and what a servant should do with the place he is given.
There were three main houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. They and their sons each have a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4, where they are numbered afresh from thirty years old and upward. Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and stick to it once he knows it. It also matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will. On the one hand, we must respect this. On the other, nothing is more lovely than submitting to one another according to the grace and in the fear of God.
The men counted here could not simply pick up their load.
Numbers 4 lists the various services of the Levites. The sons of Kohath were given a distinct honour and a solemn responsibility: they carried the ark of the testimony and the other golden vessels. Of their service alone it is said, "it is most holy." It is worth noting, however, that Aaron and his sons, the priestly family, had to prepare the vessels by covering them before the Levites could take up the service given to them. This strengthens the thought already expressed. Only as we take up priestly service — worship, learning more and more of the glories and perfections of Christ in the heavenly sanctuary — can we as true Levites show these excellencies as we pass through this desert scene.
The same writer marks the limit: "Not even the Levites were allowed to touch the holy vessels" — the sons of Kohath came to carry them, but were not to touch any holy thing, or they would die (Num. 4:15).
Who these men were makes the command striking. Levi's name carries a violent past.
Who can speak rightly of that rich, abounding, distinguishing mercy? Men whose hands had been stained with blood were allowed to handle the vessels of the sanctuary. Men into whose assembly God's Spirit could not enter were brought into the very heart of the congregation of God, to be occupied there with what was so precious to Him.
- Chosen — Kohath heads the list, not the firstborn Gershon. Grace, not natural order, decides who serves.
- Counted — God counts them family by family and household by household. No servant is a face in a crowd.
- Commissioned — God hands out the work, and "the Giver can make no mistake." Know your own task, and leave another's alone.
- Covered — priests wrapped every vessel before a Kohathite could lift it. Handling holy things depends on worship first.
- Carried — no wagons and no oxen for Kohath, only shoulders. Those shoulders belonged to a tribe once stained with blood, now trusted with what God valued most.
from thirty years old and upward even unto fifty years old, all that enter into the service, to do the work in the tent of meeting.
Numbers 4 calls the Levites to their actual duty, and verse 3 fixes the ages: thirty at one end, fifty at the other. Why did God set a starting age, why an upper limit, and what work did He count these men for?
One writer sets the Levites' starting age beside the age at which other men were counted for war.
The men of the other tribes were counted for war from twenty years old. But the Levites had to be thirty before they could begin their service. They had at least to be past the age when the rashness and impulsiveness of youth might sway them.
Another reads the two ages as the opening and closing of one span of usefulness.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every such man finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realised capacity; he leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty — and in the picture it gives, only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account.
God set the Levites apart while they were still infants, long before any of them could lift a burden.
Here God numbers them from infancy — apart from Israel, but still numbered — and marks them out for service long before it could begin. God gives strength before He claims service. Yet from their earliest days He reckons them apart according to His grace and purpose. There were three main houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. In Numbers 4 each house, with its sons, is given its own line of service, and there they are counted again from thirty years old and upward. This matters greatly too. Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it.
One writer links the Levites' starting age to the age at which Jesus began His public work.
This was not for military service, but for service to God. They did not take up sanctuary service until the ages of 30 to 50, yet they were evidently trained with that service in view. This reminds us that the Lord Jesus Himself did not begin His public service until He was about 30 years of age (Luke 3:23). His earlier years were an important preparation for it.
Numbers 8:24 gives a different starting age. One writer explains the gap as a training period.
According to Numbers 4:3 and the verses after it, the Levites seem to have begun their tabernacle service at the age of thirty. But Numbers 8:24-26 gives the age as twenty-five. It may be that they spent the first five years on probation, learning their duties. Once Israel had settled in Canaan, the work of carrying the tabernacle was over, and they began their service at the age of twenty. They worked until they were fifty years of age.
In the wilderness that work meant carrying the holy things from camp to camp.
Their service was to carry the holy things of the Lord through the wilderness. The wilderness is for us a picture of the world through which we pass, and our business as Christians is to show Christ. We must guard the holy things of our faith as carefully as the Levites guarded the tabernacle and its sacred contents. We must do this by the testimony of our lips and the testimony of our lives.
The upper limit is not a dismissal. It changes what the older Levite does.
After fifty their heavy work ended, but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service; it only altered its character.
Both limits point the same way: the God who assigns the load also measures it.
To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to work for Him. So no Levite was called to carry these burdens until he had reached thirty years of age. And no one was asked to continue that service after fifty... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
- Counted early. God counted the Levites while they were still infants — marked out for His service long before they could do any of it.
- Trained first. The years before thirty were preparation. The Lord Jesus followed the same pattern, beginning His public service at about thirty.
- Sent at thirty. Fighting men were counted at twenty. Those who handled the holy things waited ten years more, until the rash years were behind them.
- Carrying the holy things. The work counted here was carrying the sacred things through the wilderness. For us it is showing and guarding Christ by lip and life.
- Released at fifty. The heavy load stopped; the service did not. God measures the burden to the strength of the man who bears it.
This shall be the service of the sons of Kohath in the tent of meeting it is most holy.
Numbers 4 gives each Levite family its own share of the work. Kohath's share is named in one phrase — the most holy things — and everything said about them flows from it.
The most holy things were the furniture of the sanctuary. Each piece pointed to Christ, and each travelled the desert wrapped for the road.
Here we see what precious mysteries were committed to the charge of the Kohathites. The ark, the golden table, the golden lampstand, the golden altar, and the altar of burnt offering — all these were shadows of good things to come. They are types of Christ, in His Person, His work, and His offices. Here they are shown in the wilderness, in their travelling dress. Apart from the ark of the covenant, all of them looked the same to the human eye: the rough covering of badgers' skins. With the ark it was different. Above the badgers' skins lay a cloth entirely of blue. This showed the fully heavenly character of the Lord Jesus Christ, in His own divine Person.
Gershon was Levi's firstborn. Kohath still comes first here.
In the previous chapter Gershon stands first, as he is the firstborn. Here the firstborn has to take a secondary place and Kohath is put first. The lesson is that God's appointment for service is not a matter of natural relation and gift, but of grace. The sons of Kohath had to carry the most holy things. All of them are pictures of Christ in His humanity as our Redeemer and Lord. This stands first. It is occupation with Christ, and therefore fellowship with God.
Kelly turns this into a rule for everyday service.
Nothing in practice matters more than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And once he knows it, he should stick to it. Be assured also that it is no small matter never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
From the outside, Kohath's work looked plain.
It was the highest form; it was what brought the service closest to Christ. Outwardly it did not look so good, as we shall find later. It does not at all follow that the service which makes the greatest show or noise among men has the most honourable character in the eyes of God. This is the one sure test of value; it is always Christ. Whatever brings a person nearest to Christ, and brings out Christ most, is always the best.
The other Levite families had wagons and oxen. Kohath had none.
The sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying all that was most precious of the instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they did not receive any of the princes' offering. It was their high and holy service to bear it on their shoulders, and not to use wagons or oxen. The Gershonites and Merarites, by contrast, handled things that were more external. Their work was rougher and more exposed, so the princes' gifts supplied the help they needed.
The priests handled these vessels before the Levites did. (The quote below follows an older translation.)
Numbers 4 lists the various services of the Levites. The sons of Kohath received the distinct honour, yet solemn responsibility, of carrying the ark of the testimony and the other golden vessels. Of their service alone it is said, "it is most holy." It is worth noticing, however, that it was Aaron and his sons, the priestly family, who had to prepare the vessels by covering them before the Levites could take up the service given to them. This strengthens the earlier point. In priestly service we worship, and we learn more and more of the glories and perfections of Christ in the heavenly sanctuary. Only so can we, as true Levites, show these excellencies as we pass through this desert scene.
This nearness changed the rules for Kohath.
There was danger for them that did not exist in the same way for others, because they were in the place of greatest nearness to God. God will not allow in His presence what is not worthy of Himself... The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order. Only after the holy things were covered were they to come and take them. God set them apart for this special service, but they were not allowed to go beyond it or to look at the holy things.
- Assigned — Kohath comes first though he was not the firstborn. God hands out the work by grace, and each servant's job is to know his own and keep to it.
- Covered — the priests wrapped every vessel before it moved. Worship comes first: no one carries Christ's glory without first learning it.
- Carried — no wagons for Kohath. The most precious things ride on a man's own shoulder.
- Guarded — the nearest place had the strictest order. They could not look, could not go beyond orders, could not improvise.
- Highest — the service that showed least stood nearest Christ. Nearness to Christ, not show, is the measure of value.
And when the camp setteth forward, Aaron and his sons shall go in, and they shall take down the veil of separation and cover the ark of testimony with it;
Israel is about to break camp. The first order is not about tents or wagons but about the ark. Aaron and his sons must take down the veil that screened the most holy place and wrap the ark in it. Why does the curtain of separation become a travelling cover? And why must priests handle it before any Levite lifts a load?
The veil was not a spare cloth kept for journeys. It was the tabernacle curtain itself, now unhooked and put to a second use.
The veil was to be made of the same materials as the curtains which formed the tabernacle. It was to be hung upon four pillars of acacia wood overlaid with gold. Though the pillars were very different from the ark in form, they were made of the same materials. When the camp moved, the veil was to be taken down and used as a covering for the ark. By the veil therefore the ark was to be hidden from every eye, except that of the high priest once a year.
The colours woven into that veil picture Christ Himself.
When a move was to take place, Aaron and his sons must first take down the veil. It hung between the outer sanctuary and the holiest of all. They must use it to cover the ark. For only the priests were allowed even to look at the ark. So, when the Lord Jesus lived on earth as a stranger among His people, a veil hid His great Godhead glory. That veil speaks of His heavenly character (blue), His royal dignity (purple), His attractive beauty (scarlet) and His human moral perfection (fine linen). These were the components of the veil (Ex. 26:31).
Of everything in the tabernacle, the ark stood highest. The veil laid over it says something specific about Christ.
Of all the vessels of the sanctuary, this was the fullest and highest representation of God Himself, as displayed in Christ. The ark, as we know, was for the holiest of all. It set forth Christ — and Christ not as He met the need of man in the world, but as He is seen in the presence of God — Christ in the highest display of His glory and of divine righteousness on high. In this case the veil was that which covered it. So it is not simply a type of the Son of God as such. It is a type of Him as having taken humanity into union with His own person.
Three coverings went on in a fixed order. The order itself carries meaning.
The veil is an emblem of the humanity of Christ — His flesh (Heb. 10:20). We have then, first, the ark, that is, Christ, covered with the veil of His humanity. Next came the badgers' skins. They express that holy watchfulness by which He fully protected Himself from evil. We see it in the words, "By the word of your lips I have avoided the ways of the violent" (Ps. 17:4). Then came the cloth all of blue — the symbol of what is heavenly... It is Christ therefore in the wilderness, and while passing through it He was always marked by what is heavenly. And, let it be remembered, as such He is our example.
Every other holy vessel travelled looking the same. Only the ark had colour on top.
All these things presented one unvarying appearance to the human eye: the rough covering of the badgers' skins. The ark of the covenant was the exception. Above its badgers' skins there was "a cloth all of blue." Without doubt this sets forth the entirely heavenly character of the Lord Jesus Christ in His own divine Person. What was essentially heavenly in Him lay on the very surface of His blessed life here below.
The wilderness coverings are treated as more than history. They picture how a heavenly life shows itself in a defiling world.
We have seen in these skins that practical and watchful holiness down here which keeps itself from the evil we are open to as we pass through the wilderness... Hence, outside even the badgers' skins, there was a covering wholly of blue. This is what appeared in the wilderness. This is what took place with Christ: the ark, by the way, finds no perfect antitype in the wilderness but Himself, considered in His personal walk down here. Nevertheless, the walk of the believer, so far as it reaches this height, also has its expression in this type.
The verse gives the covering to Aaron and his sons, not to the Kohathites who carried the load. That division carries a lesson.
It was exclusively the work of the priests to prepare the contents of the tabernacle for transit. No eyes but theirs were to look on the ark and the other holy objects and vessels there. No hands but theirs were to place the suitable coverings on them. Only when covered by the priests were the Kohathites to lift them... we may take to heart the lesson that the far holier Reality, now revealed to us, is only grasped as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Without this we may try to examine holy things, but only to our own ruin.
- Covered. The curtain that shut the ark in also travelled with it. Taken down at every move, it kept the ark hidden from every eye but the priests'.
- Covered Person. Under that veil is the highest picture of God displayed in Christ. It shows the Son having taken manhood into union with Himself.
- Covered in order. Humanity first, then the skins that shut out all evil, then the blue. The order is fixed, not a random wrapping.
- Covered, yet visible. Only the ark carried blue on the outside, so what was heavenly in Him lay on the surface of His life for all to see.
- Covered before carried. Priests wrapped; Levites lifted. Service follows priestly nearness, and what is holy is only grasped from that place.
and shall put thereon a covering of badgers' skin, and shall spread over it a cloth wholly of blue, and shall put its staves [to it].
This verse gives the marching orders for the most sacred object Israel owned. The veil went over the ark first, then two more coverings, and last the carrying poles. Commentators read that order as a portrait of the One the ark pictured, and of how His people travel.
A note on wording: the ESV calls this covering "goatskin." Older translations call it "badgers' skins," and the writers quoted below use that older wording.
Why three coverings, and why in this order? One writer takes each layer as a stage in how Christ appeared while He passed through the world.
The veil is an emblem of the humanity of Christ — His flesh. (Heb. 10:20.) So we have, first, the ark; that is, Christ, covered with the veil of His humanity. Next came the badgers' skins. They express that holy watchfulness by which He kept Himself completely free from evil. We see it, for example, in the words, "By the word of Your lips I have kept myself from the paths of the destroyer." (Ps. 17:4.) Then came the cloth all of blue — symbol of what is heavenly. The badger's skin was inside in this case, because Christ kept His perfection completely free of all evil, and so the heavenly came out plainly.
When the camp moved, an onlooker saw a line of plain, rough bundles. One of them looked different.
Apart from the ark of the covenant, all these things showed one unchanging appearance to the human eye: the rough covering of the badgers' skins. With the ark there was this difference. Above the badgers' skins there was "a cloth all of blue," setting out beyond doubt the entirely heavenly character of the Lord Jesus Christ in His own divine Person. What was heavenly in Him by His very nature lay upon the very surface of His blessed life here below.
Does this picture fit anyone but Christ?
This is what happened in the case of Christ. In the wilderness the ark finds its perfect answer in Him alone, seen in His own walk down here. Still, the walk of the believer, so far as it rises towards this height, also has its expression in this picture.
What does this second covering stand for, and why does it lie under the blue?
Then there is the covering of badgers' skins — the figure, it seems, of that which completely shut out all that was offensive. Badger's skin was fitly chosen whenever the point was to picture a power that sets evil aside and forbids its smallest contact with the object covered. A figure could only show such repellent power in this way, not in the way it belongs to Christ in Himself. Over this picture of His separation from sinners came a cloth all of blue, because, whatever the power that refused evil, there was another side of Him held out above all to the believer: He was "the heavenly" One. (1 Cor. 15)
What does the same picture ask of us?
As for us, we have within ourselves what is heavenly. But we must guard it with a watchfulness as firm as the evil we are passing through. It matters much that we keep ourselves clear of that evil.
The verse ends with the poles going back in. Why leave them there?
They had to make poles to carry the ark by. These poles were symbols of travel. They show us how our Lord goes with His people in all their wanderings through the wilderness: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." Until they crossed the Jordan they had to leave the poles in their rings. But when they reach their goal in the promised land they take the poles out (1 Kings 8:8), for now they were to wander no more.
Kohath's family — one of the Levite clans — carried these covered loads. What did the work look like from outside?
No one could tell from the outside what these vessels were, though each Kohathite knew what his own charge was. There was nothing in the service itself, or in what people could see of it, to bring glory to those doing it.
- Veil — the first covering stands for the humanity of Christ. Under it lies the ark: the Person the whole picture exists to show.
- Skins — next comes the layer that shuts out evil. It pictures the watchfulness that kept Him clear of the paths of the destroyer.
- Blue — only the ark wore heaven's colour on the outside. What was heavenly in Him lay on the very surface of His life here.
- Poles — they stay in the rings for the whole journey. He travels with His people and does not leave them until the wandering ends.
- Carriers — they gained no glory from the task. Only the blue was on show, and it was not theirs.
And upon the table of shewbread they shall spread a cloth of blue; and put thereon the dishes, and the cups, and the bowls, and goblets of the drink-offering; and the continual bread shall be thereon.
Numbers 4 tells Israel how to pack and carry the tabernacle each time the camp moved on. Verse 7 covers the golden table and its bread: three cloths go over it in a set order, and the bread travels with it.
The men who lift the table do not wrap it. That work belongs to the priests alone.
Preparing the contents of the tabernacle for the journey was the work of the priests, and of no one else. No eyes but theirs were to look at the ark and the other holy objects and vessels there. No hands but theirs were to put the right coverings on them. The Kohathites could lift them only once the priests had covered them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If even they were shown to priestly eyes alone, we may take the lesson to heart. The far holier Reality, now revealed to us, is grasped only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Apart from this we may try to examine it, but only to our own ruin.
The Kohathites were the Levites who lifted these loads. Their turn came last, and it came with strict limits.
They could not choose their burden. They were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. Only after the priests had covered them in the ordered way and set them on the carrying poles did the Kohathites come forward, each to receive his appointed service and learn what his duty was. They were not to look at the holy things uncovered, on pain of death.
The blue cloth lies against the gold. The outer skin is all that anyone outside ever saw.
The table speaks of Christ as the One who sustains communion. The blue cloth reminds us that communion with Him now is on a heavenly level. The badger skins tell us that communion is not attractive to the outside world, though it stays strong and lasting.
Each layer sits where it does for a reason. The vessels listed in the verse are stacked on the blue cloth, and the scarlet goes over them all.
Then came the table of showbread. First a cloth of blue went on it, then the dishes, the bread and the rest, all covered with a scarlet cloth, with badger skins outside. The table itself — the gold, the divine part — was covered with the blue, the heavenly colour. Then the scarlet cloth covers the twelve loaves. Scarlet is royalty, and twelve, as we have seen, is connected with administration on earth. The badger skins are outside, because this is a display in a human instrument.
The scarlet also looks ahead. It says something about what God still plans for Israel.
God's purpose is that Israel's twelve tribes shall hold the first place on earth. In them the very highest kind of human splendour will be on display. So the "scarlet" covering on the table of showbread fits. The twelve loaves clearly point to the twelve tribes. As for the scarlet colour, you only have to look through Scripture to see that it stands for what people count as splendid.
In the rest of the tabernacle, blue and scarlet never appear as a pair without purple between them. Here they do — and something else fills the gap.
Here — and here only — we have the blue (which speaks of heaven and of God) and the scarlet (which speaks of earth and of man) without the purple in between. Purple is the colour that speaks so plainly of the "one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus". In this one place where blue and scarlet are named together without the purple, we read of something that came between them, taking the usual connecting place of the purple — and that something was "the continual bread". For this once the mediating purple was replaced, and what replaced it was the showbread. It pictured so plainly Him Who said, "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh." ... Here we have, in picture language, the gracious God having fellowship with redeemed man through Him Whom the bread represented.
The loaves were never packed away separately. They travelled on the table, and their names carry weight.
It was called showbread, or "bread of face," suggesting that it stood before the face of God, perfectly acceptable to Him. It was also called "the continual bread" (Num. 4:7), which reminds us that it was always before God. It was called the "hallowed bread" too, and that speaks of the holiness attached to this presentation.
- Covered — only the priests wrapped the table, and only then could it be lifted. Holy things are grasped from inside priestly privilege, not by inspection from outside.
- Blue — the cloth against the gold speaks of heaven. Communion with Christ now is on a heavenly level.
- Scarlet — laid over the twelve loaves, it speaks of royalty and of rule on earth. It points to the first place God still purposes for Israel's tribes.
- Bread between — this is the one place where blue and scarlet meet without purple. The continual bread takes the middle place, picturing God and redeemed man in fellowship through Christ.
- Continual — the loaves travelled on the table, "ever before God." The fellowship never lapses, even while the camp is on the move.
And they shall spread upon them a cloth of scarlet, and cover it with a covering of badgers' skin, and shall put its staves [to it].
When the camp moved, the priests packed every piece of the tabernacle in a fixed order. This verse gives the last layers for the table that carried the bread — a scarlet cloth, a goatskin cover (older translations say "badgers' skins"), then the poles — and commentators ask why scarlet covers this table alone.
Scarlet appears in the packing list here and nowhere else. One writer takes the layers in order and shows what each one means.
"The table of showbread" was a picture of our Lord Jesus Christ in His connection with the twelve tribes of Israel. First came "a cloth of blue," then "a cloth of scarlet," and over all, the badgers' skins. In other words, first came what is heavenly by its very nature; then what expresses human splendour; and above all, what protects from evil. It is God's purpose that Israel's twelve tribes shall hold the first place on earth, and show the very highest human splendour. So the "scarlet" covering suits the table of showbread. The twelve loaves clearly point to the twelve tribes, and you only have to look through Scripture to see that scarlet stands for what people count splendid.
The candlestick in the same room got blue and goatskin, but no scarlet. One writer asks why.
Why did the Spirit of God direct a covering of scarlet between the blue and the badgers' skins on the table of showbread? Why not on the candlestick? The reason, I take it, is that scarlet is the well-known sign of His glory. It marks Him not so much as Son of Man, but as the true Messiah — the one who takes the kingdom of David, His forefather by human descent.
Verse 7 lays the blue cloth first and sets the bread on it; verse 8 adds the scarlet. One writer saw what is missing here: the purple that joins blue and scarlet everywhere else.
Here — and here only — we have the blue, which speaks of heaven and of God, and the scarlet, which speaks of earth and of man, without the purple in between… But this is very telling. In the one place where blue and scarlet appear together without the purple, we read of something that came between them. It took the usual connecting place of the purple, and that something was "the continual bread"… It pictured Him who said, "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever."… In picture language, the gracious God has fellowship with redeemed man through the One the bread stood for.
Scarlet is not the layer the desert sees, and one writer explains the timing behind that.
The scarlet came next — royalty, or human glory — because in the wilderness the time for showing it had not yet come. That will be connected with the kingdom at His appearing. The badgers' skins are therefore outside, hiding His human or royal glory…
The goatskin faces the desert. Commentators apply that outer layer to Christ in one way and to us in another.
Over all were the badgers' skins to preserve the whole from evil. Everyone needs this outward protection except the Person of Christ. Christ was truly sheltered from evil, but in an inward and deeper way. Those who had eyes to see saw the heavenly in Him at first glance: "the second man is from heaven."
The same covering asks something of us.
So it teaches that keeping the heavenly character takes tireless watchfulness. We must guard ourselves with constant diligence — through the use of the Word — from the corruption and filth that press on us from every side.
The verse ends with the poles going in. One writer traces that detail back to a people on the move.
The children of Israel were pilgrims in the wilderness. So the tabernacle and all its furniture were made to suit that character, and went with them in all their wanderings. Christ is always with His people. The very rings and staves, like the table itself, are made of gold and acacia wood, and they point to Him as the God-man.
The priests covered the vessels; the Kohathites carried them.
When the camp moved… their duty was to carry the holy vessels. They could not choose their burden. They were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. But after the priests had covered them in the ordered way and put them on bars or staves, the Kohathites came forward, each to receive his appointed service.
- Blue first. The inner layer is heavenly: what is divine wears a heavenly character before anything else goes on.
- Bread between. Purple joins blue and scarlet everywhere else. Here the continual bread takes its place, where God and redeemed people meet.
- Scarlet next. Only this table wears scarlet. It stands for human splendour and for Christ's glory as Israel's Messiah, and the twelve loaves point to the twelve tribes.
- Goatskin outside. The layer facing the desert keeps evil out and hides the royal colour until the kingdom comes. For us it means watchfulness through the Word.
- Staves last. The poles mark furniture made for travel, carried by men who could not choose their own load.
And they shall take a cloth of blue, and cover the candlestick of the light, and its lamps, and its snuffers, and its snuff-trays, and all the oil vessels thereof, wherewith they perform its service;
Numbers 4 tells the priests how to pack the tabernacle for travel. Verse 9 covers the golden lampstand and its tools, and the colours raise a question: why blue, and why no scarlet?
The lampstand and its tools went under one cloth of blue, with rough skins over that — writers call these badgers' skins or sealskin. One writer reads both layers together.
Next to the table of showbread came the candlestick, covered with a cloth of blue and badgers' skins. It was the spiritual perfection of the light of the Spirit. What covered it was simply heavenly. The badgers' skins were the guard against the harm that the entrusted grace might suffer in the wilderness. All its utensils bore the same character.
Another writer asks where that light now shines from, and what anyone outside would have seen on the march.
Next comes the lampstand, covered like the table with a cloth of blue, because Christ, the maintainer of spiritual light, has passed into the heavens. For the world it is hidden: it is night, and the sun is down; but on us who are in the sanctuary it shines still through the night. Outside, the sealskin covering wraps the lamp again. What shows most is the holiness of the truth.
The table of the bread of the Presence, packed two verses earlier, got a scarlet cloth as well as a blue one. The lampstand gets none.
In the case of the candlestick of light there is altogether a different thing. Nothing else but blue appears. There is neither scarlet nor purple; nor was there, you will notice, the covering veil. Why is this? Because here we have brought into close connection the light of divine testimony. It does not refer to the tribes of Israel. It belongs to the heavenly calling. It is exactly when Israel disappears that God gives the power of His Spirit, and that power is the real means of showing this heavenly light. So it all comes down to two ideas: one is the heavenly link, and the other is the power that rejects all impurity.
Another writer links the missing colour to a difference between the Spirit and Christ Himself.
With the other vessels the blue was inside and the badgers' skins on the surface, to keep them from defilement. This was so even with the candlestick. It stands for the sevenfold light of the Spirit. He is essentially holy, just as Christ is. He has never become incarnate, yet He now lives in redeemed men. There was a further difference. The table of showbread had a cloth of scarlet spread over it as well as one of blue... Scarlet is generally held to stand for human glory, and purple for imperial dominion. The showbread loaves spoke of God's perfect administration for the earth, which is yet to be realised through the twelve tribes of Israel, and there human glory will shine most brightly.
Commentators differ on what the lampstand itself pictures. One writer sees Christ, and he takes in every tool listed with it.
The priests were to cover the lampstand with blue cloth, together with its lamps, wick trimmers, trays and oil vessels, and then put it on carrying bars or poles. For the lampstand symbolises Christ as the Sustainer of testimony. The blue insists that true testimony for God comes from heaven. The badger skins again show that this testimony is not attractive or popular in the world, though it is durable.
Who is the "they" that takes the cloth of blue? Not the Kohathites, the family who carried the load.
The priests alone had the work of preparing the tabernacle's contents for the journey. No eyes but theirs were to look on the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to place the suitable coverings on them. Only when the priests had covered them were the Kohathites to lift them... we may take to heart the lesson that we grasp the far holier Reality now shown to us only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit.
One writer sets this travelling cover beside the lampstand later in Numbers, lit and uncovered.
The candlestick alone is before us. It is not in its covering of blue and badgers' skins, as in chapter 4, where it, like all the rest, wears its travelling dress. Here it is lit, not covered... No one can do without light in the wilderness. So the golden candlestick must be stripped of its covering and left to shine in testimony for God.
- Blue. The only colour on this vessel is the colour of heaven. The light comes from above, not from the world.
- No scarlet. The table of the bread of the Presence carried scarlet as well as blue; the lampstand carries none. No human glory covers this light.
- Skins. The rough outer covering is what the world sees: protection on the journey, and holiness on the surface.
- Every tool. Lamps, tongs, trays and oil vessels travel under the same two coverings, and only priestly hands wrapped them.
- Uncovered. The coverings belong to the march; in the sanctuary the lamp is stripped bare and left to shine.
and they shall put it and all the utensils thereof within a covering of badgers' skin, and shall put it upon a pole.
Numbers 4 is the packing list for a moving sanctuary: before Israel broke camp, priests wrapped every holy vessel for the road. Verse 10 covers the golden lampstand: it goes under skins and onto a carrying frame, which older translations call "badgers' skins" and "a bar."
Two groups had two different jobs. Priests wrapped the vessels. The Kohathites — one family of the tribe of Levi — only lifted what the priests had covered.
When the camp moved on — and journeying was the mark of the wilderness — their duty was to bear the holy vessels. They could not choose their burden; they were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. But first the priests covered them in the ordered way and put them on bars or poles. Then the Kohathites came forward. Each one received his appointed service and learned what his duty was.
Blue is the colour of heaven, and here it goes on first, out of sight.
Next, the lampstand gets the same covering as the table, a cloth of blue. This is because Christ, who maintains spiritual light, has passed into the heavens. For the world it is hidden: it is night, and the sun is down. But it still shines on us who are in the sanctuary, right through the night. Outside, the sealskin covering wraps the lamp again: what shows most is the holiness of the truth.
Only blue and skins went over the lampstand. One writer finds the lesson in the colour that is missing.
Next the candlestick was to be covered entirely with a cloth of blue, then with badgers' skins, and put on a bar. Here there is no scarlet, because it showed forth the Spirit, and there is no royalty or glory of man to come out in this.
Writers call this hide by its Hebrew name, tachash.
It is a good protection from the weather. The tachash skin covered the outside of the tabernacle, and it covered the ark on the journey… As a picture, the badgers' skins stand for the holy, separate walk of the Lord Jesus, kept wholly safe from every contamination of the world. He was always morally "separate from sinners."
Applied to the journey, that outer layer is a guard over something fragile.
It was the spiritual perfection of the light of the Spirit. What covered it was simply heavenly. The badgers' skins were the guard against any harm this entrusted grace might suffer in the wilderness. All its utensils bore the same character.
The verse gathers up the lampstand's equipment too, including the snuffers used to trim the lamps. One writer finds meaning even in them.
It seems strange at first that these lamps should need snuffers and snuff-dishes. But it becomes simple when we remember this: here, as elsewhere, we see the Spirit of God in connection with the human instruments He is pleased to use. And they need — how often! — the service this implies. The snuffers are therefore "golden," for the glory of God, though only a priestly hand can use them rightly.
Wagons were available in the camp, but not for this family.
On no account could these vessels go into wagons, as everything else belonging to the tabernacle did. The Levites had to carry them on their shoulders alone. At the dedication of the altar, the twelve leaders of the tribes offered wagons for the service of the Lord. God then told Moses to give them to the Gershonites and the Merarites… but to the Kohathites He gave none, "because the service of the sanctuary belonging to them was that they should bear upon their shoulders."
One writer adds a warning about reading meaning into such pictures.
We admit we are very afraid of imagination. We do not think we have ever sat down to write on Scripture with a deeper sense of this: only the Holy Spirit can really explain it.
- Covered. Priests wrapped the lampstand before anyone lifted it. The carriers could not choose their load, or touch it, or uncover it.
- Blue. Blue went on first and out of sight. The light is hidden from the world, and it shines for those inside the sanctuary.
- Skins. The tough outer layer shielded the holy things from the weather. It pictures the walk of Christ, kept clean of the world's contamination.
- Missing colour. No scarlet went on the lampstand. Its covering speaks of the Spirit, not of the royalty or glory of man.
- Shoulders. Every utensil travelled with the lampstand. It all went on a bar, on the shoulders of the Levites, never on a wagon.
And upon the golden altar they shall spread a cloth of blue, and cover it with a covering of badgers' skin, and shall put its staves [to it].
Numbers 4 gives the orders for moving the tabernacle, and verse 11 covers one item: the golden altar, where incense burned before God. Every detail of its packing — the blue cloth, the outer skins, the poles — points to Christ and to how His people travel.
Each vessel in the tabernacle pictured something. This one pictured Christ interceding for His own.
The coverings of the golden lampstand and of the golden altar were identical. First came the heavenly covering, then the outer badgers' skin. The golden altar shows us Christ and the preciousness of His intercession — the fragrance and value of what He is before God.
The same fragrance carries what we bring to God.
Our prayers and our praises come up before God in all the sweet fragrance of the ascending incense. When the holy fire of God tested the sweet incense "beaten small," it found nothing there but the rich fragrance of the preciousness of Christ.
The inner wrapping was a blue cloth. Writers read that colour as the mark of heaven.
This altar represents Christ as the Sustainer of worship, and worship too is of heavenly character (the blue), but has no attraction for the outside world.
Notice the order. The blue went on first, and the rough skins covered it. Nobody on the road saw the blue at all.
The blue was hidden. It is the emblem of what is heavenly — the heavenly character that flows from priestly intercession, and that is indeed tied to the priestly position. It was for the eye of God alone. Then come the badgers' skins. They stand for the holy watchfulness by which Christ guarded Himself from evil. This covering is outside, because here it is a question of passing through the wilderness, where evil abounds. So it teaches that if the heavenly character is to be kept, there must be tireless watchfulness. There must be constant diligence to guard ourselves, through the use of the Word, from the contamination and pollution that surround us on every side.
The ESV calls this outer covering goatskin; older versions call it badgers' skin. One writer ties its rough look to how people saw Christ.
Second, there was the rough outer covering of badgers' skins. This protected everything underneath from any defilement. There was in our Lord that which was wholly repellent of all evil. But this stirred up the hostility of the world, and it explains why the prophet had to announce that "when we shall see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him" (Isaiah 53:2).
The ESV reads: "he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him."
Poles slid through rings so the altar could travel. The ark travelled the same way.
They were commanded to make poles to carry the ark by. These were symbols of travel. They show us the way our Lord goes with His people in all their wanderings through the wilderness: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." Until they crossed the Jordan they were commanded to leave the poles in their rings. But when they reach their goal in the promised land they take the poles out (1 Kings 8:8), for now they were to wander no more.
The Kohathites were the family of Levi assigned to carry the holy things. But they never wrapped what they carried.
It was exclusively the work of the priests to prepare the contents of the tabernacle for transit. No eyes but theirs were to look on the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to place the suitable coverings on them. Only when the priests had covered them were the Kohathites to lift them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If even they were open to priestly eyes alone, then the far holier Reality, now revealed to us, is grasped only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit.
From the outside, this work did not look like much.
It was the highest form of service; it was what brought the service closest to Christ. Outwardly it did not look so fine. It does not at all follow that the loudest or showiest service among men is the most honourable in the eyes of God. This is the one sure test of value; it is always Christ. Whatever brings one nearest to Christ, and brings out Christ most, is always the best.
- Altar — The golden altar pictures Christ's intercession. Our prayers and praises rise to God in the fragrance of what He is.
- Blue — The inner cloth marks worship as heavenly in character, holding no appeal for the world outside.
- Hidden — The blue was wrapped out of sight, for God's eye alone. The rough skins outside stand for the watchfulness that keeps a heavenly character safe in a defiling world.
- Poles — The poles stayed in the rings for the whole journey. They mark a God who travels with His people until the wandering ends.
- Carried — Priests covered the vessels; Levites bore them. The work looked like plain heavy labour, yet it brought men nearer to Christ than any showier service.
And they shall take all the instruments of service, wherewith they serve in the sanctuary, and put them in a cloth of blue, and cover them with a covering of badgers' skin, and shall put them upon a pole.
Verse 12 closes the list of the holy things inside the tent. It moves from the great furniture to the small tools the priests used every day. Even these were wrapped, covered and set on a carrying frame. Why did God give such careful orders for objects nobody would ever see?
The ark, the table, the lampstand and the golden altar each had their own instructions. When the list reaches the everyday utensils, the pattern repeats.
The utensils of service were all covered together in the same way: a blue cloth, then a covering of badger skins on top, and then they were placed on carrying bars (v.12). So the same truths apply to every detail of the furniture of the outer sanctuary.
The two coverings go on in a set order.
With these other vessels the blue was inside and the badgers' skins were on the outside, to keep off defilement. This was true even of the lampstand, which pictures the seven-fold light of the Spirit. He is holy in His very nature, just as Christ is; but He has never taken a human body, and He now lives in redeemed people.
The choice of the outer skin was practical before it was symbolic.
It gives good protection from the weather, and we find this skin was used for the outer covering of the tabernacle, and to cover the ark while it was carried… The badgers' skins picture the holy, separate walk of the Lord Jesus, fully protected from all the defilement of the world: in His character He was always "separated from sinners."
The men of Kohath — the branch of Levi's family charged with the holy things — never saw inside the bundles they lifted. Other hands had done the wrapping.
Only the priests could prepare the contents of the tabernacle for the journey. No eyes but theirs were to look on the ark and the other holy objects and vessels there. No hands but theirs were to put the right coverings on them. The Kohathites were to lift them only after the priests had covered them.
Once covered, every load looked the same from outside. The Kohathites walked all day under a burden no onlooker could name.
From the outside no one could tell what these vessels were, though each Kohathite knew the charge given to him. But there was nothing in the service itself, or in what people could see of it, to bring glory to the men doing it. Someone watching from outside could only think that the Kohathites had been picked out for the hardest work… The Kohathites were subject to what they carried, and their hearts were taken up with the worth of what they bore… And best of all, they could know in their hearts that the eye of Israel's God was on them: they were set apart for the service of His house.
The last detail of the verse — the load set on a frame or bar — shapes the whole task.
They had no choice in the matter. Their service was simple obedience, yet it kept them very near to God; and if their heart was in it, it was a rare delight. Notice too that they had to walk together. No vessel of the sanctuary could be carried without a bar, and a bar means at least two bearers. Every personal preference had to be set aside. One man might be stronger than another, or able to walk faster. But neither the strong nor the weak set the pace or the time. That depended on the cloud alone, which directed every move of the camp.
All this wrapping and carrying belongs to a people on the move.
This service is the carrying of the holy things through the wilderness. For us it pictures how we present Christ and the heavenly truths of Christianity in the world as we pass through it. True, they are in their travelling dress, and faith alone can know them as they really are in themselves. Yet this testimony has the highest possible value, and God counts it so. If it is His good pleasure to go through the world this way, He trusts Himself to the loving obedience of His people to carry Him through.
- Covered — the small tools got the same blue cloth, the same skins and the same frame as the great furniture. Nothing in God's service is too small for His own orders.
- Protected — the blue lies underneath and the tough skins face outward, guarding what is heavenly from the dirt of the road.
- Prepared — the priests alone did the wrapping. The carriers lifted only what priestly hands had made ready.
- Plain — once wrapped, every load looked alike. The work won its bearers no attention and no credit.
- Paired — the bar needed two men, and the cloud set the pace, not the strongest walker. Shared load, shared obedience — and a God who trusts His people to carry Him through the wilderness.
And they shall cleanse the altar of the ashes, and spread a purple cloth thereon;
The altar of burnt offering stood in the open court, the place of sacrifice, and now it has to travel. Before each move they cleared away its ashes and spread a purple cloth over it — and commentators read both details as a picture of Christ.
The ashes were not rubbish. One writer explains this from the Hebrew word used for them.
There are two words for "ashes": one is the general term, largely used in the language of mourning... The other word is only used in connection with the sacrifices, and literally means "fat."... Ashes are the witness that the fire has done its work, the witness of an accomplished and accepted sacrifice. So an older translation's margin at Psalm 20:3 reads, "The Lord turn to ashes your burnt sacrifice." The text there says "accept," and the margin explains what that means. This witness of an accepted sacrifice is not a sign of sorrow — the other word is used for that — nor a sign of worthlessness. There is nothing worthless in the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The other holy furniture travelled under blue or scarlet. The altar alone had purple, and the reason lies in what happened on it.
With the bronze altar we see a clear difference. It was covered with "purple" instead of "blue" or "scarlet." Why was this? No doubt it is because the bronze altar pictured Christ in advance as the One who "suffered for sins," and who will therefore hold the royal sceptre. "Purple" is the royal colour. The One who suffered in this world shall reign. The One who wore the crown of thorns shall wear the crown of glory. So we can see how fitting the "purple" covering is on the bronze altar — for on that altar the victim was offered.
Purple on an altar joins two things the world keeps apart: a place of death and the colour of a king. One writer ties it to the words written over Jesus on the cross.
The bronze altar was different. Its covering was a purple cloth, the royal colour. If we suffer, we shall reign. There is a connection between the cross and the crown upon the earth and in heaven. So it was with Christ, the King of the Jews, as the inscription written on the cross said. And the very throne of God was the answer to His sufferings. He was the burnt offering, offered by the power of the eternal Spirit acting in man, and meeting the demand of the divine majesty.
Another writer sees the same altar reaching further than Israel's borders:
The ark speaks of Him whom death could not hold... the table tells of the law of the Lord going out to the nations while Israel stands before Him for His pleasure. But the altar of burnt offering, where sin was dealt with, is above all the Cross... Here we see the universal reach of the Cross. Like the three liftings up in John's Gospel, it rises from Israel and the earth to the whole creation.
Nobody marching through the desert saw the purple. The outer skins hid it, and the order of the layers carries its own message about timing.
The purple cloth went straight onto the altar. Purple is royalty, and this makes the meaning clear. It is the sufferings of Christ — as seen in the altar — and the glories that should follow, as shown by the purple. The cross first, and then the crown. But the altar was in the wilderness, and so the badgers' skins were outside, covering up the purple. The time for taking up the royal glory of Christ had not yet arrived. In the meantime only the badgers' skins were seen — the emblem of the holy watchfulness that guarded Him from evil as He passed through the wilderness in rejection, waiting for the time of His kingdom.
The censers, forks, shovels and basins were not wrapped separately. They were set down on the purple cloth itself, so that the whole apparatus of service rested on the royal colour.
So all that related to the service was placed on purple; the altar was under this covering. The badgers' skins here, as always, were spread over all.
That arrangement is applied to believers who are asked to endure now:
"If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him." Our reigning with Christ does not depend in any way on our present suffering. But suffering here is the appointed path for those who will be joined with Christ in His kingdom. Scripture pictured this in the instruction about the altar: the purple cloth was spread on it first, with its vessels, and badgers' skins covered it for the journey through the wilderness.
- Ashes — finished. The word for sacrificial ashes is not the word for mourning. The ashes prove that the fire finished its work and the offering was accepted.
- Purple — crowned. Only the altar of sacrifice travelled under the royal colour. The One who suffered for sins is the One who will reign.
- Cross — answered. The throne of God was the answer to Christ's sufferings, and the inscription over the cross named Him King.
- Skins — hidden. In the wilderness the skins hid the purple. The royal glory is real, but its time has not yet come.
- Path — shared. The cross comes first, then the crown: suffering now is the appointed road for those who will reign with Him.
and they shall put upon it all the utensils thereof, wherewith they perform service about it the firepans, the forks, and the shovels, and the bowls, -- all the utensils of the altar; and they shall spread upon it a covering of badgers' skin, and put its staves [to it].
The ashes come off the bronze altar, a purple cloth goes over it, and every tool used there goes on top for the journey. Commentators read this packing list as a portrait of Christ: suffering at the altar, royal glory to follow, and a plain covering over both for now.
Only one item of tabernacle furniture wore royal cloth. The reason lies in what happened on it.
Finally, in reference to the bronze altar, we notice a marked distinction. It was covered with "purple" instead of "blue" or "scarlet." Why was this? No doubt because the bronze altar pictured Christ as the One who "suffered for sins." He will therefore hold the sceptre of royalty. "Purple" is the royal colour. The One who suffered in this world will reign. The One who wore the crown of thorns will wear the crown of glory. So the "purple" covering fits the bronze altar morally — for on that altar the victim was offered… Thousands could read Numbers 4 again and again and never notice that the ark alone, of all the tabernacle furniture, wore no badger skin. And how many have failed to notice that the bronze altar alone put on the "purple"?
The purple went on first, and the rough outer skin went over it. Where the ESV says "covering of goatskin," the older translations quoted here say "badgers' skins."
The purple cloth was put directly on the altar. Purple is royalty, and this makes the meaning clear. It is the sufferings of Christ — seen in the altar — and the glories that would follow, shown by the purple. The cross first, and then the crown. But the altar was in the wilderness, and so the badgers' skins were outside, covering up the purple. The time for taking up the royal glory of Christ had not yet arrived. Meanwhile the badgers' skins were all that could be seen. They picture the holy watchfulness that guarded Him from evil as He passed through the wilderness in rejection, waiting for the time of His kingdom.
Purple on an altar is not a small local detail. It settles who has the right to rule everything.
How fitting also that the altar, which spoke of the sufferings and death of the Saviour, should be covered with purple under the badger skins. All will acknowledge that His universal dominion rests for its foundation on His death, as Revelation 5 shows so clearly. The "beasts" of Revelation 13 grasp at power. The only One worthy to receive it is "the Lamb who was slain." To this we all add our worshipful "Amen" even today.
The verse lists four tools by name, and all of them go on top of the purple.
So everything connected with the service was placed on purple; the altar was under this covering. The badgers' skins here, as always, were spread over all.
Two of these tools carry Hebrew names that describe their work, and all of them were made of copper.
God's judicial righteousness was at work in every act. The whole dealing, both in our Lord's death and in what followed, rested on that unbending, unyielding character. So the basins (mizrekoth, from a word meaning "to sprinkle") were of copper. They received the blood, and from them it was poured or sprinkled on the altar. The full measure of judgment had been poured out… The use of the flesh-hooks (mizlegoth, from a root meaning to "draw up") is not stated. It seems they were for handling the various parts of the sacrifice at different stages. All was in keeping with divine justice, to which the Holy One willingly submitted.
Putting in the poles was the last act before the march. It shaped how these men served, and how they walked.
It was no question of choice for them. Their service was simple obedience, yet very near to God — and, if their heart was in it, a rare delight. And notice too, they had to walk together. No vessel of the sanctuary could be carried without a bar, which means at least two bearers. Every personal consideration had to be set aside. One might be stronger than another, or able to walk faster. But neither the strong nor the weak could decide the pace or the time. That depended only on the cloud, which directed every movement of the camp.
The colours, the order, the poles — none of it was open to discussion, and that is the lasting lesson drawn from the chapter.
As we survey the whole of Numbers 4, we cannot help being struck by the way God ordered everything connected with His wilderness house, leaving nothing to man's preference or choice… We are only right as we serve under the direction of the Spirit of God. It is not for us to pick and choose.
- Cross first. The altar is where the victim was offered; everything else in the verse is stacked on that.
- Crown next. Purple is royal colour, and it goes on the altar alone — the One who suffered is the One who will reign.
- Cover meanwhile. The outer skin hides the purple, because the time for His royal glory had not yet come.
- Claim worldwide. His universal dominion rests for its foundation on His death; the Lamb who was slain is the only One worthy.
- Carry together. The poles required at least two bearers, walking at the pace the cloud set — service God orders, not service we pick.
And when Aaron and his sons have ended covering the sanctuary, and all the utensils of the sanctuary, when the camp setteth forward, then afterwards the sons of Kohath shall come to carry it; but they shall not touch the holy things, lest they die. This is what the sons of Kohath have to carry in the tent of meeting.
The order matters: the priests cover the holy things first, and only then do the sons of Kohath lift them for the journey. They may carry the holy things, but they may not touch them — and touching costs a life.
Before anyone lifted a single item, the priests had work to do.
Preparing the contents of the tabernacle for the journey was the work of the priests alone. No eyes but theirs were to gaze upon the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to put the right coverings on them. The Kohathites could lift them only after the priests had covered them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If only priests' eyes ever saw them, we should take the lesson to heart. We grasp the far holier Reality, now revealed to us, only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Without that we may try to examine it, but only to our own ruin.
Carrying was an honour; touching brought death. That line guards a mystery no servant can explain.
The Kohathites could begin carrying this furniture on its poles only after Aaron and his sons had finished preparing it (v.15). But they were not to touch any of these furnishings at all, on pain of death. This teaches us something. The Lord's servants have the privilege of bearing witness to the truth about the Lord Jesus in all His wonderful relationships. Yet they are to hold the glory of His person in such healthy respect that they never forget this: no one knows the Father except the Son, and no one knows the Son but the Father. "Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness" (1 Tim. 3:16). We cannot, and must not dare to, try to explain the great mystery of the person of Christ. His glory is far above our understanding.
The warning "lest they die" falls on the family with the nearest place, not the farthest.
They faced a danger that others did not face in the same way, because they stood in the place nearest to God. God will not allow anything in His presence that is unworthy of Himself. He does not interfere with the world in its sin. He lets it go on its way until the judgment. But He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him. For them in particular there is the danger of being cut off, if they do not submit to the order of the sanctuary… The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order.
What they carried decided how they had to carry it.
Their high and holy service was to carry on their own shoulders, and not to use wagons or oxen. The more closely we look at the things given into the care and charge of the Kohathites, the more we see that they picture the deeper and fuller ways God has shown Himself in Christ… The Kohathite did not need the help of a wagon or an ox in his high service. His own shoulder was to carry that precious, mysterious load.
The coverings hid the load, so from outside this privilege looked like plain hard work.
There was nothing in the service itself, or in what could be seen of it, to bring glory to the men doing it. Someone watching from outside could only think that the Kohathites had been picked out for the hardest work… The Kohathites were subject to what they carried, and their hearts weighed the worth of what they bore. Each one had to keep his proper place and carry the load given to him, plain and unattractive as it looked.
The verse ends by naming what belongs to Kohath and to no one else.
In practice nothing is more important than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it. It also matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides the work as He wills.
Centuries later David moved the ark his own way, not the way God had commanded.
God had said that the sons of Kohath, that is, the Levites, should carry the ark (Num. 4:15). If David had asked the Lord, he would have learned this, and no one would have put the ark on a cart or let Uzza and Ahio lead it… Uzza was not a man who felt his own weakness and let the Lord rule and guide him. So he put out his hand and touched the ark. Every child of God who takes up the Lord's work, assuming he can act in his own strength, is like Uzza.
- Covered — the priests wrapped every vessel before anyone lifted it. We know what is holiest in God's presence, not by inspecting it.
- Carried — the Kohathites bore on their own shoulders what the priests had prepared. They had no wagon to ease the weight.
- Untouched — we may carry the truth of Christ to others. We may not claim to explain the mystery of His person.
- Assigned — no Levite chose his own load. Know the work God gives you, stick to it, and leave another's service alone.
- Obeyed — nearness raises the standard. Uzza shows what comes of serving God by our own judgment instead of His word.
And Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest shall have the oversight of the oil for the light, and the fragrant incense, and the continual oblation, and the anointing oil, -- the oversight of the whole tabernacle, and of all that is therein, over the sanctuary, and over its furniture.
Numbers 4 lists who carries what when Israel breaks camp. One man carries nothing: Eleazar oversees the sanctuary's daily supplies, the whole tent, and everything in it.
The four items in this verse are not decorations. The tabernacle used them up every day, and someone had to keep them coming.
Aaron the high priest was anointed to approach the LORD as the people's representative. But his other two sons also had an active part in the priesthood. Eleazar is mentioned about thirty-two times in the book of Numbers. That shows he had a very active part to play while the tabernacle stood in the wilderness. His special charge seems to be this: to keep the oil, incense and so on at hand, so the tabernacle could keep working (verse 16). Under Aaron's hand he made sure every need was met, so the light kept burning, the holy incense kept rising and the daily offerings kept going up. What we may call the daily needs of the house, so that the service of God would go on without interruption.
In the Greek Old Testament, the word behind this oversight is one the New Testament also uses:
Bishops, or overseers — episkopoi — is a term every reader of the New Testament knows. Students of the Septuagint, the old Greek translation of the Old Testament, knew it too. That translation uses it for civil matters (Isaiah 60:17; Nehemiah 11:9, 14, 22), for military ones (Numbers 31:14; 2 Kings 11:15), and for the oversight of priestly service (Numbers 4:16). In each case we meet people called overseers, or bishops.
Picture the tabernacle at evening, with Aaron inside.
Eleazar was responsible to see that these things were in supply: the oil for the light, the incense for the golden altar, and the continual offering. That offering burned on the altar of burnt offering the whole time Aaron was in the tabernacle, both morning and evening. These three things were all in function together. The fragrance of the evening offering. The sweet incense rising from the golden altar. The light shining. One of these was in the court; the other two were in the holy place. These things picture for us the daily service of the house of God, and the daily need connected with that service, if we are to be found today exercising our holy priesthood together with our Lord Jesus Christ, the great Priest over the house of God.
Commentators also see a picture of Christ in Eleazar himself. His name and his later history both point that way.
The priest did have a nearer place than the servant (the Levite), a place of enjoyment of the Lord's presence... Eleazar's name means "God is Helper," and he succeeded Aaron in the high priesthood when Aaron died (Numbers 20:23-28). He is therefore a picture of Christ as High Priest in resurrection.
Eleazar's charge did not cover every Levite. The chapter splits the supervision between Aaron's two sons.
Chapter 4 gives details of the Levites' service at the sanctuary. It also gives details of the priests' work, especially when the camp was on the move. The Levites fell into three groups, led by Kohath, Gershon and Merari. Aaron's son Eleazar controlled the first group, and his son Ithamar controlled the second and third.
One writer applies that division to service today, as three strands of ministry:
The service of Merari suggests what we may call a practical ministry. The service of Gershon suggests a doctrinal ministry. Both of these came under the hand of Ithamar. But the service of Kohath, under the hand of Eleazar, suggests a devotional ministry about the greatness and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then all of it would come under the hand of Aaron the high priest. The responsibility lay on his shoulders to see that everything was done according to the mind of God, given through Moses.
- Supply. Eleazar's charge was the daily supplies: oil, incense, the continual offering, anointing oil. He kept them coming, so the service of God never stopped.
- Oversight. The Greek Old Testament uses a word here for overseer — the same word the New Testament gives as bishop.
- Together. The light shone, the incense rose and the offering burned at the same hours. That daily routine pictures the service of God's house.
- Person. Eleazar's name means "God is Helper." He took Aaron's place when Aaron died, so he pictures Christ as High Priest in resurrection.
- Division. Eleazar oversaw Kohath. Ithamar oversaw Gershon and Merari. Above both stood Aaron — different loads, different overseers, one high priest over all.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying,
God speaks to Moses and Aaron together, and what follows is a warning. The family that carried the holiest things of the tabernacle could be wiped out. The next verses give the remedy, and they press one question: why are the people closest to God the ones most at risk?
The Kohathites were one family of Levites, the tribe that served at the tabernacle. They carried the ark and the sacred vessels. That honour came with a warning no other Levite family received.
They faced a danger that others did not face in the same way, because they stood in the place of greatest nearness to God. God will not allow in His presence what is not worthy of Himself. He does not interfere with the world in its sin. He lets that go on its way until the judgment. But He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him. They above all are in danger of being cut off if they do not submit to the order of the sanctuary. The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order.
God's safeguard is an order of work. Aaron is addressed here beside Moses because the work starts with the priests.
Only the priests were to get the contents of the tabernacle ready to move. No eyes but theirs were to gaze upon the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to place upon them the suitable coverings. Only when covered by the priests were the Kohathites to lift them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If even they were shown to priestly eyes alone, take this lesson to heart: the far holier Reality, now revealed to us, is grasped only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Without this we may try to examine it, but only to our own ruin.
The Kohathites were not forbidden the holy things — they carried them. What they could not do was watch the priests cover them. The ban aims at one appetite in particular.
What instruction is there for us in this? Is it not this? We must not let the natural man, the curiosity of an unsanctified heart, satisfy itself with what God has put in His house to show the glory of Christ. The natural man must not be allowed to trespass here, even to admire. God has given us His truth so that it may command us, rule our hearts and shape our ways. It is not for the natural man to admire or to criticise it. And those who were in the greatest danger of doing this were those who were brought the nearest.
Carrying the ark was a high calling. It was still not the priest's calling, and no one was to cross the line between them.
They carried the sacred vessels, and the bronze altar was one of them, yet they could never serve at it. They were allowed to cross the threshold of the sanctuary, but they could not enter that holy room until the priests had wrapped up every vessel. Each time the camp moved, it was a reminder: the priest had a place and a service at the tabernacle that no mere Levite could ever reach. A great gulf lay between the two, and nothing could ever bridge it. When some of the Kohathites, led by Korah, presumed to put themselves on a level with the priests, God dealt with them in striking judgment… Yet the priests were not independent of Levite service. For God's work to be done properly, the Levites' service was essential. God's arrangement balanced everything: the work could only be done well as each filled his post and did his part.
Commentators reading the chapter as a whole put the same point positively: the boundary protects the servant rather than demoting him.
Verses 17-20 insist that the Kohathites were not to be cut off from Israel, but to avoid this they must fully obey instructions from the priests to do only the work assigned to them, and not even to watch while the priests covered the holy things in preparation for moving. Thus it is emphasised that service must not infringe on the privileges of priesthood.
The things they carried pointed to Christ. The same limit holds for those who serve Him today.
The Lord's servants have the privilege of bearing witness to the truth about the Lord Jesus in all of His wonderful relationships. Yet they are to hold the glory of His person in such healthy regard that they never forget this: no one knows the Father except the Son, and no one knows the Son but the Father… We cannot and must not dare to try to explain the great mystery of the person of Christ. His glory is infinitely above our understanding.
- Nearness. The Kohathites stood closest to God. That is why God gave them a warning no other Levite family received.
- Danger. Privilege carries risk: God lets the world go on until the judgment, but He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him.
- Order. The safeguard is sequence — priests cover the holy things first, and only then do the carriers lift them.
- Boundary. No one was to cross the line between Levite service and priestly office. Korah tried, and God judged him.
- Reverence. The covered things spoke of Christ. His glory calls for worship, not for the curiosity of the natural mind.
Ye shall not cut off the families of the Kohathites from among the Levites,
Numbers 4:18 is a warning to Moses and Aaron about the Kohathites, the Levite family that carried the ark and the golden vessels. They stood nearest to God's presence — so why does God warn that this family, of all families, must not be destroyed?
These men were not carrying furniture. They carried the objects that pictured Christ, and God fixed every detail of how they handled them:
The Kohathites had one special service: the vessels of the tabernacle, God's dwelling-place among His people. Each of those vessels showed a different aspect of Christ's glory. When the camp moved, their duty was to carry the holy vessels. They could not choose their burden; they were not even allowed to touch the holy vessels. First the priests covered them in the appointed way and put them on bars or poles. Then each Kohathite came forward to receive his appointed service and learn his duty.
This family stood where no other Levite family stood. One writer ties the risk to that closeness:
There was danger for them that others did not face in the same way. They were in the place of greatest nearness to God. God will not allow in His presence anything unworthy of Himself. He does not interfere with the world in its sin. He lets it go on its way until the judgment. But He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him. They above all are in danger of being cut off if they do not submit to the order of the sanctuary. The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order.
God's method is simple. The priests go in first and cover everything. Only then does He call the carriers, and that order teaches us something:
Only the priests prepared the contents of the tabernacle for transport. No eyes but theirs were to look on the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to place the suitable coverings on them. Only when the priests had covered them were the Kohathites to lift them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit. If even they were shown to priestly eyes alone, we may take this lesson to heart. The far holier Reality is now revealed to us. We grasp it only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Apart from this we may try to examine it, but only to our own ruin.
Carrying the most sacred objects gave these men no claim to the priests' work. One writer shows where that line was later crossed:
There was no ground for the Kohathites to lift themselves up as equal to the priests. They carried the sacred vessels, including the bronze altar, but they could never serve at it. Each time the camp moved, it was a reminder. The priest had a place and a service at the tabernacle that no mere Levite could ever reach. A great gulf lay between the two, and nothing could ever bridge it. When some of the Kohathites, led by Korah, presumed to put themselves on a level with priests, God dealt with them openly in judgment... Yet the priests were not independent of Levite service. God's work needed the Levites' ministry.
God's precision in this chapter carries over into Christian service:
Look at the whole of Numbers 4. The way God ordered everything in His wilderness house is striking. He left nothing to man's preference or choice... in God's present house, "the church of the living God" (1 Tim. 3:15), the Spirit of God is sovereign. He acts under the lordship of Christ, and He divides "to each one individually as he wills." We are only right as we serve under the direction of the Spirit of God. It is not for us to pick and choose.
The ban on looking is about the heart, not just the procedure:
What is the instruction for us in this? It is this: do not let the natural man, the curiosity of an unsanctified heart, satisfy itself with what God has put in His house to show the glory of Christ. ... God has given us His truth so that the truth may command us, rule our hearts and shape our ways. It is not for the natural man to admire or to criticise it. And those in the greatest danger of doing this were those brought nearest.
- Nearest. The Kohathites carried the vessels that pictured Christ. Only the priests stood nearer to God.
- Therefore most exposed. Closeness, not distance, created the risk. God is holy, and those who draw near must treat Him so.
- Covered first. Priests wrapped the holy things before any carrier arrived. We take hold of holy things through priestly privilege, never by inspecting them.
- Within limits. Carrying sacred things gave no claim to priestly work. Korah tried to cross that gulf, and judgment followed.
- Assigned, not chosen. God left nothing to preference then, and the Spirit still gives out each service as He wills.
but this shall ye do unto them, that they may live, and not die, when they draw near unto the most holy things Aaron and his sons shall go in, and appoint them every one to his service and to his burden;
Numbers 4:19 belongs to God's instructions for moving the tabernacle through the desert. It concerns the Kohathites, the branch of the tribe of Levi who carried the holiest furniture of the sanctuary. Two questions sit inside it. Why were the men closest to the holy things in the most danger? And why did someone else hand them their work?
God guards these families from destruction by a simple means: Aaron and his sons tell each man what to do. No other Levite family received such an order. One writer explains why.
There was danger for them that did not exist in the same way for others, because they were in the place of greatest nearness to God. God will not allow in His presence anything that is not worthy of Himself. He does not interfere with the world in its sin. He lets it go on its way until the judgment. But He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him. For them especially there is the danger of being cut off if they do not submit to the order of the sanctuary. The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order.
The "most holy things" they carried were the ark and the other golden vessels. One writer weighs such service by a standard that onlookers cannot use.
In Numbers 4 we come to another important point — the carrying of the vessels of the sanctuary through the wilderness. It was the highest form of service; it was what brought the service closest to Christ. Outwardly it did not look so well. Some service makes a great show or noise among men. It does not at all follow that such service has the most honourable character in the eyes of God.
In the verse Aaron and his sons appoint each man to his task and his burden. Merari and Kohath were two branches of the tribe of Levi.
So not every Levite had the same sphere of activity – and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite, you could not take care of the vessels of the sanctuary. That charge belonged to the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
Such a fixed arrangement troubles only the man who wanted different work.
God settled it all, and this was a remarkable mercy to everyone whose heart was in a right condition. To someone whose will was unbroken it might seem a hardship. It might feel a very tiresome task to stay in the same position, or to work at exactly the same line of work. Such a person might long for something fresh — some variety in his work. But when a man's will was subdued and his heart adjusted, he would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
Notice who does the appointing here: Aaron and his sons, the priests. Their work came first.
Numbers 4 lists the various services of the Levites. The sons of Kohath had the distinct honour, yet solemn responsibility, of carrying the ark of the testimony and the other golden vessels. Of their service alone it is said that it is most holy. Notice, however, that Aaron and his sons, the priestly family, had to prepare the vessels by covering them first. Only then could the Levites take up the service given to them.
The verse gives each man a burden as well as a task. One writer describes what that burden looked like to anyone watching.
No one could tell from the outward appearance what these vessels were, though each Kohathite might know what his appointed charge was. But there was nothing in the service itself, or in what was visible of it, to bring glory to those occupied in it. Someone looking on from outside could only get the impression that the Kohathites were set apart for the hardest labour. On no account could they have the relief of a wagon for carrying their charge. They were always to carry on their shoulders. But if anyone asked them what they did, their answer would be that they carried the vessels of the sanctuary. Best of all, they could know in their souls that the eye of Israel's God was upon them. They were set apart for the service of His house.
- Nearness. The Kohathites stood closest to God, and that nearness made order a matter of life and death.
- Covered. Priests wrapped the holy things before any Levite lifted them. Worship goes first, and service carries what worship has prepared.
- Appointed. Every man got his task and his load from another's hand. No Levite chose his own work, and none could take a brother's.
- Borne. No wagons for this family. They carried the honour on the shoulder, unnoticed by onlookers but watched by God.
- Living. The whole instruction exists so they "may live and not die." God keeps those nearest to Him through their obedience.
but they shall not go in and see for a moment the holy things, lest they die.
Numbers 4 gives the Kohathites, one branch of the tribe of Levi, a great honour: they carry the sacred furniture of the tabernacle through the desert. This verse ends the chapter with a hard limit on that honour. They may lift the holy things, but they may not walk in and watch the priests wrap them, and the penalty is death.
Only one set of eyes ever fell on the uncovered furniture. One writer draws out the lesson for us, who now have the reality those objects pictured.
Preparing the contents of the tabernacle for travel was the work of the priests alone. No eyes but theirs were to gaze upon the ark and the other holy objects and vessels that were there. No hands but theirs were to put the right coverings on them. The Kohathites were to lift them only after the priests had covered them. These objects were only shadows of the good things to come in Christ Himself and the Holy Spirit, and only priests were allowed to look at them. So take this lesson to heart. The far holier Reality is now revealed to us. We grasp it only as we take up our priestly privileges in the power of the Spirit. Without that, we may try to examine it closely, but only to our own ruin.
Carrying Israel's most sacred objects might have looked like a step up into the priesthood. It was not. One commentator shows what happened when men refused that limit.
They carried the sacred vessels, and the bronze altar was among them, yet they could never serve at that altar. They could cross the threshold of the Sanctuary. Even so, they could not enter that holy room until the priests had wrapped up all the vessels. "They shall not go in to see the Sanctuary even for a moment, lest they die" — so reads the Revised Version of Numbers 4:20. Each time the camp moved, it was a reminder. The priest had a place and a service at the Tabernacle that no mere Levite could ever reach. A great gulf lay between the two, and nothing could ever bridge it. When some of the Kohathites, led by Korah, dared to make themselves equal with the priests, God dealt with them in judgment.
The instruction opens with a stated purpose: the Kohathite clan is not to be cut off. The danger, one writer observes, came with the privilege of nearness.
They faced a danger that others did not face in the same way. They were in the place of greatest nearness to God. God will not allow in His presence what is not worthy of Himself. He does not interfere with the world in its sin. He lets it go on its way until the judgment. But He will be sanctified in those who draw near to Him. They above all are in danger of being cut off if they do not submit to the order of the sanctuary… The nearer we are to God, the more careful we must be to do everything according to God's order. They were to come and take the holy things only after the priests had covered them.
The same writer turns the ban on looking into a question about how we handle what God has revealed.
What is the lesson for us here? God has put things in His house to display the glory of Christ. We must not let the natural man, the curiosity of an unsanctified heart, satisfy itself with them. The natural man must not trespass here, even to admire. God gave us His truth so that the truth may command us, rule our hearts and shape our ways. It is not for the natural man to admire it or criticise it. And those in the greatest danger of doing this were the ones brought nearest to God.
The covering was not just about safe travel. It marked the whole design of that sanctuary — and that has now changed.
But even when God had His sanctuary here on earth, how little of its beauty the ordinary worshipper saw! He never saw the golden sanctuary, nor the cherubim and vessels of gold. Those things were kept carefully out of his sight. The priests had orders to cover up the vessels of ministry, even from the eyes of the Levites who carried them (Num. 4:15, 20). The eyes of the priests alone were to rest on these holy things. Now we deal with the realities that those veiled and precious pictures stood for. All believers are now priests to God, and so all now is open to faith; but open to faith alone.
- Covered — only the priests wrapped the furniture. No other eyes saw the ark and the vessels uncovered.
- Carried — the Kohathites lifted their load only after the priests had covered it.
- Bounded — carrying holy things never made a Levite a priest. Korah tried to cross that gulf and met God's judgment.
- Protective — the ban guarded life. Without it, the men who came nearest to God would have died.
- Opened — believers are now priests to God, and what was hidden is open — open to faith, and not to curiosity.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Take also the sum of the sons of Gershon, according to their fathers' houses, after their families.
Numbers 4 counts the Levites family by family, and at verse 22 the roll call reaches Gershon. Why are these men counted on their own, and what did God give them to carry?
This is not a count of soldiers.
We are not only God's own people. He Himself counts each of us, one by one, as those He relies on. That holds whatever the march may be, and whoever we may have to fight as we pass through the wilderness. But we also have to do with serving Him, and above all in what concerns the sanctuary. Seen this way, counting us as an army would be out of place. The object is to stamp service with a character that is not of this earth. The Levites stand quite apart, outside all this reckoning. God sets them apart for His own service, and they need no such reminder of His care.
Commentators read Gershon's load as a picture of two things at once.
They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle, the covering of skins, and the hanging for the door of the tabernacle. They also carried the hanging for the gate of the court, all the hangings of the court, their cords and the other furnishings that went with them. These speak, first, of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak, second, of the moral righteousness of the saints of God — the linen hangings of the court. So the ministry seen in Gershon insists on the unique perfection of the Manhood of Christ, and on the fitting responsibility of saints to represent Him in their measure in their daily lives. "For the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints" (Rev. 19:8).
The verse counts Gershon's sons "by their clans," and the name Gershon carries its own lesson.
Gershon and his sons had charge of the coverings and the fine linen. Gershon means exile, a stranger. The fine linen is typical of righteousness. The coverings and hangings divided off and separated the different parts of the tabernacle. So they must carry the meaning of separation. His service points to this: we are separated ones and strangers in the world. Practical righteousness must bear witness to that separation.
Those hanging walls looked slight for the job they did, and one writer presses that point:
How we need to hold to the very separation that Satan and the world outside, joined with the flesh within us, unite to break through and, if possible, destroy! These linen curtains look frail enough for a wall! Unbelief never stops pouring contempt on what is of God.
Two families, two loads — and each needed the other.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet they were very closely connected, and they depended on each other. The boards and sockets would not do without the curtains, and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets… Suppose a Gershonite had decided to leave the curtains and take up the pins. He would have left his own work undone and interfered with the work of the Merarite.
God set limits on this service, and He supplied help for it.
Moses gave two wagons and four oxen to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. The family with the heaviest burden had the greatest help… Bearing burdens required strength. God would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to labour for Him. So no one took part in Levitical burden-bearing before he had reached thirty years of age, and no one was asked to continue such service after fifty. What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
Cloth, skins and rope look like plain freight.
Our work may look rough and unattractive to human eyes, mean and insignificant. It is enough for us that our Lord has assigned us our post and given us our work. Our work has direct reference to the Person and glory of Him who is the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely… God measures everything by Christ. Whatever has even the very smallest reference to Christ is interesting and important in God's account.
- Counted. God numbers the Gershonites for service at the sanctuary, not for the army. Their work carries a character that is not of this earth.
- Charged. They carry the curtains, coverings and hangings. These picture the moral perfection of Christ and the practical righteousness of His people.
- Separated. The name Gershon means exile; the very things he carried marked off what was God's from what was not.
- Bounded. Service ran from thirty to fifty, and wagons carried the heaviest loads — God fits the burden to the strength He gave.
- Honoured. Gershon carries cloth, Merari carries pins, and neither swaps. Work God gives takes its worth from its link to Christ, not from how it looks.
From thirty years old and upward to fifty years old shalt thou number them; every one that cometh to labour in the work, to perform the service in the tent of meeting.
God orders a second count, this time of the Gershonites. He fixes both ends of their service: it starts at thirty and stops at fifty. Why those years, and what were these men counted to carry?
Order in God's service is never a small thing, and the age limit was part of that order:
Keeping proper order in everything that belongs to His worship and service is very important — no less in the church than with Israel. From twenty years old the men of the other tribes were numbered for war, but the Levites had to be thirty before they could begin their service. They had to be at least past the age when the rashness and impulsiveness of youth might sway them.
The same age appears again at the start of the Gospels:
Thirty years was the God-appointed age for the Levites to enter their service (Num. 4:3); it was at that age that our Lord was presented to Israel and entered His ministry (Luke 3:23).
Another passage sets the starting age at twenty-five. One explanation treats the earlier years as a trial period:
On the surface there does seem to be a discrepancy between these passages about the age at which the Levites began their service. But there cannot possibly be a mistake on such a simple matter. A suggestion often made and generally accepted removes the difficulty at once: they were tested from twenty-five to thirty before they finally entered on their appointed work. If so, the first five years were a probationary period before their formal installation.
Others read the two ages as marking heavier and lighter work, and see the upper limit as kindness rather than dismissal:
It was a gracious provision that at 50 the Levite could retire from the harder work. There is no clash here with what chapter 4 says. From 25 to 30 they could do the lighter work of the tabernacle, just as the Levites over 50 were exempt from the harder tasks.
The verse counts "all who can come to do duty" — and God handed out that duty; no one picked it:
Each one was at his post, and each moved in his divinely appointed sphere. So the moment the cloud was lifted and the order came to strike camp, every man knew what he had to do, and he gave himself to that and to nothing else. No man had any right to think for himself. The Lord thought for all… Looked at in this light, it was a matter of complete indifference whether a man carried a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
These men carried cloth, and the cloth carried a message:
They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle, the covering of badger skins, and the hangings for the door of the tabernacle and the gate of the court. They also carried all the hangings of the court, with their cords and other furnishings. These speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak second of the moral righteousness of the saints of God — the linen hangings of the court.
Mackintosh ties this to the meaning of the name Gershon:
This is what makes the believer "a stranger" — which is what the name Gershon means — in the world. Suppose we walk in a way that shows the character of the Lord Jesus, and in doing so realise that our place is the wilderness. Then we may be sure of the result: it will clearly mark our character out as that of a stranger in the world.
These limits show how God measures what He asks:
Carrying burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So He called no one to the Levitical work of bearing burdens until they had reached thirty years of age. And He did not ask them to continue that service after fifty. What a thing it was, and is, to be one of God's servants. He, the Almighty, thinks of them and considers them.
Stopping the heavy work did not end their charge:
Then, at the age of fifty, they were to stop waiting on the service of the tabernacle, and to serve no more. Still, they were to keep the charge of the Lord, even if they did no service. At His word we are to labour, and at His word we are to rest.
- Counted. God ordered the count of the Gershonites Himself. He arranged their work in His tent down to the last detail.
- Prepared. Thirty was the age of settled maturity, past the rashness of youth. It was also the age at which the Lord Jesus began His ministry.
- Assigned. No Levite chose his load. The only question worth asking was whether this work was the work God had given him.
- Bearing. Gershon's curtains pictured the moral perfection of Christ and the righteousness of His people. Living that out marks a believer as a stranger in the world.
- Released. At fifty the heavy load stopped, though the charge remained. God limits what He asks, because He considers the strength of those He calls.
This shall be the service of the families of the Gershonites, in serving, and in carrying
The Gershonites were the Levite family who carried the soft parts of God's tent — its curtains, coverings and hangings — through the desert. Verse 24 sums up their job in two words, serving and bearing, and raises two questions: who sets my task, and does a small one count?
The whole chapter reads like a duty roster. The question is who drew it up.
Look over the whole of Numbers 4, and one thing strikes you. God ordered everything in His wilderness house and left nothing to man's preference or choice. It reminds us at once of 1 Corinthians 12 and 14. There we learn that in God's present house, which is "the church of the living God" (1 Tim. 3:15), the Spirit of God is sovereign. He acts under the lordship of Christ, and He divides "to each one individually as He wills." We are only right as we serve under the direction of the Spirit of God. It is not for us to pick and choose.
The list that follows verse 24 is all fabric — coverings, screens, cords. Writers see two things pictured in it.
They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle and the covering of badger skins. They carried the screen for the door of the tabernacle and the one for the gate of the court. They also carried all the hangings of the court, their cords and the other furnishings that went with them (vv. 25-26). These speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak second of the moral righteousness of the saints of God (the linen hangings of the court). So this ministry insists on Christ's perfection as man, and on the duty of the saints to show Him in daily life.
The curtains were the part of God's tent that people outside could see. That marks out two kinds of service.
There are those whose blessed place it is to dwell on Christ Himself. They delight in His grace. They have the deepest admiration for His person, His divine glory, His perfect devotion to the Father... Others are more taken up with what displays the Lord to men. It is clear that the curtains, the tabernacle, all the outward part, do not so much set forth Christ before God as before man. The first of these does much to build a spirit of worship. The second answers more to the needs of man.
The Gershonite could never settle: his load was a tent, and his family name says the same thing.
This is what makes the believer "a stranger" — which is what the name Gershon means — in the world. If we walk so that the character of the Lord Jesus shows in us, and so realise that our place is in the wilderness, we may be sure of the result. It will give a very decided tone of strangeness to our character in the world. The church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character. In other words, she has stopped walking in the footsteps of her rejected Lord and Master. She should be a tired and worn stranger, treading the dry and barren desert with the burden on her shoulders. Instead she has settled down in the pleasant places of the world and made herself at home.
Skins and cords are not glamorous freight. God does not measure work by how it looks.
That is what enabled the Gershonite in the wilderness to care for those rough, unattractive badger skins, and the Merarite to care for those small, unimportant-looking pins. And this is what will enable the Christian now to take up the special line of service his Lord may call him to... It is enough for us that our Lord has assigned our post and given us our work, and that our work points straight to the person and glory of Him who is the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely... Whatever has even the very smallest reference to Christ is interesting and important in God's account.
The verse calls the load a burden. God matched His help to the weight.
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide all they need to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this... Both of these great families were thought of, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help. What consideration there was in this!... God would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to work for Him. So no one took part in the Levite work of bearing burdens before he was thirty, and no one was asked to keep on after fifty.
- Assigned — God ordered every detail of His wilderness house. The servant does not pick his own task.
- Carried — the Gershonite load was curtains and coverings. They picture the perfect life of Jesus and the righteousness of His people.
- Displayed — the curtains showed Christ to people outside. That service meets the needs of man; other service feeds worship.
- Stranger — a man carrying a tent cannot settle. When the church laid the coverings down, she made herself at home in the world.
- Supplied — the heaviest burden got the most help. No one served before thirty or after fifty. God never overtaxes those He calls.
they shall carry the curtains of the tabernacle, and the tent of meeting, its covering, and the covering of badgers' skin that is above upon it, and the curtain of the entrance to the tent of meeting,
Numbers 4:25 gives one family of Levites a load of cloth and skin. They carried the fabric walls of God's dwelling, its outer coverings, and the screen at its entrance. Two questions sit behind that plain list. Why did God set out who carried what? And what do curtains and coverings say about Christ and about His people?
Three families of Levites shared the moving of the tabernacle, and each had its own load. One writer weighs Gershon's outward load against the precious vessels carried inside, and finds a different side of Christ in each.
The curtains, the tabernacle, all the outward part, do not set forth Christ before God so much as before man… Clearly those who drove the tabernacle in their wagons, with its tent and coverings, had the Gershonite service, compared with those who carried the precious vessels of the sanctuary… All this may show how these different Levite services picture different kinds of ministry of God's word here on earth.
Each fabric carries a meaning, and what it stands for depends on where it hung: on the house itself, around the courtyard, or at the door.
The "fine linen," we are clear from Rev. 19:8, is "righteousness" — practical righteousness. The curtains that make up the tabernacle itself represent this in Christ. The Divine Word "tabernacled" in His flesh, as John 1:14 puts it (the ESV reads "dwelt among us"). The hangings for the court represent the righteousness of God's people, shown outside the sanctuary in the world. The hangings for the "door" and "gate" again represent Christ, as the only way in. The skins, whether of goats or rams or seals (badgers), also give traits of personal character. That is, it is walk — the showing of personal character — that we find in everything Gershon has to do.
The outermost covering was the plainest part of the whole structure. That is the point. (Older translations call it "badgers' skins" where the ESV says "goatskin.")
There could be little beauty in the rams' skins and badgers' skins. Yet, little as there was, it was still the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up and carry them gladly on his shoulders across the trackless sands. What, then, does the covering of the tabernacle mean? In a word, I believe it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was what met the eye.
Every piece in Gershon's charge marked an edge: the wall of the tent, the fence of the courtyard, the screen at the door.
Notice that the curtains, coverings, and hangings that Gershon handles are all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself. They mark off and separate the court from the wilderness around. So they speak naturally of the boundary lines of God's own enclosure — which is what the Church is in the world.
The name Gershon means stranger, and one writer turns that into a warning.
This is what makes the saint "a stranger" (as the name Gershon means) in the world… The Church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character. In other words, the Church has stopped walking in the footsteps of her rejected Lord and Master. She should be the tired and worn stranger, crossing the dry and barren desert with the burden on her shoulders. Instead she has settled down in the green places of the world and made herself at home… God dwelling in curtains showed plainly that neither God nor the ark of His strength had found a resting place. Instead they were journeying on towards "a rest that remained."
Gershon's load was bulky, and God did not leave the men to manage alone.
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this. Moses gave the Gershonites two wagons and four oxen, and the Merarites four wagons and eight oxen. God thought of both of these great families, and the one with the heaviest burden got the greatest help.
The boundaries between the families mattered as much as the loads themselves.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings… Suppose a Gershonite decided to leave "the curtains" and turn to "the pins." He would have left his own work undone and interfered with the work of the Merarite. This would never do. It would have thrown everything into hopeless confusion. Sticking to God's rule kept everything in the most beautiful order.
- Carry. Gershon's whole load was fabric: the curtains, the coverings, the door screen. That outward part set Christ before people more than before God.
- Christ. The fine linen pictures practical righteousness in Christ. The door hanging pictures Him as the only way in. The outer skins picture the character the world saw.
- Boundary. Every piece marked a line between what belonged to God and the wilderness outside.
- Stranger. God lived in curtains, not a house — a sign that His rest was still ahead. His people are strangers too, and settling into the world drops the burden.
- Supplied. The heaviest load got the most help. God gave Gershon and Merari wagons and oxen, and He equips every service He assigns.
and the hangings of the court, and the curtain of the entrance, of the gate of the court, which surroundeth the tabernacle and the altar, and the cords thereof, and all the instruments of their service; and all that is to be done for these things shall they perform.
The Gershonites, one of the three Levite families, carried the soft parts of God's dwelling — its curtains, screens and cords. This verse lists the outermost of them: the fabric wall around the courtyard and the screen at its gate, with all the work those things needed.
Everything handed to Gershon in this verse draws a line.
Notice too that the curtains, coverings, and hangings that Gershon has charge of are all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or they mark off and separate the court from the wilderness around it. So they speak naturally of the boundary lines of God's own enclosure — which is what the Church is in the world.
The same writer notes how frail those walls look, and how little value people place on them:
These linen curtains look frail enough for a wall! Unbelief is forever holding in contempt what is of God... Today the Church itself thinks little of separation. Yet anyone who holds to the Word of God will find that the reckoning of eternity is on his side.
The material matters. Fine linen pictures righteousness worked out in daily life, and each set of hangings shows whose righteousness it is.
The "fine linen," as Revelation 19:8 makes clear, is "righteousness" — righteousness worked out in practice. The curtains that make up the tabernacle itself picture this in Christ, in whose flesh the divine Word "tabernacled," which is the expression used in John 1:14 (the ESV reads "dwelt among us"). The hangings of the court picture the righteousness of God's people, on show outside the sanctuary in the world. The hangings of the "door" and the "gate" picture Christ again, as the only way in.
The white wall shut people out; the gate let them in. That screen, woven in colours, was the one opening in the whole enclosure, and it faced the camp.
There the hanging for the gate hung in full view of everyone. Every colour told of Christ, and together, in their harmony and beauty, they all announced one thing: "If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved." Notice too that Christ is the way into the holy place, and into the holy of holies, as well as into the court.
This verse hands Gershon the hangings, the cords and the gear that go with them. The boards and tent pegs went to Merari, another Levite family. Neither family could take over the other's load.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pegs, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. Yet the two were closely connected, and each depended on the other. The boards and sockets were no use without the curtains, and the curtains were no use without the boards and sockets... If a Gershonite had decided to drop the curtains and turn to the pegs, he would have left his own work undone and got in the way of the Merarite's work.
The closing clause hands this family the whole job — but God had already fixed what that job was. The men who carried the load chose none of it.
Self-will had no more room in the service of the Levites than it had in the place given to the fighting men. God settled it all. That was a great mercy to everyone whose heart was right. A man whose will was unbroken might find it hard and tiresome to have to keep the same place, or to do exactly the same work... But where the will was bowed and the heart was set right, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
Curtains come down and travel. A God who dwelt behind curtains and cords was a God still on the road.
Walking in the character of the Lord Jesus is what makes the saint "a stranger" in the world — and "stranger" is what the name Gershon means... But the curtain pictured another side of that stranger character: looking ahead. This was a great blessing. God dwelling in curtains showed clearly that neither God nor the ark of His strength had yet found a resting place. Both were still travelling on toward "a rest that remained."
- Boundary. The hangings Gershon carried were lines of separation. They marked off God's ground from the wilderness around it.
- Righteousness. The white linen of the court pictures the righteousness of God's people, lived out in full view of the world.
- Entrance. The one opening in that boundary is the screen at the gate. It pictures Christ, the only way in — into the court, and on into the holy of holies itself.
- Obedience. Curtains and cords were Gershon's; boards and pegs were not. No one chose his own load, and a path God has settled is a mercy: "I have only to obey."
- Journey. God dwelt in curtains, not a house. Neither He nor the ark had a resting place yet, so His people travel as strangers toward the rest that remains.
At the commandment of Aaron and his sons shall be all the service of the sons of the Gershonites, in all their carrying, and in all their service; and ye shall appoint unto them in charge all their carrying.
Numbers 4 lists what each family of Levites had to carry when the tabernacle moved. Verse 27 fixes two things for the Gershonites. Aaron and his sons directed their work. They carried the loads they were given, not the loads they picked. So who decides a servant's work, and does it matter if the work looks small?
The whole tribe of Levi worked under the family of Aaron, the priest. Commentators see the same pattern in all service for God. The servant's own will gets no vote.
The priest's appointment was to regulate the service of the Levites. Self-will had no more room in their service than it had in the position of the men of war. God settled it all, and this was a great mercy to everyone whose heart was in a right condition. A man whose will was unbroken might find it hard. It might seem a very tiring task to have to stay in the same position, or to do exactly the same kind of work. Such a person might long for something fresh — some variety in his work. But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
But obedience alone is not the whole of service.
We are to serve God under the direction of spiritual priestly communion in the sanctuary. No service is intelligent or reasonable unless it springs from priestly communion with the Lord. An intention to obey is not enough. It is communion which gives power and intelligence in service.
The verse says their loads were assigned to them. Nobody applied for a role.
Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. Once he knows it, he should stick to it. And it matters greatly too that he never interferes with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will. We are bound to respect this. And nothing is more lovely than servants yielding to one another according to grace and in the fear of God.
The Gershonites carried the fabric; the Merarites carried the frame. The two loads belonged together.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins; and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet the two were closely connected, and each depended on the other... Suppose a Gershonite had decided to leave the curtains and turn to the pins. He would have left his own work undone, and he would have got in the way of the Merarite's work. This would never do.
Their burden was cloth, skins, and cords. One writer sees two things pictured in them.
They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle, the covering of badger skins, and the hanging for the door of the tabernacle. They also carried the hanging for the gate of the court, all the hangings of the court, their cords, and other furnishings connected with these. These speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak second of the moral righteousness of the saints of God — the linen hangings of the court... "for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints" (Rev. 19:8).
Since the assignment came from God, comparing loads becomes pointless.
Each one was at his post, and each moved in the place God had appointed for him. So the moment the cloud lifted and the order came to move, every man knew what he had to do. He turned to that and to nothing else... Seen in this light, it made no difference at all whether a man carried a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
God does not hand out work and then leave the worker to manage alone.
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this... God thought of both of these great families, and the family with the heaviest burden got the greatest help... To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him.
- Assigned — the Gershonite's work came to him from the priest; self-will had no place in it.
- Assigned, so restful — a settled path saves the servant from choosing, comparing, and wishing for variety.
- Assigned, so specific — drop your own task for someone else's, and both jobs suffer.
- Assigned, so dignified — a pin, a curtain, or a lampstand all carry equal honour when God named the load.
- Assigned, so supplied — the God who hands out the burden also hands out the strength and help to carry it.
This is the service of the families of the sons of Gershon in the tent of meeting, and their charge shall be under the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.
This verse closes the instructions for the Gershonites. It sums up their work at the tent of meeting and puts all of it under Ithamar, one of Aaron's sons. Two questions sit in that short sentence: what was this family carrying, and why does God set a priest over it?
The Gershonites carried the fabric of the tent — its curtains, coverings and hangings. One writer reads that load as a picture of Christ Himself, carried through the desert by people whose burden looked plain and unimpressive.
Here was Gershon's work: to carry the tabernacle and its coverings through the waste and howling wilderness. This was true Levite service, but it was most blessed service... There could be little that was attractive in the rams' skins and the badgers' skins. But little as there was, it was still the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up and carry them cheerfully on his shoulders across the trackless sands. What, then, are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? In a word, it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. This is what makes the saint a stranger in the world — which is what the name Gershon means.
Those same curtains had a second use. One writer takes it as a picture of where the Church stands in the world.
Then we may observe that the curtains, coverings, and hangings that Gershon has to do with are in fact all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or they mark off and separate the court from the wilderness around. So they speak, easily and naturally, of the boundary lines of God's special enclosure, such as the Church is in the world.
The phrase "this is the service" matters as much as the list of items. Each family of Levites received its own line of work from God.
Gershon, Kohath, and Merari, with their sons, each have a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4... Nothing matters more in practice than this. Each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. Once he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure also that it is no small matter never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
Another writer calls that fixed arrangement a mercy, though not everyone will feel it as one.
Levite service was to be regulated by the appointment of the priest. There was no more room for self-will in the service of the Levites than there was in the position of the men of war. God settled everything, and this was a clear mercy to all whose hearts were right. To someone whose will was unbroken it might seem a hardship. It might feel like a tiresome duty to be tied to the same position, or to the same line of work... But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
Commentators read the whole tribe's subjection to the priestly house as the pattern for Christian service now.
We all need to remember one thing. Service is only intelligent and acceptable when we carry it out in subjection to priestly authority and guidance... This stamped its own character on the entire range of Levite service. The whole tribe of workers were associated with and subject to the great high priest. Everything was under his direct control and guidance. So it must be now with all God's workers.
The chapter divides that oversight between two of Aaron's sons. One writer sees a matching division in the kinds of ministry.
In trying to give the New Testament answer to these things, we have thought that the service of Merari suggests what we may call a practical ministry, and the service of Gershon a doctrinal ministry. Both are under the hand of Ithamar. But the service of Kohath, under the hand of Eleazar, suggests a devotional ministry. It concerns the greatness and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then all would come under the hand of Aaron as the high priest.
One writer finds meaning in the name of the son placed in charge.
The service of the Gershonites was under the authority of Ithamar rather than Eleazar (v. 28). Ithamar's name means "where the palm is." That reminds us of Psalm 92:12, "The righteous flourish like the palm tree." It stresses the fruitful walk of the saints of God.
- Given. The Gershonites did not pick their load. The verse calls their service a charge handed to them.
- Christ. What they carried — the coverings of the tent — pictures the character of Christ, borne across a wilderness by people content with a plain-looking burden.
- Separation. Those same curtains drew the boundary between God's enclosure and the desert outside, as the Church stands apart in the world.
- Priest. "Under the direction of Ithamar" set every Levite task under priestly authority. Christian work now answers the same way to the great High Priest.
- Peace. Where self-will is broken, a fixed task stops being a hardship. The path is plain: know your work, stay with it, leave another's alone.
The sons of Merari after their families, according to their fathers' houses shalt thou number them;
Numbers 4 works through Levi's three families one by one. Now the turn comes to Merari, the last of the three, and the command is to count them by clan and family. That raises the question behind the whole chapter: who decides what a servant of God carries?
This count is not about manpower. It is about assignment. One writer notes that God set the Levites apart in their earliest days. Now He numbers them again for the work itself, and gives each family a fixed line of duty.
God gives strength before He claims service. But from their earliest days He counts them apart according to His grace and His intentions. There were three main houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. In Numbers 4 each of them, with their sons, has its own line of service, and there they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward. This matters greatly. Nothing is more important than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it. It also matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
A Merarite's job came with his birth certificate. Nobody applied for the work they preferred.
So not every Levite had the same area of work – and none of them could choose his own service. If you were born a Merarite you were not allowed to take care of the vessels of the sanctuary, which were the charge of the Kohathites. So it is with Christian service: God gives different types of service to different believers.
Merari's charge was the frame: boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs and cords. One writer reads that frame as a picture of believers held up and held together.
The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and as united in one building, the Church of God. They were made of acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are held up on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold) and joined together with bars of the same materials... Merari therefore emphasises the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another as dependent on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
Merari means "bitter." One writer finds the name fitting, not strange, because work done for God's people costs the worker.
Here it is clear that Merari is taken up not so much with Christ Himself as with the people of the Lord... and who has done this work without finding the bitterness that Merari's name expresses? A man who could not feel it would be poorly fitted for ministry. We must believe this is the reason for a link that seems strange enough, and yet matches familiar experience. Think how Paul's letters bring this to us out of the full heart of a devotion that kept going, finding from men disappointment rather than reward — in his own words, "the more I love you, the less I am loved."
Another writer pictures the Merarite reaching a bare stopping-place in the desert and setting up silver and gold in the sand.
But Merari was not to shrink from all this. No, when he arrived at a spot in the desert where the cloud halted, his words were, "I have come to set up the patterns of things in heaven right in the middle of all the desolation and misery of the wilderness around." All this was very hard work. No doubt it gave Merari's character a tone of sadness or sorrow — the very thing his name expresses.
A Merarite could spend his whole life minding tent-pegs and wonder if it counted for anything. One writer answers that the worth of the work comes from what it belongs to.
A special dignity belonged to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was only looking after a few "pins" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the deepest interest and the highest value... To touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to rule Egypt or Assyria as king.
- Counted — God sets His servants apart long before He asks for their strength. He counts them again when the work begins.
- Assigned — the Merarite did not pick his load. The Lord divided the work, and stepping into another's portion is no small thing.
- Frame — boards, bars and sockets picture believers held up by redemption and joined together. Merari's work is the work of union.
- Bitter — serving God's people costs, and Merari's name says so. A servant who cannot feel that cost is not fit for the work.
- Dignified — the smallest peg belonged to God's dwelling. That makes quiet, unseen obedience weigh more than any throne.
from thirty years old and upward even to fifty years old shalt thou number them, every one that entereth into the labour, to perform the service of the tent of meeting.
Numbers 4:30 ends the Levite census with Merari, the last of Levi's three sons, whose men Moses lists family by family for duty between thirty and fifty. Two questions follow: why God fixes a window for service, and why He counts the men who fill it.
This is not the first count of the Levites. This one ties each family to its own line of work, and one commentator shows how much depends on a servant knowing which work is his.
They and their sons are each given a line of service in Numbers 4, where they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward. This matters greatly. Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. Once he knows it, he should stick to it. It is also no small thing never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides the work according to His own will.
Why thirty, and why fifty? One writer finds meaning in the numbers themselves.
He enters this service at thirty, the age of realized capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty. In the picture, he leaves only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The years before thirty were not wasted. They were the run-up.
They were not to serve in the sanctuary until the ages of 30 through 50, yet clearly they were trained with that service in view. This reminds us that the Lord Jesus Himself did not begin His public service until He was about 30 years of age (Luke 3:23). His earlier years were an important preparation for it.
Why stop at fifty? One writer ties the age limits to the wagons and oxen handed out for the march.
Their work on the march was heavier than that of the Kohathites. From the offering of the tribal leaders, Moses gave the Gershonites two wagons and four oxen, and the Merarites four wagons and eight oxen. God considered both of these great families, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help... Carrying burdens took strength. God would not overload the strength of anyone He called to work for Him. So no Levite was called to carry burdens before he was thirty, and none was asked to keep on after fifty.
Merari's men carried the framework of the tabernacle. One commentator reads that charge as a picture of what holds God's people together.
Their work was to care for the boards of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars and sockets... The boards speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and as joined in one building, the Church of God. They were acacia wood covered with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are held up on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold), and joined together by bars of the same materials... So Merari stands for the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another.
This work costs something. One writer describes what it takes to set up those silver sockets in the world.
Let anyone take a firm, clear stand in the world for Christ... and there let him begin to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of this: he will find such a course brings very much sorrow and bitterness of soul. In a word, he will find it a path where the cross has to be taken up "daily," and not only taken up, but carried... nothing will make us true Merarites but deep fellowship with Him who was "THE MAN OF SORROWS."
Was it worth twenty years of a man's life to look after tent pegs? One writer answers by weighing that job against a crown.
Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the deepest interest and the highest value... To touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tent in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to hold the royal sceptre of Egypt or Assyria. True, going by what his name means, that Merarite might seem a poor, sorrowful, hard-working man. But his work was tied to the dwelling place of the Most High God, the owner of heaven and earth.
- Counted — Moses lists Merari's men family by family. The God who divides the work knows the workers who do it.
- Prepared — thirty is the age of realised capacity, and the years before it are training, not delay.
- Assigned — each servant is to know his own line of work, stick to it, and leave another's alone.
- Supplied — God set the start and the finish so no servant is overloaded. The family with the heaviest load got the most wagons and oxen.
- Costly, yet dignified — the name Merari carries sorrow, and his work of boards and sockets holds God's house together. Touching its smallest pin outranks a throne.
And this shall be the charge of their burden, according to all their service in the tent of meeting the boards of the tabernacle, and the bars thereof, and the pillars thereof, and bases thereof,
Merari's sons carried the frame of God's tent: the wooden uprights, the bars, the pillars and the silver blocks they stood in (older translations say "boards" and "sockets"). It was the plainest load in the camp, yet God listed every piece and called it their whole service.
Commentators see the pieces Merari carried as a picture of God's people. They are held up, and held together. One writer explains the picture:
The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and of their being united in one building, the Church of God. They were made of acacia wood overlaid with gold, and they stood upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are upheld on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold) and united together by bars of the same materials... So Merari stands for the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another, and that ministry depends on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
Each frame stood on two silver bases. The silver came from the atonement money:
There were forty-eight boards. They stood upright, joined to each other with "tenons" — in Hebrew, "hands." Each board rested on two silver sockets, made from the atonement money, and each was overlaid with gold, with golden rings for the bars that united them all. So the Church is made up of people who each rest on the testimony of redemption, and God fits them together as His own dwelling.
The bars slid through gold rings on the frames. One writer sees a picture in that pair:
The bars were acacia wood, covered with the same gold, and they fitted into golden rings on the boards. They speak of special gifts that keep everything in place. But those gifts need a matching openness in each believer before they can be used: the "bar" was of no use without the "ring."
The list also says what Merari did not carry. The curtains were Gershon's work, not his:
All this was clear and distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins; and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. Yet each depended on the other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains," and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. And the "pins" seem so small — yet who could measure their importance in holding things together and keeping the whole thing visibly one? ... Suppose a Gershonite had decided to drop "the curtains" and turn to "the pins." He would have left his own work undone, and he would have interfered with the work of the Merarite.
God handed Merari this list. Merari did not pick it. One writer draws a rule for all service from that:
God puts each family of the tribe in its own place. He is sovereign in that appointment, so everything stands in its place, perfectly ordered — Kohath with his precious vessels, Gershon with his fine linen, Merari with his boards and pillars. Service is gift, and therefore gift is the appointment to service, since the Giver can make no mistake.
Another notes that the arrangement needed no discussion to work:
Each had his specific work given. There could be no misunderstanding about it. How strange it would have been if these 22,000 Levites had formed committees and sub-committees to divide the work and direct it! All this would have brought in disorder. All they needed to do was the work the Lord had called them into.
Carrying pegs and sockets sounds like a small life. One writer answers that the value came from what those pieces belonged to:
Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the deepest interest and the highest value... It was a holy dignity and privilege to touch even the smallest pin that belonged to that wonderful tent in the wilderness. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to rule as king over Egypt or Assyria.
Setting up this structure in the world has a price. One writer names it:
Let anyone take a firm, clear stand in the world for Christ... and there let him begin to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of it, such a course will bring him much sorrow and bitterness of soul. In short, he will find it a path where the cross has to be taken up "daily," and not only taken up, but carried... nothing will make us true Merarites but deep communion with Him who was THE MAN OF SORROWS.
- Charge given. God assigned Merari's load; Merari did not choose it. Service is a gift, and the Giver makes no mistake.
- Charge defined. The frames, bars, pillars and bases were his whole service. The curtains were not his, so no one left a post or doubled up.
- Charge meaning. What he carried pictures believers standing on redemption, covered with Christ, and joined to one another.
- Charge honoured. The smallest peg belonged to God's dwelling, which made handling it better than holding a throne.
- Charge costly. Setting up "the sockets of silver" in the world brings sorrow, and only closeness to the Man of Sorrows carries a person through it.
and the pillars of the court round about, and their bases, and their pegs, and their cords, all their instruments, according to all their service; and by name ye shall number to them the materials which are their charge to carry.
This verse closes the list of what Merari's family of Levites carried: the tabernacle's frame, the pillars around its courtyard, and the pegs and ropes that held it steady. God names each item and assigns it — so why count the smallest fittings of His dwelling so carefully?
This verse names no curtains and no coverings. It names structure — and commentators read that structure as a picture of God's people joined into one.
Merari had charge with his sons of the boards, the sockets, pins and cords. These held the building together. Christ and His people are pictured in the boards of acacia wood, resting in the sockets of silver. The bars of acacia wood unite the boards. So the framework of the tabernacle is a picture of the church, the building Ephesians describes as "joined together." The work of Merari suggests the thought of union.
The pegs and cords come last in the list, and they hold the rest steady.
The pillars of the court rest on bronze sockets, and silver tops crown them. The fine linen curtains hang from them by silver hooks. So grace enables us to hold up the character of Christ before the world. Divine strength is what we rest upon as we do it. The pins and cords brace everything against the opposing influences that are too strong for us on our own.
Merari's list and Gershon's list never overlap, yet neither family could manage without the other.
All this was clear and distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins; and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet they were very closely connected, since they depended on each other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains;" and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. And what about "the pins"? They seem so unimportant. Yet who could measure their value in keeping things together, and in maintaining the visible unity of the whole? So all worked together to one common end, and each one reached that end by attending to his own special line.
Each object is named and given to a man to carry. One writer draws out what that means for service.
In Numbers 4 each of them, with their sons, receives a line of service. There they are counted again from thirty years old and upward. Nothing matters more in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And when he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure of this too: it matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
Minding a few pegs and sockets sounds like small work. What those pegs belonged to changes the measure.
Doing what we are told to do always has moral worth. But a special dignity also belonged to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was only attending to a few "pins" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the very deepest interest and highest value… It was a holy dignity and privilege to be allowed to touch the smallest pin that formed part of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to hold the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria.
One writer ties Merari's load to the church itself, and his name to the cost of that work.
Merari's service has to do with the house of God, the church of the living God. It has to do with holding up Christ as the way in to God, and with supporting, strengthening, and steadying His witness in the world. His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of how painful such service is. Self-love will break down under it, or run off into some odd path that is less of a burden to flesh and blood. Indeed in our day the family of Merari has dwindled to a very small number, and they have done their work very poorly. Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the small details He has appointed?… It needs only plodding accuracy and diligent obedience.
- Named — God listed and assigned every peg and cord, so each man knew his own work and left his brother's alone.
- Joining — Merari carried the structure: boards, bars, sockets and pillars. It pictures believers joined together as one building.
- Bracing — The pins and cords held the pillars upright, steadying God's witness against pressure too strong for our own strength.
- Small — A pin looks trivial, yet it maintained the visible unity of the whole tabernacle.
- Costly — Merari means bitterness. This service asks for plodding accuracy and obedience, so few take it up. Yet touching the smallest pin of God's dwelling outranks a throne.
This is the service of the families of the sons of Merari, according to all their service in the tent of meeting, under the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.
The chapter ends by listing what each Levite family had to carry. God named every item the sons of Merari would take, the frame of the tabernacle, and He named the priest who would oversee them: Ithamar, one of Aaron's sons.
Their load was the structure itself: boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs and cords. Commentators read that frame as a picture of believers joined in one building.
The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," joined in one building, the Church of God. They were acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are held up on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold), and joined together by bars of the same materials... So Merari stands for the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another. This union rests on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Such ministry is of great importance in our present day.
Kohath's work came under Eleazar; Gershon and Merari came under Ithamar. One writer links each family's load to a different form of ministry.
In looking for the New Testament answer to these things, we have thought that the service of Merari suggests what we may call a practical ministry. The service of Gershon suggests a doctrinal ministry. Both came under the hand of Ithamar. But the service of Kohath, under the hand of Eleazar, suggests a devotional ministry about the greatness and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then all would come under the hand of Aaron as the High Priest. The responsibility lay on his shoulders to see that everything followed the mind of God, as God gave it through Moses.
God gave the Levites to the priests, so the aim of their work lay beyond the work itself.
God gave the Levites to Aaron and to his sons, to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levitical service aims at supporting priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real end in view of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
The verse marks this as Merari's own service, the whole of it. Each family had its own list, and the lists did not overlap.
All this was clear and distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pegs. Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet the two were closely connected, for each family needed the other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains;" and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. The pegs seem so small. Yet who could measure their importance in keeping things together and holding the whole in visible unity? ... If a Gershonite had decided to leave "the curtains" and turn to "the pegs," he would have left his own work undone. He would also have interfered with the work of the Merarite.
A Merarite could spend his best years handling pegs and sockets. Their worth came from what they were part of.
There was also a special dignity belonging to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was only looking after a few "pegs" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the very deepest interest and highest value... To touch the smallest peg of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pegs of the tabernacle than to rule as king over Egypt or Assyria.
Setting up those sockets of silver in the world still costs the one who does it.
Let anyone take his stand firmly in the world for Christ. Let him go into the places where "the world" is really seen at full strength. Let him set himself, firm as a rock, against the deep and rapid tide of worldliness. Let him begin there to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of it, he will find that such a course brings very much sorrow and bitterness of soul. He will find it a path in which the cross is taken up "daily" — and not only taken up, but carried.
Merari's burden was the heaviest, and God matched the help to the load.
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide everything they need to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this... Moses allotted two wagons and four oxen to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. Thought went to both of these great families, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help... God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him.
- Assigned work. Merari carried the frame: boards, bars, pillars, sockets. It pictures believers united to Christ and to one another through redemption.
- Assigned overseer. Merari served under Ithamar, and every Levite family under Aaron. No one picked his own task.
- Assigned limits. Gershon never handled the boards; Merari never handled the curtains. Each family needed the other, so crossing lines would leave both jobs undone.
- Assigned dignity. The smallest peg belonged to God's dwelling, so handling it was more glorious than ruling Egypt.
- Assigned strength. The heaviest load got the most wagons and oxen. God never overtaxed the strength of anyone He called.
And Moses and Aaron and the princes of the assembly numbered the sons of the Kohathites after their families, and according to their fathers' houses,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
from thirty years old and upward even to fifty years old, every one that entered into the labour, for service in the tent of meeting.
Numbers 4 counts only the Levites old enough to work, family by family. Verse 35 gives the bracket for the sons of Kohath, one of the families that carried the holy things — so why does God set an age for His work at all?
This count draws a line around the men able to work, and it misses none of them.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one of them finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of full capacity. He leaves it at fifty, as far as its wilderness form goes. In the picture, that leaving comes only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account.
The Kohathites carried heavy loads. One writer sees both ends of the age bracket as God's care for the people He puts to work.
Carrying burdens took strength. And God would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to work for Him. So He called no one to share in the Levites' work of carrying burdens before the age of thirty, and He asked no one to continue that service after fifty... The Kohathites also shared in this same care not to overtax any Levite's strength. What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
Those counted here did not pick their own task. Each family received its own line of service, and that settles how a servant should think about his work.
In Numbers 4 each of them, with his sons, is given a line of service, and there they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward. This too matters greatly. Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure of this as well — it matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
No one chose his own load, so its size said nothing about the man.
Seen in this light, it made no difference at all whether a man had to carry a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The grand question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
Another passage puts the start of Levite service at twenty-five, not thirty. One writer explains the gap as a trial period, and reads fifty as a change of duty, not a dismissal.
A suggestion often made, and widely accepted, removes the difficulty at once: they were tested from twenty-five to thirty before they entered their appointed work. If so, the first five years were a trial period before their formal installation. Then, at fifty, they were to stop attending to the service of the tabernacle... So they no longer carried the appointed burdens (chapter 4) on their journeys through the wilderness, though they might still share with their brothers in the tabernacle... They were still to keep the charge of the Lord, even if they did no service. We learn that the will of the Lord is to govern us the same way whether we are active or retired. At His word we are to work, and at His word we are to rest.
The upper limit also warns anyone who thinks the chance to serve will always be there.
Christian service calls for a certain amount of maturity, no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a point in time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our "window of opportunity" to serve Him "in the desert" will have gone!
The whole count had one purpose: the holy things had to travel. One writer takes that as a picture of the Christian's business in the world.
Their service was to carry the holy things of Jehovah through the wilderness. For us the wilderness pictures the world we pass through, and our business as Christians is to show Christ. We must guard the holy things of our faith as carefully as the Levites guarded the tabernacle and its sacred contents, and we must do it by the testimony of our lips and the testimony of our lives.
- Reckoned — God counts every man old enough to serve. Thirty is the age of full capacity; fifty closes the wilderness form of service.
- Resourced — God matches the burden to the strength. He will not overtax anyone He calls to work for Him.
- Received — God hands out the work. So the servant's one question is whether this is the work the Lord gave him, not whether it is a pin or a golden lampstand.
- Reassigned — the earlier start at twenty-five reads as a five-year trial, and fifty ends the burden-bearing, not the usefulness. His word governs our work and our rest alike.
- Reason — the count existed so the holy things could travel. Our charge is to carry Christ through the world by lip and life.
And those that were numbered of them according to their families were two thousand seven hundred and fifty.
This verse ends the count of Kohath's family: 2,750 men, aged thirty to fifty, who carried the holiest furniture of the tabernacle through the wilderness. Why does God count His servants at all, and why only these years of a man's life?
One writer finds meaning in the two ages that mark out this service.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realised capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it at fifty, in its wilderness form. As a picture, he leaves only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The same writer is candid that the particular figures themselves remain beyond him:
As to the numbers of the respective families, one can only confess that lack of proper diligence is the reason of being able to say nothing of them. Assuredly there is meaning in it all worthy of Him who has inspired it; and those who seek in faith and humility, here as elsewhere, shall find.
The number is larger than any one journey needed.
The Kohathites were then numbered, that is, the males from 30 to 50 years of age, and found to be 2,750 (v.36). It seems clear that not all of them were expected to serve at all times. They would likely take turns carrying the furniture of the tabernacle. So there would be no hard labour for anyone.
Kohath's family received no wagons or oxen, and that was no hardship.
Gershon and Merari might need wagons and oxen to carry the boards, and so on, but not Kohath. His charge was too precious to trust to anyone or anything but himself. So it was his high and honoured place to carry it all upon his shoulders. What a privilege, for example, to be allowed to carry the ark, the table, or the golden lampstand! Suppose he had looked for the help of oxen in his holy service. Would that not have shown a complete failure to value his high calling?
One writer sees in these limits a God who weighs what a servant can bear.
To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So God called no one to the Levite work of carrying burdens before the age of thirty. And He asked no one to continue that service after fifty. Only the Gershonites and the Merarites gained from the help of the wagons. But the Kohathites also shared in this care not to overtax any Levite's strength. What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
Behind every total in these chapters lies God's right to reckon up what belongs to Him.
Numbers 1 and Numbers 2 set down the number of each tribe except Levi, again and again. Numbers 3 and Numbers 4 set down Levi's number in the same way. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own. Had He not had a right to them, had He not prospects in them, He would not have counted their sum. Scripture says the same of His title in another part of His dominions: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names" (Psalm 147:4). That is His sovereignty among the heavenly hosts. In Malachi 3 the Lord says of His saints that they shall be His in the day when He makes up His treasured possession. He may number them, hide them and secure them, because they are His own.
The count also gave every man a settled place.
A Levite had no difficulty about his work. It was all settled for him with divine precision. God laid down the burden each had to carry and the work each had to do. He made it so clear that it left no room for the questionings of the heart. Each man could know his own work and do it. And let us add: the work got done as each one carried out his own specific duties. It was not by running here and there, doing this or that. The service of the tabernacle went forward properly because each man stuck closely to his own particular calling.
- Counted — God takes the number of His people because they are His own; He would not count a sum He had no right to.
- Called — 2,750 men stood in the years of usable strength. They entered at thirty and left that form of service at fifty.
- Charged — they carried the ark, the table, the lampstand and the altars. These were too precious for wagons, so carrying them on their shoulders was a privilege.
- Carried — there were more men than any one journey needed. They took turns, so the load wore no one down. God measures the weight against the worker.
- Clear — each man had his own task. No Levite wondered what to do, and none needed to do another man's job.
These are they that were numbered of the families of the Kohathites, every one that served in the tent of meeting, whom Moses and Aaron numbered according to the commandment of Jehovah through Moses.
This verse closes the count of Kohath's clan. It lists the men fit to serve at the tent of meeting. It also marks the whole arrangement as an order Moses and Aaron carried out, not a plan they invented. Two questions sit in the verse: why does God count His servants one by one, and who decides what each one does?
Of the three Levite clans, Kohath's men handled the furniture of the sanctuary itself. One writer calls this the highest form of Levite work. He also warns against judging service by how impressive it looks.
In Numbers 4 we come to another important point — the carrying of the vessels of the sanctuary through the wilderness. The chapter now takes up in detail what the Kohathites had to do. It was the highest form; it was what brought the service closest to Christ. On the outside it did not look so impressive, as we shall see later. It does not follow that the service which makes the greatest show or noise among men is the most honourable in God's eyes. We often go wrong about what really carries the most weight. There is one sure test of value: it is always Christ. Whatever brings a person nearest to Christ, and brings out Christ most, is always the best.
The verse calls these men "all who served." One writer reads the size of the number as a sign that they took turns.
The Kohathites were then numbered, that is, the males from 30 to 50 years of age, and found to be 2,750 (v.36). It seems clear that they would not all be expected to serve at all times. They would likely take turns carrying the furniture of the tabernacle. So there would be no hard labour for anyone.
What Kohath carried was the most precious part of the sanctuary. When wagons and oxen were handed out to the other clans, these men received none.
When we looked at Numbers 3 and 4, we noticed that the sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying all that was most precious in the instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they received none of the princes' offering. Their high and holy service was to carry these things on their own shoulders, and not to use wagons or oxen. The more closely we examine the things placed in the care of the Kohathites, the more we shall see what they picture. They stand for the deeper and fuller ways God has shown Himself in Christ.
The verse ends by tracing the whole count back to the LORD's instruction through Moses. So no Levite chose his own job. One writer calls that a mercy, not a restriction.
The priest's appointment regulated Levite service. The Levites had no more room for self-will in their service than the men of war had in their position. God settled it all, and this was a clear mercy to everyone whose heart was right. A person with an unbroken will might find it a hardship, a tiresome duty, to hold the same place or do the same kind of work. He might long for something fresh — some variety in his work. But where the will was subdued and the heart adjusted, each one would say, "My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey."
Aaron stands beside Moses in this count. The chapter also places each Levite clan under one of Aaron's sons.
The Levites were divided into three groups under the leadership of Kohath, Gershon and Merari. But Aaron's son Eleazar controlled the first of these groups, and his son Ithamar controlled the second and third.
The count covered men from thirty to fifty. Commentators read both ends of that span as meaningful.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are old enough for service. Each one of them finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realised capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty. As a picture, that means he leaves only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The upper limit of fifty carries a warning about time.
Christian service calls for a certain amount of maturity, no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our 'window of opportunity' to serve Him 'in the desert' will have gone!
- Counted — God counts the men fit for sanctuary work one by one. Each finds his own place; no one is lost in the crowd.
- Commanded — the count and the assignments came by the LORD's word through Moses, leaving no room for self-will; the willing heart simply says, "I have only to obey."
- Closest — Kohath's charge brought them nearest to the things that picture Christ. That, not show or noise, is what makes a service honourable.
- Carried — they carried the most precious vessels on their own shoulders, with no wagon to help. They took turns, so the work crushed no one.
- Clocked — service ran from thirty to fifty. Readiness has a starting point, and the chance to serve in the wilderness will not last.
And those that were numbered of the sons of Gershon, after their families, and according to their fathers' houses,
Numbers 4 ends with a head count, and verse 38 opens the total for Gershon's clans, family by family. Why does God record such numbers at all, and what does it mean to have your name on a list drawn up for carrying curtains?
One writer ties this careful counting to God's ownership of the people He counts:
They open with His commandment to Moses to take the number of the tribes, and Moses does this with great exactness and care. Chapters 1 and 2 set down the number of each tribe except Levi, again and again, and chapters 3 and 4 do the same for Levi. This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had title to take their number, for they were all His own.
God describes Gershon's load in verses 22–28. Only then, at verse 38, does Moses count the men.
So we find the numbering of the Levites completed — not just of the children of Israel. Now the sons of Gershon are brought before us on their own, not mixed in with the fighting houses of Israel. But once their service has been clearly defined, they too are linked with the work and counted in together.
Everything on Gershon's list was cloth or cord. Writers find two pictures in it:
They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle, the covering of badger skins, the hanging for the door of the tabernacle and the one for the gate of the court, all the hangings of the court, their cords and other furnishings connected with these. These speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak also of the moral righteousness of the saints of God (the linen hangings of the court)... "For the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints" (Rev. 19:8)
Even the family's name carries the lesson:
Gershon and his sons had charge of the coverings and the fine linen. Gershon means exile, a stranger. The fine linen is a picture of righteousness. The coverings and hangings divided off and separated the different parts of the tabernacle, so they must carry the meaning of separation. His service points us to this: we are separated ones and strangers in the world. Practical righteousness must bear witness to this separation.
Those dividing lines looked flimsy, and that is part of the point:
Scripture insists on such a separation everywhere... And how we need to insist on it, when Satan and the world outside, joined with the flesh within us, unite to break through it and destroy it if they can! These linen curtains look frail enough for a wall! Unbelief constantly pours contempt on what is of God... Today the Church itself thinks little of separation; and yet he who holds by the Word of God will find the reckoning of eternity to be on his side.
Gershon and Merari each kept to their own load, and yet neither could do without the other:
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins; and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet they were very closely connected, for they depended on each other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains;" and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets... Suppose a Gershonite decided to drop "the curtains" and take up "the pins." He would have left his own work undone, and he would have interfered with the work of the Merarite.
This roll counted only the men of serving age, thirty to fifty. One writer finds meaning in both numbers:
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realised capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty — or in the picture, only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
- Counted — the census shows God's right over people who are already His own.
- Charged — God assigns each family its load before He calls the roll, so no one's work overlaps his neighbour's.
- Carried — Gershon's curtains and linen hangings picture the moral perfection of Christ. They picture the righteousness of His people too.
- Separated — the things they carried were dividing lines, and their name means exile. Righteous living shows that separation from the world.
- Timed — every man fit for service had his place in the count, from thirty until fifty.
from thirty years old and upward even to fifty years old, every one that entered into the labour, for service in the tent of meeting,
Numbers 4 counts the Levites family by family, and verse 39 sets Gershon's terms: an age to start, an age to stop, and fitness to serve at the tent of meeting. Why would God fix a window for service at all, and what is He counting inside it?
An earlier counting had already listed the Levites on a different basis. One writer sets the two side by side:
Here they are numbered (apart from Israel, but still numbered) from infants of days, marked out for service long before it could begin. God gives strength before He claims service. But from their earliest days He counts them apart, according to His grace and intentions. There were three principal houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. In Numbers 4 each house and its sons receives its own line of service, and there the count begins again from thirty years old and upward. This matters greatly. In practice, nothing is more important than that each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and stick to it once he knows it.
The Gershonites carried the tabernacle and its coverings — real weight across real desert. One writer takes the two age limits as a sign of God's care for the strength of those He calls:
To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So He called no one into the Levite work of carrying burdens before the age of thirty. And He asked no one to continue that service after fifty... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
The verse counts each man, not just a family total. Another writer reads the two ages as the start and the finish of a man's wilderness service:
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of capacity fully reached (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty — in the picture, the point where the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
Gershon's share of the "service in the tent of meeting" looked plain — skins and curtains. One writer finds a high privilege in exactly that plainness:
Here was Gershon's work: to carry the tabernacle and its coverings through the barren and howling wilderness. This was indeed true Levite service, but it was most blessed service. What corresponds to it in the Church now is what we should much seek after. It alone puts the Christian into his right place in the world — the place of a stranger. There could be little to attract anyone in the rams' skins and badgers' skins. Yet little as there was, it was still the high privilege of the Gershonite to take them all up and bear them cheerfully on his shoulders across the trackless sands... This is what makes the saint a stranger in the world — which is what the name Gershon means.
A later chapter gives twenty-five as the starting age, not thirty. A Bible dictionary explains the five-year gap as training, and notes a further change once the carrying stopped:
According to Numbers 4:3 and following, the Levites appear to have started their tabernacle service at the age of thirty. But Numbers 8:24-26 gives the age as twenty-five. It may be that they spent the first five years on probation, learning their duties. Once Israel had settled in Canaan, the work of carrying the tabernacle was over. From then on they started their service at the age of twenty. They laboured until they were fifty years of age.
Commentators differ on how the ages fit together. Another writer draws the practical lesson from both ends of the window:
The exact task decided the starting age: Levites began active service at 25 or 30. They retired into an advisory role when they were 50 (Numbers 3 and 4). Christian service also calls for a certain amount of maturity — no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a point in time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our "window of opportunity" to serve Him "in the desert" will have gone!
- Counted. God counts the Gershonites twice: once as infants, once from thirty — set apart long before they could lift anything.
- Readied. God gives strength before He claims service; thirty is the age of full capacity.
- Considered. The upper limit shows God refusing to overtax the strength of anyone He calls.
- Carried. Gershon's load was coverings and curtains — plain to look at, yet the very service that holds a believer in the place of a stranger.
- Limited. The window closes. Maturity fits you for service, but the time to use it runs out — at the latest when the Lord comes.
even those that were numbered of them, after their families, according to their fathers' houses, were two thousand six hundred and thirty.
Numbers 4 counts the Levites — the tribe that carried and cared for God's tent — and only the men fit for active duty. Here the sons of Gershon come to 2,630. Why count servants at all? Why this age range? And what did these men carry?
This chapter counts only men inside a set window of years. One writer reads the two ends of that window as marks of capacity and of account.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realized capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty. In type, he leaves it only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The upper limit did not end a man's usefulness.
The closing verses show that service as a Levite began at twenty-five years of age. After five preliminary years, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
The chapter had already listed their load: the curtains, the coverings, the hangings of the door and of the court, and their cords.
They speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus. They speak second of the moral righteousness of the saints of God (the linen hangings of the court). So the ministry seen in Gershon is this: insisting on the unique perfection of the Manhood of Christ, and on the fitting responsibility of saints to represent Him in their measure in their daily lives. "For the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints" (Rev. 19:8)
One writer reads the name Gershon as pointing to life as a stranger. The coverings these men carried marked out a people still on the move.
This is what makes the saint "a stranger" (as the name Gershon means) in the world. Suppose we are walking in the display of the character of the Lord Jesus. Suppose that in doing so we realise our place as in the wilderness. Then we may be sure it will give our character a very clear tone of the stranger in the world. And oh, how I wish we knew much more of this. The Church has laid down the rams' skins and badgers' skins, and with them the Gershonite character.
The verse counts these men by clan and father's house. Each family had its own work to do.
Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins; and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet they were closely connected, and each depended on the other. "The boards and sockets" would not do without "the curtains." And the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets... Suppose a Gershonite decided to leave "the curtains" and turn to "the pins." He would then have left his own work undone and interfered with the work of the Merarite.
Another writer presses the same point, and says who decides each man's work.
Nothing is more important in practice than this. Each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And once he knows it, he should stick to it... The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
The age limits themselves say something about the God who set them.
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this. Moses gave the Gershonites two wagons and four oxen, part of the offering of the princes of the twelve tribes when the Tabernacle was set up; and he gave the Merarites four wagons and eight oxen. To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So no one was called to take part in the Levites' work of bearing burdens until he had reached thirty years of age. And no one was asked to continue that service after fifty years of age... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
- Counted. The 2,630 are Gershon's men, enrolled between thirty and fifty. Every one of them finds his place in the reckoning.
- Charged. They carried the curtains, coverings and hangings. These speak of the moral perfection of Christ and the moral righteousness of His people.
- Strangers. Gershon means stranger. Carrying skins and coverings marked out a people still on the move. The Church can lay that character down, and has.
- Distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins. Knowing your own work, and sticking to it, keeps the whole structure in order.
- Considered. God fixed the ages, supplied the wagons, and let older men keep the charge. He never overtaxes the strength of anyone He calls.
These are they that were numbered of the families of the sons of Gershon, all that served in the tent of meeting, whom Moses and Aaron numbered according to the commandment of Jehovah.
The closing line of the Gershonite census reads like a bookkeeping note. Yet it holds two things: a set number of men for the tent of meeting, and the authority behind it all — God's own command. Why count servants at all? And why stress that even the totals came at God's word?
The count came to 2,630 men. They were not left to carry everything on their own:
The number of the Gershonites came to 2,630. We will see later that they were given wagons to carry the burdens given to them, so they would have charge of the wagons and the animals that pulled them.
The wagons were not handed out evenly. God matched them to the weight each family carried:
On the march, their work was harder than that of the Kohathites. Moses allotted two wagons and four oxen... to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. God cared for both of these great families, and the family with the heaviest burden had the greatest help... He would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him.
The verse sums up men who "served in the tent of meeting." Scripture describes that service before it counts the men:
Their area of service is set out before the census. They were to carry the curtains of the tabernacle, the covering of badger skins, and the hanging for the door of the tabernacle. They also carried the hanging for the gate of the court, all the hangings of the court, their cords and the other furnishings that went with them. These speak first of the moral perfection in the life of the Lord Jesus, and second of the moral righteousness of the saints of God (the linen hangings of the court).
The outer coverings were the least impressive part of the tabernacle. One commentator finds the honour of this work exactly there:
There was little that was attractive about the rams' skins and badgers' skins. Yet, little as there was, the Gershonite had the high privilege of taking them all up and carrying them gladly on his shoulders across the pathless sand... it was the highest service of all to carry through the desert what pictured the character of Christ so clearly.
Curtains and hangings do one obvious thing: they mark where something begins and ends. So the Gershonites carried the very things that set God's dwelling apart from the desert around it.
The curtains, coverings, and hangings which Gershon has to do with are in fact all lines of separation. They define the tabernacle itself, or mark off and separate the court from the wilderness around. So they speak, naturally and without strain, of the boundary lines of God's own enclosure — and the Church is such an enclosure in the world.
The count gives every man a place. It also waits for him to be ready:
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realized capacity; he leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty.
This second count comes at the age of strength. One commentator draws a lesson from that for every servant of God:
Each of them, with their sons, is given a line of service in Numbers 4, where they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward... Strength is given before service is claimed... Nothing matters more in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. And once he knows it, he should stick to it.
The verse traces the whole count back to God's command, not to Moses' judgment. One commentator calls that a mercy, not a restriction:
It was a special mercy to have the authority of a "Thus says the Lord" for everything they put their hand to... Each member of that remarkable tribe of workers had his own particular line of work. God's hand marked it out, and God's priest oversaw it. No one did what he liked, and no one simply followed another man. All bowed to the authority of God and did exactly what they were told to do. This was the secret of order among all eight thousand five hundred and eighty workers.
- Commanded — the census closes with God's authority. Every Gershonite held his post by a "Thus says the Lord," not by preference. That was the secret of order among all 8,580.
- Counted — God enrolled His servants one by one. Each found his place at thirty and left the wilderness roll at fifty.
- Charged — God named the load before He counted the men: curtains, coverings, hangings, cords. These picture the perfect life of Christ and the righteousness of His people.
- Carried — the outer skins looked plain. Yet carrying them across the sand was high privilege, because they pictured Christ.
- Cared for — God matched the help to the load. He gave wagons and oxen for the heaviest burdens. He never overtaxed anyone called to labour for Him.
And those that were numbered of the families of the sons of Merari, after their families, according to their fathers' houses,
Numbers 4:42 counts the third Levite family, clan by clan and household by household, just as it counted Gershon's. Merari's men carried the heaviest and least admired load in the camp, and the list misses none of them.
Merari's count is one of three. Each family of Levi carried its own load, and each had its own total of men fit for duty.
Three sons of Levi, in the persons of their descendants, carried out the Levitical service of the Tabernacle. The sons of Merari (3,200) carried the boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pins, and so on. The sons of Gershon (2,630) carried the curtains, the hanging of the court, and so on. The sons of Kohath (2,750) carried the holy vessels.
The Merarite load was the frame: boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs, cords. Writers see a picture here of what holds God's people together.
Their work was to care for the boards of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars and sockets. They also cared for its related utensils, the pillars of the court, their sockets, pegs and cords. The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and as united in one building, the Church of God. They were of acacia wood overlaid with gold, standing upright on sockets of silver. That is, believers are upheld on the basis of redemption, covered with Christ (the gold) and united together with bars of the same materials. The pillars of the court, made of copper and resting on copper sockets, speak of Christ as the Upholder of His people. Thus, in upholding them, He also unites them together. Merari therefore emphasizes the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another, as dependent on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
"Merari" means bitterness. Writers read the name as a description of the work itself.
Merari's service has to do with the house of God, the church of the living God. It has to do with holding up Christ as the way of access to God. It also has to do with supporting, strengthening, and steadying what is His witness in the world. His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of the painful character of such service. Self-love will break down at that service, or run off into some eccentric path less burdensome to flesh and blood. Indeed in our day the family of Merari has dwindled to a very small number, and their work has been very badly done. Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who wants work of this menial kind, costing so much and bringing in so little?
Grace, not natural temperament, puts a person in that place.
Nothing but grace can make us Merarites, and the true Merarite is the true philanthropist, because he brings in the only thing that can bless. The very fact that a Merarite should have to take a place of sorrow is a convincing proof that the world is an evil place.
Age set the limits of this count.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one of them finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realised capacity, and he leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty.
Fifty was not a discharge. Commentators differ on the starting age. One counts from thirty. Another counts from twenty-five, with five preliminary years before full service.
The closing verses show that Levitical service began at twenty-five years of age. After five preliminary years, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended, but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
A man on this list gave twenty years to tent-pegs and sockets. The building he served gave that work its worth.
There was a special dignity belonging to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was merely attending to a few "pins" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the very deepest interest and highest value. Touching the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to hold the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria. Every pin, every socket, every curtain, and every covering was a shadow of good things to come — a foreshadowing of Christ.
- Counted. The list ran family by family and household by household: 3,200 Merarites fit for duty. Gershon and Kohath got the same care. Nobody disappeared into the crowd.
- Charged. They carried the frame: boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs, cords. Writers read it as believers upheld on redemption, covered with Christ, and joined into one building.
- Costly. Merari means bitterness, and the name fits the work. It costs the servant much and brings him little. Only grace produces a Merarite.
- Capable. The register ran from thirty, the age of proven capacity, to fifty. Heavy carrying stopped there. Service did not — it only changed form.
- Commended. Handling one tent-peg of God's dwelling outranked a throne. Every part of that tent was a shadow of Christ.
from thirty years old and upward even to fifty years old, every one that entered into the labour, for service in the tent of meeting,
Numbers 4 counts the Levites who were fit to move the tabernacle, Israel's portable sanctuary, and this verse falls inside the count of the Merarites. It fixes two things: a span of years, and a purpose for them.
The Merarites carried the frame of the tabernacle itself. Commentators read a meaning in what they carried.
Their work was to care for the boards of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars and sockets, and its related utensils. They also cared for the pillars of the court, with their sockets, pegs and cords. The boards of the tabernacle speak of the basic facts of what believers are "in Christ," and of their being united in one building, the Church of God… So Merari stands for the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another. That uniting depends on the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Such ministry is of great importance in our present day.
The span named in this verse is the span of a man's full strength.
The Levites were to serve from the age of thirty to the age of fifty. That is, they were to give their years of maturity and physical strength to energetic service. It was their job to set up the tabernacle and take it down… and also to carry it and its contents when the people travelled.
Another writer reads the two figures themselves as markers, the first of ability reached and the second of a reckoning still to come.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one such finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realized capacity (3 x 10); he leaves it, in its wilderness-form, at fifty, or typically only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The two age limits protect the servant, and so does the help God provides.
The family with the heaviest burden had the greatest help… Carrying burdens took strength. God would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to work for Him. So He called no one to take part in the Levites' work of carrying burdens until he had reached thirty years of age, and He did not ask anyone to continue that service after fifty… What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
This is the second count of the Levites. The first one started at one month old.
Here they are counted (apart from Israel, but still counted) from babies only days old, marked out for service long before they could begin it… God gives strength before He asks for service. But from their earliest days He counts them apart according to His grace and His intentions. Gershon, Kohath, and Merari, with their sons, were each given their own line of service in Numbers 4, where they are counted again from thirty years old and upward… In practice, nothing is more important than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it he should stick to it.
One writer puts the natural complaint into a Merarite's mouth.
A Merarite might say, or think without saying, "What! Am I to spend the very best part of my life on earth — my strongest years — looking after a few tent pegs? Was this what I was born for? Is this to be my work from the age of thirty to fifty?"
The answer offered is not that the work is bigger than it looks, but that its size was never the point.
It was enough for the Merarite to know that Jehovah had assigned him his work. That was enough to give dignity to what nature might think the smallest and lowest job. It does not matter what we are doing, as long as we are doing the work God has appointed for us. A man may follow what others would call a brilliant career… and all the while his life may prove to be only a splendid bubble.
Commentators note that the starting age went with the task. Either way, the span has an end.
Depending on the exact task, Levites started their active service at 25 or 30 years of age, and at 50 they retired into an advisory role… Christian service calls for a certain amount of maturity, no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a point in time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our 'window of opportunity' to serve Him 'in the desert' will have gone!
- Counted — God counted the Merarites twice: once from a month old, long before they could lift anything, and again at thirty for the work itself. He gives strength before He asks for service.
- Capable — Thirty to fifty covers the years of maturity and physical strength. Those years went to setting up the tabernacle, taking it down and carrying it.
- Cared for — The limits guard the servant. God would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to work for Him, and the heaviest burden got the greatest help.
- Commissioned — Merari carried boards, bars, sockets and pegs, a picture of the ministry that unites believers to Christ and to one another. What makes a task dignified is that God assigned it, not that it looks impressive.
- Closing — The window has an end. A brilliant career can still prove a splendid bubble. When the Lord comes, the chance to serve Him in the desert is gone.
even those that were numbered of them according to their families, were three thousand two hundred.
Numbers 4:44 closes the census of Merari's clans: 3,200 men aged thirty to fifty, counted to carry the tabernacle. These men carried the frame of God's dwelling — boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pegs and cords — so how does God match workers to a task?
Set beside the other two Levite families, Merari's clans stand out twice over: in size, and in the transport they received.
The Merarites numbered 3,200, more than either the Kohathites or Gershonites (v.44). They received wagons for their service (ch.7:8), twice as many as the Gershonites. Verse 48 then gives the total of the three families as 8,580 — that is, the males between the ages of 30 and 50.
What they carried explains the size of the force:
The MERARITES became a large branch of the Levites. They had charge of the heavier parts of the tabernacle, and to carry them they had four wagons and eight oxen.
Commentators find a picture in these parts: God's people joined into one.
Merari had charge with his sons of the boards, the sockets, pins and cords. These held the building together. In our notes on Exodus (chapter 26) we said that the boards of acacia wood, resting in the sockets of silver, picture Christ and His people. The bars of acacia wood tie the boards together. That framework pictures the building Ephesians speaks of, joined together as one — the church. The work of Merari suggests the thought of union.
The family name itself fits the work. Keeping God's pattern is unglamorous, and it is the first work people let go.
His name — Merari, "bitterness" — points to how painful this service is. Self-love breaks down under it, or runs off into some odd path that is easier on flesh and blood. Today the family of Merari has shrunk to a very small number, and they have done their work very badly. Who cares for these boards and bars, and pillars and pins and cords? Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the details of divine appointment? Who wants work of this menial kind, costing so much and bringing in so little?
The count is not of a crowd. Each man enters and leaves service at a set age.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every one of them finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of full capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it at fifty, in its wilderness form. As a picture, he leaves it only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
The count by families also gave each house its own line of work.
There were three principal houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. Each house, with its sons, received its own line of service in Numbers 4, where they are numbered again from thirty years old and up. Nothing is more important in practice than this: each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it. It also matters a great deal never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
So who supplies the strength for a load like that?
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. Of this the Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof. Their work, when on the march, was harder than that of the Kohathites... Thought was taken for both of these great families, and the one which had the heaviest burden had the greatest help. What consideration there was in this!
And the value of the task never rested on how it looked to others.
It was enough for the Merarite to know that the LORD had assigned him his work. This was enough to give dignity to what nature might think the smallest and meanest matter. It does not matter what we are doing, as long as we are doing the work God has appointed for us.
- Counted — 3,200 Merarites aged thirty to fifty. They were the largest of the three Levite families, part of 8,580 in all, and every man had his place.
- Assigned — they carried the boards, bars, pillars and sockets. This heavy frame held the tabernacle together, a picture of God's people joined as one building.
- Costly — Merari means "bitter." The work costs much and brings in little, so few keep at it.
- Supplied — the family with the heaviest burden got the greatest help: four wagons and eight oxen. God provides what the work He gives needs.
- Dignified — the worth of the task came from the One who assigned it, not from its size. So no one needed to envy or take over another's service.
These are they that were numbered of the families of the sons of Merari, whom Moses and Aaron numbered according to the commandment of Jehovah through Moses.
Numbers 4 ends its long list of tabernacle duties with a count, and Merari's house is counted last. Two questions follow: who hands out a servant's work, and does it matter if that work looks small?
Each of Levi's three houses had its own load and its own count.
Three sons of Levi, through their descendants, carried out the Levite service of the Tabernacle. The Sons of Merari (3,200) carried the boards, bars, pillars, sockets, pins, and so on. The Sons of Gershon (2,630) carried the curtains and the hangings of the court. The Sons of Kohath (2,750) carried the holy vessels.
Merari carried the parts that held the building up. One writer finds a meaning in that.
Merari had charge with his sons of the boards, the sockets, pins and cords. These held the building together. The boards of acacia wood, resting in the sockets of silver, picture Christ and His people. The bars of acacia wood join the boards into one frame. That frame is a type of the building we read of in Ephesians, a building "joined together," the church. The work of Merari suggests the thought of union.
Moses counted them "according to the commandment of the LORD." That phrase settles who hands out the work.
They, with their sons, each have a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4. There they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward. Nothing is more important in practice than this. Each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do. When he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure also that it is no small matter never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
The name Merari means "bitterness." One writer ties that to the nature of the job.
His name — Merari, "bitterness" — speaks of the painful character of such service. Self-love will break down under it, or run off into some odd path that is easier on flesh and blood. Indeed, in our day the family of Merari has dwindled down to a very small number, and they have done their work very badly. Who thinks of God's plan and pattern, and all the details of Divine appointment? Who wants work of this menial kind, costing so much and bringing in so little?
The same cost falls on anyone who takes that stand for Christ in the world today.
Let anyone take a firm, clear stand for Christ in the world... and there begin to set up "the sockets of silver." Be sure of it: such a course will bring much sorrow and bitterness of soul... Do you need further proof of this reading? Here is a striking one. We find very few people of the hard-working Merarite character. Why? Showing such a character always costs nature much labour and sorrow, and nature loves ease. Human nature never could be a Merarite. Nothing will make us true Merarites but deep communion with Him who was THE MAN OF SORROWS.
Carrying tent pegs sounds like the lowest job on the list. It is not.
A special dignity belonged to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was only caring for a few "pins" or "sockets." Everything connected with the tabernacle was of the deepest interest and highest value... To touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. To be a Merarite looking after those pins was far more glorious than holding the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria.
Merari carried the heaviest load. God matched the help to the burden.
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. Of this the Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof. Their work, when on the march, was harder than that of the Kohathites. Moses gave two wagons and four oxen... to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. Both of these great families had help, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help... God called no one to carry Levite burdens before thirty years of age, and no one continued such service after fifty.
- Counted — God's command listed Merari's 3,200 men. A servant's place starts with God's reckoning, not his own ambition.
- Commanded — each house had its own line of service. Know your work, stick to it, and leave another's alone.
- Carrying — Merari's boards, bars and sockets held the whole structure together. That work pictures what joins God's people into one.
- Costly — the name means bitterness. Such work breaks down self-love, and only deep communion with the Man of Sorrows keeps it going.
- Crowned — God matches the load to the strength and sends wagons where burdens are heaviest. One tent peg of His dwelling outweighs a throne.
All those that were numbered of the Levites, whom Moses and Aaron and the princes of Israel numbered, after their families and according to their fathers' houses,
Numbers 4 ends with a headcount: Moses, Aaron and Israel's leaders list every Levite man aged thirty to fifty, clan by clan and family by family. Why does God count workers at all, and why these ages?
This count is not paperwork. One writer sees in it God's claim on people who are already His, the same claim He holds over the stars.
This was an expression of His rights as Lord of Israel. He had the right to take their number, for they were all His own. If He had no right to them, and nothing to expect from them, He would not have counted their total. The same divine title appears in another part of His realm: "He determines the number of the stars; He gives to all of them their names." That expresses His sovereignty over the heavenly hosts. (Psalm 147:4)
after-note-none:
The two ages open and close a working life. One writer reads them as pictures — a man's full capacity, and his final reckoning.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are of age for service. Every such man finds his place in this reckoning. He enters it at thirty, the age of realized capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it at fifty, as far as the wilderness form of the service goes — or, as a picture, only when the creature stands before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
Elsewhere the starting age is twenty-five. Commentators differ on how the two figures fit together. One suggests that the younger men did the lighter work:
God fixed their period of service. It was the same for all, from 25 to 50 years. It was a gracious provision that at 50 the Levite could retire from the harder work. There is no clash here with the statement of chapter 4. From 25 to 30 they could do the lighter work of the tabernacle, just as the Levites over 50 were free from the harder tasks. The Lord still fixes the period in which His servants are to serve Him, and He also looks out for their comfort.
Each man in this total had a defined job. Nobody chose his own.
It must have been beautiful to watch God's workers in the wilderness. Each one was at his post, and each moved in the sphere God had appointed for him. So the moment the cloud lifted and the order came to strike camp, every man knew what he had to do, and he gave himself to that and to nothing else... The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
The verse counts the Levites by clans and fathers' houses. One writer follows those houses into their separate lines of work, and draws out two duties for every servant of God:
The Levites are numbered from infants only days old, marked out for service long before it could begin. Strength is given before service is claimed; but from their earliest days God sets them apart according to His grace and His intentions. There were three main houses — Gershon, Kohath, and Merari. Numbers 4 gives each of them, with their sons, its own line of service, and there they are numbered again from thirty years old and upward... There is nothing more important in practice than that each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do; and that when known he should stick to it. Be assured also that it is of no small importance never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
The families in this count carried very different loads, down to the tent pegs. Their worth came from what they belonged to.
Everything connected with the tabernacle carried the deepest interest and the highest value... To touch the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness was a holy dignity and privilege. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to hold the royal sceptre of Egypt or Assyria.
This is the second of three separate musters in the camp, and all three meet in one person today.
We may say therefore that God not only called the warriors who were to take possession of the land but also the workers who were to take charge of His sanctuary, and the Aaronic family, who were to be the worshippers. But though the three callings were separate in Israel, the Christian of today finds them coalesced in himself, though the occasions of their exercise be separate.
Centuries later, only a handful of Levites answered the call to rebuild.
The Levites gladly took up their work through grace. There were only seventy-four. (See Ezra 2:40.) In the wilderness, counting only those "from thirty years old up to fifty years old," they had numbered 8,580. (Num. 4:46-48.) So when the Lord opened the door for them to leave their captivity in Babylon, very few had cared to take it... The fidelity of these seventy-four was all the more precious to the Lord, and with His presence and blessing they were enough for His service.
- Counted — God numbers the Levites because they are already His own. He counts and names what belongs to Him, right up to the stars.
- Qualified — God marked them out as babies, but counted them for service from thirty to fifty. Commentators differ on how the age of twenty-five fits in.
- Commissioned — every counted man had one question to settle: is this the work the Lord gave me? Knowing it, he stuck to it and left other men's work alone.
- Carried — a single pin of the tabernacle outranked the sceptre of Egypt. Worth came from what the load belonged to, not from its size.
- Continued — 8,580 once; 74 in Ezra's day. A shrunken number, with God's presence, was still enough for His service.
from thirty years old and upward even to fifty years old, every one that came to serve [in] the work of the service, and [in] the work of carrying, in the tent of meeting,
The verse ends the count of the tribe of Levi: every man between thirty and fifty, listed as fit to carry holy things through the desert. Why did God fix those years, and why did He give each man his own load?
These years are a man's strongest. The verse names two jobs for them — the service and the carrying — and God claimed both for the tent where He lived among His people.
The Levites were to serve from the age of thirty to the age of fifty. That is, their years of maturity and physical strength were to be given to energetic service. It was theirs to set up the tabernacle and take it down, as we saw at the end of Numbers 1, and to carry it and its contents when the people travelled.
The upper limit matters as much as the lower one. God set both ends, and He measures the task against the strength of the man who must do it.
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So no one was called to take part in the Levites' work of carrying burdens until he had reached thirty. And no one was asked to continue that service after fifty... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
The verse calls it "the service of bearing burdens." What they carried is what gave the work its value.
This service is the carrying of the holy things through the wilderness. For us it pictures how we present Christ and the heavenly truths of Christianity to the world as we pass through it... Yet this testimony is of the highest possible value, and God counts it so. If it is His good pleasure to go through the world in this way, He trusts Himself to the loving obedience of His people to carry Him through.
Every Levite in this count knew what he had to carry. That settled a great many questions before they could be asked.
A Levite had no difficulty about his work. It was all settled for him with divine precision. The burden each had to carry, and the work each had to do, were set out so clearly that the heart had no room left for questions.
Knowing your own work has a second side: leaving your neighbour's work alone.
Nothing matters more in practice than this. Each servant of God should know the work He has given him to do, and once he knows it, he should stick to it. Be assured also that it is of no small importance never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will.
Thirty was not the whole story at either end of the range.
The closing verses show that the Levites' service began at twenty-five. After five preliminary years, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended, but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
The total that follows this verse is 8,580. Later counts of the same tribe look very different.
In the reign of David the Levites, numbered from thirty years old and upward, were 38,000. In the wilderness of Sinai, those between the ages of thirty and fifty numbered 8,580.
The need for such men did not end with the desert.
In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, Levites were scarce... Today, Levites are still being looked for: those who are willing to bear the burden connected with God's testimony.
- Burden given. God fixed each man's load with precision. No one in this count invented his own job or took his neighbour's.
- Burden measured. God set both ends of the range. He will not overtax the strength of anyone He calls to work for Him.
- Burden carried. The load was God's own holy things. He trusts His people to carry Him through the wilderness.
- Burden released. After fifty the heavy work stopped, but the service did not. Age changed its character instead of ending it.
- Burden unclaimed. Only 8,580 men stood on this roll, and the search for burden-bearers has never ended.
even those that were numbered of them, were eight thousand five hundred and eighty.
Numbers 4 ends with a total: 8,580 men from the tribe of Levi. Each was between thirty and fifty, and each was fit to carry the tabernacle — the tent of worship — through the desert. Why count servants, why those ages, and why so small a number for so big a task?
Moses had just counted the three Levite families one by one. This line adds them up.
The Merarites numbered 3,200, more than either the Kohathites or Gershonites (v.44). Verse 48 then gives the total of the three families as 8,580, that is, of those males between the ages 30 and 50.
The window of years was not arbitrary. Writers note that service began earlier in a lighter form and did not stop completely at fifty.
The closing verses show that Levite service began at twenty-five years of age. After five years of preparation, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
One writer finds meaning in the ages themselves, and in a count that leaves nobody out.
Now comes the numbering of the Levites who are old enough for service. Every one of them finds his place in this count. He enters it at thirty, the age of realized capacity (3 x 10). He leaves it, in its wilderness form, at fifty — a picture of the creature standing before his God in the day of account (5 x 10).
Compared with the same tribe in David's day, 8,580 is a small number.
The place and the service of the Levites were a real privilege, and they surely had no wish to be excused from it. What is more, God appointed it to them, and He keeps to Himself the right to choose the fitting instruments for His work. He would have a whole army of workers, though at first, like the priests, those available for active service were far fewer than in later times. In the reign of David (1 Chron. 23:3) the Levites, counted from 30 years old and upward, were 38,000.
The count matters because each man in it already had a load to carry. The chapter names the loads before the total.
It must have been a beautiful sight to see God's workers in the wilderness. Each one was at his post, and each moved in the sphere God had appointed him. So the moment the cloud lifted and the order came to strike camp, every man knew what he had to do. He gave himself to that and to nothing else. No man had any right to think for himself. The Lord thought for all. The Levites had declared themselves "on the Lord's side." They had yielded to His authority, and that fact lay at the very base of all their wilderness work and service. Seen in this light, it made no difference at all whether a man carried a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
The same God who fixed the numbers also limited what any man had to carry. He supplied help where the load was heaviest.
Their work, when on the march, was more demanding than that of the Kohathites. When the tabernacle was set up, the leaders of the twelve tribes brought an offering. Out of it Moses gave the Gershonites two wagons and four oxen, and the Merarites four wagons and eight oxen (7). God had both of these great families in mind, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help. ... To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So He called no one to carry burdens in the Levite work before the age of thirty, and He asked no one to continue that service after fifty.
Centuries later, only seventy-four Levites came home from exile in Babylon. One writer sets that number beside this one.
The Levites through grace readily started their work. There were only seventy-four. (See Ezra 2:40.) In the wilderness, counting only those who were "from thirty years old up to fifty years old," they numbered 8,580. (Num. 4:46-48.) When the Lord opened the door out of their captivity in Babylon, very few cared to use it. Sadly, they had made a home in the land of their exile and had forgotten Jerusalem. So the faithfulness of these seventy-four was all the more precious to the Lord. With His presence and blessing they were enough for His service.
- Counted. The verse totals the three Levite families — 8,580 men aged thirty to fifty, the ones fit to carry the tabernacle.
- Capable. Five years of preparation led up to thirty, the age of full strength. At fifty the heavy lifting stopped, but the service went on in a new form.
- Chosen. God Himself picks the instruments for His work. At this stage the workers were far fewer than in David's day.
- Charged. Every man counted had a load of his own. The only question that mattered was whether this was the task the Lord had given him.
- Cared for. The God who set the count also set the limits and sent the wagons. The heaviest burden got the greatest help, and later seventy-four returning Levites were enough for Him.
According to the commandment of Jehovah they were numbered by Moses, every one for his service, and for his burden, and numbered by him, as Jehovah had commanded Moses.
This closing verse sums up the whole Levite count: God's own word gave every man his exact task and his exact load. Two questions sit inside it — who decides what a servant does, and does the size of the load decide its worth?
No one in this workforce chose his own job.
It must have been a beautiful thing to watch God's workers in the wilderness. Each one was at his post, and each moved in the place God had appointed for him. So the moment the cloud lifted and the order came to strike camp, every man knew what he had to do. He gave himself to that and to nothing else. No man had any right to think for himself. The Lord thought for all. The Levites had declared themselves "on the Lord's side." They had yielded themselves to His authority. This fact lay at the very base of all their wilderness work and service. Seen in this light, it made no difference at all whether a man carried a pin, a curtain, or a golden lampstand. The great question for each and for all was simply, "Is this my work? Is this what the Lord has given me to do?"
Each Levite family had its own line of work, and no one should cross into another's.
Each family, with their sons, has a line of service given into their hands in Numbers 4, which counts them again from thirty years old and upward. This also is of great importance. Nothing is more important in practice than for each servant of God to know the work He has given him to do. And when he knows it, he should stick to it. Be sure, too, that it matters greatly never to interfere with another's service. The Lord is sovereign in this. He divides according to His own will. … Every saint of God has a work entrusted to him by the Lord, which nobody else can do so well. The great business is to find what it is.
Copying someone else's line is where the damage begins.
God has His quarrymen, His stone-squarers, and His masons. The work progresses by each man attending diligently to his own work. If all were quarrymen, where would the stone-squarers be? If all were stone-squarers, where would the masons be? One man aiming at another's line of things does the greatest possible damage to the cause of Christ and to God's work in the world. So does trying to imitate another's gift.
Alongside the service stood the load.
Every Levite was given his individual task, his "burden" that he would be able to bear (Num. 4:49).
Oxen carried some of the Levites' loads, but not the Kohathites'. That looks unfair.
The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to hand over to the oxen, who made bad work of it at a later time. Nothing can free their shoulders from that heavy honour. So it often is with us. The most heavily laden are simply the most trusted, and the sharing of burdens is more equal than it looks.
Looking after tent pins looks like a small life.
It was a holy dignity and privilege to touch even the smallest pin of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness. It was far more glorious to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle than to hold the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria. True, going by the meaning of his name, that Merarite might seem a poor, sorrowful, labouring man. But his labour stood connected with the dwelling place of the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth.
The verse ends by repeating that Moses did exactly as commanded. That is how thousands of men moved without collision.
It was a special mercy to have the authority of a "Thus says the Lord" for everything they put their hand to. God's hand marked out a particular line of things for each member of that remarkable tribe of workers, and God's priest oversaw it. No one did what he liked. No one ran after another man. All bowed to the authority of God and did exactly what they were told. This was the secret of order among the eight thousand five hundred and eighty workers (Num. 4:48), and it is still the only true secret of order. Why is there so much confusion in the professing church? Simply from the lack of whole and absolute submission to the word of God.
- Command. The word of the Lord fixed the count, so no Levite chose his own post.
- Service. Each man had his own line of work. Know yours, stick to it, and leave another's alone.
- Burden. Each load matched its bearer — and the heaviest loads mark the most trusted, not the least favoured.
- Dignity. Worth came from what the work touched, not its size; a tent pin of the tabernacle outranked a throne.
- Order. Thousands moved without confusion because all bowed to one authority. Where that submission goes missing, confusion follows.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
Numbers 5 opens with the LORD speaking to Moses, and the order that follows sends three kinds of defiled people outside the camp. Why would God rescue this nation, settle in the middle of it, and then put some of them out?
The command gives its own reason: God lives in the middle of the camp. One writer traces that presence back to its cause.
The laws and appointments of chapter 5 were there to keep the camp holy — put out the leper, and so on — "that they may not defile their camp, in the midst of which I dwell." God's dwelling with them rested on redemption. He never dwelt with man until redemption was accomplished. But now the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle. God had never dwelt with Abraham. But as soon as redemption was accomplished He said, "I will dwell among the people of Israel and will be their God" (Ex. 29:45).
The rule is short, but the principle under it reaches far beyond the desert.
In a few words we have here the great foundation principle behind discipline in the assembly. It is a principle of the very last importance, though sadly few understand it or pay attention to it. The presence of God among His people Israel is what demanded holiness on their part. The place where the Holy One dwells must be holy. This is a plain and necessary truth.
The same writer draws a line between what God bears with and what He cannot house.
We must remember that discipline was essential to His staying among them. He could not dwell where evil was deliberately and openly approved. Blessed be His name, He can and does bear with weakness. But His eyes are too pure to look at evil, and He cannot look at wrongdoing.
Leprosy, a bodily discharge, and contact with a dead body are three different states. Commentators read them as a sequence in the working of sin.
First, the removal of persons who may be defiled by leprosy, or by bodily discharge, or by contact with death. Leprosy is a type of that "sin in the flesh" of which Romans 8:3 speaks. The "discharge" reminds us of the words of our Lord, "what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a person" (Matt. 15:11). Since man is corrupted by sin, everything that comes out of him is defiled and defiling. Then, as the Apostle James tells us, "sin when it is fully grown brings forth death."
Israel camped in several separate camps around the tabernacle. The command reached past all of them at once.
In one sense God treats the camp as one whole. So all His people had to be concerned about putting out the leper. According to Numbers 2 there were five camps: Judah, Reuben, Ephraim, Dan, and that of Levi in the middle surrounding the tabernacle. The individual leper would have defiled his own camp, but that in turn would have defiled the whole nation where God dwelt. So it was not enough to put him out of his own camp. He had to go outside them all. If the word of the LORD put a man out of one section, no other section could welcome him or even tolerate him.
No other nation received this order, and inside Israel it cut across the closest ties.
No relationship was close enough, and no friendship strong enough, to excuse disobeying this command. "Outside the camp" marked the place God appointed for such people. "You shall put out" laid on everyone the responsibility to act rightly. God gave no such order to the nations around them. Only Israel stood before Him on the ground of redemption, and only of Israel could it be said that He dwelt there. People might have said, "How unnatural, to act like this against your own family." "How unloving, to put your dearest friend outside the camp." "A merciful God could never ask for such an act in His name." Such thoughts might have passed through many a mind, and the natural man might have agreed with them. But anyone taught by God would see they were wrong.
One writer sets this command beside an order given to the church.
Here we have God's command to put the unclean person out of the camp. In the New Testament God gives a command just as divine: "Purge the evil person from among you" (1 Cor. 5:13). The principle is the same, whether in the camp of Israel or in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ.
- Dwelling — God lives in the middle of His redeemed people. Everything in this chapter follows from that one fact.
- Demand — He bears with weakness, but He will not stay where evil is openly approved.
- Diagnosis — the three defilements trace sin's course: the corrupt nature, what comes out of it, and the death it ends in.
- Duty — the whole camp shared the responsibility. No family tie and no friendship excused anyone.
- Durability — the principle outlived the desert. The same God who kept Israel's camp clean gives the church the same order.
Command the children of Israel, that they put out of the camp every leper, and every one that hath an issue, and whosoever is defiled by a dead person
Numbers 5 opens with the camp arranged around the tabernacle. The first order given to that camp is to send three kinds of unclean people out of it. That raises two questions: why did God ask for it, and what does it mean for His people now?
The command ends with a reason. One writer builds all discipline among God's people on that reason.
In a few words we are shown the great foundation principle on which the discipline of the assembly rests. It is a principle of the very last importance, yet sadly few understand it or pay attention to it. It was the presence of God in the midst of His people Israel that demanded holiness on their part. "So that they do not defile their camps, in the midst of which I dwell." The place where the Holy One dwells must be holy.
God had not always lived among people. What changed was redemption.
God dwelt with them on the ground of redemption. He never dwelt with man until redemption was accomplished. But now the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle. God had never dwelt with Abraham. Yet as soon as redemption was accomplished, He said, "I will dwell among the children of Israel, and will be their God."
The verse names three distinct defilements, and each carries its own moral picture.
Leprosy is a type of that "sin in the flesh" of which Romans 8:3 speaks. The discharge reminds us of the words of our Lord: "what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a person." Sin has corrupted man, so everything that comes out of him is defiled and defiling. And then, as the Apostle James tells us, "sin when it is fully grown brings forth death."
Notice what was not the test. The list has nothing to do with outsiders, ancestry, or nationality.
Were the children of Israel commanded to put out of the camp everyone who was not an Israelite? Everyone who was not circumcised? Everyone who could not trace his family line back to Abraham? Were these the grounds of exclusion? Not at all. Who then were to be put out? "Everyone who is leprous" — that is, everyone in whom sin is allowed to work. "Everyone who has a discharge" — that is, everyone from whom a defiling influence is coming out; and "whoever is unclean through contact with the dead." These were the people to be separated from the camp in the wilderness, and the ones they picture are to be separated from the assembly now.
Two phrases carry the weight here. One names the place; the other names the duty. Neither left room for pleading.
No relationship, however close, and no friendship, however strong, could excuse disobedience to this command. "Outside the camp" named the place God had appointed for such people. "You shall put them out" put the responsibility to act rightly on everyone. Someone might say, "How unnatural to act like this against members of one's own family," or, "A merciful God could never ask for such an act to be done in His name." The natural man might have agreed with such thoughts. But the one taught of God would see they were wrong.
Yet nothing was rushed.
The case had to be proved beyond mistake to be leprosy before discipline could take place. When this was made sure, then the children of Israel were to put out of the camp every leper.
Israel camped in separate tribal groups. Could a man just move to another section?
The individual leper would have defiled his own camp. That in turn would have defiled the whole nation where God dwelt. So it was not enough to put him out of his own camp. He had to go outside them all. A man put out of one section by the word of the LORD could not be welcomed, or even tolerated, in another. There were differences in the tribes, and each had its own place. But there was no difference in their relation to the holiness of God.
Exclusion was not meant to last. The same law also provided a way back.
If this holiness had been all that the LORD cared about, the leper would have stayed outside the camp for good, cut off from the tabernacle and from the company of God's people. But He cared for the leper. He provided for his return to all his privileges in the camp, if only he was first healed. Money, entreaties, promises, efforts — all would be of no use. The LORD Himself must heal the man, or he could never be cleansed. So grace had room to display itself, once the claims of divine holiness had been acknowledged.
- Presence. The command rests on one reason: God lives in the middle of the camp, and His dwelling place must be holy.
- Redemption. He was there because He had redeemed them. Before redemption He dwelt with no one — not even Abraham.
- Picture. The three cases picture sin at work inside, a defiling influence flowing out, and contact with death — what sin produces in the end.
- Everyone. The test was never nationality or ancestry. It was defilement. No family tie could win an exemption — though nothing moved until the case was proved.
- Return. Holiness put the man out. Grace healed him and brought him back, with every privilege restored.
both male and female shall ye put out; outside the camp shall ye put them, that they defile not their camps, in the midst whereof I dwell.
God's command here is short and total: every unclean person goes outside the camp, male and female alike. The reason stands in the last clause — God Himself lives in the middle of that camp.
Commentators read the closing clause as the key to the whole command.
Here, in a few words, we have the great foundation principle on which the discipline of the assembly rests. It is a principle of the very last importance, though sadly so little understood or followed. It was the presence of God among His people Israel that required holiness from them. "That they may not defile their camp, in the midst of which I dwell." The place where the Holy One dwells must be holy. This is a plain and necessary truth.
What brought God into the camp and what kept Him there are two different things.
We have already noted that redemption was the basis of God's dwelling among His people. But we must remember that discipline was essential to His staying with them. He could not dwell where evil was deliberately and openly allowed. Blessed be His name, He can and does bear with weakness; but His eyes are too pure to see evil, and He cannot look at wrong. Evil cannot live with Him, and He can have no fellowship with it. It would mean denying His very nature; and He cannot deny Himself.
The rule covers both male and female. The objections it raises are easy to imagine.
No relationship was close enough, and no friendship strong enough, to justify disobeying this command. "Outside the camp" named the place God had appointed for such people. "You shall put out" laid the responsibility on everyone to act rightly. People might have said, "How unnatural to act like this against members of your own family!" "How unloving to put your dearest friend outside the camp!" "A merciful God could never ask for such a thing in His name." Thoughts like these might have crossed many a mind. The natural man would call them right, but anyone taught by God would see they were wrong. The Lord had spoken, and He must be obeyed.
The verse uses the plural, because Israel was arranged in distinct camps around the tabernacle. Yet the removal is out of all of them.
In one sense God regards the camp as one complete whole. According to Numbers 2 there were five camps: Judah, Reuben, Ephraim, Dan, and Levi in the middle, surrounding the tabernacle. The individual leper would have defiled his own camp. That camp in turn would have defiled the whole nation where God dwelt. So it was not enough to put him out of his own camp; he had to be put outside them all. If the word of the Lord put a man out of one section, no other section could welcome him or even tolerate him.
The command was severe, so the law around it was careful. Suspicion alone put no one outside.
Only a priest — Aaron or one of his sons — could tell clean from unclean in such cases and give a true judgment. When there was any appearance of leprosy, the man was brought to the priest. There had to be certain proof of leprosy before discipline could take place.
Being put outside was not the end of the story. God provided a way back.
Finally, Numbers 19 tells us how a person defiled by the dead could come back inside the camp in keeping with God's holiness. The ashes of a red heifer, killed and burnt, were stored for this purpose. Some of them were mixed with running water. The liquid made this way became a water of separation. Sprinkled on the defiled person, it met his defilement in God's own way and made it possible for him to return to communion and privilege.
Writers connect the camp with the church, treating the two commands as one rule applied twice.
Leprosy could not be tolerated in the camp in the midst of which the Lord dwelt... This is a picture of sin — sin showing itself in and through someone who belongs to the people of God. While here we have the divine command to put the unclean person out of the camp, we have a command just as truly from God in the New Testament: "Purge the evil person from among you" (1 Cor. 5:13). The principle is the same, whether in the camp of Israel or in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ.
- Presence — the command rests on the last clause of the verse: God dwells there, so the place must be holy — in Israel's camp then, in the church now.
- Permanence — redemption brought God in; judging evil keeps Him there.
- People — male or female, close relative or dearest friend: God's word allows no exception.
- Proof — the priest alone judged, and the case had to be certain before anyone went outside.
- Path back — the ashes of the red heifer in running water met the defilement God's own way and opened the road home to communion.
And the children of Israel did so, and put them outside the camp as Jehovah had said to Moses, so did the children of Israel.
Numbers 5:4 closes a short command with a short report: God spoke, and Israel obeyed. Why did God ask His redeemed people to remove some of their own? And what made them do it without argument?
The command exists because God lived among them. One writer traces that privilege back to its foundation:
They were to keep the camp holy — put out the leper, and so on — "so that they may not defile their camp, in the midst of which I dwell." God's dwelling with them was on the ground of redemption. He never dwelt with man until redemption was accomplished. But now the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle.
Redemption brought God in. Something else kept Him there:
We have already noted that redemption was the basis of God's dwelling among His people. But we must remember that discipline was essential to His staying with them. He could not dwell where evil was deliberately and openly approved. Blessed be His name, He can and does bear with weakness. But His eyes are too pure to look on evil, and He cannot look at wrongdoing.
This verse records speed. There is no gap between the command and the action:
Leprosy could not be tolerated in the camp in the midst of which the LORD dwelt. Israel obeyed this command at once. "And the people of Israel did so, and put them outside the camp."
One writer imagines the objections family and friendship might have raised:
Relationships however close, and friendships however strong, could raise no plea that would justify disobedience to this command… "How unnatural," someone might have said, "to act like this against members of one's own family." "How unkind to put outside the camp one's dearest friend." "A merciful God could never demand such an act in His name." Such thoughts may have passed through many a mind, and the natural man might have endorsed them as correct. But anyone taught of God would see they were wrong. The LORD had spoken, and He must be obeyed.
Israel's camp was made up of several sections, and that shaped how far the removal had to reach:
The individual leper would have defiled his own camp, but that in turn would have defiled the whole nation where God dwelt. So it was not enough to put him out of his own camp — he had to be put outside them all. A man put out of one section by the word of the LORD could not be welcomed, or even tolerated, in another section.
The test for removal was never family background or being an outsider:
Were the people of Israel commanded to put out of the camp everyone who was not an Israelite? Everyone who was not circumcised? Everyone who could not trace his family line unbroken back to Abraham? Were these the grounds of exclusion from the camp? Not at all. Who then were to be put out? "Everyone who is leprous" — that is, everyone in whom sin is allowed to work. "Everyone who has a discharge" — that is, everyone from whom a defiling influence is spreading. And "everyone who is unclean through contact with the dead."
Another writer ties this command to one given to believers:
Here we have the divine command to put the unclean person out of the camp. In the New Testament we have the equally divine command: "Purge the evil person from among you" (1 Cor. 5:13). The principle is the same whether in the camp of Israel or in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Putting a person out was not God's last word on him:
Had the laws about leprosy stopped with the instruction to exclude the leper from the camp and to shut up the house, God's holiness would have been cared for. But the individual or the house would have been left in permanent uncleanness that nothing could cure. That, however, was not His mind. No compromise could be allowed between holiness and defilement. But He worked to remove the leprosy and to bring the person back into all the privileges of God's redeemed people.
- Presence. God dwelt among Israel on the ground of redemption, and His dwelling is the reason the camp had to be clean.
- Command. His presence demanded that evil be dealt with, because He cannot approve what He dwells beside.
- Obedience. This verse reports action, not discussion. Israel obeyed at once, and made no exception for family or friendship.
- Reach. The removal extended past one tribe's camp to all of them; holiness was one standard for the whole nation.
- Restoration. Those put out were God's own people, and the same law that excluded them mapped the road back to full privilege.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
God speaks to Moses again, and the subject turns from uncleanness in the camp to wrongs done between neighbours inside it. It raises a simple, searching question: when one person cheats another, who is really wronged, and what does God want done before the matter is closed?
One writer sums up the chapter and the book it belongs to:
Chapter 5 presents three things. They all have to do with the purity of the camp, seen as the dwelling-place of God. They also have to do with our pilgrim journey through the wilderness, which is the great subject of the Book of Numbers. That journey tests everything, and the presence of God, ungrieved among us, is our only security, our guidance, and our strength.
The standard is not how near people may come to God. It is that God has come to live among them:
He stoops to be with the people, and He is there in the very middle of their camp. They must carefully avoid anything unsuitable for the presence of God. He was living there; it was not just a case of man drawing near to Him.
The law refuses to treat cheating as a private dispute between two people. It has a vertical side that cannot be settled by paying the man back:
God demanded repayment, which showed that He would not ignore the rights of the one sinned against. But He also required a sacrifice, and that showed that a trespass against your neighbour was not something to hush up or patch over, with no acknowledgment of the guilt before God... Forgiveness from his neighbour was one thing. Forgiveness from God was another, and the offender was to be content with nothing less than that... A man might be defrauded without suffering much inconvenience from it. But a trespass against such a man was a trespass against the Lord, and it could only be atoned for as the law directed.
One writer names confession as the great point here, and warns against a grace that makes it optional:
Suppose people committed any sin, trespassing against the Lord, and were guilty. The great point insisted on is confession — and more than that, reparation by the guilty party where possible. In every case, however, the confession is to God Himself... The grace of God has brought in unlimited forgiveness, and that grace would be a disaster if it did not enforce confession. Can you imagine anything more dreadful, morally, than a real weakening of the sense of sin in people brought near to God?... Whatever produces such an effect is the deepest wrong to Him, and the greatest loss to us. This passage guards against it.
Words of regret do not satisfy this law. The offender must hand back what he took and add a fifth on top:
If a Jew had trespassed against his brother, it was not enough for him to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to restore the thing in which he had trespassed, and add a fifth to it. We are not under the law, but we can still gather much instruction from its rules... If we have trespassed against anyone, it is not enough to confess our sin to God and to our brother. We must make restitution. We are called to give practical proof that we have judged ourselves for the thing in which we trespassed.
Restitution is more than a penalty on the offender. One writer sees grace at work in it:
Grace comes in to enable one to make full reparation... It is not only that he is forgiven and goes on with God as forgiven. The failure itself is made good, so that the person whose rights were violated ends up better off than before.
What if the wronged man has died and no relative is left? The debt does not disappear:
Sometimes the trespass could not be repaid to the person who had suffered the wrong, or to his relative. Then it was due to God, in the person of the priest, as well as the sin-offering. In God's camp no one could do a wrong without making amends for it.
The same demand holds for believers today:
We must confess when we do or say what is wrong. If there is no confession, our communion will certainly be interrupted. Communion with unconfessed sin on the conscience is a moral impossibility.
- Dwelling. God lives in the middle of the camp, so nothing between neighbours stays only between neighbours.
- Trespass. Cheating a person is a trespass against the Lord. Settling with the man still leaves the account with God open.
- Confession. Grace does not cancel confession — it enforces it, and a faith that dulls the sense of sin has gone wrong.
- Restitution. Full repayment plus a fifth turns regret into proof, and leaves the injured party better off than before.
- Atonement. Full repayment still did not replace the sacrifice, because forgiveness from a neighbour is not forgiveness from God.
Speak unto the children of Israel, When a man or woman shall commit any of all the sins of man to work unfaithfulness against Jehovah, and that soul is guilty,
God lives in the middle of Israel's camp, so a wrong done to a neighbour there is never a private matter. This verse calls such a wrong unfaithfulness to the Lord Himself, and what follows shows what He asks of the guilty person.
The instruction comes in a book about a people on the move, and the whole chapter is shaped by who is travelling with them.
Chapter 5 presents three things. They have to do with the purity of the camp, seen as the dwelling place of God. They also have to do with our journey through the wilderness, which is the great subject of the Book of Numbers. It is a journey that tests everything, and on it the presence of God, ungrieved among us, is our only security, guidance and strength.
The verse calls the offence a breach of faith with the Lord, even though the injury falls on a neighbour. Commentators see kindness in that, not only severity — God takes the side of the one who was harmed.
What grace on the Lord's part, to count wrongs against a neighbour as wrongs against Himself as well, and to call for repayment along with a guilt offering of the same kind!
Since the Lord is the party wronged, neither time nor a death can close the case.
The guilty man could never point to a death as cancelling the claim for repayment or the need to confess. The Lord did not pass away, and the priesthood did not die out. So he still had to own the Lord's claims, and he still had to pay back what he owed… Time would not make the offence less serious, for it was a trespass against the Eternal One.
The law asks the guilty person to own the wrong out loud, and then to hand something back. Writers point out that the two belong together and that neither works alone.
A second source of defilement meets us in verses 5-10. It deals with wrongdoing against the Lord and against one's neighbour. The answer to it was confession, and repayment with a fifth part added. This rule has a very clear voice for us today. Confession came first, but by itself it was not enough.
The same demand reaches past Israel to us.
It was not enough for a Jew who had wronged his brother to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to give back what he had wrongly taken and add a fifth to it… If we have wronged anyone, it is not enough to confess our sin to God and to our brother. We must make restitution. We are called to give practical proof that we have judged ourselves over the wrong we did.
Does full forgiveness make this old rule obsolete? One writer says it does the opposite: it makes confession more urgent.
The grace of God has brought in forgiveness without limit. That grace would be a disaster if it did not press for confession. Can you imagine anything more dreadful than a real weakening of the sense of sin in people who have been brought near to God?… Whatever has that effect is the deepest wrong to Him, and the greatest loss to us.
The danger shows itself in a casual way of treating our own failures.
We fear there is a light, careless, easy-going way of speaking about sin and failure, and it must grieve the Spirit of God deeply. We rest content with confession from the lips alone, without any deep, heartfelt sense of how evil sin is in God's sight. We never judge the sin at its root. And because we treat sin so lightly, the heart grows hard and the conscience loses its tenderness.
The offender in this chapter pays back with his own hands. But what about the debt a sinner owes God?
If robbing a fellow man is condemned like this, how can the sin of robbing God be answered? How can people who are already sinners repay Him? It is impossible… But we read in the Psalms of One who said, "then I restored that which I took not away" (Psalm 69:4)… There is not one breach that could be charged against us which He, in His wonderful grace and mercy, has not repaired.
That line of Psalm 69:4 comes from an older translation.
- Dwelling. God lives in the middle of His travelling people. His ungrieved presence is their only security, guidance and strength.
- Breach. God counts a wrong against a neighbour as unfaithfulness to Himself. That is grace: He makes the injured person's cause His own.
- Confession. Owning the sin comes first. Time and changed circumstances never let the claim lapse.
- Restitution. Sorry was never enough. Paying back the loss plus a fifth proved that the offender had judged himself.
- Restoration. No sinner can repay what he stole from God. But One restored what He never took away, and repaired every breach charged to us.
then they shall confess their sin which they have done; and he shall recompense his trespass according to the principal thereof, and shall add unto it the fifth part thereof, and give it unto him against whom he hath trespassed.
Numbers 5:7 stands in a set of rules for keeping Israel's camp clean, because God Himself lived in the middle of it. A wrong against another person counts here as a wrong against God, and only confession, full repayment and a fifth more settle it.
The wrong is not private. It happens in a place where God has taken up residence, and He notices.
God took knowledge of the wrong done there against a brother. If this is always true, it is even more true of the wrong done to Him, who has not been ashamed to call us His brothers. Sometimes the trespass could not be repaid to the person wronged, or to his relative. Then it was owed to God, through the priest, on top of the sin offering. In God's camp no one could do wrong without making amends for it.
Grace does not make confession optional. Forgiveness that left sin unconfessed would do harm.
Anyone who did wrong in the camp (verses 5-10) had to confess it and make restitution, and, following the law of the trespass offering, add the fifth part to it. God would not tolerate unconfessed sin in the camp where He lived… "The grace of God, which has brought in unlimited forgiveness, would be a disaster if it did not require confession. Can anything be more dreadful, morally, than a real weakening of the sense of sin in those brought near to God?"
The verse puts confession first and repayment straight after. The second is what proves the first was real.
God looked for confession and restitution whenever anyone had committed a trespass. The restitution proved that the confession was sincere. It was not enough for a Jew, who had trespassed against his brother, to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to restore the thing in which he had trespassed and add a fifth to it… So if we have trespassed against anyone, it is not enough to confess our sin to God and to our brother. We must make restitution. We are called to give practical proof that we have judged ourselves over the thing in which we trespassed.
The repayment goes to the person harmed. A sacrifice goes to God. Neither one cancels the other.
The injured party got back what the offender had wrongfully taken, plus a fifth of its value — a fine the law of his God laid on the offender. But restitution to the injured party was not all. The appointed victim also had to die to make atonement for the guilty person, so that God could forgive him. His neighbour's forgiveness was one thing. God's forgiveness was another, and the offender was to be content with nothing less.
Exact repayment would return things to where they stood before the wrong. God asks for more than that.
Even this was not enough. The offender still had to add the fifth part more. God would have a surplus of good come out of evil, not just a return to where things were before. That would not be worthy of Him. How could He have allowed sin at all, only to show His power in defeating it and no more? Such a victory would be little better than defeat.
The same writer traces that extra fraction forward into the gospel, where both sides of the wrong are more than repaired.
The person who offered the offering did more than could have been required if the trespass had not been committed, and the injured person was now a gainer to that extent… God and man are both considered as suffering through sin, and are both now gainers through the work of Christ; and this is the "much more" of the apostle in the fifth of Romans, and this is the "fifth part more" of the book of Leviticus.
Here the guilty man pays his own compensation. Against God, no sinner can.
If robbing a fellow man is condemned like this, how can the sin of robbing God ever be dealt with? How can those who are already sinners make restitution to Him? It is impossible… But we read in the Psalms of One who said, "What I did not steal must I now restore?" (Psalm 69:4). He was the trespass offering as well as the sin and burnt offerings. He has therefore made full and complete restitution… There is not one wrong that could be charged to us which He, in His wonderful grace and mercy, has not repaired.
The older translation this writer used reads that line as a statement: "Then I restored that which I took not away."
The rule reaches into ordinary Christian life, and into words as much as actions.
There is, we fear, today much defilement, even among the true saints of God, springing from trespass, in speech as well as in act, all of which grieves the Holy Spirit and greatly hinders spiritual blessing. Often a time of revival among God's people has come first, and then a time of awakening and conversion among sinners. Conviction of trespasses against their Lord and their fellow Christians seized them, and confession and restitution followed, as far as they were able.
- Confess — the wrong must be named, not hushed; unconfessed sin cannot stay in the camp where God lives.
- Restore — the repayment tests the apology; what leaves your hand proves you have judged yourself.
- Add — the extra fifth means the injured party ends up better off than before the wrong was done.
- Godward — the neighbour's forgiveness settles one account; only the sacrifice settles the other.
- Christ — no sinner can repay the debt to God, so One who never took anything away repaid it and repaired every wrong charged to us.
And if the man have no kinsman to recompense the trespass unto, the trespass which is recompensed to Jehovah shall be the priest's, besides the ram of the atonement, wherewith an atonement is made for him.
The law has just told a wrongdoer to pay back the person he wronged in full, plus a fifth. This verse takes the hardest case: the injured man has died and left no relative to receive the payment.
Under God's law, a debt owed to a person does not vanish when that person is gone. One writer traces the chain of possible recipients and draws out the justice in it.
Was anyone injured? The offender paid the money owed to that person, or, if he had died, to the one who represented him. If he left no representative, the money went to the priest. What justice this shows! No one was to take advantage of another, even his own brother. If he did cheat or wrong him, he committed a trespass against the Lord. The offender had to admit the injured man's rights and make amends for the harm he had done. But he also had to deal with the Lord about that wrong, and coming to the altar with a ram was his confession of it. So a guilty man could never plead death as a bar to the claim for restitution or the need to confess. The LORD did not pass away, and the priesthood did not die out. So His claims had to be met, and restitution had to be made.
The "next of kin" — older translations say "kinsman" — is the relative who can act for a dead man. When there is no such relative, the money does not stay in the wrongdoer's pocket.
God took notice of the wrong done there against a brother. If that is always true, it is even more true of a wrong done to Him, who has not been ashamed to call us His brothers. When the offender could not repay the person he had wronged, or that person's relative, the payment was owed to God, and He received it through the priest, on top of the sin-offering. In God's camp no one could do wrong without making amends for it.
The verse adds the ram "in addition to" the payment. The two can never be swapped for each other, and the order in which they are named carries its own lesson.
The only animal the offender could bring was a ram. Unfaithfulness is a special mark of a trespass, and the ram, which brings to mind being set apart for God, is a fitting offering to require. Besides this, there was the money payment. Unless the offender paid it, his trespass would not be forgiven. But money by itself could never have satisfied the Lord. The offence against the neighbour was a trespass against the Lord, and that called for atonement by blood. Where the trespass was against the Lord, the offering is mentioned first, and the money payment comes after. Where the trespass was against a neighbour, paying the neighbour back is mentioned first. Unless the offender was willing to do that, the Lord would not have accepted any offering from his hand.
The repayment always ran past the size of the loss.
The great thought pressed on us in the trespass-offering is restitution — amends for the harm done. The priest had to value the loss in silver, by the weight used in the sanctuary… But even this was not enough. A fifth more still had to be added. God will have more good come out of the evil than there was before, not just a return to where things stood. Anything less would not be worthy of Him. How could He have allowed sin at all, only to show His power in defeating it and nothing more? Such a victory would be little better than defeat.
Saying sorry was not the end of the matter for the Israelite, and one writer applies that to Christians now.
Restitution proved that the confession was sincere. It was not enough for a Jew who had wronged his brother to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to give back what he had taken and add a fifth to it… So if we have wronged anyone, it is not enough to confess our sin to God and to our brother. We must make restitution. We are called to give practical proof that we have judged ourselves for the wrong we did.
Chapter 5 is about removing what defiles the place where God lives among His people, and unsettled wrongs belong on that list.
Confession was the first thing, but by itself it was not enough. There is, we fear, today much defilement, even among the true saints of God, springing from trespass, in speech as well as in act, all of which is grieving to the Holy Spirit and a great hindrance to spiritual blessing. Not infrequently has a time of awakening and conversion amongst sinners been preceded by a time of revival amongst saints, when conviction of trespasses against their Lord and their fellow-Christians has seized them, followed by confession and restitution, as far as lay in their power.
- Every wrong is a debt. Injuring a neighbour is treated as a trespass against the Lord, so the claim is never only private.
- No debt expires. If the injured man is dead and has no next of kin, the payment still stands. Death is no excuse for keeping what was taken.
- The debt rises to God. What no human can now receive is handed to the priest for the Lord; in His camp no wrong goes without amends.
- Money never replaces blood. The ram of atonement goes with the repayment, because only sacrifice covers a wrong against God.
- God repays with a surplus. The added fifth shows He is not content to bring things back to where they stood. He brings more good out of the evil than there was before.
And every heave-offering of all the holy things of the children of Israel, which they present unto the priest, shall be his.
Numbers 5:9 belongs to a short law on trespass and repayment (verses 5–10), inside a chapter about keeping the camp holy for God. It answers one question: when a gift is set apart for God and handed to the priest, whose is it?
The chapter opens with commands to remove what defiles. The reason is God's presence among the people.
We might begin with the laws and appointments of chapter 5. They were to keep the camp holy — put out the leper, and so on — "that they may not defile their camp, in the midst of which I dwell." God dwelt with them on the basis of redemption. He never dwelt with man until redemption was complete. But now the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle.
Verses 5–8 deal with a wrong done to another person. The money owed goes to the one harmed — unless there is no one left to receive it.
Was it a trespass in the holy things? In that case the money payment went to the priest. Had someone been injured? The money due went to that person, or, if he had died, to the one who represented him. If he left no one to represent him, the money went to the priest. (Num. 5:5-8.) What justice this showed! No one was to take advantage of another, even if that other was his brother. If he did cheat or wrong him, he committed a trespass against the Lord. (Lev. 6:2.)
Older translations call this contribution a heave offering. One writer explains what that name meant, and how it differed from the wave offering.
The heave-offering was a portion of their gifts — "heave-offering of all their gifts;" the wave-offering might be the whole of the thing offered. The idea behind a heave-offering was taking up a part to offer it to God... To heave, you needed a larger amount to lift the part from; to wave, you needed only the gift itself.
Verse 9 hands the gift to the priest. One writer looks behind that gift to the faith it expresses, and to Christ's joy in that faith.
First, their dues from the offerings of the people. This was what belonged to God Himself. Instead of going up to Him on the altar, it became the portion of those who served at His altar. Here we see Christ's joy in what expresses His people's faith — a faith that receives and embraces His blessed work, and shapes the soul into the likeness of what it embraces.
The priest kept the gift, but he was never its real destination. One writer carries that straight into giving today.
The offerings of the children of Israel were to go fully to God, not to the priests. In the same way, every gift given to the Lord's servants today should go first to the Lord Himself, and so be received as from the Lord. Yet the priests carried the responsibility of taking charge of the offerings, a trust that called for faithful obedience to God's clear instructions.
Repayment here is never simple replacement. A fifth had to be added, and one writer explains why God asks for more than repair.
The second thing in this cleansing of the camp is the restitution required for trespass — a restitution which... is to be more than the injury done. It does not satisfy God to have the loss made up. There must be a gain over and above it for the one who suffered the loss, and in this God too is glorified... For this the work of Christ must come in, as seen in the sacrifice that goes with it.
Saying sorry was never the whole of it.
It was not enough for a Jew who had trespassed against his brother to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to give back what he had wrongly taken, and add a fifth to it... So if we have trespassed against anyone, it is not enough to confess our sin to God and to our brother. We must make restitution.
- Given because He dwells. God lives in the middle of the camp, so the camp must be kept holy. That dwelling rests on redemption.
- Given back. A wrong against a neighbour is a trespass against the Lord. Confessing it is not enough — repayment must follow.
- Given with more. The added fifth shows that God is not content with loss simply made good. There must be gain where there was loss.
- Given to God. The priest holds the gift, but the giver gives it to God first, and the priest takes it from God's hand. That is the pattern for every gift to His servants now.
- Given to the priest. What was God's own portion becomes the portion of the one who serves at His altar. His people's faith becomes Christ's own joy.
And every man's hallowed things shall be his whatever any man giveth the priest shall be his.
Numbers 5:10 ends a short law about confession and repayment in a camp where God Himself lives. It answers a plain question: once a wrong is put right, who owns what the worshipper brings to the priest?
The chapter gathers three cases, and one concern holds them together.
Chapter 5 presents three things that bear on the purity of the camp, seen as the dwelling-place of God. They also bear on our pilgrim journey through the wilderness, which is the great subject of the Book of Numbers. On that journey everything is put to the test, and the presence of God ungrieved among us is our only security, guidance and strength.
Verses 5–7 tell the wrongdoer to admit the sin and then pay back what he took, with a fifth added.
Both God and man gain by the Great Trespass Offering presented on the cross at Calvary. But we also learn that God looked for confession and restitution whenever anyone had committed a trespass. The restitution would prove that the confession was sincere. It was not enough for a Jew who had wronged his brother to go and say, "I am sorry." He had to restore the thing in which he had trespassed and add a fifth to it.
Some expect free pardon to make owning up unnecessary.
The grace of God, which has brought in unlimited forgiveness, would be a calamity if it did not require confession. Can you imagine anything morally worse than a real weakening of the sense of sin in those brought near to God? … Where people gather the truth quickly and learn it only on the surface, it is quite possible to twist the gospel. It then weakens the unchanging principles of God, ignoring His hatred of sin and our own necessary hatred of it as those born of God.
The added fifth is not a fine for its own sake.
The second thing in this cleansing of the camp is the restitution required for trespass. As we have already seen, it must be more than the injury the trespass caused. It does not satisfy God to have the loss made up. There must be an extra gain to the one who suffered the loss, and in that gain God too is glorified. This is the positive side of blessing in the fight with evil, not simply banishing it as before. For this the work of Christ must come in, as the sacrifice that goes with it shows.
Verse 8 covers the case where the wronged man has died and left no relative. The debt does not disappear.
God took notice of the wrong done there against a brother. If this is always true, it is even more true of the wrong done to Him. He has not been ashamed to call us His brothers. Sometimes the trespass could not be repaid to the injured man or to his relative. Then it was due to God in the person of the priest, as well as the sin-offering. In God's camp no wrong could be committed without amends being made for it.
Verse 10 turns to the gift itself. Not every gift at the sanctuary was handled the same way.
These things given to the Lord went directly to the priest, as was the case with offerings (vv. 9–10). Though the peace offering was given to the priest, however, the priest had only a share of this. God also had His share and the offerer was given a share.
The same principle shapes the priests' regular dues:
First, their dues from the offerings of the people: what belonged to God Himself, but instead of going up to Him on the altar, became the portion of those who attended on His altar.
- Dwelling. God lives in the camp, so purity is never a private matter. It is the condition of His ungrieved presence.
- Confession. Owning the wrong comes first. Free forgiveness never softens that demand; a grace that dulled the sense of sin would be a calamity.
- Restitution. Repayment tests the words. Handing the sum back proves the confession was real.
- Gain. The added fifth leaves the injured party better off than before. Evil is not just cancelled; it is turned into gain.
- Portion. Nothing given is lost: what cannot be repaid to a man is due to God, and what reaches the priest becomes his own.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
This short line opens the last section of Numbers 5. God speaks again to Moses, and what follows is the law of jealousy — His answer to a husband who suspects his wife. Why would God give a law for a mere suspicion? The answer says a great deal about His heart toward His people.
Numbers 5 moves in three stages, and this new word from the Lord marks the last of them. One writer traces the sequence and shows why suspicion gets its own law:
The third and last section of our chapter teaches us a very solemn lesson. We can look at it as part of God's dealings through the ages, or simply as a moral lesson. It holds the record of the great law given for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is striking. In the first section, we have the whole community judging evil. In the second, we have the individual judging himself, confessing, and making amends. In the third, we learn that God cannot bear even the mere suspicion of evil.
The camp was where God lived among His people. That is why a suspicion could not be left to sit there.
The camp had to be holy, because it was the dwelling place of God. So if a man began to suspect his wife, that suspicion was not to be left to eat away at him. It had to be tested, whether it rested on fact or on imagination.
God does not leave the husband to act on his own suspicion or to accuse his wife. The matter goes out of his hands and into God's presence.
The LORD had His eye on this. He did not want anyone to grow hard. What is more dreadful than carrying suspicions? We ought to guard against it. Still, there may be times when we sense that something is wrong, and yet we can hardly explain it… The husband was to bring his wife to the priest, and everything was to be handled in a holy way. It was not human feeling, but a link with God Himself, and a judgment of what did not suit His presence.
Her offering differed from the usual grain offering at every point.
We can only point out that the offering was not fine flour, as in the grain offering, but barley meal, which was coarser. It had no leaven in it, since leaven would have implied the woman's guilt before the test. No oil or frankincense went on the offering either. No joy and no worship could go with this offering of jealousy. Then the priest took holy water in a clay jar, took dust from the tabernacle floor, and put it into the water… The water stands for the Word, and the dust is a picture of death and the curse.
God designed the trial Himself. No guilty person could slip through it, and that is what made it safe for the innocent.
The suspected wife had to go through a test so searching that only a faithful woman could come through it… There was no escape for the guilty one. And we may say that the very fact that the guilty had no way out only made the clearing of the innocent more glorious. The same process that declared the guilt of the guilty also brought the innocence of the faithful into the open… The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
The law says nothing about a wife who suspects her husband. One writer suggests why:
This may be because the matter carries a special spiritual meaning. The husband here mainly stands for Christ, in whom there can never be even the least suspicion of unfaithfulness. "If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself" (2 Tim. 2:13). But believers are joined to the Lord by a bond that marriage pictures (Rom. 7:4), and they often face the danger of becoming unfaithful to Him.
The picture reaches past one household. Israel was tried in the same way and found unfaithful. Yet her story does not end in judgment.
There is forgiveness with the Lord for Israel… She has been unfaithful, that is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in steadfast love, and in mercy."
- Jealousy seen — God will not let suspicion sit and harden in a heart; He gives it somewhere to go.
- Jealousy handed over — the husband brings the matter to the priest, so the outcome rests on God, not on feelings.
- Jealousy tested — barley meal, no oil, no frankincense, water mixed with dust: an offering with every trace of joy stripped out.
- Jealousy resolved — the same searching trial that exposes the guilty clears the innocent for all to see.
- Jealousy answered — the Husband who is never in question is the one who finally says, "I will betroth you to Me."
Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them, If any man's wife go astray, and commit unfaithfulness against him,
Numbers 5 is about keeping the camp clean, because God Himself was living in the middle of it. Verse 12 opens the last of three cases: not open sin, but a husband's suspicion that his wife has been unfaithful — and God still gives a law for it.
The chapter moves in three steps, and this verse begins the last one.
The third and last section of our chapter teaches us a deeply solemn lesson. It holds the record of the great ordinance for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is remarkable. In the first section, God's people judge evil together. In the second, each person judges himself, confesses, and makes restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot bear even the mere suspicion of evil.
The test had two possible outcomes, and both mattered.
From verse 11 to the end of the chapter we have what is called "the law of jealousies." The camp had to be holy, because God lived there. So if a man began to feel jealous about his wife, he could not let it fester in his mind. It had to be tested, whether it rested on fact or on fancy. If it was true, judgment fell on the woman. If it was false, she went free, and the trial proved her clear.
The ESV says the wife "breaks faith with him." Older translations call this a trespass against her husband, and that word had a settled meaning.
A trespass offering assumed that someone had done something to wrong the Lord or his neighbour. The Old Testament gives us several examples of this kind of sin. A wife who was unfaithful to her husband was guilty of a trespass against him, because she cheated him of his rights.
Every part of the ceremony that followed carried a meaning.
In this passage about the wife suspected of adultery, no actual sin is in view — only the suspicion of it... The offering was not fine flour, as in the meal offering, but barley meal, which was coarser. No leaven was mixed in, since leaven would have implied the woman was guilty before the test. No oil or frankincense went on the offering either, for no joy and worship could belong to this offering of jealousy. Then the priest took holy water in an earthen vessel, added dust from the tabernacle floor, and put it into the water. The water stands for the Word, and the dust stands for death and the curse.
The same cup did two opposite things, depending on who drank it.
God would have His people judge evil together, and each one judge himself. But He went further. Where there was only a suspicion of evil, and no evidence to be had, He Himself designed a trial that brought the truth perfectly to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
Commentators read the ordinance as a picture of a marriage. They differ on who the wife stands for, and one common reading takes her as Israel.
We fully believe that this very striking ordinance has a real bearing on the relationship between the Lord and Israel... Israel could not stand the searching trial of the bitter water. Her unfaithfulness has come to light. She has broken her vows. She has turned away from her Husband, the Holy One of Israel, and His burning jealousy has fallen on the faithless nation.
The story does not stop at conviction.
This unfaithful one will yet be accepted by the Lord she wronged. She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy found her so... but the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy."
There is a personal lesson too, for anyone who has ever been suspected wrongly.
I have no doubt this is a picture, whether of Israel or of the professing Christian world. But the moral lesson for each of us is all-important. It may be very painful to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it out of the pride of our hearts... A restless urge to explain things away and deny them is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt... Let us humble ourselves and take the bitter water, as it were. Where the heart is willing for everything to be tested in God's presence, the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without reason, and makes all flourish as never before.
- Holiness — God lived in the camp, so no suspicion could be left to fester there.
- Claim — her unfaithfulness is a trespass, because she cheated her husband of his rights.
- Test — barley meal with no oil or frankincense, and water mixed with dust: a ceremony of death and curse, not joy.
- Verdict — the guilty drank death and found judgment; the faithful drank death and found victory.
- Restoration — the trial exposed Israel's unfaithfulness, yet her Husband's last word is betrothal in mercy. Whoever is willing to be searched today finds the Lord takes up his cause.
and a man lie with her carnally, and it be hid from the eyes of her husband, and she be defiled in secret, and there be no witness against her, and she have not been caught;
Numbers 5 is about keeping the camp clean, because God Himself lived in the middle of it. Verse 13 describes the one evil no inspection can reach: a sin with no witness and no proof. What happens to wrong that nobody can prove?
The law that begins here does not wait for evidence. It exists because the husband has none.
From verse 11 to the end of the chapter we have what is called "the law of jealousies." The camp was to be holy, because it was the dwelling place of God. If jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, it was not to be left to fester there. It had to be tested, whether it was based on fact or on imagination. If true, judgment fell on the woman. If false, she was free, and was shown to be so.
The same pressure works on the accused side. Kelly warns about the pride that wants to hit back.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts. A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt.
The verse stacks up every reason the matter should have stayed buried: hidden, undetected, no witness, not caught. Darby takes that wording as the whole point of the ordinance.
The Holy Spirit judges according to the sentence of death against the flesh. His power brings into the open the state of unfaithfulness that was thought to be hidden from the true husband of the people… But suppose one of the accursed things is hidden. Suppose there is unfaithfulness towards Jesus, undetected, it may be, by man, and God puts it to the test… Then the concealed evil is laid bare and the flesh is reached. Its rottenness and its powerlessness are shown up, however fair its appearances may be. But if we are free from unfaithfulness, the result of the trial is only negative. It shows that the Spirit of holiness finds nothing to judge when He applies death according to the holiness of God.
Because no witness exists, no human court can settle it — and the ritual is built so that the priest never renders a verdict either.
However, this was not a matter even for the priest to judge. When the scriptural procedure was followed, the whole matter was left in God's hand. He would make the woman's guilt or her innocence plain… Then the priest was to take holy water in an earthen vessel and mix dust into it from the tabernacle floor. The holy water speaks of life, but the dust speaks of death (Psalm 22:15). If there was no sin leading to death, life would be given, but guilt would lead to death.
Darby finds a meaning in each ingredient.
It seems to me that the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. That death is fatal to the natural man. But for the one who has life it is precious, as the death of sin. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience.
Kelly draws out what the water of death means in practice.
A dead man clearly does not resent an injury. It is the bringing in of the practical power of death into the soul that then enables a person to bear it.
Commentators read the marriage here as a picture — of Israel with the Lord, and of the church with Christ. That is what makes hidden unfaithfulness intolerable rather than merely sad.
Suppose Christ did not uncover the iniquity and have it judged. Then He would be, so to speak, identified with the iniquity of the bride, and so defiled by it (v. 31). He will therefore surely uncover it… The question is one not of salvation, but of the walk down here.
And the suspicion only ever runs one way. The husband in the picture is never the one under investigation.
How grave a question, then, is here! and there must not be even a question. The Lord is jealous over us with a heart that never wanders, a love that does not admit a question. How it would spoil everything if the suspicion here could be allowed about the husband! But "I have loved you with an everlasting love" is what is always true on His side.
- Hidden. The verse closes every human door — no sight, no proof, no witness, no arrest. Only God is left to answer.
- Tested. Suspicion was not to be buried or brooded over; it was brought into God's presence to be settled one way or the other.
- Handed over. Not even the priest judged the case. God alone could make guilt or innocence plain.
- Exposed. God brings into the open what is hidden from man. Christ will not let Himself be identified with His bride's unfaithfulness.
- Unshaken. The jealousy runs one way only. Our loyalty can be questioned; His never can — "I have loved you with an everlasting love."
and the spirit of jealousy come upon him, and he be jealous of his wife, and she have been defiled, -- or if the spirit of jealousy come upon him, and he be jealous of his wife, and she have not been defiled,
A husband is gripped by jealous suspicion about his wife. The verse covers both cases: she is guilty, or she is not. It opens a long law in a chapter about keeping God's camp clean. Commentators ask why God makes a law for a mere suspicion, and what that law pictures.
Numbers 5 moves through three cases. This one comes last.
The third and last section of our chapter teaches us a deeply solemn lesson. It contains the record of the great ordinance designed for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is remarkable. In the first section, we have the community judging evil. In the second, we have the individual judging himself, confessing, and making restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
Why marriage? Because no bond lies deeper.
The jealousy-offering gives a direct appeal to God in such a case. The sin suspected struck at the foundation of the family, which in Israel and elsewhere is the foundation of every other tie between people. Its place here, where the cleansing of the camp is in question, is therefore perfectly simple. The relation of man and wife is the nearest and most intimate of all, and it pleased God to use it to set out His own relation with His covenant people.
The Hebrew word behind "jealousy" does not mean suspicion or spite. It carries the sense of heat.
qana, "to be inflamed." It is the warm affection that cannot bear to see its loved one drawn away by another. So a man is jealous of his wife, Num. 5:14. So Paul felt for the Christians at Corinth, 2 Cor. 11:2. And so God regarded the people and the land which He had chosen, and on which He had placed His name. "The LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God." Ex. 34:14.
The husband is not asking for something extra. He is claiming a right already his.
The law of jealousy deals with a man who is jealous of his wife, because he doubts that she still loves him. Remember what his jealousy is about: his wife's affection, which he has every right to claim. It was the same with Israel. Their affection was to be towards God, and here they had failed.
The verse names two outcomes: defiled, or not defiled. Either way, the law will not leave the question hanging.
The camp was to be holy, for it was the dwelling place of God. So if jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, he was not to let it fester. He had to put it to the test, whether it rested on fact or on fancy. If it was true, judgment fell on the woman. If it was false, she went free, and the trial proved it.
Because the trial was God's own design, it worked in both directions at once. The severity of it was the innocent woman's best friend.
Suspicion is the death blow to all loving intimacy, and God would not have it among His people. Where there was even the suspicion of evil, and no evidence to be had, He Himself devised a way of trial that perfectly brought the truth to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
Commentators read this law as a picture of God and His people. Notice one detail: only the wife is ever tested.
What a serious question is raised here! And there must not be even a question. The Lord is jealous over us with a heart that never wanders, a love that leaves no room for doubt. It would spoil everything if such a suspicion could ever fall on the husband! But "I have loved you with an everlasting love" is always true on His side. The church may give herself to another, as Israel did, and the story of the one sadly matches the story of the other.
There is a personal lesson here for anyone under suspicion.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts. A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial the more certain the guilt. Let us humble ourselves and drink the bitter water, as it were. Where the heart is willing that everything should be tested in the presence of God, the Lord takes up the cause of the one wrongly suspected, and makes all flourish as never before.
- Heat, not spite. The word means "to be inflamed" — the warm affection that cannot bear to see the one it loves drawn away by another.
- A rightful claim. The husband asks only for what is already his: his wife's affection. God claims the same from His people.
- No festering. Jealousy was not to rankle in the mind. It had to be tested, whether it rested on fact or on fancy.
- Death either way. The guilty drank death and found judgment. The faithful drank the same and found victory.
- One-sided by design. Only the wife is ever tested. On the Husband's side is a love that never wanders.
-- then shall the man bring his wife unto the priest, and he shall bring her offering for her, a tenth part of an ephah of barley-meal; he shall pour no oil upon it, nor put frankincense thereon; for it is an oblation of jealousy, a memorial oblation, bringing iniquity to remembrance.
A husband suspects his wife, and the law tells him neither to bury it nor to act on it — he must bring her, with a set offering, to the priest. Every detail counts: coarse grain instead of fine, nothing poured on it, nothing burned with it for fragrance.
The reason for the test lies in where Israel was camped.
The camp was to be holy as the dwelling place of God. If jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, it was not to be left to fester there. It had to be tested: was it based on fact or on fancy? If true, judgment fell on the woman. If false, she was free, and shown to be so.
Unlike the case just before it, no wrong has been proved here.
But there is another case where there was not a trespass, but a suspicion of evil, and this too in the closest relationship — the husband about his wife. Now the LORD had His eye on this. He would not have anyone hardened. What is more dreadful than to be carrying suspicions? … It was not human feeling, but connection with God Himself, and a judgment of what was unsuitable for His presence.
Ordinary grain offerings used fine wheat flour. Here it is barley. One writer ties the change to what fine flour pictures:
The truth seems to be that the grain offering of fine wheat flour represents Christ, as we have seen… In the case before us the leaven would have implied guilt, and the fine wheat would have been out of place. The barley meal is coarser and more common. It might well picture a life that could not be claimed to be very much in God's sight, yet not corrupted in the way charged.
Barley also marks the kind of trouble this is:
In the trial of jealousy an offering was made of barley meal, without oil or frankincense, Num. 5:15. It was a household sorrow, that never ought to have happened; but if the sin was there it had to be judged.
Three things are missing from this offering, and each one has a reason:
It had no leaven mixed in, for that would have implied the guilt of the accused woman before the test. It had no oil or frankincense on it either. No joy and worship could go with this offering of jealousy.
The verse calls it a grain offering of remembrance, and one writer explains what that remembrance asked for: "This, offered from the woman's hand, would indeed call for God's remembrance as to its truth or falsehood" (Numerical Bible Notes). The priest's next act showed who would settle the case.
This ordinance was meant to bring hidden unfaithfulness to light. The high priest set the suspected wife before God, the Searcher of hearts. He then put into her hand "the grain offering of jealousy." Her husband had prepared it, in a way suited to her approach to God. The priest afterwards took it from her hand and waved it before the LORD, offering the memorial of it on the altar. This action placed the matter in God's hands, on behalf of both husband and wife.
Commentators also read the ordinance as a picture of God and Israel.
Israel could not endure the searching trial of the bitter water. Her unfaithfulness has been made plain. She has broken her vows. She has gone away from her Husband, the Holy One of Israel… He is a jealous God. He cannot bear the thought that the heart He claims as His own should be given to another.
The cleared wife went free, and Bellett applies that ending to Israel: "There is forgiveness with the Lord for Israel… she will then be set free, the free woman and a joyful mother of children" (J. G. Bellett).
Kelly turns this on the reader: what do you do when suspicion falls on you?
It may be very painful for us to be suspected. But when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts… A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt.
- Suspicion — a doubt in the closest relationship must not be nursed in secret. God gave a way to test it.
- Barley — the coarse grain marks a household sorrow that should never have arisen. It pictures a life not yet proved pure or corrupt.
- Bare — no oil, no frankincense, no leaven — no joy and no worship could go with it.
- Memorial — waving it before the LORD placed the question in God's hands, not the husband's.
- Mercy — read of Israel, the trial exposed her unfaithfulness. But the blessing promised to the cleared wife is what God still intends.
And the priest shall bring her near, and set her before Jehovah.
The priest's act here is small but decisive. He brings the woman near and stands her before God. Everything that follows — the offering, the dust, the bitter water — depends on who is now judging the case.
The whole chapter deals with what cannot stay in a camp with God at its centre:
In Numbers 5 we come to another view... Defilement, or suspected defilement, is what is dealt with here; but the principle always fits the character of the book. The subject is not now the priests, but the camp of the LORD. He is pleased to be with the people, and He is there in the very middle of their camp. They had to take care to avoid what was unsuitable for the presence of God.
So a private suspicion between husband and wife became a matter for the priest. God was living in the camp.
The law does not tell the man to bury his suspicion or to act on it himself:
The camp was to be holy, as the dwelling place of God. So if jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, it was not to be left to fester there. It had to be tested, whether it was based on fact or on imagination. If it was true, judgment fell on the woman. If it was false, she was free, and shown to be so.
Kelly adds what the ceremony kept out of the process — raw human emotion:
What is more dreadful than to be carrying suspicions? We ought to watch against it... In this we see the LORD making a special provision for it. He ordered the use of what is called here "the waters of jealousy." The wife was to be brought to the priest, and everything was to be done in a holy way. It was not human feeling, but connection with God Himself, and a judgment of what was unsuitable for His presence.
The priest brings her near, but he is not the judge:
However, this was not a matter even for the priest to judge. When the procedure given in Scripture was followed, the whole matter was left in God's hand, and He would make the woman's guilt or her innocence plain... Then the priest was to take holy water in an earthen vessel and mix dust with it from the tabernacle floor. The holy water speaks of life, but the dust speaks of death (Ps. 22:15). If there was no sin unto death, life would be given, but guilt would lead to death.
Bellett explains what the uncovering of her head meant:
The high priest set a suspected wife in the presence of God as the Searcher of hearts. Her head was uncovered, as a sign that on this occasion she knew no subjection to anyone but the Lord. She took the covering off her head, because that covering was the sign of her subjection to her husband (1 Cor. 11:3).
Darby sees the Holy Spirit at work behind the trial:
When the power of the Holy Spirit judges in this way (according to the sentence of death against the flesh), the unfaithfulness that was thought to be hidden from the true husband of the people is made plain. This brings down the chastening and the curse upon the unfaithful one... But if we are free from unfaithfulness, the result of the trial is only negative. It shows that the Spirit of holiness finds nothing to judge, when He applies death according to the holiness of God.
Darby is careful to say what this is not about:
All these things apply to the judgment of our ways in the wilderness journey, since God is in our midst. They do not apply to the acceptance of the believer, or of the church, as to righteousness. That is dealt with where drawing near to God is the question.
Kelly turns the ordinance into a test of our own spirit:
I have no doubt this is a type, whether of Israel or of Christendom; but for our own moral profit it is all-important. It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... It is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt, when there is a restless desire to explain away and deny. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... Where the heart is willing that everything should be fully tested in the presence of God, instead of refusing an insinuation or pushing it away in a fleshly way out of the pride of our nature, the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without reason, and makes everything flourish as never before.
- Dwelling. God lived in the middle of the camp, so nothing unsuited to His presence could be left unaddressed.
- Brought. Suspicion was not to be buried or acted on privately; it was brought to the priest and tested before God.
- Set. Standing her before the LORD took the verdict out of the priest's hands. God alone would make guilt or innocence plain.
- Searched. Holy water speaks of life and dust of death. Hidden unfaithfulness is made plain, and where there is none the test finds nothing.
- Result. For the guilty, a curse; for the innocent, a clearing that makes everything flourish — and for us, a call to welcome testing before God instead of resenting it.
And the priest shall take holy water in an earthen vessel; and the priest shall take of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle, and put it into the water.
When a husband suspected his wife but had no proof, God did not leave the matter to human guesswork. He gave a ceremony, and at its centre sits a strange mixture in a clay pot: why water, why dust, and why dust from that floor?
The water was not ordinary water, and the dust was not ordinary dirt. One writer walks through the ceremony, from the mixing to the verdict.
Then the priest held a vessel of holy water — water taken from the bronze basin — mixed with dust. The dust was the sign of the curse, the fruit of sin (Genesis 3:19). The priest put the woman on oath, and read to her the curses that would come on her if she were guilty… Then the priest wrote the curses in a book, blotted them out with some of the bitter water, and gave the rest of it to the woman to drink… But if her husband's suspicions had wronged her, none of these curses would happen to her. They would all be blotted out, so that no one could read them again; and being freed and cleared, she would receive strength from the Lord to have a child.
One writer reads the two ingredients as two spiritual powers working together in one cup.
Someone may question the faithfulness of Israel, the church, or an individual to God or to Christ. Then there must be a testing of it. To me, the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. It was fatal to the natural man. But for the one who has life it was precious, as the death of sin. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience… To drink death, by the power of the Spirit, is life to the soul.
The dust came from the ground of God's own dwelling, where He had come to live among His people.
The priest puts holy (that is, consecrated) water into an earthen vessel, and mixes dust from the tabernacle floor into the water. The dust here is, as usual, "the dust of death." It comes from the tabernacle floor, and that shows that even so God has come in for man. Death remains, and as judgment on the flesh, and yet for blessing.
The searching test was the innocent woman's friend, not her enemy.
If there was a trace of guilt, the bitter water could search down into the very depths of the soul and bring it fully out. There was no escape for the guilty one. And we may say this: because no escape was possible for the guilty, the clearing of the innocent was all the more triumphant. The same process that declared the guilt of the guilty made clear the innocence of the faithful.
Suspicion hurts, and the first instinct is to fight back. One writer turns the bitter cup into a lesson on answering an accusation.
A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often a sign of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt… What meets everything so well as taking the place of death to all that is here below? It is very clear that a dead man does not resent an injury.
The ordinance also pictures the nation itself as a wife on trial.
Israel could not stand up to the searching trial of the bitter water. Her unfaithfulness is now plain. She has broken her vows. She has turned away from her Husband, the Holy One of Israel. He has poured out His burning jealousy on the unfaithful nation.
Accusers once brought a woman caught in adultery to Jesus and pressed the law of Moses on Him.
The accusers wanted Him to apply the law of Moses to the adulteress. If He had applied it to the nation, He would have had to "take holy water in an earthenware vessel and take some of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle and put it into the water." As a priest of the tabernacle, He would then have brought the question before the Lord. This He refuses to do, and now notice how He moves into His own heights and depths of love.
- Suspicion — God did not leave jealousy to fester in a man's heart. He gave a way to settle it in His own presence.
- Water — The holy water came from the tabernacle basin. It pictures the Spirit using God's word on the conscience.
- Dust — Dust means death and the curse. Yet it came from the floor of God's own house: death as judgment on the flesh, and still for blessing.
- Verdict — One cup did two things at once. It exposed hidden guilt, and it cleared the innocent woman beyond doubt.
- Mercy — The nation drank and proved unfaithful. Yet when accusers pressed the law on Jesus, He refused that trial and moved into love.
And the priest shall set the woman before Jehovah, and uncover the woman's head, and put the memorial oblation in her hands, which is the jealousy offering; and in the hand of the priest shall be the bitter water that bringeth the curse.
A husband suspects his wife of being unfaithful, and no witness can settle the matter. So the case goes into the sanctuary, where God alone can answer it, and where hidden sin — real or only imagined — comes into the open.
Nothing has been proved here. One writer marks out what makes the case unusual, and how carefully God met it.
There was another case: not a trespass, but a suspicion of evil — and that in the closest relationship of all, a husband about his wife. The LORD had His eye on this… He ordered the administration of what is called here "the waters of jealousy." The wife was to be brought to the priest; everything was to be done in a holy way. It was not human feeling, but connection with God Himself, and a judgment of what was unsuitable for His presence.
The priest sets her before God, who searches hearts, then loosens her hair. Writers read that act in two ways. Some see the removal of the sign of her subjection to her husband, since for this moment she answers to God alone.
A suspected wife was set by the high priest in the presence of God as the Searcher of hearts. Her head was uncovered as a sign that on this occasion she knew no subjection to anyone but the Lord. So she removed the covering from her head, because that covering was the sign of subjection to her husband.
Others read the same act as a public mark of shame.
In the Old Testament, an uncovered or shaved head on a woman was a mark of shame. This verse shows it, where a wife was under suspicion by her husband… She must have no marks of shame upon her in the presence of the Lord.
What she holds is a grain offering unlike any other. Every missing ingredient says something, and the ceremony it belongs to ends in God's own verdict.
The offering was not of fine flour, as in the grain offering, but of barley meal, which was coarser. It had no leaven in it, for that would have implied the guilt of the accused woman before the test. It had no oil or frankincense either. No joy and worship could go with this offering of jealousy… It was a most solemn ceremony of a searching nature. The innocent woman had nothing to fear; for her, drinking the bitter water that brings the curse only resulted in vindication. The guilty one was found out by the LORD, and the curse rested upon her.
The verse calls this an offering of remembrance. One writer sees the plain barley as fitting a sorrow at home: "It was a domestic sorrow, that never ought to occur; but if the sin was there it must be judged" (Morrish Bible Dictionary).
The priest holds bitter water: holy water from the sanctuary, with dust from the tabernacle floor stirred in. That dust carries the weight of the ordeal.
The dust here is, as usual, "the dust of death." Coming from the tabernacle floor, it shows that God has still come in for man. Death remains, and it is judgment on the flesh, and yet for blessing. The cross of Christ has made this familiar to us as Christians.
The ordinance reaches past one marriage. One writer applies it to Israel, found unfaithful and yet promised a future.
She has played the harlot, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness, in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy." When this comes to pass, the very blessing promised to the wife who stood acquitted shall be Israel's. She shall then be made free — the free woman and a joyful mother of children.
The trial also speaks to anyone under suspicion today.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected. But when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts… A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt… It is very evident that a dead man does not resent an injury.
- Suspicion — a doubt no one can prove does not stay at home to fester; it goes into God's presence and is settled there.
- Stripped — the loosed hair and the offering without oil or frankincense leave the scene bare of covering and of joy. Commentators differ over whether the loosed hair marks shame or answering to God alone.
- Death — the water carries dust from the sanctuary floor — the dust of death, judgment on the flesh and yet for blessing, made familiar by the cross.
- Verdict — God alone gives it: the guilty one is found out, the innocent one is vindicated.
- Mercy — the same trial pictures a nation found unfaithful, yet promised at last the blessing of the acquitted wife.
And the priest shall adjure her, and say unto the woman, If no man have lain with thee, and if thou hast not gone astray in uncleanness, in being with another instead of thy husband, be free from this bitter water that bringeth the curse.
A husband suspects his wife but has no proof. In Numbers 5:19 the priest's first words offer her a way out, not a curse — so why does God act on a mere suspicion, and what is this bitter water?
The chapter deals with what defiles the place where God lives among His people. This last case involves no proven wrong. There is only a shadow over the closest of human bonds.
But there is another case, where there was not a trespass but a suspicion of evil. It happens in the closest relationship — the husband about his wife. Now the Lord had His eye on this. He did not want anyone to grow hardened. What is more dreadful than to be carrying suspicions? … The wife was to be brought to the priest; everything was to be done in a holy way. It was not human feeling, but connection with God Himself, and a judgment of what was unsuitable for His presence.
The chapter moves in three steps, and this ordinance is the last one.
In the first section, the people as a whole judge evil. In the second, each person judges himself, confesses, and makes restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
The priest puts the woman under oath, but he never gives the verdict.
However, this was not a matter even for the priest to judge. When they followed the procedure Scripture laid down, the whole matter rested in the hand of God, who would bring the woman's guilt or her innocence to light.
The law called for oaths on other occasions too.
The law set out several occasions when a person had to swear an oath. In those cases God required His people to swear by His name (Deuteronomy 6:13; Exodus 22:11; Numbers 5:19-21). The oath did more than confirm the truth. It was also a solemn vow before the Lord, in the knowledge of His presence.
Her drink has two ingredients, both from the tabernacle — the tent where God lived among Israel.
The woman had to drink bitter water, made of "holy water" with dust from the floor of the tabernacle in it. This pictures the Holy Spirit applying what death is, as God's judgment of sin, by the word to the conscience. If she had been unfaithful it would be a curse to her. It pointed in a figure to Israel's unfaithfulness to the Lord.
The two ingredients point in opposite directions.
The priest was to take holy water in an earthen vessel and mix dust with it from the tabernacle floor. The holy water speaks of life, but the dust speaks of death (Psalm 22:15). Where there was no sin unto death, there would be life; but guilt would lead to death.
God Himself provided the test, and it settles the case either way.
Where there was even the suspicion of evil, and no evidence available, He Himself devised a method of trial that brought the truth perfectly to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgment. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
Read as a picture of Israel, the ordinance does not end with the curse. It ends with restoration.
She has played the harlot, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness, in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy" (see Hosea 2, 3). And when that day comes, the blessing promised to the wife who stood acquitted in the trial of jealousy will be Israel's.
The ordeal also has a lesson for anyone who falls under suspicion.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected. But when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts… A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt… When the heart is willing to have God test everything in His presence, the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without cause, and makes everything flourish as never before.
- Suspicion — God will not let a shadow sit untested in the home or the camp. Even unproven evil is unsuitable for His presence.
- Oath — The priest speaks the words, but they place the woman before God. He alone knows, and He alone gives the verdict.
- Water — Holy water speaks of life; the dust from the tabernacle floor speaks of death, God's judgment of sin.
- Freedom — The priest's first word to her is release. The innocent drink death and find victory; the guilty drink and find judgment.
- Restoration — For Israel the test exposed unfaithfulness, yet God's promise ends in re-betrothal and blessing. The believer under false suspicion can face the test without resentment.
But if thou hast gone astray to another instead of thy husband, and hast been defiled, and a man other than thy husband have lain with thee,
The priest's oath now names the dark possibility — a wife who has turned aside while still bound to her husband. Why would God make a law for a sin no one could prove, and why place it here, in a chapter about keeping the camp clean?
God lived in the middle of the camp. That one fact shapes the whole chapter.
Chapter 5 presents three things. They have to do with the purity of the camp, seen as the dwelling-place of God, and with our pilgrim journey through the wilderness, which is the great subject of the Book of Numbers. On that journey everything is put to the test, and the presence of God, ungrieved among us, is our only security, guidance, and strength.
Notice that nothing has been proved. The husband suspects; there are no witnesses. Yet God provides a trial rather than let the doubt sit.
Suspicion on its own is unbearable. Where it takes hold of the heart, the matter must be sifted right down to the bottom. The suspected one must go through a test so searching that only a faithful person can endure it. If there was a trace of guilt, the bitter water could search down into the very depths of the soul, and bring it fully out.
This verse is the priest's own speech. One writer walks through the ceremony around it.
Her head was uncovered, to show that on this occasion she knew no subjection to anyone but the Lord. She took the covering off her head, because that covering was the sign of subjection to her husband (1 Cor. 11:3). Then the priest held a vessel of holy water — water taken from the bronze basin — mixed with dust (the sign of curse, or the fruit of sin; Gen. 3:19). He solemnly put the woman under oath and read her the curses that would come upon her if she were guilty. If she chose to face the trial after all this warning, she said, "Amen, Amen." Then the priest wrote the curses in a book, blotted them with some of the bitter water, and gave the rest of it to the woman to drink.
Each of the two ingredients carried its own meaning.
It seems to me that the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. That death was fatal to the natural man, but precious, as the death of sin, for the one who has life. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience.
The same water met two women, and the results were opposite.
If she had been unfaithful, the water would enter her and turn bitter; her belly would swell and her thigh would rot, and she would become a curse among the people. But if her husband's suspicions had wronged her, none of these things would happen to her. The curses in the book would all be blotted out, so that they could be read no more; and so, set free and cleared, she would receive strength from the Lord to bear children.
Another writer puts the difference in one line.
The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
One writer reads the trial on a national scale, with Israel as the wife. He sets Israel's own cry beside the woman's "Amen."
At last the Lord pleads with her by this ordeal, while she defies divine justice, like any hardened wife who would dare to face the trial with the awareness of sin upon her. "His blood be on us and on our children," from the lips of Israel, was like the woman's "Amen" to the calling down of the curse.
The same writer does not stop with judgment.
She has played the harlot, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in steadfast love, and in mercy."
The law tests the wife, not the husband. One writer sees a reason for that.
The man primarily is a picture of Christ, in whom there can never be even the least suspicion of unfaithfulness. "If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself" (2 Tim. 2:13). But believers are joined to the Lord by a bond pictured by marriage (Rom. 7:4), and they often face the danger of becoming unfaithful to Him.
- Dwelling. God lived in the middle of the camp, so hidden disloyalty was never a private matter.
- Suspicion. Rather than leave doubt to poison a marriage, God supplied a trial that settled it completely.
- Death. The dust and water together bring the sentence of death and the Spirit's word to bear on the conscience.
- Verdict. The same cup judged the guilty and cleared the innocent. The curses written against her were blotted out.
- Betrothal. For Israel the trial exposed unfaithfulness, yet the Lord's answer is not divorce but a fresh betrothal in steadfast love.
-- then the priest shall adjure the woman with the oath of cursing, and the priest shall say unto the woman Jehovah make thee a curse and an oath among thy people, when Jehovah doth make thy thigh to shrink, and thy belly to swell;
The priest does not decide this case. He puts the woman under a solemn oath and reads out the curse that would fall on her if she is guilty. Then he leaves the matter with God, who alone can see a hidden life.
The priest says the curse out loud before she drinks anything. She must then answer for herself:
The priest would put the offering in the woman's hand and hold the bitter water himself. If she was guilty, that water would bring a curse on her. Then the priest would put her under oath. Of course, if she had already confessed her guilt, this would not be needed. Her oath was a statement that she was not guilty. The priest would warn her that if she was lying, the Lord would make her thigh rot and her belly swell, so that she became a curse among the people (v.21). She was to answer, "Amen, so be it" (v.22).
This is the Bible's first "Amen". Notice what it agrees to:
A strong statement of agreement and consent. We first read of its use when a woman was suspected of being unfaithful to her husband and had to drink the bitter water. The priest spoke a curse that would fall on her if she was guilty, and the woman had to answer, "Amen, Amen." Numbers 5:22.
The curse sounds harsh when nothing has been proved. But an unproved suspicion does its own damage:
The camp was to be holy, because it was the dwelling place of God. If a man began to suspect his wife, that suspicion was not to be left to fester in his mind. It had to be tested, whether it rested on fact or on imagination. If it was true, judgment fell on the woman. If it was false, she went free, and the trial showed it.
No human court can settle a hidden sin. This trial could, and it worked both ways:
He wanted His people together to judge evil, and each one to judge himself. But even where there was only a suspicion of evil, with no evidence to be had, He Himself designed a trial that brought the truth fully to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
The cup itself carried a message, drawn from God's dwelling place:
The law of jealousy, for when a man suspected his wife of being unfaithful to him, is given in Numbers 5:11-31. The woman had to drink bitter water. It was made of "holy water" with dust from the floor of the tabernacle put into it. The dust pictures the Holy Spirit using the word to press on the conscience what death is, as God's judgement of sin. If she had been unfaithful, it would be a curse to her.
One writer sees the nation itself standing where this woman stood:
At last He brings His case against her by this trial. She acts like a hardened wife who dares to face the test while she knows her own guilt, and she defies divine justice. When Israel said, "His blood be on us and on our children!" it was like the woman's "Amen" to the curse spoken over her. But their confidence has been their shame.
The curse is not the end of her story:
The Lord she wronged will accept her again. She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy proved it. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy."
There is a lesson here for anyone who is suspected without cause:
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... A restless urge to make excuses and deny the charge is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often a sign of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt. ... Where the heart is willing for everything to be tested in God's presence, the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without cause, and makes everything flourish as never before.
- Suspicion — an unproved doubt was not to be buried or nursed; God gave a way to bring it into the open and settle it.
- Oath — the priest spoke the curse aloud first, so no woman drank in ignorance of what she was risking.
- Amen — her own word sealed it; the Bible's first "Amen" is a person agreeing to be judged by God.
- Water — the same cup meant judgment for the guilty and full vindication for the faithful.
- Nation — Israel stood where this woman stood and said her own "Amen" to the curse. The Lord still promises to betroth her in steadfast love.
and this water that bringeth the curse shall enter into thy bowels, to make the belly to swell, and the thigh to shrink. And the woman shall say, Amen, amen.
The woman stands before the LORD, the offering in her hands and the curse just spoken over her. Her one word answer — said twice — makes her a willing part of a trial she cannot control.
The word she speaks is the earliest recorded "Amen" in the Bible, and it is not spoken over a blessing.
It is a strong statement of agreement and consent. We first read of its use when a woman was thought to have been unfaithful to her husband and had to drink the bitter water. The priest spoke a curse that would fall on her if she was guilty, and the woman had to answer Amen, Amen. Num. 5:22.
The priest is not the judge here. He carries out the trial, and God gives the verdict.
However, this was not a matter even for the priest to judge. If they followed the procedure Scripture laid down, the whole matter was left in God's hand. He would make the woman's guilt or her innocence plain... Then the priest was to take holy water in an earthen vessel and mix dust with it from the tabernacle floor. The holy water speaks of life, but the dust speaks of death (Ps. 22:15). If there was no sin leading to death, God would give life; but guilt would lead to death.
The grain offering in her hand is stripped of everything that would normally accompany one, and each omission is deliberate.
With the wife suspected of adultery, no actual defilement or sin is in view, only the suspicion of it... The offering was not fine flour, as in the grain offering, but barley meal, which was coarser. It had no leaven mixed in, for that would have implied the guilt of the accused woman before the test. It had no oil or frankincense on it either, since no joy and worship could go with this offering of jealousy.
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The same drink is handed to the guilty and the innocent alike. What separates them is not the cup but what is already true of them.
He wanted His people as a whole to judge evil, and each of them to judge themselves. But where evil was only suspected, with no evidence to be had, He Himself designed a test that brought the truth fully to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgment. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
Saying "Amen" to a curse aimed at yourself is the opposite of self-defence. William Kelly turns that into advice for anyone under suspicion.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... A restless urge to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often a sign of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... It is very evident a dead man does not resent an injury. It is the bringing in the practical power of death into the soul which enables one then to bear it.
Bellett reads the trial as a picture of Israel. She was a nation married to the LORD long ago, and later brought to trial.
He had the right to bring her to this trial, for long ago He had married her (Jer. 31:32)... Again and again after the marriage He was provoked to jealousy. But He held back and was patient, calling over and over for repentance and confession... "His blood be upon us and upon our children," from the lips of Israel, was like the woman's "Amen" to the calling down of the curse. But their confidence has been their shame.
- Amen begins here. The Bible's first recorded "Amen" agrees with a curse, not a promise. The word accepts God's verdict before you know what it will be.
- Amen surrenders the case. The priest could not decide guilt. Saying "Amen" put the whole matter in God's hand, and He alone makes guilt or innocence plain.
- Amen refuses comfort. No oil, no frankincense, coarse barley meal, no leaven — nothing joyful, and nothing that would pre-judge her before the test.
- Amen splits the outcome. Guilty and innocent drink the same water. One finds judgment in it. The other is vindicated and finds victory.
- Amen is asked of you. When suspicion falls, the loud denial often marks the guilt. Taking the place of death lets you bear the charge without resentment.
And the priest shall write these curses in a book, and shall blot them out with the bitter water,
The priest does not only speak the curses over the suspected wife. He writes them down, then washes them off the page into the water she must drink. She drinks the very words she agreed to with her "Amen." Commentators read the scene as a test of one woman's faithfulness, and as a picture of a whole nation's.
The writing and washing come at the end of a careful sequence:
Then the priest held a vessel of holy water — water taken from the bronze basin — mixed with dust. The dust was the sign of the curse, the fruit of sin (Genesis 3:19). He put the woman under oath and read her the curses that would come on her if she were guilty. If she chose to stand the trial after all this warning, she said, "Amen, Amen." Then the priest wrote the curses in a book, blotted them out with some of the bitter water, and gave the rest of it to the woman to drink. The trial was then made. If she had been unfaithful, the water would enter her and turn bitter… and she would be made a curse among the people. But if her husband's suspicions had wronged her, none of these things would happen to her. The curses in the book would all be blotted out, so that they could be read no more. Freed and avenged, she would receive strength from the Lord to conceive a child.
Each of the two ingredients in the cup carries a meaning:
It seems to me that the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. It was fatal to the natural man, but precious, as the death of sin, for the one who has life. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience.
The severity of the ordeal served the innocent too:
The suspected one had to undergo a process so searching that only the faithful one could endure it. If there was a trace of guilt, the bitter water could search down into the very depths of the soul and bring it right out. There was no escape for the guilty one. And because no escape was possible, the vindication of the innocent was all the more triumphant. The same process that declared the guilt of the guilty made the innocence of the faithful clear.
Several writers apply the ordinance to Israel as the wife of the Lord. One matches Israel's own words to the woman's "Amen":
He had the right to bring her up for this trial, for He had married her long ago (Jeremiah 31:32)… Again and again after the marriage she provoked Him to jealousy. But He held back and was patient, calling again and again for repentance and confession… At last He pleads with her by this ordeal. And she defies divine justice, like any hardened wife who would dare to stand the trial knowing her own sin. "His blood be on us and on our children," from the lips of Israel, was like the woman's "Amen" to the calling down of the curse.
The curse washed into the cup is not God's last word:
She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found her so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy" (see Hosea 2, 3). And when this happens, the very blessing promised to the wife who stood acquitted in the trial of jealousy will be Israel's.
The ordinance also has a use for anyone under a cloud of suspicion today:
It may be very painful when others suspect us. But let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts… This is where the water of death comes in. What meets everything so well as taking the place of death to all that is here below? Clearly, a dead man does not resent an injury… let us humble ourselves and take the bitter water, as it were.
- Written — the priest wrote the curses in a book, washed them off into the water, and gave the cup to the woman to drink.
- Searching — the water pictures the Spirit using the word on the conscience. The dust pictures death in God's presence. Together they leave the guilty no way out.
- Vindicating — the same test that exposed guilt cleared the innocent completely. An honest woman had nothing to fear from it.
- National — commentators apply the ordeal to Israel as the Lord's wife. Her cry, "His blood be on us and on our children," answered the woman's "Amen."
- Merciful — commentators hold out the acquitted wife's blessing as Israel's future. The cup of bitterness is not the end of the story.
and he shall cause the woman to drink the bitter water that bringeth the curse, that the water that bringeth the curse may enter into her for bitterness.
This verse is the turning point of the ordeal: after the oath, the writing, and the offering, the accused wife drinks the water. Everything now depends on God alone — on what the water does once it is inside her.
The drinking belongs to the last of the three sections of Numbers 5. This ordinance comes after open defilement and after confessed wrongdoing. Its subject is far less definite than either.
The third and last section of our chapter teaches us a most solemn lesson. We can look at it either as part of God's dealings with His people or as a moral lesson. It contains the record of the great ordinance designed for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is remarkable. In the first section, we have the corporate judgement of evil. In the second, we have individual self-judgement, confession, and restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
The drink was not poison. Writers explain its two ingredients and what each one stands for.
The priest took holy water in an earthen vessel and the dust of the tabernacle floor and put it into the water. This also has a symbolic meaning. The water stands for the Word, and the dust stands for death and the curse. It was a most solemn ceremony of a searching nature. The innocent one had nothing to fear; for her, drinking the bitter water that brings the curse only ended in vindication. The LORD found out the guilty one, and the curse rested upon her.
One detail explains why the same cup could act in two ways.
The priest wrote the curses in a book, blotted them with some of the bitter water, and gave the rest of it to the woman to drink. The trial was then made. If she had been unfaithful, the water would enter into her and become bitter. Her belly would swell and her thigh rot. She would become a curse among her people. But if her husband's suspicions had wronged her, none of these things would happen. The curses in the book would all be blotted out, so that no one could read them again. Set free and vindicated, she would receive strength from the Lord to have a child.
The cup does not create guilt; it reveals it. Writers see here the Spirit of God applying death to what is hidden. For the one with nothing to hide, the same act does no harm.
The Holy Spirit judges in this way, according to the sentence of death against the flesh. His power makes the hidden unfaithfulness plain. It brings down the chastening and the curse upon the unfaithful one, and this by the just judgment of God. Drinking death, according to the power of the Spirit, is life to the soul… But if we are free from unfaithfulness, the result of the trial is only negative. It shows that the Spirit of holiness finds nothing to judge when He applies death according to the holiness of God.
The lesson reaches anyone who is under suspicion. The instinct is to protest; commentators urge the opposite.
Here we have this bringing in of the water of death. What meets everything so well as taking the place of death to all that is here below? It is very clear that a dead man does not resent an injury… Whatever it may be, let it take its course. Let us humble ourselves to have, as it were, bitter water given to us. Where the heart is willing for everything to be tested in the presence of God, the Lord takes up the cause of the one wrongly suspected, and makes all flourish as never before.
Commentators also read the ordinance as a picture of God's dealings with Israel. In this reading, Israel's own cry answers to the woman's "Amen."
At length He pleads with her by this ordeal. She defies divine justice, like any hardened wife who would dare to face the trial knowing her own sin. "His blood be upon us and on our children," from the lips of Israel, was like the woman's "Amen" to the curse. But their confidence has been their shame… The water entered in and did its deadly work.
- Cup — Holy water and dust from the tabernacle floor: the Word joined to death and the curse, mixed into one drink.
- Curse — The priest blotted the written curses into that water, so she swallowed the very sentence she had said "Amen" to.
- Exposure — The water invents nothing. It brings hidden unfaithfulness to light, and where nothing is hidden it finds nothing to judge.
- Willingness — The innocent had nothing to fear from the cup, so a tested heart can let the trial run instead of fighting every accusation.
- Nation — Commentators read the same trial of Israel as an unfaithful wife, who drank the curse she called down on herself.
And the priest shall take out of the woman's hand the oblation of jealousy, and shall wave the oblation before Jehovah, and shall present it at the altar.
A husband suspects his wife, and God will not leave him to settle it himself. He brings the case into the sanctuary, where the priest lifts the offering out of her hand and waves it before the LORD.
The recipe for this grain offering is unlike any other. What it leaves out says as much as what it contains.
The offering did not consist of fine flour, as the usual grain offering did, but of barley meal, which was coarser. It contained no leaven, for leaven would have implied the guilt of the accused woman before the test. It carried no oil or frankincense either. No joy and worship could go with this offering of jealousy.
Another writer reads these plain ingredients as a picture of the woman herself.
The barley meal is coarser and more common. It might well picture a life that no one could claim was very much in God's sight, yet a life not corrupted in the way charged. This, offered from the woman's hand, would indeed call for God's remembrance as to its truth or falsehood. The missing oil and frankincense may well speak of someone coming with a sad heart. This is not the joyful spirit of praise.
The waving is not a formality. It answers the exact charge the husband has made.
The charge against the woman was unfaithfulness to her husband. So the priest waved the offering — a tenth of an ephah of barley meal — before the Lord. Being set apart to her husband as his wife should mark her out. That is what the offering spoke of, and that is what her husband had charged her with violating.
The offering passes from her hand to the priest's. Neither husband nor wife settles this dispute.
The priest then put "the grain offering of jealousy" into her hand. Her husband had prepared it, in a way suited to her approach to God. The priest then took it from her hand, waved it before the Lord, and offered the memorial of it on the altar. This action showed that both the husband and the wife were committing the matter to God.
The verse ends at the altar, and the next verse burns a handful of the offering. One writer sees Christ in the waving and God's glory in the burning.
The waving of the offering speaks of Christ ascended to heaven after His death and resurrection. He is now in absolute authority, so that everything must be subject to Him. The portion burned tells us that God is to be glorified in this whole matter.
This trial comes last in a chapter that deals with evil in three stages.
In the first section, we have the corporate judgement of evil. In the second, we have individual self-judgement, confession, and restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
One writer turns the ceremony into a personal question: how do we react when someone suspects us?
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... It is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt, when there is a restless desire to explain away and deny. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... Suppose the heart is willing to let everything be tested in God's presence, instead of pushing the accusation away out of pride. Then the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without reason, and makes everything flourish as never before.
One writer sees a larger story behind the trial: a nation charged by her own Husband.
Israel could not endure the searching trial of the bitter water. Her unfaithfulness is now plain. She has broken her vows. She has turned away from her Husband, the Holy One of Israel. He has poured out His burning jealousy on the faithless nation.
- Suspicion — God will not let even an unproven suspicion of evil sit in the camp.
- Stripped — coarse barley, no oil, no frankincense. Joy and worship are missing, because this is no thankful approach.
- Surrendered — the waved offering hands the whole case to God, for husband and wife alike.
- Searched — the burned portion says God is to be glorified in the outcome, whichever way it falls.
- Submitted — for us, a heart willing to be tested, not quick to protest. For Israel, a Husband whose burning jealousy fell on a faithless nation.
And the priest shall take a handful of the oblation as a memorial thereof, and burn it upon the altar; and afterwards he shall make the woman drink the water.
Numbers 5:26 sits at the close of a long ordinance for a husband who suspects his wife but cannot prove anything. Before she drinks the water that will settle the case, God receives His own portion on the altar. That small detail shapes the whole test.
The order matters. The priest burns the handful before the woman drinks, and one writer says the drinking named earlier in the chapter happens here:
The accused wife first swore an oath of innocence and heard the warning about lying. Then the priest would take the grain offering from her and wave it before the Lord. Then he would take from it a handful as a memorial portion to burn on the altar (vv. 25-26). The portion burned tells us that God is to be glorified in this whole matter. Afterward the woman had to drink the bitter water. Verse 24 mentioned this, but it clearly took place after the burning of the Lord's portion.
The word translated "memorial portion" is rare. One writer traces where else it appears, starting with the meal offering:
In this offering the priest burned a handful of the flour, with all the frankincense, on the altar for a "memorial." That word is used only besides this of the very similar showbread (Lev. 24) and of the jealousy offering (Num. 5). A beautiful word in relation to this one perfect life on earth: will God ever forget it? Tried by the fire of God's holiness it was nothing but sweet fragrance.
Here, though, the memorial points the other way. Even the meal is not the usual fine flour:
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The offering was not made of fine flour like the meal offering. It used barley meal, which was coarser. It had no leaven in it, for that would have implied the guilt of the accused woman before the test. It had no oil or frankincense either. No joy or worship could go with this offering of jealousy.
Why holy water and dust from the tabernacle floor? One writer sees in them a picture of how God tests faithfulness:
If the faithfulness of Israel, the church, or an individual believer to God or to Christ is questioned, there must be a trial of it. It seems to me that the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. It was fatal to the natural man, but precious to the one who has life, since it means the death of sin. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience.
The chapter moves from open sin, to confessed wrong, to something far less tangible. Its placement is the point:
In the first section, we have the corporate judgement of evil. In the second, we have individual self-judgement, confession, and restitution. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
No guilty woman could slip through this test. That was good news for a wife who had done nothing wrong:
There was no escape for the guilty one, and that very fact only made the vindication of the innocent more triumphant. The same process that declared the guilt of the guilty made clear the innocence of the faithful. To someone who is sure of his own integrity, the more searching the investigation, the more welcome it is.
The practical lesson is for the person under suspicion:
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... It is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often of guilt, when someone has a restless desire to explain away and deny. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... Let us humble ourselves to have, as it were, bitter water given to us.
One writer applies the whole ordeal to Israel's own history:
In Psalm 109 the Lord appears as the one who had brought Israel to this trial, and by it found her guilty. He pleads with her through this ordeal. She defies divine justice, like any hardened wife who would dare to face the trial with the knowledge of her sin... But their confidence has been their shame.
Yet the same writer refuses to stop at the verdict:
There is forgiveness with the Lord for Israel... And when that day comes, Israel will have the very blessing promised to the wife who stood acquitted in the trial of jealousy.
- Altar first. The handful burns before the woman drinks. God is glorified first, and the verdict comes second.
- Memorial. The word appears only with the meal offering, the showbread, and this one. Here there is no oil and no frankincense, because there is no joy in it.
- Water and dust. The water pictures the Spirit pressing the word on the conscience. The dust pictures death in God's presence.
- Searching, therefore safe. The same process that traps the guilty clears the innocent. The deeper the search, the fuller the vindication.
- Drink it willingly. Do not resent suspicion. Let God test everything. Israel failed this trial, yet forgiveness and blessing are still promised to her.
And when he hath made her to drink the water, then it shall come to pass, if she have been defiled, and have committed unfaithfulness against her husband, that the water that bringeth the curse shall enter into her, for bitterness, and her belly shall swell, and her thigh shall shrink; and the woman shall become a curse among her people.
This verse gives the verdict in a strange and solemn ceremony: a wife suspected of unfaithfulness drinks water mixed with dust, and God Himself settles the case. Why would God ever order a trial like this?
One writer describes the scene and what went into the cup:
This ordinance was for uncovering unfaithfulness that had never been confessed. The high priest set the suspected wife in the presence of God as the Searcher of hearts... He then held a vessel of holy water, or water taken from the bronze basin, mixed with dust — the sign of curse or the fruit of sin (Gen. 3:19). He solemnly put the woman under oath, and read to her the curses that would come upon her if she were guilty. To this, if she chose to stand the trial after all this warning, she said, "Amen, Amen."
The trial aimed at certainty, not cruelty. The very thing that trapped the guilty is what cleared the innocent:
The suspected one had to undergo a process so searching that only the faithful one could endure it. If there was a trace of guilt, the bitter water could search down into the very depths of the soul and bring it fully out. There was no escape for the guilty one. And we may say this: the very fact that the guilty could not possibly escape only made the clearing of the innocent more triumphant.
Both women drank the same cup. The difference was inside them:
The guilty one had to drink death, and found it to be judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
One writer ties this law to the holiness of the camp where God lived among His people:
The camp was to be holy, for God lived there. If a man began to feel jealous about his wife, that jealousy was not to be left to fester. It had to be tested, whether it rested on fact or on imagination.
One writer spells out what those signs meant, and what their absence meant:
If she was guilty, the Lord would expose it by making her thigh rot and her belly swell. What came of that we are not told, but the stigma of a curse would be on her in the eyes of the people. If these symptoms did not follow, then she was fully cleared (v.28). In a case like this, we may well suppose that the husband should apologise to her for his suspicions.
One writer reads this ordinance as a picture of God's dealings with Israel, whom He married long ago. He traces the parallel down to the crowd's cry at the trial of Jesus:
He was entitled to bring her up for this trial, for He had married her long ago (Jer. 31:32)... At last He pleads with her through this ordeal. She defies divine justice, like a hardened wife who would dare to stand the trial while she knows her own sin. "His blood be on us and on our children," from the lips of Israel, was like the woman's "Amen" to the calling down of the curse. But their confidence has been their shame... The water entered in and did its deadly work.
The same writer does not stop at the verdict:
There is forgiveness with the Lord for Israel... She has played the harlot, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in steadfast love, and in mercy."
One writer applies this ordeal to anyone under suspicion:
When we are suspected, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts. It is always a sign of weakness at the very least, and very often of guilt, when there is a restless desire to explain away and deny. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... Let us humble ourselves and take the bitter water, as it were. We should not refuse the test, or push back a hint of accusation out of pride. Where the heart is willing for everything to be tested before God, the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without reason. He makes everything flourish as never before.
- Dust — the priest mixed holy water with dust, the sign of the curse and the fruit of sin, and put the woman under oath.
- Search — the trial dug so deep that guilt had nowhere to hide; when we let God test us in the same way, He takes up our cause.
- Same cup — both women drank death. The guilty found judgment; the faithful found victory and a full public clearing.
- Nation — one writer applies the picture to Israel: God tried her as a wife and found her unfaithful, and her cry at the cross answered the woman's "Amen."
- Mercy — the verdict is not the last word: God promises to betroth the unfaithful one to Himself again in righteousness and steadfast love.
But if the woman have not been defiled, and be clean, then she shall be clear, and shall conceive seed.
Numbers 5 describes a test for a wife suspected of being unfaithful. This verse gives the happy outcome, and it raises a question: why is her reward not just a clean name, but children?
The chapter moves through stages. This last section deals with a charge no court could settle, because there was no evidence behind it.
The third and last section of our chapter, which we need not quote at length, teaches us a deeply solemn lesson, whether we look at it as a picture of God's ways through the ages or as a moral lesson. It contains the record of the great ordinance for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is remarkable. In the first section, we have the judgement of evil by the whole camp. In the second, we have individual self-judgement, confession, and repayment. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
Suspicion is a dreadful thing to carry. God refused to let it sit unanswered.
But there is another case where there was not a trespass, but a suspicion of evil, and this too in the nearest relationship — the husband about his wife. Now Jehovah had His eye on this. He would not let anyone grow hardened. What is more dreadful than to be carrying suspicions? We ought to watch against it… It was not human feeling, but connection with God Himself, and a judgment of that which was unsuitable for His presence.
Everything turned on what the water did to her.
The priest wrote the curses in a book, blotted them out with some of the bitter water, and gave the rest of the water to the woman to drink. The trial was then made. If she had been unfaithful, the water would enter into her and become bitter; her belly would swell, her thigh would rot, and she would become a curse among her people. But if her husband's suspicions had wronged her, none of these things would happen to her. The curses in the book would all be blotted out, so that no one could read them any more. Set free and avenged, she would then receive strength from the Lord to conceive.
The severity of the ordeal is exactly what makes the clearing worth having.
The suspected one must go through a process so searching that only the faithful one can endure it… There was no escape for the guilty one. And we may say this: the very fact that the guilty could not escape only made the clearing of the innocent more triumphant. The very same process that proved the guilt of the guilty also showed the innocence of the faithful. To someone sure of their own integrity, the more searching the test, the more welcome it is.
The same test met both women. Only guilt had anything to fear from it.
The same principle works when we are the ones under suspicion.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected. But when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts… A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the least, and very often a sign of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt… A dead man does not resent an injury. Bringing the practical power of death into the soul is what enables us to bear it… The heart can refuse the charge, or push the hint away out of the pride of our nature. Or it can be willing to have everything fully tested in the presence of God. Where it is willing, the Lord certainly takes up the cause of the one suspected without cause, and makes everything flourish as never before.
Refusing the test protects nothing. Accepting it is the road to the fruitfulness this verse promises.
Israel, treated as an unfaithful wife, failed the trial. Yet this verse holds out its promise as her future.
The Lord she wronged will accept this unfaithful one again. She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so… but the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy." When that day comes, the blessing promised to the wife who was cleared in the trial of jealousy will be Israel's. She will then be set free — a free woman and a joyful mother of children.
- Suspicion — God would not let an unproven charge fester in a home or in His camp. He gave it a place to be settled in His presence.
- Testing — the ordeal was searching enough that only the faithful could survive it. That is why the innocent had nothing to fear.
- Clearing — the priest blotted out the written curses until no one could read them. Nothing was left on record against her, and she went free and avenged.
- Fruitfulness — God gives more than a clean name. He gives strength to conceive, and He holds out the same promise to Israel: a free woman and a joyful mother of children.
This is the law of jealousies, when a wife goeth astray to another instead of her husband and is defiled,
This verse names the law just given: the law in cases of jealousy. It covers a marriage where suspicion has entered but nothing can be proved — so why would God make a law for a suspicion, and what does a jealous husband tell us about God's claim on His people?
One writer sets out the chapter's three movements. Each one goes further than the last:
The third and last section of our chapter... records the great law given for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is striking. In the first section we have the judgement of evil by the whole people. In the second we have each person judging himself, confessing, and making restitution. In the third we learn that God cannot bear even the mere suspicion of evil.
No one has proved anything. That is the exact difficulty this law handles.
But there is another case where there was no actual wrong done, only a suspicion of evil — and this in the closest relationship of all, the husband about his wife. Now Jehovah had His eye on this. He would not let anyone grow hard. What is more dreadful than carrying suspicions?... The husband had to bring his wife to the priest, and everything had to be done in a holy way. This was not human feeling. It was a link with God Himself, and a judgment of what did not suit His presence.
The ingredients carried the message — both what was used and what was left out.
The offering was not fine flour, as in the meal offering, but barley meal, which was coarser. No leaven went into it, because that would have assumed the woman's guilt before the test. No oil or frankincense went on the offering either: no joy and no worship could go with this offering of jealousy. Then the priest took holy water in an earthen vessel, took dust from the tabernacle floor, and put it into the water... The water stands for the Word, and the dust stands for death and the curse.
The wife in this verse "goes astray" in secret. One writer applies that to any unfaithfulness people cannot see:
If any of the accursed things are hidden — if there is unfaithfulness towards Jesus, perhaps undetected by man, and God puts it to the test... the hidden evil comes out and the test reaches the flesh. Its rottenness and its weakness come to light, however fine it may look. But if we are free from unfaithfulness, the trial has only a negative result: it shows that the Spirit of holiness finds nothing to judge.
The same drink went to guilty and innocent alike, and it did not treat them alike.
He wanted His people to judge evil together, and each one to judge himself. But where there was even a suspicion of evil, with no evidence to be had, He Himself designed a test that brought the truth fully to light. The guilty one had to drink death, and found it judgement. The faithful one drank death, and found it victory.
The verse says the wife is under her husband's authority. His jealousy rests on a real claim.
Here we must remember that the husband's jealousy concerns something he has a real claim to: his wife's affection. It was the same with Israel. Their affection was to be towards God, and in this they had failed... The same principle applies to Christians today: "Shall we provoke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than He?" (1 Cor. 10:22).
Turn the picture around, and the suspicion cannot even arise:
How it would spoil everything if the suspicion here could be allowed about the husband! But "I have loved you with an everlasting love" is always true on His side.
This law also pictures Israel's unfaithfulness to the Lord. One writer follows the picture past the curse:
She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. She has said, "I will go after my lovers." But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy" (see Hosea 2, 3). And when that comes to pass, the very blessing promised to the wife who was cleared in the trial of jealousy will be Israel's.
- Holiness first. The chapter cleans the camp in three steps: the people judge evil together, each person judges himself, and even suspicion gets no room.
- Suspicion handled. With no evidence either way, the husband brings the matter to the priest and to God. It never stays a private human feeling.
- Hidden exposed. The water stands for the Word and the dust for death. Together they expose what no one could see.
- Two results. One drink, two results: the guilty tasted death as judgment, the faithful tasted death as victory.
- One faithful Husband. His claim on our affection is real. Suspicion never runs the other way: His love has never wandered, and His last word is betrothal.
or when the spirit of jealousy cometh upon a man, and he is jealous as regards his wife; then shall he set the woman before Jehovah, and the priest shall do to her according to all this law.
Numbers 5:30 closes the law of jealousy by restating the one case it covers: a man gripped by suspicion about his wife, with no proof either way. Why would God set up a trial for a suspicion no one can prove?
This law closes a chapter about keeping the camp clean. One writer traces the chapter's three steps to show why a mere suspicion belongs in that list at all.
The third and last section of our chapter teaches us a deeply solemn lesson. We can look at it as part of God's dealings through the ages, or simply as a moral lesson. It records the great ceremony set up for the trial of jealousy. Its place here is remarkable. In the first section, we see evil judged by the whole camp. In the second, we see the individual judging himself, confessing, and paying back what he took. In the third, we learn that God cannot endure even the mere suspicion of evil.
The priest runs the ceremony and mixes the drink. He does not reach the verdict.
However, this was not a matter even for the priest to judge. When they followed the procedure God gave, the whole matter rested in the hand of God. He would make the woman's guilt or her innocence plain... Then the priest was to take holy water in a clay jar and mix dust into it from the tabernacle floor. The holy water speaks of life, but the dust speaks of death. If there was no sin that called for death, life would be given, but guilt would lead to death.
Commentators agree the dust speaks of death. They differ over the water.
It seems to me that the dust of the tabernacle was the power of death in God's presence. It was fatal to the natural man, but precious, as the death of sin, for the one who has life. The water is the power of the Holy Spirit acting by the word on the conscience.
One procedure covered both outcomes. That worked in the innocent woman's favour.
The very fact that there was no possible escape for the guilty only made the vindication of the innocent more triumphant. The very same process that declared the guilty guilty also showed the innocence of the faithful. To a person sure of their own integrity, the more searching the test, the more welcome it is. If a guilty one could escape through some flaw in the trial, that flaw would only work against the innocent. But the process was God's, and so it was perfect. When the suspected wife had come through it safely, her faithfulness was shown in full and full confidence restored.
Writers do not stop at one household.
The camp was to be holy, for God lived there. So if jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, it was not left to fester. It had to be tested, whether it was based on fact or fancy... We may see here a type of what marked Israel and Jerusalem, indicated for instance in Ezekiel 16. Possibly this was also in the mind of the Apostle Paul when he wrote 2 Corinthians 11:2.
Read this way, Israel went through the trial and was found guilty. That is not the end.
There is to be acceptance for this unfaithful one with her injured Lord. She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy found it so. But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy." When this comes to pass, the very blessing promised to the wife who was cleared in the trial of jealousy will be Israel's.
The woman could only submit. One writer draws from that a word for anyone living under suspicion.
It may be very painful for us to be suspected, but when we are, let us never resent it in the pride of our hearts... A restless desire to explain away and deny is always a sign of weakness at the very least, and very often of guilt. As a rule, the fiercer the denial, the more certain the guilt... Let us humble ourselves to take the bitter water, as it were. Where the heart is willing for everything to be tested in the presence of God, the result is sure: the Lord takes up the cause of the one suspected without reason, and makes everything flourish as never before.
- Suspicion. God would not let an unproven doubt sit and sour a marriage. Even a suspicion had to come into the open.
- Submitted. Neither the man nor the priest could settle it. The verdict was God's alone.
- Searched. Commentators read the dust as death, and the water as life, or as the Spirit at work on the conscience. The test reached where no human enquiry could.
- Settled. The same test that exposed guilt proved innocence. The cleared wife walked away with full confidence restored, not just a lack of evidence.
- Story. Read wider, the trial is Israel's. She was found unfaithful, yet she is promised a betrothal in steadfast love, and the cleared wife's blessing at the end.
Then shall the man be free from iniquity, but that woman shall bear her iniquity.
This closing line says who carries the weight when the trial is over: the husband goes free, and the guilt stays with the guilty. Commentators read it both as plain law for the camp and as a picture of God dealing with a people He calls His wife.
The chapter deals with what would defile the camp where God lived among His people. A husband's suspicion could not be left to fester.
From verse 11 to the end of the chapter we have what is called "the law of jealousies." The camp was to be holy, since it was the dwelling place of God. If jealousy about his wife entered a man's mind, he was not to let it fester there. It had to be tested, to see whether it rested on fact or on imagination. If it was true, judgment fell on the woman. If it was false, she was free, and shown to be so.
To "bear" iniquity is the key phrase here. Darby weighs it against the other places the law uses it, and against Isaiah 53.
To see how bearing sin in Isaiah 53:12 connects with the punishment due to it, compare Leviticus 5:1, 17; 17:16; 20:19; 24:15; Numbers 5:31; 9:13; 14:34; 30:15. In all of them it means coming under all the consequences of the sin committed, answerable for it before God.
The verse does not leave the husband under a cloud once the case is decided.
If the charge of guilt was upheld against the wife, the husband was declared free from iniquity, because the evil had been exposed and judged. But the woman had to bear the results of her guilt (verses 30-31).
An innocent woman had nothing to fear from the bitter water. The searching that trapped the guilty was what cleared her.
If there was a trace of guilt, the bitter water could search down into the very depths of the soul and bring it fully out. There was no escape for the guilty one. And because no escape was possible, the clearing of the innocent was all the more triumphant. The same process that declared the guilt of the guilty made the innocence of the faithful plain... The process was divine, and so it was perfect.
Bellett reads the whole ordeal as a picture of God's case against Israel, ending with the nation's own "Amen" to the curse.
He had the right to bring her to this trial. He had married her long ago (Jeremiah 31:32). He had spread the corner of His garment over Jerusalem (Ezekiel 16:8). At the time of the marriage He had warned her of His holy jealousy (Exodus 20:5)... At last He brings His case against her through this ordeal. She is like a hardened wife who dares to face the trial while she knows her own sin, and she defies divine justice. The cry "His blood be on us and on our children!" from the lips of Israel was like the woman's "Amen" to the curse.
Darby applies the picture to Christ and the church. Christ cannot quietly ignore unfaithfulness He sees in her.
The church would do well to consider how far she has given herself to another... If Christ did not uncover the iniquity and have it judged, He would be, so to speak, identified with the iniquity of the bride, and so defiled by it (verse 31). So He will certainly uncover it. What is said here of the church is just as true of each of its members. Remember here too that the question is not salvation, but the walk down here.
Bellett does not stop at the verdict. Israel's story ends in mercy.
There is forgiveness with the Lord for Israel... She has been unfaithful, it is true, and the trial of jealousy has found it so. But the Lord has also said, "I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy." When that happens, the very blessing promised to the wife who was cleared in the trial will be Israel's.
- Suspicion — a man was not to let jealousy smoulder; God gave a way to test it, because the camp was His dwelling place.
- Test — the trial was God's, not man's, and so it was perfect: the same searching that exposed guilt made a faithful wife's innocence plain.
- Verdict — the husband is clear once the evil is exposed and judged.
- Burden — to "bear her iniquity" is to carry all the consequences of the sin, answerable for it before God.
- Ahead — for Israel, the clearing comes not through the ordeal but through betrothal in steadfast love; for Christ's people, the point is a clean walk now, not a salvation in doubt.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
God speaks to Moses again, and what follows is the law of the Nazarite. It opens the highest place of separation an Israelite could take, and nobody had to take it.
Chapter 5 removed what would spoil the camp. This new word from God moves the other way.
In Numbers 4 we have the order of Levite service, appointed by God, for taking down and setting up the tabernacle. In Numbers 5 we have the removal of whatever would defile the camp — and God's dwelling stood in the middle of that camp. Now, in Numbers 6, we have the very opposite. The one who took the Nazarite's vow placed himself in the most holy, or separated, position open to an Israelite. The meaning of the name, Nazarite, is "a separated one."
The vow is not mainly a list of things given up. Verse 2 gives its direction: "to the LORD."
In Numbers 6 we have the positive separation to God in the energy of the Holy Spirit (v. 2) — "to the Lord." So the Lord Jesus said, especially after His ascension, "For their sakes I sanctify myself" (the ESV reads, "For their sake I consecrate myself"). By the power of the Spirit in us, we should be separate now in the wilderness, walking in white, keeping our garments unspotted by the flesh. He still holds the Nazarite character, because all His disciples are not yet gathered to Him.
This vow shut no one out.
The Nazarite's vow was open to everyone in Israel. It was not limited to a special tribe, to the priests or the Levites, or even to the men of Israel. In its application, it is open to all the saints of God, and, indeed, should mark us all at all times.
No one had to become a Nazarite. But no one who did could design his own devotion.
The vow of the Nazarite is a most remarkable insertion of the Spirit of God early in the Book of Numbers (ch. 6:2–6). It comes soon after the giving of the law. Yet its main principle stands in contrast to law, for it is a vow of completely voluntary devotion. And while it was voluntary, no one could choose for himself how he would devote himself to God. Only God knows what is real devotion to Himself and what is not. First, there must be separation from the fruit of the vine — from mere natural stimulation and the joys of self-indulgence. Second, separation to the Lord in full subjection to His authority, pictured by the long hair. Third, separation from the corruption of death; there was to be no contact with a dead body. The first means personal self-denial. The second means full obedience to the Word of God. The third means avoiding every defiling association.
Grapes and wine were never sinful. That is what makes this giving-up striking.
It is separation not only from what was defiling, but from what was the best in nature. That does not condemn nature; condemning nature is never right in a Christian. We must uphold the honour of God in His creatures to the last. It is always sad when someone weakens what is due to God in anything He has made. Yet that is no reason to deny the power that lifts us above it.
One person answered to this vow without ever taking it.
Only one true Nazarite ever walked this earth. His Nazariteship was not merely something negative. It was that positive thing which joined Him to God, rather than only separating Him from the world. In fact He was not a literal Nazarite. John the Baptist was a literal Nazarite... The blessed Lord did not need any external self-righteous separation. His holy soul was completely separate to His Father, and He needed no outward sign of it.
In Israel the vow was optional. Does that make devotion optional now?
Among the people of Israel, the Nazarite was indeed a special case. An Israelite would not break the law if he decided against taking the Nazarite vow. For Christians dedication is not an option; it is something we are called upon to do. But the attitude in which we wish to live for the Lord should be willing. It should not be a legal sense of duty, trying to live for God in one's own strength. Such efforts can only fail (Romans 7).
- Setting — Chapter 5 clears defilement out of the camp. Chapter 6 opens the highest place of separation open to an Israelite. Removal first, then devotion.
- Direction — The name means "a separated one." But the vow aims somewhere: separation to the Lord, not just away from things.
- Reach — It shut out no tribe, no rank, no gender. What any Israelite could take up should mark every believer.
- Terms — The choice is free, but the pattern is God's: no fruit of the vine, long hair, no contact with death. That means self-denial, obedience, and clean company — never a word against what God made good.
- Fulfilment — One Man was the true Nazarite without ever taking the vow. He needed no outward sign. For us, devotion is not optional — but it must be willing.
Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them, If a man or a woman have vowed the special vow of a Nazarite, to consecrate themselves to Jehovah;
Numbers 6 opens with an offer, not a command. Any Israelite, man or woman, could vow to live set apart for God for a time, and that vow made them a Nazarite (the ESV spells it "Nazirite"). The verse raises the questions the chapter answers: what does "separate" mean, who may do it, and why take on a devotion nobody demands?
The vow is not tied to family line, office, or gifting. Nothing in the wording narrows the offer.
Verse 2 says: "When either a man or a woman makes a special vow." The offer is open to everyone. As we have already seen, it is not a question of family line. It has nothing to do with ability or talent either. In Israel, being a Nazarite was open to anyone who wanted it. Consecration today applies in the same way to every Christian.
The verse holds two ideas that some translations blur together. Michael Hardt quotes an older translation that keeps them apart, then follows each word through the Old Testament.
The verse points out two things: consecration and separation. Sadly, some translations lose this distinction: "If a man or a woman have vowed … to consecrate themselves to Jehovah; he shall separate himself."
At first sight, the word for "consecrate" (Hebrew pala) is translated in a surprising number of ways: "wonderful" (Genesis 18:14), "wonder" (Exodus 3:20), "marvel" (Exodus 34:10), "miracle" (Judges 6:13), "too hard" (Deuteronomy 17:8). Yet for our passage they all point the same way. It was about a special way of life — something people might call "wonderful" or "too hard," something out of the ordinary. The word "separate" (Hebrew nasar), on the other hand, gives the exact content of the vow: separation to God. It appears ten times in the Old Testament, five of them in Numbers 6, and means "keeping away from," "setting aside," "separating" or "consecrating."
The vow is offered, not imposed. But the one who takes it does not write his own terms. God sets them, point by point.
This vow comes soon after the giving of the law, but its main principle stands in contrast to law, since it is a vow of completely voluntary devotion. Yet while it was voluntary, no one was left to choose for himself how he would devote himself to God. Only God knows what real devotion to Himself is and what is not. … First, there must be separation from the fruit of the vine — from natural stimulation and the joys of self-indulgence. Second, there must be separation to the Lord in full subjection to His authority, pictured in the long hair. Third, there must be separation from the corruption of death; there was to be no contact with a dead body.
The vow is not about cleansing from defilement. What the Nazarite gives up is not sin at all.
In Numbers 6 we get a picture of positive blessing. The subject is not defilement, but a special setting apart for the Lord. … The separation is not only from what defiled, but from what was best in nature. This does not condemn nature; a Christian must never do that. … It is always sad when someone weakens what is due to God in anything He has made. Yet there is no reason to deny the power that lifts us above it.
Those three marks are the outside of something inward. The outside can exist without it.
The three marks of the Nazarite life we have spoken of were only the outward features of this calling, however important they were. … A vow was a decision to serve God without holding anything back, and so to give oneself to the service of Jehovah. This devotion to Christ is the foundation of the Nazarite life for a Christian. If it is not there, we lay ourselves open to a serious fall. A man may be a Nazarite in an outward way. He may even have, as Samson did, the great power that goes with being a Nazarite, and still not be separated in heart.
Israel's vow had an end date. The believer's separation does not work that way.
The Christian is not under law, and so does not take vows, but he is still under the authority of Christ. … The Nazarite's separation lasted a limited time, "all the days of his separation." The Christian is to be separate to the Lord all the days of his life in this world.
The picture points beyond every Israelite who ever took the vow.
In His character Christ was the true Nazarite. He was the holy one. Instead of earthly joy He was, above all, "the man of sorrows" while He was here. But He has also died to sin and lives to God. He answered to all the sacrifices, but the day is coming when He will drink wine new in the kingdom, as He said in Matthew 26:29. … Christians also are Nazarites to God, not because of any vow, but as sanctified in Christ Jesus.
- Anyone. The vow asks nothing about family line, ability or talent — only the wish to be set apart.
- Wonderful. Elsewhere the Hebrew word behind "consecrate" means wonderful or too hard — a life out of the ordinary.
- Voluntary. No one is forced into the vow, but God sets its terms: no wine, uncut hair, no touching the dead.
- Toward. What the Nazarite gave up was not sin but the best of nature. The point of it all is the words "to the LORD."
- Inward. Samson shows the marks can be worn with no heart behind them. Christ was the true Nazarite through and through.
he shall separate himself from wine and strong drink he shall drink no vinegar of wine, nor vinegar of strong drink, neither shall he drink any liquor of grapes, nor eat grapes, fresh or dried.
Numbers 6 sets out the vow of the Nazarite — a person who set himself apart for God. Verse 3 makes the vow specific: everything the vine produces is off limits. The list is unusually wide, and that width is the first clue to what God is asking for.
The ban goes far past anything that could make a person drunk. Commentators see that width as deliberate.
Here, however, the primary concern does not appear to be the danger of drunkenness. Even grape juice and fresh or dried grapes were forbidden. So these instructions to the Nazarite must be about something wider: earthly joys. They are allowed in themselves. But the Nazarite gives them up willingly, because he is specially consecrated to God.
Refusing wine also had a practical side. It touched the mind, not the appetite.
Wine clearly has a stimulating effect, and taken to excess it takes away the understanding (Hos. 4:11). A Nazarite drank neither wine nor strong drink as a matter of principle. So nothing could limit his power of judgment — an important point, especially in spiritual matters. This is why Aaron and his sons were not permitted to drink wine when they entered the sanctuary (Lev. 10:8-11).
Across the commentary, the vine stands for one thing above all, and that is what makes the abstinence meaningful rather than arbitrary.
In the first place, the Nazarite was not to drink wine. The fruit of the vine, in every shape and form, was to him a forbidden thing. Now, wine, as we know, is the apt symbol of earthly joy — the expression of that social enjoyment which the human heart is so fully capable of entering into. From this the Nazarite in the wilderness was carefully to keep himself. With him it was a literal thing. He was not to excite nature by the use of strong drink. All the days of his separation he was called to exercise the strictest abstinence from wine.
Giving up the vine does not leave the Nazarite empty. What he loses is one kind of gladness; what he keeps is another.
Each command has a distinct lesson in it. Wine, in Scripture, symbolises joy (Judges 9:13; Ps. 104:15). The Nazarite must give it up. This world cannot minister to the joy of those who walk with God. Many Christians seem never to learn this. The Nazarite is not without joy. His joys are deeper and purer than this world's vines can offer. The wine of earth may stir and excite the imagination. It can give a thrill of pleasure for the moment. But it can never produce the deep joy that marks the one who walks with God, as Enoch did. "The joy of the LORD is your strength" (Neh. 8:10), but it comes down from heaven. Nothing grown in this cursed world produces it.
The vow forbids raisins and grape juice — good things in themselves. Writers are careful here: this is no verdict against what God made.
It is separation not only from what was defiling, but from what was the best in nature. This does not condemn nature. A Christian should never do that. We must uphold the honour of God in what He created, right to the end. It is always sad when a person weakens what is due to God in anything He has made. Yet there is no reason to deny the power that lifts us above it.
In a land full of vineyards, a Nazarite could not hide this refusal.
In Mediterranean countries wine is plentiful. Enjoying the fruit of the vine in one form or another was common. So a Nazarite who always refused anything made from the vine must have stood out. But a Nazarite lived for God. He was prepared to give up legitimate earthly pleasures. He viewed life from God's perspective. He looked at things differently from those around him. Whatever got in the way of his consecration had no place in his life.
Writers also see in verse 3 a picture of Christ. His separation did not start with a vow.
Verse 3: "Separate himself from wine" — that is, joy. The Lord came expecting to find joy among men. He looked for a response to His love in the hearts of men, but found none. So He was a Nazarite from the first. To be a Nazarite is to be separated from every natural affection that death can touch — to be separated to the Lord... So we are Nazarites too. Our own proper joy lies beyond death. So everything I give up here that has the mark of death is simply giving up what hinders a deeper grasp of the joy and blessing of that life which death cannot touch.
The same picture appears when God looks for joy in the nation He planted.
In the Scriptures, wine speaks of earthly joy, and God sought that joy from His earthly people, Israel. In Isaiah 5 God compares Israel to a vine... He had done everything possible. Yet when He came to taste the fruit, there was no wine for Him. He could have no joy in His earthly people.
- Cost — the ban reaches past drunkenness to juice and raisins. The issue is earthly joy laid down by choice, not just excess avoided.
- Clarity — refusing wine on principle kept the Nazarite's judgment clear, like the priests who entered the sanctuary.
- Gift — the Nazarite is not joyless; he trades a shallow, momentary joy for the deeper joy of walking with God.
- Balance — grapes are good things. The vow lifts a person above nature without condemning what God made.
- Christ — He came looking for joy among men and found none. So He was the true Nazarite from the first, and believers are Nazarites after Him.
All the days of his separation shall he eat nothing that is made of the vine, from the seed-stones, even to the skin.
Numbers 6:4 ends the first rule for the Nazirite vow, a promise of holy separation to the Lord: nothing from the grapevine, down to the seeds and skins. Why forbid something that was never sinful, and what does a ban that total teach about a life set apart for Him?
The vine was not picked at random. In Jotham's parable, each fruit tree carries a meaning of its own.
As we know from Jotham's parable in Judges 9, the olive tree speaks of fatness (Judg. 9:8, 9), the fig tree of sweetness (9:11) and the vine of joy: "Shall I leave my wine that cheers God and men?" (9:13). Wine therefore speaks of joy: for God in the drink offering, and for mankind (Ps. 104:15).
The vine itself was not evil. The issue is aim, not morality.
It is not a question of the harm of this, that, or the other. As a rule there was no harm in the vine tree, and nothing wrong with it in itself. But the point is this: if anyone aimed at being a Nazirite, if he wanted this holy separation to the Lord, he had to give up wine and strong drink completely. Others might drink wine; but the Nazirite was not to touch it.
Drunkenness is not the danger in view. The ban covers things that could never make anyone drunk.
Here, however, the primary concern does not appear to be the danger of drunkenness. Even grape juice and fresh or dried grapes were forbidden. So these instructions to the Nazirite must be about something wider: earthly joys. They are allowed in themselves, but he gives them up freely because he is specially consecrated to God.
The verse reaches past the vine's products to the two ends of the grape itself. Each end carries its own lesson.
Note too that not even certain parts of the fruit are left out of this instruction: "from the seeds to the skins". The skins stand more for the outward appearance, while the seeds show the secret principles behind them. Think here of 1 John 2, where John reduces all that the world has to offer to three principles: "the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life" (1 John 2:16)... The Nazirite avoids not only the outward appearance but also what is worldly at the core.
The phrase "all the days" sets a boundary at both ends.
On the other hand, the phrase shows that the vow only applied for a limited period of time. That time would pass by. The moment would come when the Nazirite was expressly permitted to experience joy (Num. 6:20). For Christians today this period covers their whole life on earth. It is a restricted time, a window of opportunity, so to speak, when we can show that we wish to live for our Lord.
Commentators see this separation lived out in Christ Himself.
Wine makes merry; it makes glad the heart of man. But Christ had not one feeling in common with a world estranged from God. He could love and pity, but He kept away from all earthly joy and gladness. To Him in whom God was well pleased, nothing here below gave Him enjoyment... This blessed Nazirite walked as God's heavenly stranger through the world.
The Lord's own vow does not stay with Him alone.
The vine tree has its roots in the earth. The Nazirite, while under his vow, was to taste nothing made from the vine tree, from the seeds even to the skins. He was to be entirely separate from the pleasures of the world to the Lord. Every believer is a Nazirite, according to the blessed Lord's own vow: "I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom" (Matt. 26:29). Being associated with Him, we are under His vow, and ought to be true Nazirites to God. But this can only be by finding all our joy, delight, and satisfaction in the love of Jesus.
This is not bare self-denial.
The Nazirite knows that there are a thousand things that can have a negative influence on him, or at least be a distraction for him, although they are harmless in themselves, judged by normal moral standards. This has perhaps never been as true as in our own age of electronic communication. Every subject and every distraction is there, right at our fingertips... But as far as we are ready to give things up for the Lord's sake, we find that He grants us more joy than earthly things could ever give.
- Joy. The vine is the picture of joy — the one thing the Nazirite lays down while consecrated to God.
- Everything. Seeds and skins cover both the outward look of the world and its inner principles. Nothing from the vine is left out.
- Harmless. What the Nazirite gives up was never sinful. The question is not "Is this wrong?" but "Do I want to be a Nazirite?"
- Daily. "All the days" makes it a way of life, not an occasional gesture — a window open only while this life lasts.
- Exchange. Christ kept this separation perfectly and will drink the fruit of the vine again in His Father's kingdom. Those joined to Him give up less joy than they receive.
All the days of the vow of his separation there shall no razor come upon his head; until the days be fulfilled, that he hath consecrated himself to Jehovah, he shall be holy; he shall let the locks of the hair of his head grow.
Numbers 6:5 sets one rule for the Nazarite, a person under a special vow to God: while the vow lasts, no razor may touch his head. To everyone else the long hair looked like a disgrace, but the commentators read it as the mark of full devotion.
The instruction runs against nature. A man's uncut hair announced that he had stepped down from the place God gave him.
It is plain that this was not the ordinary condition of a man. Long hair did not become him, though it is in character with the woman. Long hair is the sign of subjection to another. Subjection is not God's order for the man. He is meant to be the image and glory of God. But in the Nazarite the rule was altogether special. There was a giving up of man's natural rights, of the place of dignity which God gave him in nature.
Giving that place up left the Nazarite dependent. One writer sees gain in that loss.
The long hair of the Nazarite told everyone that he had given up his dignity and personal rights as a man. He did this to devote himself to the service of God. What was glory for the woman was shame for him… Without this dependence there is no service for God and no power for it. What was a sign of weakness for the Nazarite became the source of his strength.
Nothing here makes cutting hair sinful. The rule bound the Nazarite alone.
Here again, note, the question is not as to the right or wrong of the case. As a general rule it was right for a man to cut his hair; but it was not right — no, it was altogether wrong — for a Nazarite to do so. This made all the difference. It was quite right for an ordinary man to shave and drink wine. But the Nazarite was not an ordinary man. He was set apart from all that was ordinary, to walk a path of his own.
A phrase later in the chapter, quoted here from an older translation, turns the picture around.
In our chapter we find the interesting statement: "The consecration of his God is upon his head"… Here, to some extent, the threads meet and the connection becomes clear. Because the Nazarite was separated to God and consecrated to Him, he had let his hair grow. In God's sight that hair had become a sign of his consecration — a crown indeed. This is all the more remarkable since long hair, as such, would have been a dishonour for a male Nazarite.
The verse says he shall be holy for the whole time. Hair sits on the boundary between the body and the world outside.
Hair is the outermost covering of all, over the skin. It is the point where the animal meets the outside world. It is also the point of separation… So the Nazarite let his hair grow long as a token of his separation from everything that would defile. If defilement came in, he had to shave off his hair as a token that he had lost his separation.
Commentators read the unshaven head as a picture of Christ.
Sin has utterly tainted what would otherwise be lovely. But the Nazarite is a picture of Christ in His separation as a man to God. He was without blemish and without spot. Everything that grew up in that Holy One was lovely and acceptable to God… His food was to do the will of Him who sent Him and to finish His work. To have cut off the beautiful hair of the untainted Nazarite would have been to cut off the feelings, interests, thoughts, affections, purposes and acts of Christ. They were all fragrant and precious in the sight of God.
The verse sets a horizon. The vow had an end, and that end was joy.
The phrase shows that the vow only applied for a limited period of time. That time would pass. The moment would come when God gave the Nazarite clear permission to experience joy. For Christians today this period covers their entire life on earth… It is a limited time. It is a window of opportunity, so to speak, when we can show that we wish to live for our Lord.
- Sign — the uncut hair was a public, unmistakable mark: this man had handed over his rights and taken the place of subjection to God.
- Shame — what nature counts as a disgrace for a man, the Nazarite accepted, because he was no longer living as an ordinary man.
- Crown — what looked like dishonour was, in God's sight, a crown on his head; in Christ the picture is perfect, without blemish or spot.
- Strength — the sign of weakness became the source of his strength; service for God rests on that dependence.
- Span — the vow ran for a set time only; for Christians that window is this whole life on earth, and joy waits at the end.
All the days that he hath consecrated himself to Jehovah, he shall come near no dead body.
This verse gives the third condition of the Nazarite vow: anyone who sets himself apart to the LORD must not go near a dead body. Why should death, which nobody chooses, make a person unclean, and what does that rule ask of God's people today?
The rule is not arbitrary.
Contact with a corpse caused defilement. We know that death is a result of sin. Romans 6:23 states plainly that death is "the wages of sin." This link between death and sin unlocks the meaning of the third mark of a Nazarite. Contact with sin causes defilement, and that is the deathblow for consecration. Defilement interrupts the enjoyment of fellowship. Without day-to-day fellowship with the Lord — without "abiding in Him" — we can do nothing.
The vow did not just add rules. It changed the question the man asked himself.
Once the consecration of God rested on a person's head, that great and important fact became the standard and test of all morality. It put him on completely new and unusual ground. He now had to look at everything from a new and unusual point of view. He was no longer to ask what suited him as a man, but what suited him as a Nazarite. So if his dearest friend lay dead beside him, he was not to touch him.
The strongest ties are family ties, and that is where this condition bites hardest.
The third mark belongs to man since the fall and is part of his very being: sin, proved by its consequence, death. This was what the Nazarite had to avoid at all cost. Even the strongest ties, family ties, must not count when the question is setting oneself apart for the service of God. How little we understand this! Many Christians say, "Let me first go and bury my father." Others say, "I cannot; my relatives would not allow it." Such are not Nazarites.
Commentators differ on where the line falls today. Some point to people dead in their sins, and to how long a Christian's separation lasts.
For us, defilement comes through contact with moral death. So a dead man stands for someone dead in his sins. It is a very solemn thought for us all. Many live surrounded by relatives who are not converted, and defilement can be picked up so easily… How much, then, we need to be on our guard in our daily dealings, if we want to keep our place of separation and of communion. Let us never forget that all the days of our separation — and for the Christian that means his whole life — we are holy to the Lord.
Others read it of systems rather than persons.
Contact with a physically dead body does not defile us now. But there are spiritually dead bodies — corrupt religious systems — that insult the holiness of God. He expects believers to keep completely separate from these.
Even accidental contact carried a real price — and no apology could cover it.
Suppose that by accident, as we say, he was with a man who died suddenly. He lost the whole of his previous period as a Nazarite. He had to begin the days or months or years of his separation again. A mere expression of regret would not do. He was defiled by the dead, and the unbending law of defilement applied. Only after the offering of the sacrifice that removes such defilement could he be fit for God's presence and company.
But name carefully what is lost. This is about closeness with God, not about being saved.
The reader needs to understand very clearly that this is in no way a question of the soul's salvation, of eternal life, or of the believer's perfect security in Christ… Christianity has two great links. They are closely connected, yet quite distinct: the link of eternal life, and the link of personal communion. Nothing can ever snap the first. The second can snap in a moment, under the weight of a feather.
Jesus touched the dead, yet the picture of the Nazarite is not broken by it.
Concerning contact with the dead, here too it is not a case of literal fulfilment. We also know that He touched the frame on which the widow's dead son was being carried. Yet Numbers 19 states, "anything that the unclean person touches shall be unclean." But seen from the spiritual side, the Lord Jesus was completely separate from death, that is, from sin and its consequences.
- Consecration. The mark on the Nazarite's head reset how he judged everything: not what suits a man, but what suits someone set apart for God.
- Contact. Death defiles because death is sin's wage. Touching it is the deathblow to consecration, and it cuts off fellowship.
- Cost. Even accidental contact wiped out all the days already served, and regret alone could not undo it.
- Confidence. The link of eternal life can never be snapped. The link of personal communion can snap under the weight of a feather.
- Christ. He touched the dead and stayed undefiled. He was wholly separate from sin and its consequences.
He shall not make himself unclean for his father, or for his mother, for his brother, or for his sister when they die; for the consecration of his God is upon his head.
The law of the Nazarite reaches its sharpest point here. A man under this vow could not attend even the funeral of his own father or mother. The reason is not coldness. Something of God rested on his head, and it governed everything else.
Why does the verse speak of the head? One writer explains, using an older translation of the words:
In our chapter we find the interesting statement: "The consecration of his God is upon his head." Here the different lines of thought come together and the connection becomes clear. Because the Nazarite separated himself to God and consecrated himself to Him, he let his hair grow. In God's sight that hair became a sign of his consecration — a crown. This is all the more remarkable, since long hair by itself would have been a dishonour for a male Nazarite (1 Cor. 11:14).
Once that consecration rested on a man, it reset the whole basis on which he judged what he could and could not do.
Once the consecration of God rested on a person's head, that great and important fact became the standard and test of all morality. It placed him on wholly new and unusual ground. He now had to look at everything from a new point of view. He was no longer to ask what was fitting for a man, but what was fitting for a Nazarite. So if his dearest friend lay dead beside him, he was not to touch him.
Death is not just a sad accident here. It is the proof that sin is in man. That is what the Nazarite had to keep clear of, whatever it cost him:
The third thing has to do with what belongs to man since the fall and is part of his very being: sin, proved by its consequence, death. This was what the Nazarite had to avoid at all cost. He must not weigh even the strongest ties, those of the family, when it was a question of setting himself apart for the service of God. How little we understand this! Many Christians say: "Let me first go and bury my father." Others say: "I cannot, my relatives would not allow it." Such are not Nazarites.
The verse is not a rebuke of family love. These ties come from God and are good. The danger is letting them take a place that is not theirs.
The ties of nature are right enough, and truly of God in their proper place. But if they are not kept in their place, they are sure to hinder true devotedness… Was ever a son's love so tender as the love that glowed in the heart of the Man Christ Jesus? Was ever obedience to parents so perfect as His? Yet when service made its claims, and the integrity of true Nazariteship had to be held, He could say, "Woman, what does this have to do with me?" And again, "Who is my mother?" Only the true and perfect Servant knew how to adjust conflicting claims and keep each in its place.
This law also paints a picture of Christ. He gave up the rights that belonged to Him as man, to serve God's glory alone.
Christ made Himself a Nazarite. He did not take His place as a man, or His rights as Son of man. For the glory of God He made Himself completely subject, and He submitted to all that that glory required. He identified Himself with the godly few among the sinful people whom He had loved, and became a stranger to His mother's children… He separated Himself from all the links of human life to devote Himself to the glory and service of God, and to obedience to Him.
What does defilement cost? One writer names the loss:
Anything that brings us into contact with sin has its effect on our Nazariteship. We lose the power that comes with communion with God, and the special presence of the Spirit with us — however much of that power God had given us. Sadly, we lose the time that went before too; we must begin again. It is great grace that God does not take away all privilege of serving Him… let us always remember that we are under grace.
That loss is real, but be clear about what it touches. It breaks communion, not eternal life:
Christianity has two great links. They are closely connected, but they are quite distinct: the link of eternal life, and the link of personal communion. Nothing can ever break the first. The weight of a feather can break the second in a moment.
- Crown. His uncut hair was, in God's sight, the sign of his consecration — a crown showing that God's claim rested on his head.
- Standard. That crown changed the question he asked. Not "what suits a man?" but "what suits a Nazarite?" — even with a friend lying dead beside him.
- Death. A dead body defiled him, because death is the proof of sin. Not even the closest family tie could override that.
- Balance. Family love comes from God and is good in its place. Only Christ, the complete Nazarite, kept every claim in its right order.
- Cost. Defilement never breaks eternal life. It breaks communion in a moment, and the days already served count for nothing — so the Nazarite begins again under grace.
All the days of his separation he is holy to Jehovah.
A Nazirite was an Israelite who took a special vow of separation to God. Numbers 6:8 closes the rules for that vow and gathers them under one word: holy. The earlier verses say what to do and what to avoid. This verse says what the Nazirite is — on every day of the vow, not at chosen moments.
The word does not describe a level of moral achievement. The first things Scripture calls holy show what it means:
Holiness means being set apart for a specific purpose. The first thing God sanctified (made holy) was the seventh day, the Sabbath (Gen. 2:3). Later He sanctified Mount Sinai (Ex. 19:23). Neither the Sabbath Day nor Mount Sinai had sinned. Nor did they have any old nature to be rid of. But both were set apart (nowadays we might say 'reserved') by God for a definite purpose. This is (Biblical) 'hallowing' or sanctification.
So the words "to the LORD" carry the weight here. They turn a list of things avoided into something positive:
Being a Nazarite is not a negative thing, a mere keeping of certain rules, though that is part of it. It is more. It means the Nazarite is set aside for one purpose: to be wholly for God. That is what this verse stresses when it says the Nazarite shall be "holy to the LORD".
The vow had no fixed length. Yet every day a person chose was covered by it — and anyone in Israel could take it:
The Nazarite's vow was open to all in Israel. It was not limited to one tribe, to the priests or the Levites, or even to the men of Israel. In its application it is open to all the saints of God, and it should mark us all at all times. In Numbers 6, which gives the instructions for the Nazarite, there was no limit on the number of days a person could separate himself to the LORD. But the things commanded and forbidden were for "all the days of his separation."
Applied to the believer, that unbroken span raises a pointed question about anything given to God with an end date built in:
If the Nazarite broke his separation, the days already kept were lost (Num. 6:12). Does this not show that our devotion to God must be thorough and held back by nothing? We are to keep on with our whole heart "all the days of separation" — that is, until the end of our time on earth. Can we call anything real devotion to God if we limit how long it lasts? Christ's devotion was "to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Phil. 2:8). This true inward purpose of heart is the New Testament answer to the Old Testament vow, but it will do far more than a vow ever could.
The vow changed the standard by which a Nazarite judged everything — even what to do when someone he loved lay dead beside him:
When the consecration of God rested on someone's head, that great and important fact became the standard and test of all morality. It placed him on completely new ground. It required him to look at everything from a new point of view. He was no longer to ask what suited him as a man, but what suited him as a Nazarite. So if his dearest friend lay dead beside him, he was not to touch him. He was called to keep himself away from the defiling influence of death, and all because "the consecration of God" was on his head.
Holiness is not one rule among others. The Nazarite's power depends on it:
God's Nazarites must keep themselves pure or lose their power. For them, power and purity cannot be separated. They cannot go on without inward holiness. So they must always watch against the many things that draw away the heart, distract the mind, and lower the tone of spiritual life. Holiness is the great and necessary mark of every day of Nazariteship. Once holiness is given up, Nazariteship is over.
Commentators are careful to say what this loss is not:
Nazariteship is not, in any way, a question of the soul's salvation, of eternal life, or of the believer's perfect security in Christ. Christianity has two great links. They are closely connected, yet completely distinct: the link of eternal life, and the link of personal communion. Nothing can ever break the first. The weight of a feather can break the second in a moment. Nazariteship belongs to the second of these.
No Israelite ever fully matched the standard this verse sets. One person did:
Christ alone carried out His Nazariteship in full, a complete moral separation, through His whole life on earth. It is still true in heaven, where He remains the true Nazarite, "separated from sinners" (Heb. 7:26).
- Set apart. Holy means reserved for a purpose, not sinless. God made the Sabbath and Mount Sinai holy, and neither had ever sinned.
- Set apart to the LORD. The verse stresses the purpose, not the list of restrictions: being wholly for God.
- All the days. The length of the vow was open. The holiness covering it was not. Devotion with a time limit is not real devotion.
- A new touchstone. The consecration on his head, not what suited him as a man, decided every question — even beside a dead friend.
- Fellowship, not salvation. A broken vow costs communion, never eternal life. Only Christ, the true Nazarite, kept every day of His separation.
And if any one die unexpectedly by him suddenly, and he hath defiled the head of his consecration, then he shall shave his head on the day of his cleansing; on the seventh day shall he shave it.
Numbers 6:9 turns from the man set apart for God to the one thing that could break it: a death beside him, without warning. He did not plan it and could not stop it. Yet his consecration counts as defiled, and the verse sends him back to the razor.
The verse opens with "if," and that small word shapes everything that follows.
This passage is not about a Nazarite deliberately breaking his vow. It has in view a sudden death, when someone died without warning and so defiled everyone in the tent (Num. 19:14). But even though intention played no part, the matter could not simply be passed over.
One writer draws from this a lesson about the company we keep.
Have you ever thought about the effect of the company we keep? The Nazarite forfeited the hair of his separation by touching a dead body, even suddenly; and I doubt if he forfeited it in any other way. I am convinced that we never come in contact with humanity without being either injured or served by it.
To us the incident looks trivial and unavoidable. One writer answers that objection head on.
Here we find atonement, in its two great aspects, as the only ground on which the Nazarite could be restored to communion. He had become defiled, and that defilement could only be removed by the blood of the sacrifice. We might think it a very small thing to touch a dead body, especially in a case like this. Someone might ask, "How could he help touching it when the man dropped dead beside him?" The answer is both simple and solemn. God's Nazarites must keep themselves pure. What is more, God sets the standard of that purity, not man. The touch of death alone was enough to break the link of communion. If the Nazarite had dared to carry on as though nothing had happened, he would have defied God's commands and brought heavy judgment on himself.
Shaving cost him something that had taken a long time to grow.
Our verse stresses a deeply tragic consequence for the Nazarite. This shaving was not the same as the shaving of the cleansed leper's hair (Lev. 14:8). For a Nazarite, the hair that had been growing since the start of his consecration had become the first visible sign of it. It may have taken many weeks or months to reach its length. Now all appeared to be lost because of a single case of defilement.
The hair also stood for something inward. Commentators connect it with dependence.
The long hair of the Nazarite announced to everyone that he had given up his dignity and his personal rights as a man, so that he could devote himself to the service of God… Without this dependence there can be no service for God and no power for it. What was a sign of weakness for the Nazarite became the source of his strength.
The razor was not punishment only. It was the man himself admitting in public what had happened.
It is worth noting what he had to do when he had "defiled his consecrated head" (Num. 6:9-11). One of these acts answered to the loss of his outward Nazariteship, the other to the breaking of his vow, his inward consecration. He had to shave his head. This was his public acknowledgement that he had failed. It was also his admission that the power of his Nazariteship had left him. The repentant Nazarite was not like Samson, who did not know that the Lord had departed from him.
Commentators read "the day of his cleansing" alongside the cleansing water of Numbers 19, where the same seventh day appears.
The double cleansing, with sprinkling on the third day and on the seventh, shows us that time is needed. We have to take in what sin is in God's sight, how we have dishonoured Him by it, and how the Lord had to suffer for it.
The section is hard reading, but it is not a dead end.
The second section of the chapter (Num. 6:9–13) deals with a broken Nazarite vow. This section is very solemn, yet it is also a great comfort. God has provided an offering for this very case (Num. 6:10), and He makes a fresh start possible (Num. 6:11, 12).
- Suddenly — the verse covers the accident, not the rebel. No intent was needed; the defilement was real.
- Contact — nearness to death defiled him. Every company we keep leaves a mark on us.
- Standard — God sets the measure of purity, not our sense of what is fair.
- Shaving — the razor cut off the visible sign and confessed the loss in public. Samson never knew his strength had gone.
- Restart — the seventh day gives time to feel the loss, and the blood of the offering opens a fresh start.
And on the eighth day he shall bring two turtle-doves, or two young pigeons, to the priest, at the entrance of the tent of meeting.
The man had done nothing anyone would call wrong. Yet the touch broke his communion with God, and he could not simply carry on.
Here we find atonement in its two great aspects. It was the only ground on which the Nazarite could come back to communion. He had become defiled, and only the blood of the sacrifice could take that defilement away. We might think it a very small matter to touch a dead body, especially in such a case. Someone might ask, "How could he help touching it when the man had suddenly dropped dead by his side?" To all this the reply is at once simple and solemn. God's Nazarites must keep themselves pure. And the standard for that purity is not human but divine.
One writer sets this case beside the person cleansed from a skin disease, where the uncleanness came from inside the man rather than from an accident outside him.
In the case of the leper it was his leprosy which had made him unclean — the working out of what was within him; in the case of the Nazarite he was defiled by a man dying suddenly near him. This was defilement from outside, and defilement which very probably he could not have guarded himself against; but no plea he could make would have released him from the obligation of coming to the altar of burnt offering with his pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons — the one for a sin offering, the other for a burnt offering — to make atonement for him, "for that he sinned by the dead."
The remedy is not scaled down to match how minor the incident looked.
There was the burnt offering — the type of the death of Christ toward God. There was the sin offering — the type of that same death toward us... In a word, it needed the full virtue of the death of Christ to remove the defilement caused by the simple touch of a dead body. This is especially solemnising. Sin is a dreadful thing in God's sight — most dreadful. A single sinful thought, a sinful look, a sinful word is enough to bring a dark, heavy cloud over the soul.
Why two, and why one of each kind? The pair covers both what the man is and where he now stands.
The sin offering reminds us of what we were in all our sins. The love of God met us in our need, and the Lord Jesus died for us to deal with what we are in ourselves. The burnt offering speaks of our acceptance, not in our own merit, but in the Lord Jesus, who is of infinite worth in the sight of God. Our eyes look to Him, we are occupied with Him, and this is where true strength lies.
Doves and pigeons were the smallest sacrifices the law allowed. What can so small an offering mean?
One might be too poor to bring a bull or sheep or goat, and provision was made that he could bring turtledoves or young pigeons. Our understanding of the greatness of Christ's sacrifice may be poor. Even so, glory is still given to God in simply recognising that Christ is the true Man from heaven who came to sacrifice Himself. The birds speak of His heavenly character.
The choice of bird carries meaning too.
It is the bird of love and sorrow, and so it fittingly pictures the Spirit of Him whose love made Him a man of sorrows in a hostile world.
The day named here matters as much as the offering.
"The eighth day" (v. 10) is the introduction, the first day, of a new week. And so we find the Nazarite starting his separation over again, as it were. If sinners are to be separated to God, it can only be by death — the death of Christ. By His resurrection, He began in power the new creation.
Commentators see the defiled Nazarite as a picture of a believer who slips into sin. God had already made provision for that.
A Nazarite could not deliberately make himself unclean, not even for his nearest and dearest... But the Nazarite might be defiled without intending it, through a man dying "very suddenly by him." This would bring his days of consecration to an end. So it is with a Christian: sin is a possibility, not a necessity. As we read, "My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world" (1 John 2:1-2). There is no provision for wilful sin, but there is a sin offering for a sin of inadvertence.
One writer warns against a misunderstanding:
This burnt offering and sin offering remind us that the work of the Lord Jesus is enough — even in the sad case of a believer's defilement. It is not that we "have to go back to the cross," as some claim, "to be converted all over again." We are saved once for all. But we need to realise that our Lord also died with a case of unintended defilement in view.
- Contact — Even defilement he could not avoid broke the link. The standard of purity is God's, not ours.
- Cost — Nothing less than the full value of Christ's death could clear what a single touch had caused.
- Cleansing — The sin offering deals with what he was. The burnt offering gives him acceptance in Another's worth.
- Cheapness — Two small birds were the lowest offering allowed, yet God accepted them. Even a weak grasp of Christ still gives Him glory.
- Comeback — The eighth day opens a new week, and the man starts his separation over. Separation to God comes only through the death of Christ.
And the priest shall offer one for a sin-offering, and the other for a burnt-offering, and make an atonement for him, for that he sinned by the dead person; and he shall hallow his head that same day.
A Nazarite was someone who had taken a vow of complete separation to God, marked by uncut hair. If a person dropped dead beside him, that separation ended through no fault of his own. Verse 11 gives God's remedy: the priest offers two birds and makes atonement, and the man consecrates his head again that same day.
The chapter describes what happened to this man in three ways. He "defiles his consecrated head" (v. 9), he "sinned by reason of the dead body" (v. 11), and "his separation was defiled" (v. 12). One writer sets these side by side and draws a distinction:
Verses 9 and 12 say that his consecration, or the head of his consecration, has been defiled. Verse 11 puts the emphasis elsewhere: in God's sight, defilement is sin.
Nothing he could say would excuse him:
A man died suddenly near the Nazarite, and that defiled him. This was defilement from outside him, and very probably he could not have guarded himself against it. Still, no plea he could make would have released him from coming to the altar of burnt offering with his pair of turtle doves, or two young pigeons — the one for a sin offering, the other for a burnt offering — to make atonement for him, "because he sinned by reason of the dead body."
The priest offered one bird as a sin offering and the other as a burnt offering. Commentators tie the pair to the death of Christ:
There was the burnt offering — a picture of the death of Christ toward God. There was the sin offering — a picture of that same death toward us... In a word, it took the full power of the death of Christ to remove the defilement caused by one simple touch of a dead body. This is especially solemn. Sin is a dreadful thing in God's sight — most dreadful.
The man could not hand the offering over wherever he liked. He carried it to the priest, at the entrance of the tent where God met His people:
Every sin is a sin against God. This is why the offering had to be brought to God. We need to realise that the matter concerns our relationship with God. The sacrifice of Christ has settled the problem of our sin — that is the sin offering. It has also made us acceptable before Him, so that we stand in His favour — that is the burnt offering.
Doves and pigeons were what the poor brought when they could not afford a lamb:
Then he had to offer "two turtle doves or two young pigeons," the sacrifice of one who "was not able to bring a lamb." This admitted his incapacity and his worthlessness as a servant. It also admitted the value of the blood offered for his purification. We should note these things. When we have lost communion with the Lord, we should not put on a show of spiritual power. When we have failed in the responsibility of our service, we should humbly confess our sin before God.
The way back followed a set order. One writer traces it:
Seven days had to pass before he could be cleansed — seven days, so that he might see himself as God sees him. Then he was to shave his head and remove the public sign of his vow, his long hair. After this, on the eighth day, the start of a new period... he was to bring a sin offering and a burnt offering to the priest, to make atonement for him, at the door of the tent of meeting — the Lord's meeting place with His people. In a word, he had to come again under the full power of the sacrifice of Christ.
Why the eighth day and not the seventh?
"The eighth day" (v. 10) is the start of a new week, its first day. So we find the Nazarite beginning his separation over again, so to speak. Sinners can be separated to God only by death — the death of Christ. By His resurrection, He began in power the new creation.
The offering restores; it does not start salvation over:
This burnt offering and sin offering remind us that the work of the Lord Jesus is enough — even in the sad case of the defilement of a believer. Some claim that we "have to go back to the cross" "to be converted anew." That is not it. We are saved once for all time. Yet our Lord also died with a case of unintended defilement in view.
- Defilement. Contact with death broke the vow even when the man could not have avoided it — in God's sight, defilement is sin.
- Confession. No plea excused him; the two birds were the sacrifice of someone admitting he could not bring a lamb.
- Atonement. Clearing even one touch of a dead body took the full value of Christ's death — sin offering and burnt offering together.
- Approach. The offering went to the priest at God's meeting place, because the damage was to a relationship with God.
- Renewal. On the eighth day — the first day of a new week — he consecrated his head again, and his separation began afresh.
And he shall [again] consecrate to Jehovah the days of his separation, and shall bring a yearling lamb for a trespass-offering. But the first days are forfeited, for his consecration hath been defiled.
A Nazarite was someone who took a vow of separation to God, marked out in public by his long, uncut hair. This verse deals with the moment a dead body breaks that vow. He must start his days of separation over again, bring a lamb as a guilt offering, and lose the days he has already kept.
The defilement here is sudden and unintended. That makes the ruling hard to accept. One writer refuses the excuse we reach for, and says why the earlier days count for nothing:
To our eyes it would seem to be an accident, but there are none. The power of circumstances should never prevail over those set apart to God. How naturally we excuse ourselves by pointing to our weakness and the unexpected attacks of the enemy! But true weakness is always strength, and there are no circumstances in which God is not present. Nothing of this sort is admitted here… The former days of his vow are lost days. He must begin his vow completely again, because his separation had been defiled. Not finishing it shows that something spoiled the whole of that time. For if the soul is with God, it never lacks power to carry things through.
The guilt offering — also called the "trespass offering" — met God's claim where His rights had been infringed. Two people in the law could not be restored without one:
No trespass-offering was appointed for any public festival. Yet a leper could not be cleansed without one (Leviticus 14:10-14). And a Nazarite who had defiled the head of his consecration could not renew it until he had brought a male lamb of the first year as a trespass offering to the Lord (Numbers 6:12). In both cases God's rights had really been infringed.
The lamb also settles the matter on ground outside the man himself:
Although the Nazarite had failed, he was to "separate himself to the LORD for the days of his separation." God delights in those who seek to live for Him in this world, despite their weaknesses and failures. The lamb of the trespass offering gives the assurance before God that all His claims about our failures have been met. Our relationship with Him rests on the perfection of the work of His own Son.
The verse does not end the vow. It restarts it, and one writer finds grace in that:
This verse shows that the Nazarite was given the opportunity to separate himself to God once again, as had originally been in his heart. It is wonderful to see God's grace at work here, allowing the Nazarite to start over.
Restoration follows a set order. The offerings come first, then the fresh consecration:
First, he must have a thorough sense of his condition before God. Seven days had to pass before he could be cleansed — seven days, so that he might see himself as God sees him. Then he was to shave his head, removing his long hair, the public sign of his Nazariteship. After this came the eighth day, the start of a new period. He was to bring a sin offering and a burnt offering to the priest… In a word, he came again under the full power of the sacrifice of Christ. And last, he was to consecrate his head again, and offer a lamb as a trespass offering.
Pardon and recovery are not the same thing:
It is true that grace pardons and restores, but we never regain what we have lost.
The loss is more than days on a calendar, and there is a warning with it:
Anything that brings us into contact with sin has its effect on our Nazariteship. We lose the power that belongs to communion with God, and the special presence of the Spirit with us, whatever measure of that power we were given. Sadly, the time that went before is lost. We must begin again. It is great grace that every privilege of serving God is not taken from us… In any case we should own our defilement at once and go to Christ. We should not pretend to be Nazarites on the outside when we are not so in God's eyes. Nothing is more dangerous than serving God with an impure conscience. Yet let us always remember that we are under grace.
- Contact. Contact with death defiles, and the law accepts no plea of accident. Circumstances never outweigh a person set apart to God.
- Claim. The guilt offering is needed because God's rights were really infringed. The lamb declares that the work of His Son meets every claim.
- Cleansing. Restoration runs in order: first a true sense of his state, then the sin and burnt offerings, then fresh consecration. There is no quiet carrying on as if nothing happened.
- Cost. Grace pardons and restores, but the earlier days are lost. What goes is power in communion and the Spirit's special presence — not God's pardon.
- Continuation. The vow can be taken up again from the start. That permission is the mercy in the verse — if the failure is owned, not covered by an outward show.
And this is the law of the Nazarite on the day when the days of his consecration are fulfilled he shall be brought to the entrance of the tent of meeting.
A Nazarite lived set apart to the LORD for a fixed length of time. This closing part of the law turns to the day that time runs out — so why does Scripture call this, and only this, the law of the Nazarite?
Readers often expect a summary line like this at the start of a chapter, not two-thirds of the way through.
At first sight we may be surprised to find the words, "this is the law of the Nazarite", at this point and not at the beginning or end of the chapter. Verse 21 repeats this phrase. These words frame this third section, so to speak. This period could be long — "all the days of his separation" (Num. 6:4). So the actual law of the Nazarite is restricted to the commands about its final day. The whole period, in which the Nazarite lived consecrated to the LORD, reached its climax on that last day. Everything pointed towards it.
The section just before this one dealt with a vow broken by sudden defilement. What follows here changes the subject entirely.
In the third section of the chapter we come to the beautiful subject of the fulfilment of the vow. It stands in a certain contrast to the second part that has just been discussed. The key words here are no longer failure and interruption, but rather fulfilment and joy: "And afterwards the Nazarite may drink wine" (Num. 6:20).
If everything in the vow pointed to a final day, then separation was never an end in itself.
A believer's life is directed towards a goal. "All the days" (cf. v. 4) of our life here on earth, all that we can be here in devotion to the Lord, finds its climax and motivation in the great finale. Then the Lord will "transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body" (Phil. 3:21). Then will come true what we read in 1 John 3:2: "We shall see him as he is". This goal is what the Nazarite had in view "all the days of his separation". "And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure" (1 John 3:3).
The verse does not say the Nazarite comes. It says he is brought — and earlier in the chapter, at the same door, something different happened.
Once again we see the Nazarite at the entrance of the tent of meeting (cf. v. 10), the place of God's presence. There is, however, a difference. Verse 10 says he should bring something to the entrance of the tent of meeting: two turtle-doves or two young pigeons. Here he himself is brought.
What happens to the Nazarite here is a picture of something still ahead.
One day this will be the case with all believers. They will be brought into the presence of God, not to be occupied with defilement or sin, but to savour eternal joy. Believers who pass through death are at once "with Christ", where it is "far better" (Phil. 1:23).
Because the vow has an end, self-denial is not the believer's permanent state.
Separateness may take different forms: Israel in responsibility, the church now, the Christian by grace, or Christ Himself, the only One who was absolutely and perfectly separate. So I understand that all these applications end in joy and glory. Keeping watch in self-denial will not always be required. There is a day coming when the Nazarite drinks wine — a time of gladness and ease; and thanks be to God for the hope of it!
One Nazarite has already reached this day.
The Lord Jesus lived as a Nazarite for God "all the days" without any interruption. Then came the moment when the days of His consecration here on earth were "fulfilled". Moses and Elijah "spoke of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem" (Luke 9:31).
In His case the picture is not just matched but outgrown.
He was not only brought to the tent of meeting, but entered into the sanctuary. It was a better sanctuary than that of Old Testament times ("greater and more perfect"). He had not only lived in consecration to God, but had died, "securing an eternal redemption".
Since the vow ran for a set time, when does the believer's time run out?
The Nazarite vow was set for a certain length of time. When it was completed, the person was to come with an offering to the tabernacle door. For the believer today, his Nazariteship is not completed until the end of his history on earth, whether through death or the Lord's coming.
Meanwhile the hands that arrive full are shaped by what fills them now.
When the days of his separation were fulfilled, the Nazarite was brought to the door of the tent of meeting. His hands were filled with offerings for his God. If we walk day by day in close communion with our Lord and in separation from all that is not of Himself, this will be the result.
- Fulfilled — the law itself covers only the final day; every day of separation was aimed at that climax.
- Ours — for the believer the vow runs to the end of his life on earth, whether by death or the Lord's coming.
- Brought — earlier he brought birds to the door; now he himself is brought. That is what awaits every believer.
- Surpassed — Christ kept the days without a break. He went beyond the picture: not to the door only, but into the sanctuary, securing an eternal redemption.
- Ending — a day is coming when the Nazarite drinks wine; watching in self-denial stops, and every form of separation ends in joy and glory.
And he shall present his offering to Jehovah, one yearling he-lamb without blemish for a burnt-offering, and one yearling ewe-lamb without blemish for a sin-offering, and one ram without blemish for a peace-offering;
This verse ends the Nazarite's vow — a set time of living wholly separated to God. That life closes not with a party for the vow kept, but with blood — and with a sin offering that seems, at first, unnecessary.
Each animal here points to one event. One writer ties the whole list to the moment Christ finished His course:
There came a time when Christ, the true Nazarite, had fulfilled the days of His separation. That was when "the hour had come for Him to depart out of this world to the Father" (John 13:1). For Him it was the time of "offering Himself without blemish to God" (Heb. 9:14). All the offerings of the Nazarite had their fulfilment in the great work of the cross: the he-lamb for a burnt offering, the ewe-lamb for a sin offering, and the ram without blemish for peace offerings.
The first animal is for God before it is for us.
"One male lamb a year old without blemish for a burnt offering." Man had failed here completely. God sent His Son to take up everything for Him in perfection, and this was first of all a provision for God Himself. "God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering" (Gen. 22:8). Think deeply about all that the Lord Jesus means to God His Father. Think how completely He has glorified Him in His life and in His death. If we do, our hearts will be greatly enlarged.
The first lamb is male, the second female. Commentators read that difference in two ways. One looks at which way each offering faces:
Where it was a question of the Lord's work for God — the Godward side — the animal had to be male, as in the burnt offering (Lev. 1:3). Where it concerns our own condition — the side that looks at us — the animal was female, as in the sin offering of an individual (Lev. 4:28). For the peace offering, which speaks of our fellowship with God, either a male or a female was acceptable (Lev. 3:1). So here, for the sin offering, a ewe-lamb had to be brought, since it concerns us and the sins that we have committed.
The other reads the female animal as a picture of submission:
In this case the lamb offered was to be a female, and this stresses the aspect of subjection. The Lord Jesus, as Man, was subject to His God and Father in all things, even though His obedience brought Him unfathomable suffering. He became "obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Phil. 2:8).
One writer reads the age and condition of both lambs as a statement about Christ's whole life on earth.
Both the burnt offering and the sin offering took a one-year-old lamb without blemish. This emphasises that there was no failure and nothing out of place in the Lord (Luke 23:41). His whole life here on earth tested and proved this. The "one year" shows that period of time.
The third animal is a ram, not a lamb. That links it to the setting apart of priests:
The ram was brought because this was a question of special dedication to God. It was the same at the consecration of the priests: there too a ram of consecration had to be offered up.
The peace offering also gives the worshipper a share:
One thing the peace offering speaks of is thanksgiving (Lev. 7:12). We give thanks to God for all that Christ is and has done for Him and for us. We share God's thoughts and delight in His Son, and in doing so we eat the same peace offering that God eats.
This verse names the burnt offering first, yet the sin offering came first. Priests were set apart in the same order:
Here God's order is instructive. The ram of consecration is what we might have put first, yet it really comes last. This is because as sinful creatures they could not be consecrated to God's service without a sin offering, which met what they were. They needed the burnt offering too, which foreshadowed the voluntary surrender to death of Him who was made sin for His people. So here, at the setting apart of the Levites, and at the completion of the Nazarite's vow, the sin offering came before the burnt offering.
The end of the vow also points forward:
This marvellous "law" leads us on to something future. The full result of Christ's perfect work will then appear. As the Messiah of Israel, at the close of His Nazarite separation, He will taste true joy in His beloved people and in this earth. The time will then have come for the Nazarite to drink wine.
- Fulfilment. All three animals point to one place: the cross. There Christ offered Himself without blemish to God.
- For God. The male lamb of the burnt offering is God's own provision for Himself — the Son taking up perfectly what man had failed in.
- For us. The ewe lamb faces what we are. Commentators differ: the female marks either our condition or the Lord's subjection.
- With God. The ram, the animal of consecration, becomes a peace offering — an offering God and the worshipper eat together.
- In God's order. The list names the burnt offering first, but the sin offering came first. No one is set apart for God's service without a sacrifice that meets what he is.
and a basket with unleavened bread, cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, and unleavened wafers anointed with oil, and their oblation, and their drink-offerings.
When a Nazarite's days of separation ended, he came to the entrance of the tent of meeting with offerings, and verse 15 lists the basket that came with them. Commentators read that basket as a picture of the life of Christ — so the vow closes with a memorial not of the man's faithfulness, but of Someone else's.
The vow ran for a set time. One writer follows that closing point through to the believer today.
Since the Nazarite vow was set for a certain length of time, when this was completed the person was to come with an offering to the tabernacle door. For the believer today, his Nazariteship is not completed until the end of his history on earth, whether through death or the Lord's coming.
One writer takes the terms one at a time and reads them as a portrait of Christ's perfect life.
No leaven: there was no evil in Him. Mixed with oil: according to Luke 1:35 He was conceived by the Holy Spirit. Anointed with oil: according to Acts 10:38 He was anointed with the Holy Spirit. Fine flour: there were no irregularities in His life. In the power of the Holy Spirit He had lived a life that was perfection and well-pleasing to God.
The verse adds "their grain offering" to the basket. The same writer links that phrase to a rule found elsewhere in Numbers.
We read in Numbers 15:4, 6, 9 that offerings by fire had to be accompanied by grain offerings. This fact shows that Christ's sacrifice would not have been possible without His perfect life on earth. The two belonged together.
The basket did not come on its own. It went up with the burnt offering and the peace offering.
The grain offering offered with the burnt and peace offerings surely tells us this: the offering up of Christ on the cross carried with it the sweet savour of all that He was for God's pleasure in His life of devotion and perfection. And the drink offerings tell us that God had His joy in His Son at all times, whether in life or in death.
The drink offering was wine. One writer weighs the wine and the sweet savour together, and asks whose joy they speak of.
These two items (the wine and the sweet savour) make it clear what the drink offering is about. It is a matter of God's joy over the finished work of His Son, and not so much ours. Drink offerings always seem to stand at the end. That is, they come when something has been fully accomplished, and above all when God had achieved His end with the soul in question.
The Nazarite could drink wine again once his vow ended. One writer carries that detail forward to a coming day.
This marvellous "law" leads us on to something future, when the full result of Christ's perfect work will appear. Then He, as the Messiah of Israel, will at the close of His Nazarite separation taste true joy in His beloved people, and in this earth. The time will then have come for the Nazarite to drink wine. He is apart from the nation, and apart from this world, in the power of true Nazariteship. As He said to His disciples on that memorable night, "I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom" (Matthew 26:29).
One writer looks ahead to the day believers see the Lord face to face.
The basket of unleavened bread, cakes of fine flour mixed with oil and unleavened wafers anointed with oil bring the fresh remembrance of the whole life of the Lord Jesus on earth in true humanity, devoted to the will of God. This will mean more to us then when we see Him face to face than it has ever meant before.
- Finished: The vow ends, and verse 15 belongs to that close. For the believer, the separation runs to the end of life on earth.
- Flour: Fine flour with no leaven speaks of a life with no evil and no flaw in it. The offering describes Christ, not the man who brings it.
- Oil: Mixed with oil and anointed with oil mark two works of the Spirit. He was conceived by the Spirit, then anointed by Him for service.
- Together: The grain offering goes with the burnt and peace offerings. The sacrifice of Christ and the perfect life behind it belong to each other.
- Joy: The drink offering stands last of all. It speaks of God's joy in His Son over a finished work, and points on to the day the true Nazarite drinks the wine new.
And the priest shall present them before Jehovah, and shall offer his sin-offering and his burnt-offering
A Nazarite had vowed to live set apart for God for a set time, and here his days are over. He brings his animals and bread to the entrance of the tent of meeting, and the priest takes over — but why, after all that faithfulness, does a sin offering still come first?
He arrives having kept his promise — but the promise is not what makes him acceptable.
As the Nazarite's course ended, he came to the door of the tent of meeting to offer various offerings to God. He found acceptance with God in the value of those offerings, not in the vows he had performed.
Take the sacrifices away and the whole arrangement collapses.
Without sacrifices Nazariteship would be nothing at all. There can be no blessing without the sacrifice of Christ, so this consecration had to include them. The consecration was acceptable because of the value of what the sacrifices represented. The two went together.
Verse 14 lists the burnt offering ahead of the sin offering. Verse 16 reverses it: the priest offers the sin offering first, then the burnt offering. That order is deliberate, and it changes with the occasion.
Here God's order is instructive. What we might have put first, the ram of consecration, comes last. As sinful creatures, they needed a sin offering, which met what they were. They also needed the burnt offering, which foreshadowed the voluntary surrender to death of Him who was made sin for His people. Without both they could not be consecrated to God's service. So the sin offering took precedence over the burnt offering on this and on other occasions: the setting apart of the Levites for their work, the completion of the Nazarite's vow, the eighth day of the leper's cleansing, and the day of atonement. On the chief festivals this order was reversed. Where man is the prominent figure, the sin offering generally takes the prominent place. Where the point is God's favour to man — what God is to him — the sin offering can come second. But the sin offering on any of these occasions was not enough without the burnt offering as well.
Sin blocks worship until it is taken away.
In Leviticus the offerings themselves come in one order: the burnt offering, meal offering and peace offering first, and then the sin offering. In application the order changes. When the individual worshipper is in view, he presented his sin offering first, then his burnt offering. He could not worship while sin was against him. He had to approach by the power of what took it away.
The two offerings look in different directions.
As in verse 11 we again meet here the burnt offering and the sin offering. They point to the two basic aspects of the Lord's work at the cross: His work for God (burnt offering) and His work for us (sin offering). However, there is no longer any question of the turtledoves or young pigeons, but of a lamb in each case.
The Nazarite brings; the priest offers. That split carries a double lesson.
The priest then offered the sacrifices that the Nazarite had brought to the tent of meeting. Does this not remind us that, on the one hand, our Lord "offered himself" to God? We read: "Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God" (Heb. 9:14). And on the other hand it reminds us that our spiritual sacrifices of worship are "acceptable to God". They are acceptable not through any grandness of our own thoughts, our choice of words or our eloquence, but "through Jesus Christ": "to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (1 Pet. 2:5).
The closing day of the vow points forward to one moment.
Numbers 6:13 speaks of the time "when the time of his separation has been completed" — older translations read, "when the days of his separation are fulfilled." There came the time when Christ, the true Nazarite, had fulfilled the days of His separation. It was the time when "his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father" (John 13:1). For Him it was the time of "offering himself without blemish to God" (Heb. 9:14). All the offerings of the Nazarite had their fulfilment in the great work of the cross: the he-lamb for a burnt offering, the ewe-lamb for a sin offering, and the ram "without blemish as a peace offering."
- Brought. The Nazarite carries his offerings to the tent of meeting. He presents sacrifice, not a record of days kept.
- Offered. He does not lay them on the altar himself. The priest presents them before the LORD — a picture of worship made acceptable through Christ.
- Sin first. When the worshipper himself is in view, the sin offering comes before the burnt offering, because no one can worship while sin still stands against him.
- Both needed. The sin offering meets what we are; the burnt offering shows Christ's work Godward. Neither is enough alone.
- Fulfilled. Every offering here finds its meaning at the cross. There the true Nazarite offered Himself without blemish to God.
and he shall offer the ram, a sacrifice of peace-offering to Jehovah, with the basket of unleavened bread; the priest shall offer also his oblation and his drink-offering.
This verse closes the vow of the Nazarite — a person set apart to the LORD for a fixed time. Why should a season of strict separation end with an offering of fellowship and joy?
The Nazarite's vow was never meant to last for life.
Again, Nazariteship is never supposed to be permanent, but an institution for the wilderness. It comes in by the way on earth, and is peculiar to Numbers.
Leslie Grant applies that limit to the believer.
The Nazarite vow was set for a certain length of time. When that time was over, the person had to come with an offering to the door of the tabernacle. For the believer today, his Nazariteship is not finished until the end of his history on earth, whether through death or the Lord's coming.
The verse names a ram. The same animal marked the setting apart of the priests.
In the Nazarite we have special consecration, separation to the Lord… Once the sin offering and the burnt offering had been properly offered up, he presented his peace offering, a ram, with the basket of unleavened bread. The ram was brought because this was a question of special dedication to God. It was the same at the consecration of the priests, where the ram of consecration was commanded to be offered up.
Here nobody is making peace. The blood has already made it, and a shared meal follows.
Look at what the peace offering pictures. The moment the blood was shed, God and the worshipper could feed together in happy, peaceful fellowship. Nothing more was needed. The blood established peace, and on that ground the fellowship went on. A single doubt about whether peace has been established must be the death-blow to fellowship.
The cakes and wafers in the basket are made to an exact recipe.
The meal offering points to the perfect life of our Lord, the true Nazarite. No leaven: there was no evil in Him. Mingled with oil: according to Luke 1:35 He was conceived by the Holy Spirit. Anointed with oil: according to Acts 10:38 anointed with the Holy Spirit. Fine flour: there were no irregularities in His life… We read in Numbers 15:4, 6, 9 that offerings by fire had to come with meal offerings. This shows that Christ's sacrifice would not have been possible without His perfect life on earth. The two belonged together.
The wine comes last in the verse. That position carries meaning.
These two items — the wine and the pleasing aroma — make it clear that the drink offering is about God's joy over the finished work of His Son, and not so much ours. Notice that drink offerings always seem to stand at the end. That is, they come when something has been fully accomplished, and especially when God had reached His goal with the soul in question.
The Nazarite brings the offerings, but the priest presents them.
Does this not remind us that, on the one hand, our Lord "offered himself" to God? We read: "who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God" (Heb. 9:14). On the other hand, we are also reminded that our spiritual sacrifices of worship are acceptable to God. They are acceptable not through any grandeur of our own thoughts, our choice of words or our rhetoric, but through Jesus Christ: "to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (1 Pet. 2:5).
The ceremony also looks ahead. The Nazarite had given up wine, and at the end of his days he could drink it again.
This marvellous "law" leads us on to something future. Then the full result of Christ's perfect work will appear. Then He, as the Messiah of Israel, at the close of His Nazarite separation, will taste true joy in His beloved people and in this earth. The time will then have come for the Nazarite to drink wine… as He said to His disciples on that memorable night, "I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom." Matthew 26:29.
- Temporary — the vow belongs to the wilderness and has a fixed end. For the believer, that end is death or the Lord's coming.
- Ram — the animal of consecration, used when the priests were set apart. It marks special dedication to God.
- Fellowship — nobody makes peace here. The blood made it, and on that ground God and the worshipper share a meal.
- Bread — no leaven, oil, and fine flour. This is the perfect life of Christ, without which the sacrifice could not have been made.
- Wine — poured out only when the work is finished. It is God's joy in His Son. It waits for the day the true Nazarite drinks it new in His Father's kingdom.
And the Nazarite shall shave the head of his consecration at the entrance to the tent of meeting, and shall take the hair of the head of his consecration, and put it on the fire which is under the sacrifice of the peace-offering.
A Nazirite was a person under a special vow to God, and his uncut hair was the public sign of it. Now the vow is over, so why cut off that sign — and why does God command the hair to burn under the peace offering?
Earlier in the chapter a Nazirite who was defiled also had to shave his head. But the wording there is not the same, and the difference matters.
Here is a first hint of the difference. In the cleansing process the Nazirite shaved the "head". Here it is "the head of his consecration." Verse 9 does say that "the head of his consecration" was defiled. But for the act of shaving it mentions only the "head", with nothing added. In other words, what he had forfeited or defiled was the consecration itself. It is all the more striking that in our verse the phrase "the head of his consecration" is used twice. This shows that leaving out the words "his consecration" the second time in verse 9 is deliberate, not just a way to avoid repetition. How precise is the Word of God!
One shaving marks a loss. This one marks a finish.
What did the long hair stand for while it grew?
The Nazirite was then to shave his head (v.18), showing that the days of his subjection in humiliation were at an end. Today our subjection to God (pictured in the long hair) means constant humiliation and self-denial in a hostile setting. But the hair was burned under the peace offering. The reminder of our days of humiliation will go up in fire to the Lord. He will not forget this, and our bodies of humiliation will be changed to be like the Lord's body of glory (Phil. 3:21).
Nothing else in the sacrificial law works quite like this.
The Nazirite's hair, grown through the period of his consecration, can now be laid on the altar. This was unique among the law's commands about offerings. A real part of the human body goes on the altar, and not just as a picture, as in Romans 12:2. The hair is not itself a sacrifice. Yet it lies on the altar, in the fire underneath the actual offering.
But why under that offering in particular?
The smell of the burning hair now mingles with the sweet aroma of the peace offering, and God permits it. He even orders it! The peace offering will be before us for all eternity. It reminds us of what Christ accomplished to open the way for eternal fellowship with the Father and the Son. God now tells the Nazirite to lay his hair on the fire under the peace offering. By this He points out, so to speak, that all that believers have been for God during their lives should combine and mingle with the sweet aroma of the peace offering. It should rise to Him in eternity. What a thought this is!
So where does a life of separation finally lead?
Finally, when the Nazirite vow was fulfilled, all the sacrifices were offered. The hair of the head of his separation burned in the fire that consumed the sacrifice of the peace offerings. This is a picture of the full communion that results from the sacrifice of Christ. At the time God has fixed, the sacrifice of Christ will have its full and entire effect. Then the energising power of separation will merge into the communion that is the happy result of that sacrifice. The power of the Holy Spirit is now spent in great measure on holding back the desires of the flesh. We are thankful to know that it will then be wholly a power of joy in God.
Writers read the finished vow as a picture of the Lord Jesus completing His own separated path.
Do we not see here the day when the Lord Jesus finished His path of separation and entered into the joy of His Father's presence? The long hair that marked His path of shame is removed. Like the peace offering, it goes into the fire that consumed the offerings that were "a pleasing aroma to the LORD."
With the hair gone, what is left in his hands?
The Nazirite now stands before God not with the hair of his consecration, but with the peace offering. This speaks of the believer who knows that his joy rests on Christ's sacrifice and not on the degree of his own dedication.
- Finished, not forfeited. This shaving removes "the head of his consecration". It ends a completed vow, unlike the shaving of verse 9, which followed defilement.
- Sign removed. The long hair marked days of humiliation and subjection; cutting it says those days have reached their end.
- Devotion offered. Nowhere else in the law does a part of the body go on the altar — not as the sacrifice, but into the fire beneath it.
- Remembered forever. What believers have been for God rises to Him mingled with the sweet aroma of the peace offering.
- Separation absorbed into communion. The energy now spent on staying clear of evil will turn into pure joy in God. The hands hold Christ's offering, not one's own record.
And the priest shall take the boiled shoulder of the ram, and one unleavened cake out of the basket, and one unleavened wafer, and shall put them upon the hands of the Nazarite, after he hath shaven [the hair of] his consecration.
The Nazirite's vow has run its course, and the last act is done to him, not by him. The priest fills his hands with the boiled shoulder of the ram, a loaf and a wafer — but why the shoulder, boiled, and not the breast?
Older translations call it the "sodden shoulder." One reference work defines the word:
The past tense of seethe, to boil. Genesis 25:29; Exodus 12:9; Numbers 6:19.
One writer ties the boiled shoulder to Christ's death and to feeding on the word:
Christ's strength was shown in the place where He was crucified in weakness. It was His strength that held Him up in the hour when He bore judgment for us and glorified God about our sins. Does not the boiled shoulder tell us that this divine strength, made known in Christ's death, is available to us through the word of God? It is as we feed on the word that we feed on the strength of Christ, shown and made available for us on the cross.
The Hebrew word behind "shoulder" carries that sense of strength elsewhere in the Bible:
The word for shoulder is also translated, depending on the context, as "arm" or "leg" (in the sense of foreleg). Used figuratively, it speaks of "strength." In Job 22:8 and Ezekiel 22:6 it is translated "power." It occurs for the first time in the blessing of Joseph (Genesis 49:24). There, and in other passages such as Exodus 6:6, "with an outstretched arm," it is used in connection with strength. So the Nazirite can remember that his Lord has borne all the responsibility and finished the work in His own strength.
Two pieces of unleavened bread go with the shoulder. One commentator reads the whole handful together:
The wave shoulder speaks of Christ as the One who has perfectly borne our responsibility on the cross and is glorified in heaven. The waving speaks of that glory... The unleavened cake and wafer remind us of Christ in His sinless perfection of Manhood. He will keep that perfection in wonderful grace through eternity.
The order of the verse matters. The sign of his own dedication comes off first; then the priest fills his hands.
With verse 19 we return to the actual peace-offering. The priest was to take the ram's shoulder. He was to lay it on the Nazirite's hands, together with the meal-offering — a cake and a wafer, both unleavened. All this came after the man had shaved off the hair of his consecration. The Nazirite now stands before God, not with the hair of his consecration, but with the peace-offering. This speaks of the believer who knows that his joy rests on Christ's sacrifice and not on the degree of his own dedication.
In ordinary peace-offerings the priest heaved the shoulder; here he waves it. One writer explains why:
In the ordinary peace-offerings the shoulder was heaved with the cakes; here it was waved. This offering did not spring from a thankful heart rejoicing in its blessings. It was not the gift of a heart wanting to present something of its own to the Lord in recognition of His goodness. It was the public declaration that the time of special separation to God had ended, so the right shoulder, with the cakes, was waved before the Lord. The man had been wholly separated to God by his vow; now he was to pass out of that state which he had voluntarily entered. So everything was waved, not heaved, and the shoulder, which pictures service, was the portion commanded to be offered in this way.
The priest does the waving, over food he is about to eat:
The offering priest had his portion, as well as his own part in the law of the Nazirite. He had to offer the sacrifices (vv. 16, 17) and to wave the wave offering before the Lord. Normally the breast was waved before the Lord. Here it is "the boiled shoulder" of the peace offering, with an unleavened cake and an unleavened wafer. What the priest is about to feed on is waved before God, for God finds pleasure in His priests feeding on the Christ who glorified Him in life and in death.
- Emptied — the hair of his consecration comes off first. Only then does the priest fill his hands, so nothing of his own vow is left in them.
- Filled — the priest lays the sacrifice there: a boiled shoulder and unleavened bread. The man did not earn it.
- Carried — the Hebrew word for shoulder also means arm and power. It says the Lord carried the whole responsibility and finished the work in His own strength.
- Fed — the boiled portion is ready to eat. The strength Christ showed at the cross reaches us as we feed on the word.
- Shared — the waving announces in public that the separation is over. The portion then feeds the priest, and God takes pleasure in that.
And the priest shall wave them as wave-offering before Jehovah; it is holy for the priest, with the breast of the wave-offering and with the shoulder of the heave-offering; and afterwards the Nazarite may drink wine.
The Nazarite's time of separation ends here, with the priest waving the offering before the Lord and taking his portion. Then comes the clause that reverses the vow: the man who touched nothing from the vine may drink wine again.
The priest waves the boiled shoulder and the cakes. In other peace offerings he lifted, or heaved, that shoulder instead, and one writer explains why.
In the ordinary peace offerings the shoulder was heaved with the cakes; here it was waved. The reason is this. This offering did not come from a thankful heart rejoicing in its blessings. It was not a gift of something of one's own, brought to the Lord in recognition of His goodness. It was the public declaration that the time of special separation to God had ended. His vow had set the man wholly apart for God; now he was to leave the state he had chosen to enter. So all was waved, not heaved, and the shoulder, which stands for service, was the portion God commanded to be offered.
The waved portion does not go back to the Nazarite. The verse calls it holy for the priest, and one writer hears God's own delight in what His priests eat.
The priest had his portion, and also his own part in the law of the Nazarite. Usually the priest waved the breast before the Lord. Here he waves the boiled shoulder of the peace offering, with an unleavened cake and an unleavened wafer. He waves before God the very food he is about to eat. God finds pleasure in His priests feeding on the Christ who glorified Him in life and in death.
The verse also names the breast that is waved. Another writer reads it as a picture of what moved Christ to give Himself:
The breast of the wave offering reminds us of "the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge" that led Him to bring this sacrifice. Whatever the Nazarite was able to do in his life was only possible through the love of Christ.
By this point the Nazarite has shaved off his hair, the visible sign of his vow. The priest puts the sacrifice in his hands instead.
The Nazarite now stands before God, not with the hair of his consecration, but with the peace offering. This speaks of the believer who knows that his joy rests on Christ's sacrifice and not on the degree of his own dedication.
The last clause sets a limit on the whole arrangement.
Nazariteship is never meant to be permanent. It is something for the wilderness. It comes in along the way on earth, and it is found only in Numbers.
Applied to the believer, that limit is the length of a life:
For us as believers the time of consecration covers our whole life. When we are with the Lord, watchfulness will no longer be necessary. Then there will be neither the inclination to defilement nor the occasion for it. When everything is ordered for God's honour, and the flesh is no longer in us, then even the Nazarite will "drink wine."
One writer hears Christ's own words at the last supper behind this closing line.
This marvellous law leads us on to something future. Then the full result of Christ's perfect work will appear. Then He, as the Messiah of Israel, will taste true joy in His beloved people and in this earth, at the close of His Nazarite separation. The time will then have come for the Nazarite to drink wine. He is apart from the nation and apart from this world, in the power of true Nazariteship. On that memorable night He said to His disciples: "I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom."
Another writer says what changes when the vow ends, and who tastes the joy first.
Right now the power of the Holy Spirit is spent, in great measure, in checking the desires of the flesh. One day it will be wholly a power of joy in God, and of fellowship with all that will surround us. Then the work of Christ will bring out its result. All the varied power of His sacrifice will be acknowledged. His people will enter into the fellowship of His joy. Wine will be taken with joy. Jesus Himself awaits that time. I believe this applies especially to His people here below, to the Jewish remnant in the last days. Something similar, however, awaits us, but in a still better way.
- Sacrifice first. The vow ends with an offering waved before the Lord. That is the public sign that a season of separation is over.
- Then the priest's share. The waved shoulder stands for service. It is holy for the priest, and God takes pleasure in His priests feeding on Christ.
- Then empty hands filled. The Nazarite's hair is gone. What he holds is the peace offering. His joy rests on Christ's sacrifice, not on how well he kept his vow.
- Then a time limit. Nazariteship belongs to the wilderness. For the believer it lasts as long as this life, where watchfulness is still needed.
- Then the wine. Christ Himself waits to drink it new in His Father's kingdom, and His people enter that joy with Him.
This is the law of the Nazarite who hath vowed his offering to Jehovah for his consecration, beside what his hand is able to get; according to the vow which he vowed, so shall he do, according to the law of his consecration.
This verse closes the chapter's rules for the Nazirite. A Nazirite was a person who made a voluntary vow of separation to the Lord. One verse now holds two things together: the law fixes the offerings, yet the worshipper may bring more than the law asks — as much as he can afford.
The phrase "this is the law of the Nazirite" appears twice: at verse 13 and again here. It frames the section on completing the vow. One writer notes where that name sits, and where it does not.
It is interesting that, strictly speaking, only one section is called "the law of the Nazirite" (Num. 6:13, 21). It is the third section, the one that deals with fulfilling the vow. This may show that an interruption of the time of consecration is neither desirable nor necessary. And in the case of the true Nazirite, Christ, there was no interruption but only fulfilment.
The chapter never commanded this vow. It began with a person choosing to make one. The same freedom appears again in the closing verse, in the room left for extra offerings.
The offerings this section lays down should not stop the Nazirite from freely bringing more sacrifices: "besides what he can afford." Voluntary consecration was the starting point of the whole chapter: "When either a man or a woman makes a special vow…" (v. 2). At the time of fulfilment there is room to give something extra.
The verse sets two standards side by side. The offerings the law lists are the floor. A different measure governs whatever the Nazirite adds above them.
The measure is not what the law prescribed, but "what he can afford." God does not expect the Nazirite to give what he must, but to give as he is able to give.
The verse also binds: he must act in exact accordance with the vow he took. Nobody forced him to speak; but having spoken, he was held to his word.
The Israelites were not told to make vows. But if they made them of their own will, God said they must carry them out faithfully. People are always ready to boast of their strength, and are not aware of their own weakness. When Israel heard the law, they did not hesitate to say, "All that the LORD has spoken we will do." But sadly, they failed miserably.
That failure raises a question: what takes the place of the vow now? One writer answers with something inward rather than spoken:
This true inward purpose of heart is the New Testament answer to the Old Testament vow, but it will do far more than a vow ever could.
The vow is complete, and still the Nazirite comes with offerings. That detail decides where his standing rests at the end of his separation.
So, as the Nazirite's course ended, he came to the door of the tent of meeting to offer God the various offerings. He found acceptance with God in the value of those offerings — not in the vows he had performed. And as he stood there, his hands were full of the raised shoulder of the ram and the unleavened cakes of the grain offering. … The Christ in whom we are accepted fills us, and for eternity is to fill and occupy us alone.
Writers read the whole law of the Nazirite as pointing beyond Israel to Christ. His separation from earthly joy had a set term and an end in view.
This marvellous "law" leads us on to something future. Then the full result of Christ's perfect work will appear. Then He, as the Messiah of Israel, at the close of His Nazirite separation, will taste true joy in His beloved people and in this earth. The time will then have come for the Nazirite to drink wine. … He is apart from the nation, and apart from this world, in the power of true Nazirite separation. As He said to His disciples on that memorable night, "I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom" (Matthew 26:29).
The believer's separation also runs to a set end:
For the believer today, his Nazariteship is not completed until the end of his history on earth, whether through death or the Lord's coming.
- Voluntary — nobody had to take this vow. It began with a free choice, and it ends with room for gifts nobody commanded.
- Ability — above the fixed offerings the measure changes: not what he must give, but what he can give.
- Binding — God still held the man to a vow he made freely. The freedom lay in the making, not in the keeping.
- Accepted — at the close he stands before God in the worth of the offerings, not in the record of vows he has performed.
- Fulfilled — only Christ knew no interruption. At the end of His separation the true Nazirite drinks wine with His people, in His Father's kingdom.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
God speaks to Moses again at the close of the chapter. What follows is not another rule for the Nazirite — the man who offered himself to God under a vow of separation — but words of blessing for the whole nation. Why does a chapter about separation end in blessing, and why does God hand the words to Aaron?
By the end of Numbers 6 the camp is in order. One thing is left for God to do.
The camp is properly arranged. Every warrior stands in his proper place (Numbers 1, 2). Every workman has his proper work (Numbers 3, 4). The congregation is cleansed from defilement (Numbers 5). There is provision for the highest character of separation to God (Numbers 6). All this is very marked. The order is strikingly beautiful… Having reached this high point, nothing remains but for the Lord to pronounce His blessing upon the whole congregation.
The move from the Nazirite's vow to a blessing can look abrupt. The order itself teaches something.
The blessing in these verses forms a fitting conclusion and the high point of this chapter. It is as if God wished to point out that the way of consecration is always a pathway of blessing for us.
The words are God's own, yet He does not speak them Himself. The message travels one step further than Moses.
It is remarkable that God does not simply pronounce this blessing over His people. Nor does He leave it to His servant Moses. Instead, Moses has to pass these instructions on to Aaron and his sons. This shows that God wishes to use the priesthood to give this blessing to His people.
That pattern did not end with Aaron. The same picture appears when Jesus left the earth.
It is Christ through whom all blessing comes to us. When He ascended from the earth to go "to the Father" and "into heaven," we read: "He led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven" (Luke 24:50–51). Aaron also raised his hands to bless (Leviticus 9:22), but his hands had not been pierced. Those of the Lord Jesus had indeed been pierced.
The word works in two directions.
The original meaning of the Hebrew word for blessing ("barak") is "kneel." It is used in two different senses: "to bless" (when God acts) and "to praise" (when a person "blesses" God). In the New Testament the link between these two acts becomes clearer. The Greek word ("eulogeo") joins "good" ("eu") and "speak" ("logeo"). When we praise God, we are saying good things about Him. When He says good things about us, He is blessing us.
The vow moved one way; the blessing moves back the other.
The Nazarite offered himself to God, and God put His name upon Israel, only it was as separated to God that He did so.
What God promises here holds a surprise.
Some of these blessings have a spiritual character. That is surprising, since the people of Israel, unlike Christians, had mainly enjoyed earthly blessings… But it appears that God wishes to show that His response to dedication to Himself is to grant more than merely material things.
What God offered here, the nation did not hold on to.
What a provision! Oh, that Israel had entered into it and lived in the power of it! But they did not. They quickly turned aside… They exchanged the light of God's countenance for the darkness of Mount Sinai. They abandoned the ground of grace and placed themselves under law.
Commentators read the closing promise — God's name on the people — as still future. One traces it from Israel's ruin to their restoration:
This has not been properly fulfilled in all their history so far. For centuries Israel has suffered because of rebellion against God. Instead of having God's name upon them, God said of the child of Hosea, "Call his name Not My People, for you are not my people" (Hosea 1:9). But when at last in faith they turn to the Lord Jesus in genuine repentance, then "in the very place where it was said to them, 'You are not my people,' there they will be called 'sons of the living God'" (Romans 9:26).
Another ties the timing to the end of the Nazirite's term:
This will really and literally be the fact when the Nazarite's term has come in every sense. It will end in the unlimited joy and gladness of the millennial reign.
- Order first. God arranges, cleanses and consecrates the camp. Only then does He speak the blessing.
- Consecration then blessing. The path of separation to God is never a dead end; it is the road along which blessing arrives.
- Through the priest. God refuses to bypass Aaron, and today the hands lifted to bless are pierced hands.
- God speaks good. To bless is God saying good things about us; to praise is us saying good things about Him.
- The name still to come. Israel traded the light of His face for Sinai, but the name will yet rest on them, and the blessing will be fact.
Speak unto Aaron and unto his sons, saying, On this wise ye shall bless the children of Israel saying unto them,
God speaks to Moses, but the words are for Aaron and his sons: this is how you are to bless Israel. The verse settles three things at once — who blesses, who pronounces it, and whose words they must use.
This chapter sets out the Nazirite vow — a life of devotion to God, separated from earthly joys. It can look hard and narrow. One writer points to where the chapter ends.
Paul showed wholehearted devotion and separation from earthly joys. Watching that, an unspiritual believer might say, What a cramped and gloomy life! Nothing would be more mistaken. It is a life of joy and blessing. Why, this very chapter in Numbers, which gives us the Nazirite vow, ends with the special blessing of the Lord. The blessing is not limited to the Nazirite, though he is included. It rests on the children of Israel, seen as a people on whom the Lord would put His name.
One writer draws attention to the route God chose for this blessing.
It is remarkable that God does not simply pronounce this blessing over His people. Nor does He leave it to His servant Moses. Instead, Moses has to pass these instructions on to Aaron and his sons. This shows that God wishes to use the priesthood to give this blessing to His people.
The same arrangement is read as a picture of the assembly of God's people living permanently under His care.
This generous blessing flows through the channel of priesthood. Aaron and his sons are commissioned to pronounce this wonderful benediction. God's assembly is to be blessed and kept by Him, continually; it is always to bask in the sunlight of His gracious face; its peace is to flow like a river; the Lord's name is to be called on it; He is always there to bless.
The priests do not choose their own words. God gives them the form, and one writer sees His warm heart in it.
How the Lord here freely pours out His blessing on the people, His heart flowing out towards them! He calls Moses before Him to set up this special ordinance and to give him this new and honoured task. Moses must show Aaron and his sons the style and character of the blessing. God would have it pronounced on the people of His love, in all its fullness and richness, in all its depth and breadth.
The verb itself carries a meaning worth pausing on, and it runs in two directions.
The Hebrew word for blessing ("barak") first meant "kneel". It is used in two different senses: "to bless" (when God acts) and "to praise" (about man when he "blesses" God). In the New Testament the link between these two acts becomes clearer. The Greek word ("eulogeo") joins "good" ("eu") and "speak" ("logeo"). When we praise God, we are saying good things about Him. When He says good things about us, He is blessing us.
Blessing reached Israel through the priest's raised hands. One writer follows that line forward.
This principle has held good to the present day: it is Christ through whom all blessing comes to us. When He went up from the earth to go "to the Father" and "into heaven", we read: "lifting up his hands he blessed them. While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven" (Luke 24:50, 51). Aaron also raised his hands to bless (Lev. 9:22), but his hands had not been pierced. Those of the Lord Jesus had indeed been pierced, and that is how the disciples saw Him ascend.
What the priests were told to say is not a list of crops and cattle.
In that day, blessing was mostly tied to earthly and material things. What strikes us here is that this blessing is so bound up with spiritual things. The shining of the Lord's face and the lifting up of His countenance surely means this: God would keep Israel in the light of the revelation of Himself, as they knew Him among them. Then they would experience His grace, though they were under the law, and they would enjoy His peace. Such blessings may be ours today, but in a far larger and richer way, since God is now revealed in Christ.
Commentators hold both applications together rather than choosing between them.
We fully believe that the children of Israel will yet enjoy the full tide of blessing set out at the close of Numbers 6. Until then, God calls the Church to share in blessings that belong to her alone. She has the privilege of knowing God's presence with her and among her, always. She lives in the light of His face. She drinks of the river of peace. Day by day He blesses her and keeps her — He who never slumbers nor sleeps.
- Source — blessing begins with God alone; the priests are told what to say, and the words are His.
- Channel — God does not bypass the priesthood. Moses hands the words to Aaron and his sons, and blessing reaches the people through them.
- Christ — Aaron's raised hands had no wounds. The Lord Jesus went up to heaven blessing His disciples with pierced hands.
- Content — the blessing is spiritual, not just material. It is God's face turned toward His people, His grace, His peace.
- Result — separation is not a gloomy life. The chapter of the Nazirite ends with God putting His name on the whole nation and blessing them.
Jehovah bless thee, and keep thee;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Jehovah make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee;
God gave Moses the exact words Aaron and his sons were to speak over Israel. The middle line asks for two things: a shining face and grace. What does it mean for God to turn His face toward people?
The words are not a private wish. God assigns one family to speak them over the whole nation.
This generous blessing flows through the channel of priesthood. Aaron and his sons are commissioned to pronounce this wonderful blessing. God's assembly is to be blessed and kept by Him, always. It is always to bask in the sunlight of His gracious face. Its peace is to flow like a river. The LORD's name is to be called on it. He is always there to bless.
The first half of the verse is about light. God makes Himself known in the place you live and the road you walk.
If it says that God (here again "the LORD") was to let His face shine on them, it has to do with light. It is the light, or revelation, of a God known to us in our dwelling place, our pathway and our circumstances. When Israel left Egypt for the promised land, God used the cloud of His presence and the pillar of fire to show them the way (Ex. 13:21, 22). In our verse it is more personal: it is His face that is to shine upon us and them respectively.
Asking God to shine on you could be frightening. Where does that light rest now?
The practical side of the pathway is in the foreground here. Even so, this sentence reminds us that we as Christians can know and enjoy the radiance of Christ's face. We can look back to the cross and also look up to a glorified Christ. Then we see nothing less than the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 4:6). And we see it without fear or worry, for it is in the face of Him who suffered for us that we see God's glory. Glory on its own causes fear, but glory in the face of Christ is glory in grace.
Israel's own history shows what that grace looked like in practice.
When it continues "and be gracious to you," we remember how God kept showing grace to Israel even when they were under the law. Think, for example, of the incident with the bronze serpent (Num. 21) or in connection with Balaam (Num. 22–24). Their failure called for judgment in the way God governed them. Even so, He was gracious towards Israel again and again. Several times God had threatened to destroy that nation, and they fully deserved it. But He relented when Moses pleaded for them, and He brought the people into the promised land of Canaan.
Israel learned to pray these words back to God. What they asked for was God Himself, not only His gifts.
This shining of the face of the LORD appears often in the Psalms. Clearly it was a familiar thought in Israel. The most remarkable instance is in Psalm 80: "Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved!" To us, this means nothing less than the direct enjoyment of Himself. It expresses a character of blessing that no hearts like ours could ever appreciate enough. He never blesses us so supremely as when He makes Himself the object of our hearts, today and for eternity.
This verse is the middle line of three. Read in order, they climb.
The blessing places them under the keeping and the grace of the LORD, and in His peace. In fact, the LORD first blessed them in a general way. Then, by making His face shine on them, He caused them to enjoy His grace. Last, by lifting up His countenance on them, He gave them the assurance of peace.
Another writer sees more in this threefold shape: the name of the LORD spoken three times.
The blessing with which this chapter ends gives a precious revelation of the triune God. Three times the Name of the LORD was put upon the children of Israel: the Father-God, who keeps; the LORD the Son, who is gracious; the LORD the Holy Spirit, who gives peace.
Commentators tie the full weight of these words to a day still coming for Israel.
This will really and literally be the fact when the Nazirite's term has come in every sense; and it will end in joy and gladness without limit in the millennial reign.
- Spoken. God dictates the words. Aaron's family only carries them to the people.
- Shining. A shining face means light: God making Himself known in your home, your path, your circumstances.
- Gracious. Grace is the second half. Israel failed again and again, and God still brought them into the land.
- Christ. The light rests at last in the face of Jesus Christ — glory that does not frighten, because it is glory in grace.
- Climbing. Kept, then given grace, then assured of peace — three lines that rise, each one carrying the LORD's own name.
Jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.
This is the last line of the blessing God gave for Israel, and it ends with one word: peace. What does it mean for God to lift up His face toward someone, and why does peace follow?
The picture behind the words is a face turned toward a person.
In our verse the wish for the blessing is directed towards God's side. When He lifts His countenance upon someone, it is a sign of His favour towards that person. Psalm 67:1 confirms this: "May God be gracious to us and bless us and make His face to shine upon us."
The same writer points to the opposite case in David's family:
We have a particularly interesting, though negative, example with David. Absalom was not allowed to see his father's face (2 Samuel 14:24). In this way it became clear that Absalom no longer enjoyed his father's favour.
The two halves of the verse are not separate gifts.
Then our verse continues "and give you peace". These two aspects are connected. If we enjoy an undisturbed relationship with God, then peace will follow, because we are doing God's will. The Lord called this peace "my peace" (John 14:27). He had known it perfectly. So He could go to meet His enemies in perfect peace, saying, "If you seek me, let these men go" (John 18:8). After His resurrection, too, He gives the foundational peace with God, based on His work — great as that is (John 20:19). But He gives more: peace to be lived out day by day on our pathway and in our mission (John 20:21).
Read as a whole, the blessing climbs, and this verse is its summit.
God ends by putting His blessing and His name on the people. The blessing places them under the keeping, the grace, and the peace of the Lord. First the Lord blessed them in a general way. Then, in making His face shine upon them, He caused them to enjoy His grace. Last of all, in lifting up His countenance upon them, He gave them the assurance of peace.
Writers trace each part of the blessing to a different Person of God.
The three parts of the blessing are often linked with the three Persons of the triune God, and the connection is easy to trace. The first blessing here is preservation, as from the Creator-Father. The second is grace in God as He reveals Himself, as He has done in Christ. The third speaks of inner experience and enlightenment, with the deep rest that flows from it — the work of the Spirit of God. In this way all that God is stands engaged for us; and His name upon His people makes them His representatives on earth. He identifies Himself with them, as One not ashamed to be called their God.
Having God's face turned toward you is not only comforting. It changes how a person walks.
With what assured confidence can the saint of God go forward when he has the Lord's countenance! This is what makes "the path of the righteous like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day." His countenance lights up the path... Nothing God gives us is deeper, steadier, or more reassuring to the heart than "the peace of God." As the apostle says, it "surpasses all understanding."
This blessing came to a people who expected material things.
In that day, blessing was mostly tied to earthly and material things. What strikes us here is that this blessing is so bound up with spiritual things. The shining of the Lord's face and the lifting up of His countenance surely mean that Israel could be kept in the light of God's revelation of Himself among them. Then they would experience His grace, even though they lived under the law, and they would enjoy His peace. Such blessings may be ours today, but in a far larger and richer way, since God is now revealed in Christ.
- Face — A lifted face is a face turned toward you with nothing in the way. Absalom is the opposite: shut out from his father's presence, and so from his favour.
- Favour — The lifted face signals God's pleasure in the person He looks at, the very thing Psalm 67 asks for.
- Peace — Peace is not a separate gift. It follows the open relationship, and Christ called it "my peace" and kept it in front of His enemies.
- Progression — The three lines climb: kept, then given grace, then given the assurance of peace. All that God is stands engaged for His people.
- Name — God ends by putting His name on His people, not ashamed to be called their God. The blessing is richer still now that God is revealed in Christ.
And they shall put my name upon the children of Israel; and I will bless them.
The priestly blessing ends with God explaining what it does. Aaron and his sons put His name on Israel, and God Himself does the blessing.
One writer points out who "they" are, and how this line differs from the three before it:
Verse 27 brings the blessing to its conclusion. Verses 24–26 speak directly to the one who receives the blessing. Verse 27 goes back to the form of an instruction: "So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel." Those called "they" are once again Aaron and his sons.
So the line is not a further item added to the list. It is the meaning of the whole list:
This sentence is not so much a separate seventh blessing. It is a summary, or explanation, of the six blessings just given: the Name of Jehovah was put upon the children of Israel. In this way God identified Himself with them, and they became, so to speak, His representatives on earth.
God could have spoken the blessing over the people directly. The route He chose is deliberate:
It is remarkable that God does not simply pronounce this blessing over His people. Nor does He leave it to His servant Moses. Instead, Moses has to pass these instructions on to Aaron and his sons. This shows that God wants to use the priesthood to bring this blessing to His people.
The priests speak the words, but God is the one who blesses:
This rich blessing flows through the channel of priesthood. God will bless and keep His assembly, always. Jehovah's name is to be called upon it. He is ever there to bless.
One writer carries this same pattern forward to Christ, and points to a difference in the hands:
This principle has held good to the present day: it is Christ through whom all blessing comes to us. When He went up from the earth to the Father, we read: "And he led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven" (Luke 24:50, 51). Aaron also raised his hands to bless (Lev. 9:22), but his hands had not been pierced. Those of the Lord Jesus had indeed been pierced, and that is how the disciples saw Him ascend.
The blessing comes right after the law of the Nazirite — a person who took a vow of separation to God. That order matters:
The Nazarite offered himself to God, and God put His name upon Israel. But He did so only as they were separated to Him.
Another writer sees the order as deliberate, and the blessing itself as still ahead:
Is this why the high priest's blessing comes right after? It stands in close connection with the end of the Nazarite's vow… This will really and literally be the case when the Nazarite's term has come in every sense. It will end in the unbounded joy and gladness of the thousand-year reign.
Israel's history reads as the opposite of this verse — and then as its recovery:
God's name would be put upon Israel (v. 27). This has not truly happened at any time in their history so far. Israel has suffered for centuries because of rebellion against God. Instead of having God's name upon them, God said of the child of Hosea, "Call his name Not My People, for you are not my people, and I am not your God" (Hosea 1:9). But at last they will turn in faith to the Lord Jesus in genuine repentance. Then "in the very place where it was said to them, 'You are not my people,' there they will be called 'sons of the living God'" (Romans 9:26). A wonderful change indeed! Of their capital city, Jerusalem, we read: "And the name of the city from that day shall be, The LORD Is There" (Ezekiel 48:35).
The privilege of carrying God's Name does not end with Israel:
The overcomers in the church at Philadelphia received this promise: "I will write on him the name of my God … and my own new name" (Rev. 3:12). This will be one of our greatest privileges in eternity: "They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads" (Rev. 22:4).
And the size of the privilege sets the size of the trust:
What an unspeakable privilege to be free to appear before God and men in the name of Christ! On the other hand, the very greatness of the privilege shows the vastness of the responsibility. For if we are entrusted with the name of Christ, as with a holy standard, think what that asks of us! It takes constant watchfulness, and a real sense of our dependence, to keep it pure and guard it from all dishonour.
- Name — the closing line is not a seventh blessing. It is the sense of all six: God's Name on a people, tying God Himself to them.
- Channel — God sent the blessing through Aaron and his sons, and it still comes to us through Christ, who lifted His hands and blessed.
- Source — the priests pronounce, but "I will bless them" keeps God Himself as the one who supplies.
- Condition — the Name follows the Nazirite's separation; God put His Name on a people set apart for Him.
- Reach — Israel lost the Name and will receive it back. The same Name is promised to those who will see His face — a trust to guard, not just a gift to enjoy.
And it came to pass on the day that Moses had completed the setting up of the tabernacle, and had anointed it, and hallowed it, and all the furniture thereof, and the altar and all its utensils, and had anointed them, and hallowed them,
The verse opens with a date. Moses has finished the tabernacle, the tent where God lived among His people. He has anointed it and set it apart, with everything inside it. Only then do the leaders of Israel come forward with gifts. Two questions follow: what does a finished, anointed sanctuary picture, and why does God give the longest chapter in Numbers to what people gave?
Older translations read "fully set up," and that word carries weight:
The word "fully" means completely. So here we have a complete divine anointed system. It is a picture of Christianity in all its details, available to us in the power of the Spirit of God. All of it is established in Christ at the right hand of God in glory. We may well thank God for the gift of the Spirit, for we could not understand one bit of this apart from the Spirit of God.
Oil, not blood, marks this day. The anointing left nothing out:
It is remarkable that on this occasion the tabernacle and all within it were anointed with oil. So, whatever sin on our part may call for, here the whole scene of creation is claimed in the power of the Spirit — all things in heaven and all things on earth. The claim rests on Christ's person and title. It matches the fact that He Himself was anointed with the Holy Spirit and with power, apart from the shedding of blood.
The same verse says Moses set the tent apart. Where he set it up gives that word its force:
The wilderness is marked by disorder and defilement, with its bones and its dead bodies. Yet even so, there was a sanctified sphere there, where God lived with His people in infinite grace. Despite the corruption around us on every side, there is a new spiritual order, and God has brought us into it. It stands completely apart from that corruption. This is what we have in the wilderness to sustain and guide us.
The chapter before this one ends with God blessing His people. The order matters:
Coming in at this point, it reminds us of two thoughts of God. It is God's thought to bless His people richly, as at the end of chapter 6. It is just as much His thought that His people should respond with their offerings to Him. All of those offerings are connected with the carrying and work of His sanctuary.
God had commanded nothing here:
This is the longest chapter in Numbers. The princes of Israel appear to bring their free-will offerings in six covered wagons, each drawn by two oxen. No command had been given. With a willing heart they devoted part of their possessions to the service of the sanctuary.
Notice who moved first, and what they honoured:
In this 7th chapter we see that the first people to move towards the tent of meeting were the princes, the leaders of the people… This chapter puts to their credit that they brought gifts to sanctify the altar. The altar stands for the claims of God. The first thing said of these princes is this: when the tabernacle was completely set up, they had regard for the rights of God.
The word for "prince" carries the sense of open-handedness. Darby ties it to Psalm 110, quoting an older wording:
Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing." (Psalm 110) "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word… Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
Twelve leaders bring gifts, and God writes out every name and every item:
Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and properly valued… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. More than that, He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The gifts went where the work needed them:
For all service into which He calls His people, He also provides the strength and the means for the service. The sons of Kohath received nothing. They needed no wagons and oxen; their service was to carry the precious things upon their shoulders.
- Finished — the day is dated from a completed work: the tent stands fully set up before anyone gives a thing.
- Anointed — oil covers the whole structure and every vessel, claiming all of it in the power of the Spirit.
- Sanctified — a set-apart place stands in a wilderness of bones and defilement, and God brings us into it.
- Answered — God blesses first, in chapter 6. The leaders answer with gifts nobody commanded, and lead the way in honouring God's claims.
- Recorded — God writes out each name and each gift in full, so that "untold millions" would read what God refuses to forget.
that the princes of Israel, the heads of their fathers' houses, the princes of the tribes, they that were over them that had been numbered, offered;
The tabernacle now stands finished and anointed, and the first men to step forward are the tribal leaders, with gifts nobody asked them for. What moves them, and what does God do with what they bring?
Leadership among God's people is real, and one writer sees it here in who moved first.
In this seventh chapter we see that the first people to move towards the tent of meeting were the princes, the leaders of the people. There is such a thing as leadership among the people of God, and if we are to grow in our souls we need to pay attention to it. There were twelve princes, the heads of each of the tribes, so not one tribe was without leadership… What counts to their credit in this chapter is that they brought gifts to sanctify the altar. The altar stands for the claims of God. The first thing said of these princes is that once the tabernacle was fully set up, they had regard for the rights of God.
One commentator digs into the word itself. He ties "prince" to open-handedness, and then to a New Testament order: give yourself first, then your goods.
This book shows us service — not just doing certain things, but freely offering yourself up as a living sacrifice. Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing." (Psalm 110) "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word… Again, in 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "they gave themselves first to the Lord." First the Lord recognizes and owns them; then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
(Older translations read "prince" where the ESV has "chief"; the Psalm 110 line is quoted from an older version too.)
No command told the leaders to bring wagons and oxen. The gift starts with them — and God matches what they bring to the work He has assigned.
The princes of Israel come forward to bring their freewill offerings in six covered wagons, each drawn by two oxen. No command had been given. With a willing heart they gave from what they owned to the service of the sanctuary… The gift matched the service the Lord had called them to. The Merarites had to take care of the heavy boards, and the Lord provided the means to carry the load and do the work. For every service He calls His people to, He also provides the strength and the means.
What they brought was ordinary — farm carts and oxen. Handed on, the same gift marks a difference between two kinds of service, and the more visible kind is not the higher one.
There is the privilege of taking ordinary, everyday things and offering them to the Lord for "the service of the tabernacle." These wagons and oxen went to the sons of Gershon and Merari. Theirs was the showiest, most outward service, but it was less intimate with God, and so it had less real honour… Kohath had to carry on their shoulders. There may be less to see in that; but we value most what we carry on our own shoulders… If God has called us to Gershon's kind of service, do it well.
The names could have been summed up in a sentence. One writer argues that the length is the point.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their gifts would be handed down, age after age, for countless generations to read!
The same writer points to two more pages like it.
Turn to 2 Samuel 23 and Romans 16, and you will find two similar pages. In the first, the names and deeds of David's mighty men; in the second, the names and deeds of Paul's friends at Rome… Each one has his own special place on the roll, and each one his place in the Master's heart; and it will all come to light in time.
- First. The leaders moved to the tent before anyone else, and no tribe was without one. Their leadership showed itself in regard for what God is owed.
- Willing. Their very title is bound up with open-handedness. The giving starts in the heart, before it reaches the wagon.
- Unprompted. No command asked for these gifts. Grace produced them, and God still calls the choice their own.
- Matched. God fitted the gift to the job: wagons for the heavy boards, shoulders for Kohath's load. He gives the means for the work He assigns.
- Recorded. God forgets no name and no gift. He wrote each one down, and He means untold millions to read it.
and they brought their offering before Jehovah, six covered waggons, and twelve oxen; a waggon for two princes, and an ox for each; and they presented them before the tabernacle.
The tabernacle was finally standing, anointed and set apart, and the first move toward it came not from a command of God but from the leaders of the twelve tribes. They brought carts and oxen — ordinary working things that God then records in close detail.
The offering met a practical need. The tabernacle was finished, Israel was about to travel, and the whole tent had to travel with them.
Moses had finished setting up the tabernacle. He anointed it and set it apart, along with its furnishings and the copper altar outside (v.1). Now, to be fully ready for the work of moving the tabernacle from place to place, they needed a way to carry it. So the leaders of each tribe gave an offering for this purpose (vs.2-3).
No instruction had gone out for wagons and oxen. The leaders moved first. God then directed where the gift should go.
The princes of Israel come forward to bring their freewill offerings in six covered wagons, each drawn by two oxen. No command had been given. With a willing heart they gave from what they owned for the service of the sanctuary. The Lord accepted the offerings and then directed that the Gershonites and Merarites should receive the wagons and the oxen for their service.
The title given to these men is itself tied to generosity. What looks like a rank turns out to describe a heart — and one God Himself produced.
This book shows us service — not just doing certain things, but freely offering up yourself, a living sacrifice. The word "prince" in verse 2 of our chapter means generosity. "My people shall be willing." (Psalm 110) "Willing" and "generous" are the same word… Again, in 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "they gave themselves first to the Lord." First the Lord recognizes and owns them; then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own free choice.
(The ESV translates Psalm 110:3 as "Your people will offer themselves freely.")
Carts and oxen were farm equipment, not sacred vessels. That is part of the point.
"Accept these from them." (v. 5.) The Spirit of God shows them exactly what is needed. Since it is already what is in every man's heart, they share it all in common, and each one still has his own privilege. Here is the privilege of taking ordinary, everyday things and offering them to the Lord for the service of the tabernacle.
A wagon from every two leaders and an ox from each meant no single tribe could claim the gift. They arranged it between them.
The princes gave with a common understanding, each offering the same, and they gave the wagons jointly… They gave tribe by tribe. These were Israel's gifts in the complete unity of the twelve — none missing from that ordered unity.
Moses did not split the gift evenly. The families with the heaviest loads received the most. The family carrying the holy vessels received nothing.
If God has called people to do His work, He will provide all they need to carry it out. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this. Their work on the march was harder than that of the Kohathites. Moses gave two wagons and four oxen… to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. Both of these great families were cared for, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help.
The family left with no wagons was not the poorer for it.
The wagons and oxen were given to the sons of Gershon and Merari. Theirs was the most showy, outward service, but it was less close to God, and so it had less real honour. Kohath had to carry things on their shoulders. There might be less to see in that service, but we value most what we carry on our shoulders. If God has called us to Gershon's service, do it well.
The chapter goes on to repeat these details at length.
The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions so that we may know one thing: Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
- Willing — God commanded no wagons and no oxen. The leaders gave first, and grace produced the willingness God then credits to them.
- Ordinary — carts and oxen were plain working tools. Giving them for the service of God's dwelling made them an offering.
- United — one wagon per two leaders, one ox each. The gift was a joint act of all twelve tribes, with none missing.
- Matched — Moses divided the gift by workload. The heaviest burden got the greatest help, and the shoulder-carriers got none — yet theirs was the higher honour.
- Recorded — the same care that fills this long chapter with names and totals also noticed a widow's two small coins.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
The leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel bring the Lord a gift of wagons and oxen. At this point God speaks, and His word turns their free gift into an assignment: Moses is to take it, then hand it out for service, man by man.
Nothing in the law had asked for wagons. The offering came out of the givers' own hearts, and God's first word about it is acceptance.
The princes of Israel come bringing their free-will offerings. They bring six covered wagons, each drawn by two oxen. No command had been given. With a willing heart they devoted part of their possessions to the service of the sanctuary. The Lord accepted the offerings. He directed that the Gershonites and Merarites should receive the wagons and the oxen for their service.
Wagons and cattle are farm equipment, not sanctuary furniture. Yet what God tells Moses to take is just what the work needed. They all shared in the giving, and no giver lost his own part in it.
The Spirit of God suggests to them just what is wanted. Since it is what is in every man's heart, they share it fully together, and each man still has his own privilege. It is a privilege to take ordinary, everyday things and offer them to the Lord for "the service of the tabernacle."
The gift was not split into equal shares. It matched the load each family had to carry.
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. Of this the Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof. Their work, when on the march, was heavier than that of the Kohathites. Two wagons and four oxen came from the offering of the princes of the twelve tribes, given when the tabernacle was set up. Moses allotted these to the Gershonites, and four wagons and eight oxen to the Merarites. God thought of both of these great families, and the family with the heaviest burden had the greatest help.
The sons of Kohath carried the ark and the holy vessels, and they received no wagon at all. Commentators read that empty hand as honour, not neglect.
The wagons and oxen are divided among them according to their service. The Merarites get two thirds of all, the Gershonites one third, and the Kohathites none. This does not seem to be, and yet is, an equal distribution. The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to hand over to the oxen, who handled it badly at a later time. Their shoulders cannot be freed from that demanding honour. So it often is with us. The most heavily loaded are simply the most trusted, and in the sharing out of burdens there is more equality than there seems.
Another writer spells out the later failure hinted at there. A cart was right for some loads and wrong for others, and centuries later King David forgot the difference.
The sons of Kohath were to carry the holy vessels, including the ark, on their shoulders, so they needed no wagons or oxen. David overlooked this when he went to bring back the ark, after it had been in the hands of the Philistines. That is how the disaster with Uzzah came about. Later David recognised his mistake, as we find recorded in 1 Chronicles 15:13. God had to be sought "after the due order."
The unequal shares raise a question about envy among God's servants. One writer answers it head-on.
God has no such principle as balancing matters and keeping men in good temper by giving them all the same portion. If there were, practical grace would be at an end. Instead, God places every one of us in a different position, according to His wise and sovereign will. That is what puts faith and love to the test. There is no such thing as two alike... What gracious man would resent another for being unlike himself? Instead, he would take honest and hearty joy in what he saw of Christ in another, which he did not have himself... May the Lord make us rejoice, not only in what He has given us, but also in what He has withheld from us and entrusted to others!
- Willing — the wagons came without any command. The offering began in the givers' hearts, and God accepted it.
- Taken — God tells Moses to take the gift. Everyday property becomes sanctuary equipment when the Lord receives it for His service.
- Given — a gift to God does not stay at the altar. He hands it on to the workers, so one man's gift becomes another man's power to serve.
- Measured — the portions match the load. The family with the heaviest march got the most help, because God supplies whatever the work He gives needs.
- Unequal — the Kohathites received nothing, because their burden belonged on their own shoulders. Different portions are not favouritism but trust, and grace can rejoice in another's place.
Take it of them, and they shall be for the performance of the service of the tent of meeting, and thou shalt give them unto the Levites, to each according to his service.
God has just set up His dwelling, and the princes of the twelve tribes have brought six covered wagons and twelve oxen. Now the Lord tells Moses to take the gift and hand it on to the Levites, giving each man what fits his own work.
The Lord's first word is about receiving. One writer finds two things in it at once — something shared by all the people, and something personal (the older wording is "Take it of them"):
"Take it of them." (v. 5.) The Spirit of God suggests to them just what God wants, and since it is what is in every man's heart, everyone shares in it together, and each one has his own privilege. There is the privilege of taking ordinary and common things, and offering them to the Lord for "the service of the tabernacle."
The gift was voluntary. The word translated "prince" itself carries the idea of a generous, willing heart:
Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "Your people will offer themselves freely." (Psalm 110; the older translation reads "My people shall be willing.") "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word... Again, in 2 Cor. 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "they gave themselves first to the Lord." First the Lord recognises and owns them; then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
The Lord accepts the wagons "that they may be used in the service of the tent of meeting." Moses then divides them to match the load each family carried:
The Lord then instructed Moses to give these to the Levites who needed them. Two carts and four oxen went to the sons of Gershon, and four carts and eight oxen to the sons of Merari (vs.6-9), for they had twice as much to transport as the sons of Gershon. This is a good reminder to us. When God gives us any service to do for Him, He will always supply what we need to carry it out.
Another writer sees God's care for the strength of His servants in the way the wagons were shared out:
God thought of both of these great families, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help. What consideration was there in this!... Bearing burdens required strength, and God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him.
The gift travels from the princes, through Moses, to the Levites who carry the heavy loads:
The Gershonite and the Merarite had a place where they endured much of "the burden and heat of the day." Yet the Lord met them there in grace with a very rich reward, for "God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for His name." And so, if they had to labour and toil among their brothers, their brothers also served them in a way full of blessing.
The portions were not identical. One writer sees the difference as a test of faith and love:
There is no such principle as God balancing matters and keeping men in good temper by giving everyone the same portion. If there were, there would be an end of practical grace. On the contrary, God places every one of us in a different position, according to His wise and sovereign will. That is what puts faith and love to the test. There is no such thing as two alike... A gracious man would take an honest and hearty joy in what he saw of Christ in another, which he did not have himself.
Kohath received no wagons at all. One writer still calls the share-out equal:
This does not seem, and yet is, an equal distribution. The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to hand over to the oxen, who made bad work of it at a later time. Nothing can lift that honour, and its labour, off their shoulders. So it often is with us: the heaviest-laden are simply the most trusted, and in the distribution of burdens there is more equality than appears.
Another writer compares the two kinds of work:
Gershon and Merari had the most showy and outward service, but it was less intimate with God, and therefore had less real honour. Kohath had to carry on their shoulders. There might be less appearance of service, but we value most what we carry on our shoulders.
- Willing — no command lay behind the offering. Grace produced it, and God still calls it their own free choice.
- Accepted — ordinary wagons and oxen, handed over to the Lord, become fit for the service of His house.
- Supplied — when God gives a task, He provides the means. The family with the heaviest load got the most help.
- Measured — each Levite got what matched his own service, not an equal share. God's sovereign will sets the differences, and they test whether we can rejoice in what He gave someone else.
- Shouldered — Kohath received nothing, because what they carried was too holy for a cart. The heaviest-laden are the most trusted, so the share-out is fairer than it looks.
And Moses took the waggons and the oxen, and gave them to the Levites.
The wagons and oxen came from the leaders of Israel, and Moses now hands them to the Levites who had to carry the tabernacle through the desert. That raises two questions: why God supplies His work through the gifts of His people, and why one family of Levites received nothing at all.
The wagons were not sacred objects. They were ordinary carts and working animals. God's word turned them into equipment for His dwelling.
"Accept these from them." (v. 5.) The Spirit of God suggests to them just what is wanted. And since it is what is in every man's heart, everything is held in common while each one still has his own privilege. There is the privilege of taking ordinary and common things, and offering them to the Lord for "the service of the tent of meeting."
The gifts reached the Levites whose work was hardest.
Yet if the Gershonite and the Merarite had to take a place where they bore much of "the burden of the day and the scorching heat," the Lord in His grace met them there with a very rich reward. For "God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for His name." So if they had to labour and toil among their brothers, their brothers ministered richly to them.
God did not leave the Levites to find their own transport. The help matched the size of each load.
The Lord then instructed Moses to give these to the Levites who needed them. So Moses gave two carts and four oxen to the sons of Gershon, and four carts and eight oxen to the sons of Merari (vv. 6-9), because they had twice as much to transport as the sons of Gershon. This is a good reminder to us. When God gives us any service to do for Him, He will always supply what we need to carry it out.
The care also showed in what God would not ask of them.
God thought of both of these great families, and the one with the heaviest burden had the greatest help. What consideration there was in this! Nor was this a single instance of it. Bearing burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him.
The sons of Kohath carried the most precious things of the sanctuary, and they got no cart. Commentators read this as honour rather than neglect.
When we thought about Numbers 3 and 4, we saw that the sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying all that was most precious among the instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they did not receive any of the princes' offering. It was their high and holy service to bear on their shoulders, and not to use wagons or oxen... The Kohathite did not want the aid of a wagon or an ox in his elevated service. His own shoulder was to bear the precious mysterious burden.
Seen that way, the uneven distribution turns out to be even.
The wagons and oxen are divided among them according to their service. The Merarites get two thirds of all, the Gershonites one third, while the Kohathites get none. This does not seem, and yet is, an equal distribution. The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to hand over to the oxen, which did the job badly at a later time. Nothing can lift this hard honour off their shoulders. So it often is with us. The heaviest-laden are only the most trusted, and in the sharing out of burdens there is more equality than there seems to be.
The most public job is not the highest one.
The service of Gershon and Merari was the most showy and outward, but it was less close to God, and so it had less real honour... If God has called us to Gershon's kind of service, do it well. One priest was as near to God as another; there is no difference in priesthood. But in service God gives to every man individually as He wills.
Why would God not give everyone the same?
There is no such principle as God balancing matters and keeping men in good temper by giving everyone the same portion. If there were, practical grace would be at an end. On the contrary, what tests faith and love is that God arranges every one of us in a different place according to His wise and sovereign will... What gracious man would feel sore with another because that man was unlike himself? Instead he would take honest and hearty joy in what he saw of Christ in another, which he did not have himself.
- Given — Leaders offered ordinary carts and oxen, and God's word turned them into equipment for His sanctuary.
- Supplied — What God assigns, God funds: the family with double the load received double the help.
- Measured — The help matched the work, and so did the limits. God does not overtax the strength of anyone He calls.
- Withheld — Kohath's empty hands were an honour, not an oversight. The holiest load stayed on human shoulders.
- Tested — Unequal portions are no accident. God's wise arrangement draws out either envy or joy in what Christ has given another.
Two waggons and four oxen he gave to the sons of Gershon, according to their service;
The twelve leaders of Israel brought six wagons and twelve oxen to the tabernacle. God told Moses to give them to the Levites who carried the tabernacle through the desert, and verse 7 records the first share: two wagons and four oxen for Gershon's family, measured "according to their service."
The shares are not equal. Each family got what its own job needed, and Gershon's smaller share matched a lighter load.
The sons of Gershon received two wagons and four oxen and the sons of Merari four wagons and eight oxen. The gift was according to the service into which Jehovah had called them. The Merarites had to take care of the heavy boards and the Lord provided the means to carry the burden and render the service. For all service into which He calls His people, He also provides the strength and the means for the service.
The same principle works the other way too. The family with the heavier load got the greater help.
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. Of this the Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof. Their work, when on the march, was harder than that of the Kohathites... Care was taken for both of these great families, and the one which had the heaviest burden had the greatest help. What consideration was there in this!
Gershon's load was the fabric of the tent, and both the load and the family name carry a meaning.
Gershon and his sons had charge of the coverings and the fine linen. Gershon means exile, a stranger. The fine linen is typical of righteousness. The coverings and hangings divided off and separated the different parts of the tabernacle, so they must mean separation. His service shows us that we are separated ones and strangers in the world. We must show this separation by practical righteousness.
Gershon carried the part of the tent that everyone outside could see.
Gershon's work was to carry the tabernacle and its coverings through the empty, howling wilderness... What, then, are we to understand by the covering of the tabernacle? I believe, in a word, it pictured the character of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was that which would meet the eye.
Gershon and Merari had wagons; Kohath had only their shoulders. That contrast warns us against judging service by how visible it is.
These wagons and oxen were given to the sons of Gershon and Merari. Theirs was the most showy and outward service, but was less intimate with God, and therefore had less real honour... Kohath had to carry on their shoulders. There might be less appearance of service; but we value most what we carry on our shoulders. External gift produces external honour. If God has called us to Gershon service, do it well. One priest was as near God as another, there is no difference in priesthood; but in service God gives to every man individually as He will.
Two wagons to Gershon, four to Merari, none to Kohath. The split looks unfair until you see why Kohath's hands were empty.
The wagons and oxen are divided among them according to their service. The Merarites get two thirds of all, the Gershonites one third, and the Kohathites none. This does not seem, and yet is, an equal distribution. The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to be transferred to the oxen... and their shoulders cannot be released from the toilsome honour. So with us often: the heaviest-laden are but the most trusted, and in the distribution of burdens there is more equality than seems.
The wagons did not drop from heaven. They came from the leaders' freewill offerings, and that generosity refreshed the men who carried the tent.
Grace had filled the hearts and affections of the princes. It did not only fill them; it overflowed. That overflow was meant to refresh the spirits of the homeless Gershonite and the sorrowful Merarite. The Kohathites, on the other hand, had no part in these gifts. And why? Because their service, as we shall see, was in itself a rich reward indeed.
- Called — God assigns the service first; Gershon's task was set before any wagon arrived.
- Equipped — What God calls a person to, He supplies: "the gift was according to the service into which Jehovah had called them."
- Considered — The heaviest load drew the greatest help. Gershon's two wagons matched a lighter charge than Merari's four.
- Shared — The help came from the leaders' overflowing generosity, and it went to those who carried most.
- Trusted — Visible service wins visible honour. But Kohath's empty hands were the greater trust: "the heaviest-laden are but the most trusted."
and four waggons and eight oxen he gave to the sons of Merari, according to their service, -- under the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.
Here Moses hands out the wagons and oxen that Israel's tribal leaders had just given. The sons of Merari receive twice as much as Gershon, and a priest oversees their work. Why the uneven split? Why does a third family get nothing? And what does "according to their service" mean?
The two shares here are not random. Merari's load on the march was the heavier one, and the help matched it.
If God calls people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on. The Gershonites and the Merarites had clear proof of this. Their work, when on the march, was heavier than that of the Kohathites. Care was taken for both of these great families, and the one which had the heaviest burden had the greatest help.
The wagons did not start with Moses. They came from the tribal leaders' own giving, and they went where the marching was hardest.
Grace had filled the hearts and affections of the princes. It did not only fill them; it overflowed. That overflow was meant to refresh the spirits of the homeless Gershonite and the sorrowful Merarite. On the other hand, the Kohathites had no part in these gifts; and why? Because their service, as we shall see shortly, was in itself a rich reward indeed.
Merari's four wagons look like the biggest share. Set beside Kohath, who gets nothing at all, the sums work out differently.
The wagons and oxen are divided among them according to their service. The Merarites get two thirds of all, the Gershonites one third, while the Kohathites get none. This does not seem to be an equal distribution, and yet it is. The burden of the Kohathites is too sacred to hand over to the oxen, which made bad work of it at a later time. Their shoulders cannot be freed from that hard honour. It is often the same with us. The most heavily laden are simply the most trusted, and in the sharing out of burdens there is more equality than there seems to be.
This share of work carries a meaning beyond the wagons. Writers read Merari's charge as a picture of the work that steadies God's people, and they note what the family name means.
Merari's service has to do with the house of God, the church of the living God. It has to do with holding up Christ as the way of access to God. And it has to do with supporting, strengthening and steadying His witness in the world. He represents the workman, as Gershon represents the "stranger", the pilgrim, and Kohath the one occupied with Christ. His name, Merari, means "bitterness". It speaks of how painful such service is. Self-love will break down under it, or run off into some strange path that is easier on flesh and blood.
Merari did not set his own terms. His work ran under one of Aaron's sons, and commentators draw out what each line of oversight pictures.
As we try to give the New Testament answer to these things, we have thought that the service of Merari suggests what we may call a practical ministry. The service of Gershon suggests a doctrinal ministry. Both were under the hand of Ithamar. But the service of Kohath, under the hand of Eleazar, suggests a devotional ministry about the greatness and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then all would come under the hand of Aaron as the High Priest. He carried the responsibility to see that everything was done according to the mind of God, given through Moses.
A cart was right for Merari's load. Later David used a cart for a load God had not assigned to it, and it ended in disaster.
The holy vessels, including the ark, were to be carried on the shoulders of the sons of Kohath, so no wagons or oxen were needed for them. David overlooked this when he went to bring back the ark after it had been in the hands of the Philistines, and so came the disaster with Uzzah. Later David recognised his mistake, as we find recorded in 1 Chronicles 15:13. God had to be sought in His own appointed way.
- Given — the wagons began as a free gift from the tribal leaders. That overflow went to the families whose march was hardest.
- Measured — "according to their service" is the rule for the whole share-out. The heaviest burden got the greatest help, because God supplies what His own work needs.
- Equal — Merari's double share and Kohath's empty hands are not favouritism. Kohath's load stayed on shoulders because it was too sacred to hand over, and the most heavily laden were the most trusted.
- Weighty — Merari pictures the workman who supports and steadies God's witness. The name means "bitterness", and such work is painful.
- Overseen — the whole service ran under a priest's hand, so that everything was done according to the mind of God.
But unto the sons of Kohath he gave none, for the service of the sanctuary was upon them they bore [what they carried] upon the shoulder.
When Moses set up the tabernacle, Israel's leaders gave six wagons and twelve oxen to move it. One family of Levites got none, and the reason still teaches us how to handle holy things.
The wagons were not Moses' idea. The people gave them, and each Levite family got what its own load required.
Verses 2-9 give us the shared offering for moving the sanctuary — wagons and oxen for the sons of Gershon and of Merari. The sons of Kohath had to carry the holy vessels, including the ark, on their shoulders, so they needed no wagons or oxen.
Kohath was not overlooked or slighted. What they carried is the reason they got nothing.
When we looked at Numbers 3 and 4, we saw that the sons of Kohath had the privilege of carrying the most precious instruments and furniture of the sanctuary. So they did not receive any of the princes' offering. It was their high and holy service to bear upon their shoulders, and not to make use of wagons or oxen. The closer we look at what was put in the care of the Kohathites, the more we see that these things picture how deeply and fully God has shown Himself in Christ. The Gershonites and Merarites, on the other hand, handled things that were more external. Their work was rougher and more exposed, so the princes' generosity supplied the help they needed.
Gifts from their fellow Israelites eased the work of two families. The third got no relief, and the reason matches what God later said to Aaron.
Grace had filled the hearts and affections of the princes, and not only filled but overflowed them, and in its overflow it was meant to refresh the spirits of the homeless Gershonite and the sorrowful Merarite. The Kohathites, on the other hand, had no part in these ministrations. And why? Because their service was in itself a rich reward indeed. We see the same teaching about the Levites as a whole, set against the priests, in chapter 18. There the Lord says to Aaron: "You shall have no inheritance in their land, neither shall you have any portion among them. I am your portion and your inheritance among the people of Israel."
Shoulder-work was the hardest job in the camp. It was also the least impressive to watch.
From the outside, no one could tell what these vessels were, though each Kohathite might know his own appointed load. There was nothing in the service itself, or in what people could see of it, to bring glory to the men doing it. An outsider watching could only think that the Kohathites were there for the hardest work. They were never allowed a wagon to ease their load. They always carried on their shoulders. Best of all, they could know in their souls that the eye of Israel's God was on them: they were set apart for the service of His house.
One man cannot carry a bar. The method forced these men into step with each other and with the cloud.
They must walk together. No vessel of the sanctuary could be carried without a bar, which means at least two bearers. Every personal consideration had to be set aside. One might be stronger than another, or able to walk faster. But neither the strong nor the weak could set the pace or the time. That depended on the cloud alone, which directed every movement of the camp.
Centuries later David set out to bring the ark to Jerusalem. He chose a cart, and his good intention did not make it right.
David's thought of bringing up the ark was very beautiful, but he forgot "the due order." He swapped the service of the sanctuary for the Philistine cart and oxen. He did not even do it as well as the Philistines did. That is generally what happens when God's people imitate the world. It seemed so simple and natural; but because it was so, it was clearly of the world. It was not God's way.
The failure was not the end of the story.
David ordered the Levites to carry the Ark as God had commanded. God helped those who carried it, and He honours those who are faithful to His Word. When the Ark was carried in the due order, worship, praise and blessing followed.
- Nearness — Kohath carried the holiest things. That nearness, not neglect, is why the wagons passed them by.
- Weight — Nearness meant harder work. Everything that pictured Christ went on shoulders, not wheels.
- Wages — Their brothers' gifts repaid Gershon and Merari. Kohath's pay was the work itself, just as God Himself was Aaron's portion.
- Together — A bar needs two bearers, and the cloud set the pace. No one could serve alone or at his own speed.
- Order — David's cart shows the cost of trading God's method for the world's. His return to the due order brought back God's help, worship and blessing.
And the princes presented the dedication-gift of the altar on the day that it was anointed; and the princes presented their offering before the altar.
Moses has just set up and anointed the tabernacle — the portable tent of worship Israel carried through the desert. Now the leaders of the twelve tribes bring gifts for the altar. Two questions shape this long chapter. Why does the altar come first? And why does each leader get a day of his own?
This chapter follows straight after God put His blessing and His name on the people. One writer reads the sequence as a two-way movement.
Numbers 7 is a long chapter. It records the offerings of the princes of Israel, who represented the twelve tribes, after Moses had set up the tabernacle and anointed it. Coming at this point, it reminds us of two things. God means to bless His people richly, as at the end of chapter 6. He means just as much that His people should answer Him with their offerings. All of those offerings had to do with carrying His sanctuary and with its work.
One commentator weighs what these men did first.
In this chapter the first people to move towards the tent of meeting were the princes, the leaders of the people... We read there were twelve princes, the heads of each of the tribes, so that not one tribe was without leadership... What counts to their credit in this chapter is that they brought gifts to sanctify the altar. The altar stands for the claims of God. The first thing we read about these princes is that, as soon as the tabernacle was fully set up, they had regard for the rights of God.
The gifts come "on the day it was anointed." Why did that day matter?
Two things had to be done to the altar before worship could begin. It had to be cleansed by making atonement for it, and anointed to sanctify it. Atonement was necessary because Israel was a sinful people. It was made by sprinkling blood on the altar — this was in view of the people. The anointing set the altar apart to the Lord. So the people's worship could begin on these two grounds, and from there it could carry on, always identified with the altar. Their worship could never be apart from the altar... "whatever touches the altar shall become holy." Our Lord refers to this in Matthew 23:19.
One writer notices a change in God's own words here.
Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. A whole nation gave generously through the spiritual life of each man — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer," not, "Take it of them." Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. The altar is what gives the offering its value. Christ, "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ... When the altar is dedicated at last, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have offered willingly. In the same way, when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered. As far as the Spirit leads us, the result is perfect. But when flesh comes in, there is disorder.
God could have summed the twelve gifts up in a line. One commentator says nothing less than the full record would have satisfied Him.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God... People may rush past gifts and offerings, or pass over them without caring; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift... Those twelve princes never imagined that their names and their gifts would be handed down from age to age, to be read by countless generations!
Each leader brought the same gifts, and every dish had something in it.
Each one offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — large dishes, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Yet whether it was for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they brought spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
- Altar first. Atonement and anointing made the altar holy. No worship could go on apart from it.
- Altar gives value. The gift counts because of where it is laid. Christ's one offering makes our service acceptable.
- Altar and leaders. The heads of the tribes moved first. The altar stands for God's rights, and every tribe had a leader who cared about them.
- Altar and the individual. "Each prince on his day." God does not lump His people's giving together. He records each name and each gift for every generation to read.
- Altar and the whole. Twelve willing offerings made one perfect whole. So the Church is presented to God — perfect where the Spirit leads, disordered where flesh comes in.
And Jehovah said to Moses, They shall present their offering for the dedication of the altar, each prince on his day.
Numbers 7 records the gifts Israel's tribal leaders brought after Moses set up the tabernacle — the tent where God met with His people — and anointed it. Verse 11 gives the Lord's rule for the whole list: the gifts for dedicating the altar come one leader at a time, one day at a time.
Chapter 6 ends with God's blessing on Israel. Chapter 7 opens with Israel's giving. One writer sees that order as deliberate.
Numbers 7 is a long chapter. It records the offerings of the leaders of Israel, who stood for the twelve tribes, after Moses had set up the tabernacle and anointed it. Its place here reminds us of something. If it is God's thought to bless His people richly — as at the end of chapter 6 — it is just as much His thought that His people answer Him with offerings of their own. All of them have to do with the carrying and the work of His sanctuary.
The wording of the Lord's instruction matters here. He does not tell Moses to take the gift from the people; the leaders bring it themselves.
Then, in verse 10, came the offerings for the altar. The whole nation gave generously, but through the spiritual life of each man — "one chief each day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11). He did not say, "Take it from them." Now they come near and dedicate the gift on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value.
The verse calls these gifts offerings "for the dedication of the altar." One writer ties that altar to Christ Himself.
This shows the importance of the altar of burnt offering. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, sanctifying the value of the sacrifice He made of Himself. In Matthew 23:19 the Lord asks, "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that sanctifies the gift?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, for He Himself is greater than the wonderful work He has done.
Twelve days did not bring twelve different gifts. Each leader had his own day, but every gift was the same.
The rest of the chapter covers the separate offering of each leader for "the dedication of the altar." Each man offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They brought vessels — large dishes, bowls and spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or they held incense. Whether the gift was a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they brought spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
Why do twelve identical gifts need eighty-nine verses? One writer answers that a short summary would never have satisfied God.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he stood for, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value. The names and the offerings are not bundled together... He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
The tribes camped in different places and stood in different relations to one another. One writer takes the repeated record as proof that none of this changed their standing before God.
These were free gifts from the heads of the tribes. They carry special weight, because they show the spirit that moved the people, the full agreement among them, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this... This long chapter is full of what may look like tedious repetition. Yet it shows how evenly God's love values the response of man's heart to it, wherever He finds it. Each leader has his day and each offering its record. God leaves nothing out and passes over nothing quickly.
- Blessing first. Chapter 6 ends with God's blessing. Chapter 7 begins with the people's answer: offerings for His sanctuary.
- Willing, not collected. At the altar the word is "They shall offer," not "Take it from them." The gift comes from the giver's own heart.
- The altar decides the value. The altar gives the offering its worth. The altar speaks of Christ Himself, who is greater than the work He has done.
- Each on his day. Twelve days and twelve leaders, but the same gifts. Every gift they bring speaks of Christ.
- Nothing lost. God records each name, each day, each gift. He values every response of the heart the same, whoever makes it.
And he that presented his offering the first day was Nahshon the son of Amminadab, of the tribe of Judah.
The tabernacle has just been set up and anointed, and the leaders of the twelve tribes come with gifts. God gives each man his own day, and the chapter then repeats this first day's offering, word for word, eleven more times.
Judah's place at the head of the list is not random. One writer ties it to the meaning of the name.
But why is Judah foremost, the leader of all Israel in this way? His name and what we have seen of his history account for this… We have read his motto in the words of Jacob: the spirit of praise is the spirit of power. Judah is foremost here for the same reason that Jehoshaphat in a later day put his singers and trumpeters at the front of the battle against the enemy. When they began to sing and praise, the Lord went out against the foe and struck them down.
One writer notices a title missing from this verse.
All twelve are called princes, except Nahshon of Judah. He, as the leader, the representative of Judah, must be the type of the Lord Jesus Christ, and He is more than a prince.
One writer traces the word behind the title "prince" through the rest of Scripture.
This book shows us service — not just doing certain things, but a voluntary offering up of oneself, a living sacrifice. "Prince," in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing" (Psalm 110). "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word. So in the Song of Solomon (chapter 6:12), "the chariots of Ammi-nadib" means a princely, willing people. Again, in 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing: "They gave themselves first to the Lord." They are recognised and owned by the Lord, and then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
In the ESV, Psalm 110:3 reads, "Your people will offer themselves freely." The older wording quoted here links that willingness to a generous heart.
Why one leader a day, and why does the altar matter? One writer takes both together.
National liberality shown through individual spirituality — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with that one offering of Christ.
Another writer weighs the altar against the gift laid on it.
The Lord asks the question in Matthew 23:19: "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that sanctifies the gift?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person. He is Himself greater than the wonderful work He has done.
The gifts that follow this verse fill the rest of the chapter, item by item.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
Eighty-nine verses record twelve identical offerings. One writer explains why God refused the shortcut.
Nothing less would satisfy Him. He wanted the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God… Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and given its proper value… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record.
The repetition carries a second message: no tribe outranks another before God.
These are the free gifts of the tribal heads, so they carry special importance. They show the spirit that moved the people, how they were all of one mind, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this.
- First — praise. Judah's name and his motto put him at the head — the spirit of praise is the spirit of power.
- First — willingly. God said, "They shall offer," not, "Take it of them." The word behind "prince" means a generous heart, and God calls the giving their own.
- First — the altar. The gift is brought for the dedication of the altar. The altar, not the giver, gives the offering its value.
- First — Christ. The altar speaks of Christ Himself. The flour, oil, incense and animals all pointed to Him, though the givers did not see it.
- Last — nothing lost. God spent eighty-nine verses rather than drop one name, one item, or one man's day.
And his offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl, of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
Numbers 7:13 begins the record of the tribal leaders' gifts, and the same list repeats eleven more times with nothing shortened. Two questions follow: what do the silver vessels and their contents mean, and why does God give so much space to them?
Start with the two silver vessels and what fills them:
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering (v.13). The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection.
Why does silver mean redemption? The answer goes back to a payment every man in Israel had to make:
Every man counted among them, from twenty years old and up, had to give half a shekel as a ransom for his soul. They called this the atonement money. Exodus 38:25 tells us that this atonement money was silver, and that it went into the sockets of the tabernacle. So we regard silver as a picture of redemption.
Both vessels were full. That detail is the point:
They presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
Writers also link the two things held together in one vessel — the ransom price and the flour:
These suggest redemption price (see Ex. 30), and both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering, reminding us that the apprehension of Christ's person is immediately connected with the truth of redemption by His blood.
Both halves of that phrase are explained from the law of the grain offering. Flour is ground and sifted; oil stands for the Holy Spirit; and "mingled" is not the same as "poured on":
The fine flour, sifted and pure, comes from the grain of wheat. It is a fitting and beautiful picture of His perfect humanity. The oil, so prominent in this offering, is a picture of the Holy Spirit. The fine flour was mixed with oil. This stands for the incarnation — His conception by the Holy Spirit, His whole being filled with the Spirit… Leaven was completely absent. Again and again the LORD says "unleavened fine flour" and "no leaven." It had to be kept out, because leaven is a picture of evil, and there was no evil in Him.
The verse adds that the weights follow "the shekel of the sanctuary":
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have weighed more than the usual one… One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never varying, for "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10). This shekel was divided into twenty gerahs, and half a shekel, or ten gerahs, was the ransom money for all the men of Israel.
Something outside the gift itself gave it its value:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. Anything brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet aroma to God.
Two lines would have covered the facts. God chose otherwise:
He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself — He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The identical wording for each tribe carries its own message:
As free gifts from the tribal heads, they matter in a special way. They show the spirit moving the people, the agreement among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this. They are the one people of God, alike in His love.
- Silver — the metal of the ransom paid for every Israelite. The two weighed vessels speak of the value of redemption.
- Filled — no vessel came empty. The flour and oil speak of Christ's perfect humanity, formed by the Holy Spirit and free of all evil.
- Weighed — the measure is the sanctuary shekel. That standard is God's own, and it never varies.
- Dedicated — the gifts were brought to the altar, and it is the altar that gives an offering its worth.
- Recorded — twelve identical entries, each with a name. Every tribe stands equal before God, and no small gift is forgotten.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
Twelve tribal leaders each brought an identical set of gifts to dedicate the altar, one leader per day. Verse 14 names the smallest item on the list: a little gold dish holding incense. Why does Scripture write this tiny vessel out twelve separate times? And what do the gold and the incense stand for?
Why does such a short list run on at such length? One writer answers that the detail is the point. God will not shorten what a man would have cut short.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail and given its proper value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only refuse to forget it Himself — He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The gift was tiny, yet both its metal and its filling carry meaning. Commentators read the two together as one picture of Christ.
The golden dish of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and it was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory. That fragrance always rises to God as a sweet odour.
The pairing is not accidental. Another writer draws out what it means that this particular filling was placed in this particular container.
There was one silver platter and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price, and both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us that knowing Christ's person is directly connected with the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden dish reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it is fittingly filled with the incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
Verse 14 belongs to a list of containers — a platter, a bowl, a dish. What they all have in common is noticed here:
They presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil for a grain offering, or incense. Yet whether the gift was for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
If the incense stands for the fragrance of Christ, then worship has a definite content — and that content is not something we generate.
The material for praise is Christ Himself. Our praise is not our happy feelings. It is not anything of our own that we bring to God. The worship we bring is the fragrance of Christ's precious name — not as the ground of our acceptance, but as that which is infinitely precious to God.
No leader brought a larger dish or a richer perfume than his neighbour.
These are free gifts from the tribal heads. They carry special weight, because they show the spirit that moved the people, the unity among them, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this... This long chapter presses the point home. It is full of what may seem tedious repetition. Yet that repetition shows how divine love values the response of man's heart equally, wherever it is found.
The two readings meet in one chapter. God keeps a record of each leader's gift, and He gives every tribe the same place before Him.
- Gold. The dish was gold, and gold pictures the Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. The vessel says who He is before the contents say what He is like.
- Incense. What filled it pictures the fragrance of His beauty and glory. That fragrance always rises to God as a sweet odour.
- Filled. No vessel in this list came empty. Every container the leaders brought held something that spoke of Christ. They did not know it. Seeing it is our privilege.
- Worship. The incense is Christ's fragrance and the dish is His deity. So real praise is not our own feelings offered up. And worship that ignores His divinity is not worship of Him at all.
- Recorded. God wrote this three-ounce dish into Scripture twelve times over. Every tribe stands on equal footing. He keeps every small loving gift on a page millions would read.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
At the dedication of the altar, twelve tribal leaders each brought gifts on their own day. Verse 15 lists the animals each one brought for a burnt offering — a short list the chapter then repeats twelve times over.
Commentators read the three animals as three sides of one sacrifice.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals: one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great value in itself of the sacrifice of Christ, as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull points to the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, to its devotion; the male lamb, to its submission.
The burnt offering is not the offering for sin. It stands for the other side of the same death — what that death was worth to God.
Here, in picture form, we see the two great sides of the death of Christ. The sin offering gives us one; the burnt offering gives us the other… in the sin offering, we see Christ bearing sin in His own body on the tree, and enduring the wrath of God against sin. In the burnt offering, we see Christ glorifying God in the very act of making atonement for sin. Both make atonement. But the sin offering is atonement measured by the depth of the sinner's need. The burnt offering is atonement measured by Christ's devotion to God. In the one we see how hateful sin is; in the other, how precious Christ is. It is the same atoning death of Christ, but shown in two distinct aspects.
The numbers themselves teach. Three animals go up as a burnt offering, while the sin offering is a single young goat.
The sacrifices speak of the different sides of our Lord's work. The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering He made of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there, but a single young goat shows the lower place it holds, by comparison, in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
So what gave these gifts their worth? The place where they were laid.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. The altar is what gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving up of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to God.
A short summary would have done the job. God chose the long way instead.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God… People may pass over gifts and offerings in a hurry, or without caring. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions shall read the record. How little those twelve leaders imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down, age after age, to be read by countless generations!
Not one leader brought more than another. The list repeats word for word because nothing in it changed from tribe to tribe.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a fact of the first importance: all stand on an equal footing. No one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts and different roles. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and all are accepted on the same basis.
- Altar first. The altar gives the gift its worth, and that altar points to Christ, who offered Himself without blemish to God.
- Gift threefold. Bull, ram and lamb set out one sacrifice: its strength, its devotion, its submission.
- Two sides, one death. The sin offering measures atonement by the sinner's need. The burnt offering measures it by Christ's devotion to God.
- Proportion teaches. Three animals for the burnt offering, one goat for sin. Sin is truly put away, yet Christ's devotion outshines it.
- Nothing lost. God writes the same list twelve times rather than lose one name. Every giver stands on the same footing, and every gift is remembered.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
Twelve leaders brought gifts for the dedication of the altar, one each day. Every day's list held the same small item among the bulls, rams and lambs: a male goat for a sin offering (older translations call it "one kid of the goats"). Why does a glad day of giving need a sacrifice for sin — and why only one animal for it?
The choice of animal carries meaning, and one writer follows it through the whole sacrificial law:
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also. The laws about sacrifice mention the sin-offering very often, and in most cases the goat, or "a kid of the goats," is the animal used for that sacrifice... On the great day of atonement we know the prominent place held by the two goats: one for a sin-offering and the other for the scapegoat (Lev. 16:7-10). One goat was killed as a sin-offering, and its blood taken into the holiest place and sprinkled on the mercy-seat. On the head of the other, Aaron laid his hands, confessing all the sins of the nation, "putting them upon the head of the goat," who would then carry them away to "a land not inhabited." Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ bearing the penalty of our sins, and so giving us the right to enter the presence of the Holy God; and also taking them away so that they will never be remembered against us again.
In the original language, one word carries both meanings:
We remember, too, that the words for "sin" and "sin-offering" are the same. So Scripture says of our blessed Lord, "For our sake he made him to be sin [or sin-offering] who knew no sin" (2 Cor. 5:21).
The goat stood where the offerer stood. That exchange is what the sin offering pictures.
They gave only one kid of the goats as a sin offering (v.16). The goat emphasizes the substitutionary character of Christ's sacrifice, for as the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
This was a glad occasion, yet the sin offering appears on every one of the twelve days. The reason lies in what the givers are:
Do we even need to say that the sin offering is essential, since man is in view, and man is a sinner? You could not discuss man's approach to God, his worship, or his communion with Him, without bringing in the atoning death of Christ as the necessary foundation. The whole heart confesses this with the deepest delight. The mystery of Christ's precious sacrifice will be the wellspring of our souls through the everlasting ages.
Necessary is not the same as central. One writer separates the way in from the worship itself:
True worship, though there is a sacrifice for sin, is not really built on the presenting of the "sin-offering." As redeemed people, we cannot come near to worship without it. It is the door we enter by, but it is not the true character of our worship. Worship rests on the "sweet savour" of the "burnt-offering" — going up to God not only in the value of the blood, but accepted in Jesus, carrying all the positive fragrance of what He was and what He did for God. What a thought!
The list itself says the same thing. The sin offering takes one animal, while the peace offerings take many:
The sin offering is there, but a single kid shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is indeed put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of peace offering animals, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
The gifts differ, but one subject runs through them all:
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
And God did not compress the twelve identical lists into one summary. He wrote each out in full:
He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
- Goat — The usual animal for sin offerings suggests sin, and also its remedy: the penalty borne, and the sins carried away for good.
- Substitute — The single kid stresses substitution; as the sin offering, Christ took our place in suffering and death.
- Door — We cannot come near to God without it. It is the door we enter by, not the character of worship itself.
- Proportion — One goat, against many animals for the burnt and peace offerings: sin is put away, yet Christ's devotedness outshines that effect.
- Record — Every item, written out twelve times in full, speaks in some way of Christ — and shows a God who forgets no small gift.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Nahshon the son of Amminadab.
The altar of the tabernacle has just been dedicated, and the twelve tribal leaders bring gifts for it, one leader each day. Nahshon of Judah goes first, and his list ends with the peace offerings — more animals than all the rest of it.
The day's gifts move from burnt offering to sin offering to peace offering. The counts differ sharply, and one writer finds meaning in them:
The sacrifices speak of the various aspects of our Lord's work. The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there too. But a single goat shows, we may say, the lower place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. At the same time, the full peace offering with its numbers two and five shows us how God longs for communion with His people.
The kinds of animals and their numbers both carry meaning:
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more. It required two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs of the first year. That is because the peace offering symbolizes the sacrifice of Christ. It is the sacrifice that brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us, and that we are blessed in fellowship with Him.
The peace offering ended in a shared meal. That meal starts where the blood is shed, not where human effort ends:
Seen as a picture, the peace offering shows this: the moment the blood was shed, God and the worshipper could feed in happy, peaceful fellowship. Nothing more was needed. The blood established peace, and on that ground the communion went on. One doubt about whether peace is really made is the death-blow to communion. If we are taken up with vainly trying to make peace with God, we must be total strangers to both communion and worship.
Nahshon brought animals he owned. Yet their value came from somewhere else:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. Whatever we bring to God this way — done in faith, offered to God Himself — is a fragrant aroma to God.
The verse could have stopped at the animals. Instead it signs the gift with a man's name:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. Man may pass quickly or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not simply remember it Himself — He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that their names and their offerings would travel down the ages, for countless generations to read!
Every leader after Nahshon brought the same gift. The repetition carries its own message:
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others… Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is emphasizing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
- Blood first. The blood settled peace before anyone ate. Communion rests on peace already made, never on trying to make it.
- Fellowship largest. One goat deals with sin. The seventeen animals of the peace offering show how much God wants His people near Him.
- Altar, not giver. The altar gave the offering its worth. Our service is identified with the one offering of Christ.
- Every name kept. God signs the gift with Nahshon's name and keeps the record for countless generations. He forgets no act of love.
- All equal. Twelve identical gifts on twelve days. Different places of service, but the same value before God.
On the second day offered Nethaneel the son of Zuar, prince of Issachar;
Day two of the twelve-day dedication belonged to the tribe of Issachar, and their leader Nethanel came forward. The verse reads like one line in a register. So why does God give this man his own day and his own sentence in Scripture?
God did not lump the twelve gifts together. One leader came forward each day. A commentator starts with the kind of service this is, then with the title the man carried ("prince" in older translations, "chief" in the ESV), then with God's wording to Moses.
This book shows us service — not merely doing certain things, but a voluntary offering up of oneself, a living sacrifice. "Prince," in verse 2 of our chapter, means generosity... Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. The nation gave generously through the spiritual life of each person — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Accept these from them" (v. 5). Now they come near and dedicate the gift on the altar.
A human record would have summed up all twelve gifts in a line or two. Instead every name, Nethanel's included, gets its own space.
Nothing else could satisfy Him. He wanted the fullest, most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... Each name shines out in its own distinctness... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The same care shows up in a far smaller gift much later in Scripture:
The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions. He did this so we may know that Jehovah notices the devotion and sacrifice of His people... The same eye followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons and saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us.
Both names in this verse carry meaning. Commentators read them against the tribe Nethanel represents.
The prince of Issachar was Nethanel, meaning "the gift of God." His name stands in contrast to Issachar's character. Genesis 49:14-15 describes that tribe as a donkey brought under bondage for hire, just as Israel under the law served for wages instead of receiving every blessing as a gift from God... Nethanel was the son of Zuar, meaning "little." Receiving every blessing simply as a gift of God brings our pride low, so that we no longer think highly of ourselves.
Another writer draws the same two names together as cause and effect:
The man who thinks in terms of wages always values himself too highly. The man who counts himself truly "little" is ready to appreciate the gift of God.
Nethanel brought exactly what the first day's leader had brought. The second tribe added nothing and left nothing out.
The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are, and He has a perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another.
What Nethanel carried was not random treasure. One writer reads each vessel and its contents as a picture of Christ:
There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Exodus 30). Both held fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping who Christ is ties at once to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it rightly holds the incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
Nethanel's gift went to the altar. One commentator weighs the gift and the altar against each other.
This emphasises the importance of the altar of burnt offering, which speaks of Christ in His own person making sacred the value of the sacrifice of Himself. The Lord asks in Matthew 23:19, "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, for He is Himself greater than the wonderful work He has done.
- Little — Zuar means "little." The man who counts himself little is ready to receive God's gift.
- Gift — Nethanel means "the gift of God," set against a tribe pictured as a donkey working for hire. Blessing comes as a present, not as wages.
- Day — "Each prince on his day": the giving was willing and personal, not something Moses collected.
- Same — Issachar's offering matched the first day's offering. No tribe ranks above another before God.
- Record — God gave this man his own line in Scripture. He never forgets the smallest gift, and He means millions to read about it.
he presented his offering; one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour, mingled with oil for an oblation;
This is the second day of the dedication of the altar. The gift is a silver plate, a silver basin, and a grain offering — the same list as the day before, and the same for the ten days that follow. So why does Scripture write the same gift out twelve times, and what do these weighed silver vessels hold?
The "he" of this verse is Nethanel, the leader of the tribe of Issachar. The name Issachar carries the idea of hire, of working for wages. One writer reads the leader's name, and his father's, against that idea.
Issachar's prince is Nathaniel, the "gift of God" — a name exactly suited to a tribe whose name speaks of hire... A true overcomer is this Nathaniel. He has learnt that the "gift of God" cannot be bought. Here too his family line says something simple about how we take hold of grace: he is the son of Zuar, that is, "Little." The man who thinks of hire must value himself too highly. The man who counts himself truly "little" is ready to appreciate the gift of God.
Both pieces of silver arrive full. The same is true of every gift in the chapter.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil for a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The metal matters as much as what fills it.
There was one silver charger and a silver bowl. These suggest the price of redemption (see Ex. 30). Both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping who Christ is connects directly with the truth of redemption by His blood.
The flour in the verse is mixed with oil. One writer reads that mixture as a picture of Christ Himself.
The nature of the Second Man was of fine flour mingled with oil, the Holy Spirit entering into every thought, desire, and movement of His life.
Each weight here is measured by "the shekel of the sanctuary." One writer explains what that unit was.
The word comes from the root meaning to weigh. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never vary. For "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10). This shekel was divided into twenty gerahs, and half a shekel, or ten gerahs, was the ransom money for all the men of Israel (Ex. 30:12).
A single total would have been shorter. One writer asks why God did not write it that way.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift... How little did those twelve princes imagine that God would hand their names and their offerings down, age after age, for countless generations to read!
These were free gifts, and one writer draws out what they say about the givers.
As free gifts of the tribal heads they have special importance, showing the spirit that animated the people, the unanimity among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this. They are the one people of God, alike in His love, and serving in love — that is, freely, though obedience is still required... The children of a king may be ranked and decorated in different ways, yet as his children they are in absolute equality. It is the same for us, who have our common place in the family of God.
- Named. The giver's name means "gift of God" and his father's means "little." The man who thinks himself little is ready to receive what cannot be bought.
- Filled. No vessel came empty. Plate, basin and spoon all carried something, and what they carried spoke of Christ.
- Weighed. Silver suggests the price of redemption. Every weight here answers to the sanctuary shekel, a standard that is just and never varies.
- Repeated. Twelve identical entries instead of one total, because God will not lump names and gifts together. He records every name and every gift.
- Equal. Each tribe brought the same gift, and their different places in the camp did not change the equal place they have before God.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
On the second day, Nethanel the son of Zuar brought Issachar's gift for the dedication of the altar. The dish weighs only ten shekels of gold, yet this chapter lists the same gift twelve times over — why so much space for so little gold?
The names in this gift carry their own message. One writer reads the name of the prince and of his father, and sets them against Issachar's character.
The prince of Issachar was Nethanel, meaning "the gift of God." That name stands in contrast to Issachar's character in Genesis 49:14-15, where the tribe is a donkey pressed into forced labor for hire. In the same way, Israel under law served for wages instead of receiving every blessing as a gift from God... Nethanel was the son of Zuar, meaning "little." How true it is that when we receive every blessing simply as a gift of God, our pride is brought low. We no longer think highly of ourselves.
The dish is gold, and what fills it is incense. One writer reads the two materials as a deliberate pair.
All here speaks of Christ in some one of His many aspects. There was one silver charger and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Ex. 30). Both held fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us that our grasp of who Christ is stands directly connected to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden dish reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it is fittingly filled with incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The word "full" is not decoration. Every container in this chapter arrived carrying something.
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
What does a worshipper bring to God? The answer given here is not our mood.
The golden altar of incense is a picture of the believer's worship. You cannot enjoy the presence of God without being a worshipper. That is the service at the golden altar. The material for praise is Christ Himself. Our praise is not our happy feelings. It is not anything of our own that we bring to God. The worship we bring is the fragrance of Christ's precious name. We do not bring it as the ground of our acceptance, but as what is infinitely precious to God.
A summary would have been shorter. One writer answers the reader who finds the repetition wasteful.
Only one thing could satisfy Him: the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... People may rush past gifts and offerings, or pay them no attention. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
This gold dish belongs to the dedication of the altar. The altar, not the weight of the metal, gave the gift its value.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. Christ "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling fragrance to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have all offered willingly. In the same way, when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
- Gift — Nethanel means "the gift of God" and Zuar means "little." The one who counts himself small receives every blessing as a gift, not as wages.
- Gold — the gold points to the Lord's deity. Worship that ignores His divinity is not worship at all.
- Full — no vessel in this chapter came empty. Each one carried something that spoke of Christ, though the givers did not know it.
- Fragrance — the incense we bring is not our feelings. It is the preciousness of Christ's name, brought to God because it is precious to Him.
- Altar — the altar gave the gift its worth. Our service counts because it joins the one offering Christ made of Himself. And God records it, name by name.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
The second day of the dedication belongs to Nethanel the son of Zuar, leader of Issachar. This line lists the animals he brought for a burnt offering. Every one of the twelve leaders brought the same three on his own day. Why does God spend a long chapter repeating an identical list twelve times over, and what do a bull, a ram and a lamb say?
Each animal in the burnt offering carries its own note. Together they point to the worth of Christ's sacrifice before God.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb. These speak of the great value of the sacrifice of Christ in itself, as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull points to the strength of that sacrifice, the ram to its devotion, and the male lamb to its submission.
The next verse adds only one goat for a sin offering. One writer weighs that difference.
The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there too, but a single goat shows, we may say, the lesser place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Truly sin is put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
The gifts were not pooled and handed over at once. Each leader came forward alone. Yet each brought what all the others brought.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a meat offering, or incense. But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
These gifts drew their value not from the giver but from where he laid them.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ.
A summary of two verses would have told us the facts. The repetition tells us something about God instead.
What unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions. He did it so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
So the chapter gives each man more than a mention.
Each prince gets his own appointed day for presenting his offering. He also gets his own allotted space on the eternal page of inspiration, where God the Holy Spirit writes the fullest record of his gifts.
Issachar camped in a different place from Judah. That difference counts for nothing here.
As free gifts from the tribal heads, these offerings have special importance: they show the spirit moving the people, the unity among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this. They are the one people of God, alike in His love, and to serve in love, that is, freely, though in necessary obedience... The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet they are in absolute equality as his children.
Some commentators read the names here as a lesson. Issachar means "hire," his leader's name means "the gift of God," and his father's name means "little."
The spirit of legality is quick to take up such strange service, since it is really self that it serves. A bribe will turn it from its true Master... a true overcomer is this Nathaniel, who has learnt that the "gift of God" cannot be purchased. Here, too, the genealogy shows in the simplest way how we take hold of grace: he is the son of Zuar — that is, "Little." For the man who thinks of hire values himself far too highly. The man who counts himself really "little" is ready to appreciate the gift of God.
- Gift, not hire — Issachar means "hire," but his leader is "the gift of God," son of "Little." The man who counts himself small is ready to receive what no one can buy.
- Gift laid down — a bull for strength, a ram for devotion, a lamb for submission. The worth here is Christ's devotedness to God, not the giver's.
- Gift made valuable — the altar, not the giver, gives the offering its value. Our own dedication belongs with that one offering of Christ.
- Gift counted the same — each leader brought the identical offering. Camp position and rank change nothing, as a king's children are equal whatever their honours.
- Gift never forgotten — God writes out every name and item in full. The eye that watched the wagons also saw the widow's two coins, and forgets no service done for Him.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
On the second of twelve days, the head of one tribe brought his gift for the dedication of the altar. His list runs to silver vessels, flour, oil and animals — and one goat for a sin offering. Why does a gift of praise need a sacrifice for sin at all — and why does God write out the same list twelve times over?
Verse 22 is one line inside the offering of Nethanel, who gave on behalf of Issachar. Twelve leaders gave, one per day, and no two lists differ:
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The names in this section are read by some commentators as part of the picture. Issachar's name speaks of wages earned, while the name of the man who gave for him speaks of something received for nothing:
Linked with the spirit of praise is the sense of responsibility suggested by Issachar, "hire," reward for faithfulness; yet his captain also suggests what is to control the thought of reward; it is Nethaneel, "the gift of God," the son of Zuar, "little." Truly, there must always be the sense of our littleness, and that the very grace to make us faithful is God's gift.
Of all the animals in this chapter, the goat is the one tied to sin. One writer traces where that animal keeps appearing in the sacrifices, and what it points to:
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also. In the instructions about sacrifice we find the sin offering mentioned very often. In most cases the goat, or "a kid of the goats," is the animal used for that sacrifice. On the great day of atonement, one goat was killed as a sin offering, and the other carried the nation's sins away to "a land not inhabited." Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ bearing the penalty of our sins, and so giving us a title to enter the presence of the Holy God, and also taking them away, so that they shall be remembered against us no more.
Nothing had gone wrong on Issachar's day. The sin offering is there because of who was doing the giving, not because of any failure in the gift:
The leaders of the tribes each brought their offerings, starting on the day the tabernacle was fully set up and going on for the eleven days after that. Each one brought a sin offering with him. The leper needed such a sacrifice too, on the eighth day of his cleansing, and so did the Nazirite when his vow was complete. They also had to own the holiness of God and the grace that provided what they needed. So when the appointed service had to do with the people who brought the offerings, a sin offering was fitting.
One goat stands beside a long list of animals burnt for God's pleasure. The two are not interchangeable:
As redeemed people, we cannot draw near to worship without the sin offering. It is the door we enter by, but it is not the proper character of our worship. Worship assumes the "sweet savour" of the burnt offering. That is coming up to God not only in the value of the blood, but in our acceptance in Jesus, as having all the positive savour of what He was and did to God.
A single summary verse could have covered all twelve days. Instead God spent a chapter of eighty-nine verses:
He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not simply remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that God would hand their names and their offerings down from age to age, for countless generations to read! Yet so it was, for God would have it so. He will go into detail that might seem tedious to us — even into what people might call mere repetition. He would rather do that than leave out a single name of any of His servants, or a single item of their work.
Because the lists match, no tribe can claim a larger share of God's favour than another:
God is stressing a fact of the first importance: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and God accepts them all on the same basis.
- Gift — This line belongs to the second day's gift for the altar, brought by the leader of Issachar. Each leader brought the same items on his own day.
- Goat — The goat is the animal most often named for the sin offering. It points to sin and to its remedy: Christ bore the penalty and carried our sins away.
- Grace — The sin offering met a need in the givers, not a fault in their gift. It owns God's holiness and the grace that supplied what they needed.
- Order — The sin offering is the door we come in by. The burnt offering is the character of worship inside: our acceptance in Christ.
- Record — God writes out every name and item twelve times rather than leave one out. The matching lists show all His people on equal ground.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Nethaneel the son of Zuar.
Issachar's tribe gave on the second day of the twelve-day dedication of the altar. The verse ends his gift with a peace offering and with the giver's name, and the same list of animals appears twelve times in this chapter — which raises two questions: why does God spell out every animal, and why does He name each man?
This last gift was the largest, and commentators read its numbers as a picture of what Christ's work secures.
The peace offering involved much more: two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs of the first year. For the peace offering stands for the sacrifice of Christ, the sacrifice that brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen point to fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon Himself in His great work for us, and has blessed us in fellowship with Him.
This offering was also the one that people ate.
The peace offering was the only sacrifice eaten whole, apart from the fat and the blood. It was also the only one that every party could eat: the priest who offered it, his whole priestly family, and the man who brought it. And not least, it was the food of God Himself (Lev. 3:11, 16; 7:13ff). So the peace offering speaks of fellowship, or communion. No surprise, then, that it is often linked with thanksgiving and joy.
The verse ends with two names. Commentators read them as a short lesson in how blessing comes to us.
The prince of Issachar was Nethanel, meaning "the gift of God." That stands in contrast to Issachar's character in Genesis 49:14-15: a donkey brought under bondage to work for hire. Israel under law served for hire instead of receiving every blessing as a gift from God. In the coming kingdom this will be reversed. Nethanel was the son of Zuar, meaning "little." When we receive every blessing simply as a gift of God, our pride is brought low. We no longer think highly of ourselves. Like Paul, whose name means "little," we count ourselves "the very least of all the saints" (Eph. 3:8).
Another writer takes the two names the other way round.
This Nathaniel is a true overcomer, for he has learned that the "gift of God" cannot be bought. His family line shows just as simply how grace is received: he is the son of Zuar, that is, "Little." The man who thinks in terms of wages rates himself too high. The man who counts himself truly "little" is ready to value the gift of God.
One sentence could have covered all twelve gifts. Commentators read God's refusal to summarise as deliberate.
Only the fullest and most detailed account would satisfy Him: each man's name, the tribe he stood for, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... People may pass over gifts and offerings in a hurry, or without care. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He even takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
And this is not only about leaders with oxen to give.
The Holy Spirit wrote out these details and repetitions so that we may know the Lord takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury. That same eye sees us.
The sameness of the twelve gifts carries its own message.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal ground, and no one is preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts and different work to do, yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts them all on the same basis.
The princes gave freely. But the value of what they brought came from somewhere else.
Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. Christ "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ.
- Gift, not wages. Issachar pictures the hired worker. His prince is Nethanel, "the gift of God," son of Zuar, "little" — the gift goes to those who think little of themselves.
- Gift offered. The little man brings a peace offering — the one sacrifice all parties ate together, and so the picture of fellowship, thanksgiving and joy.
- Gift valued. The generosity was real, yet the altar, not the giver, gave the offering its worth.
- Gift recorded. God refuses to summarise. He writes out every name and every animal, because He never forgets the smallest act of service.
- Gift equalled. Every prince brought the same list. Different days, different tribes, one standing before God.
On the third day, the prince of the children of Zebulun, Eliab the son of Helon
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
his offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On the third day of the twelve-day dedication, Zebulun's leader brought his gift. It matched the two gifts before it item for item, which raises an obvious question: why does Scripture write it all out again instead of saying "the same"?
A modern editor would have compressed this chapter into a few lines. One writer explains why God did not.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account — each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full worth. The names and the offerings are not huddled together at random... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
The plate and the basin are containers, and the verse is careful to say what was inside them.
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Both vessels are silver, and both are weighed by the shekel of the sanctuary.
All here speaks of Christ in some one of His many aspects. There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price (see Ex. 30). Both held fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping Christ's person is tied at once to the truth of redemption by His blood.
The two weights named in the verse are real amounts of metal, and the flour and oil each stand for something.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering (v.13). The grain offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the Holy Spirit's presence beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus through and through.
The princes brought these gifts to dedicate the altar. So where does the value of a gift lie — in the gift itself, or somewhere else?
National generosity came through the spirituality of each individual — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God.
The word translated "chief" or "prince" carries its own meaning.
Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality... Recognised and owned of the Lord, then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
The names attached to this third day carry their own lesson.
Zebulun means "dwelling," and speaks of abiding communion with God. That communion must be there if the spirit of true praise is to continue, and if we are to keep the sense of responsibility in its rightful place. His captain is Eliab, "God is Father," the son of Helon, "the mighty one." This speaks of that Spirit of adoption, which is both the power and the pledge of an abiding communion. "I will be a Father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to Me, says the Lord Almighty."
- Willing — the word for "prince" means liberality; grace produced the gift, and God still calls it the man's own free choice.
- Filled — no vessel came empty. The silver held fine flour mixed with oil: Christ's perfect humanity, with the Spirit in Him from birth.
- Weighed — the sanctuary shekel measured the silver and points to the redemption price. God's standard set the gift's worth, not the giver's.
- Accepted — the altar gives the offering its worth. God receives the dedication of our lives because it is joined to Christ's one offering of Himself.
- Recorded — God would not squeeze twelve identical gifts into one line. He wrote out each name and each item, so untold millions would read it.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
Twelve leaders brought gifts on twelve days, and each one laid the same small golden dish of incense before God. Why does God give a long chapter to the same list twelve times? And what does a three-ounce dish of gold say about Christ?
The verse gives this dish a metal and a weight. One writer starts from how little it weighed:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet smell.
Some translations call this dish a "spoon." Another writer links the gold to what filled it:
The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity. Fittingly, it holds the incense, because true worship of Christ can never ignore His divinity.
No leader brought an empty vessel. One writer names what filled them, and what they pictured:
Each one offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil for a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering, or for a burnt offering or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. They surely did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
The incense drew its worth from the place where the leaders laid it:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever we bring to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet fragrance to God.
A reader in a hurry would cut this chapter to a paragraph. One writer answers that impatience:
Only one thing could satisfy Him: the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. God describes every offering in detail and gives it its true worth. People may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself. He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
The same writer applies that record to every servant of God:
Each one has his own special place on the roll, and each one his place in the Master's heart; and all will come out by and by.
The sameness of the twelve offerings is itself the message. Not one leader gave a larger dish or a finer grade of incense:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a fact of great importance. All stand on equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions. Yet all have the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts all on the same basis.
- Gold. The metal points to the Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. The smallest vessel in the list carries the highest truth.
- Filled. No vessel came empty. The gold held incense — the fragrance of Christ's beauty rising to God. No worship of Him can leave out His divinity.
- Altar. The gift's value came from where it was laid. Our service is worth something because it is joined to the one offering of Christ, who offered Himself without blemish to God.
- Recorded. God refused to summarise. He writes down every name and every small loving gift. He makes sure millions read it. Each servant has a place on the roll and a place in the Master's heart.
- Equal. Twelve leaders, twelve days, one identical offering. Different gifts and functions among God's people, but no preference and no ranking — all accepted on the same basis.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
This is day three of twelve. Eliab of Zebulun brings his gift to the newly anointed altar, and his burnt offering matches every other leader's. Why record the same list twelve times? What do a bull, a ram, and a lamb say? And what makes such a gift acceptable to God?
Every gift in this chapter points to one thing: the altar these leaders came to dedicate. Commentators read that altar as a picture of Christ Himself.
This shows how important the altar of burnt offering is. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, and He is the one who sanctifies the value of His own sacrifice. In Matthew 23:19 the Lord asks, "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, for He Himself is greater than the wonderful work He has done.
Another writer applies the altar to our own service.
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet aroma to God.
Three animals make up this burnt offering. Each shows a different quality in the sacrifice of Christ.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals: one young bull, one ram and one male lamb. These speak of the great value the sacrifice of Christ has in itself, as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull shows the strength of that sacrifice. The ram shows its devotion. The male lamb shows its submission.
Eliab also brought one goat as a sin offering that day. Commentators weigh the two offerings against each other.
The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of Christ's one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there too, but a single young goat shows, we may say, how secondary a place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin truly is put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
Zebulun's burnt offering matches Judah's and Issachar's, animal for animal. What does that sameness show about the people who brought it?
These are free gifts from the heads of the tribes. They matter because they show the spirit that moved the people, their full agreement, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change that. They are the one people of God, alike in His love, and called to serve in love, that is, freely, though they must also obey… The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal. So it is for us who share a common place in the family of God.
A human historian would have written this chapter in a paragraph. God did not.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. God describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value… Man may rush past gifts and offerings, or pass over them without care; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift.
God's care did not stop with these twelve leaders.
God writes down in His book every single act of service we do for our Lord. He notes not only what we did, but the way we did it, for God appreciates style as well as we do. He loves a cheerful giver, and a cheerful worker, because that is exactly what He is Himself.
No law demanded these animals. The very word used for these leaders points to the spirit behind the gift.
Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing." (Psalm 110; the ESV reads, "Your people will offer themselves freely.") "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word… In 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "they gave themselves first to the Lord." Once the Lord has recognised and owned them, the generosity follows. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
- Altar first. The altar sanctifies the gift. What we bring has worth only because of where it is laid — and the altar pictures Christ Himself.
- Gift. Bull, ram, and lamb show the strength, devotion, and submission of the one sacrifice that glorifies God for ever.
- Proportion. Three animals for the burnt offering, one goat for sin. Sin is put away, but Christ's devotedness is the larger theme.
- Reach. Every tribe brings the same offering. One people, alike in His love, whatever their place in the camp.
- Record. God refuses to summarise. He writes down each name, each day, each item — and He treats every act of service since the same way.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
On the third day of the dedication, Zebulun's leader brought the same gifts as the leader before him, and his list ends with this one male goat. Why does a glad gift for the altar need a sin offering at all, and why does God record the identical list twelve times over?
The burnt offering took three animals. The peace offering took seventeen. The sin offering takes one. Writers see that gap as deliberate — a matter of proportion in God's own thoughts.
The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is present, but a single kid shows, we may say, the comparatively lesser place it occupies in God's thoughts of Christ. Truly sin is put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. In the full number of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for fellowship with His people.
Of all the animals named in this chapter, the goat carries one idea in particular.
Only one kid of the goats was given as a sin offering. The goat emphasises the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The same animal appears throughout Israel's sacrifices. Its best-known use shows two halves of one picture:
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also... On the great day of atonement two goats had a prominent place: one for a sin offering, the other sent away. The first was killed as a sin offering, and its blood was taken into the holiest place and sprinkled on the mercy seat. On the head of the other, Aaron laid his hands, confessing all the sins of the nation... Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ. He bears the penalty of our sins, and so gives us a right to enter the presence of the holy God. He also takes them away, so that they shall be remembered against us no more.
This was a day of generous giving, not a day of guilt. Yet the list still names a sin offering. Writers trace that back to what sin is, and where it is found.
The sin offering applies to the root principle of sin as being hateful to God. So it was a reminder that the plague of sin was present in every Israelite, as it is in us too. Only by the sacrifice of Christ is it properly judged.
The goat is the last item on a list that starts with plates, bowls and dishes. The whole list has one subject.
Vessels were presented — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they contained fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Each leader gave his gift for the dedication of the altar. The altar does more than hold it.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ.
Zebulun's goat matches what the leaders before him brought. The sameness says something, and so does God's choice to write it all out.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasising the vitally important fact that all are on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing.
- One goat — the sin offering is the smallest item in the day's gift. Sin is dealt with, yet Christ's devotion to God outshines that side of His death.
- One substitute — the goat takes the giver's place. It bears the penalty, and it carries the sins away for good.
- One admission — even a day of glad giving names a sin offering. Sin was present in every Israelite, and it is in us.
- One altar — the altar gave the gift its value. In the same way, Christ's offering of Himself gives worth to our service.
- One record — twelve leaders brought the same gift, equal before God. He wrote out every list in full, forgetting nothing.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Eliab the son of Helon.
This verse ends the third day of gifts brought for the dedication of the altar. Most of what Eliab of Zebulun brought was the peace offering, and the verse closes with his name — so why does God record twelve men who all gave the same thing?
One commentator draws out what the length of this chapter shows about God:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe which he represented, and of the offering which he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full worth. He does not lump the names and the offerings together at random… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He goes out of His way to make sure untold millions read the record. Those twelve princes never imagined that their names and their offerings would pass down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
Every tribe brought the same gifts on its own day. One writer finds a lesson in that sameness:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal footing, and no one ranks above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions, yet all have the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts them all on the same basis.
Compare the animals here with the single goat of the sin offering and the three animals of the burnt offering:
The burnt offering of one bullock, one ram and one lamb speaks of the perfection of His one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there too, but a single young goat shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away. Yet the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Another writer takes the same figures and reads each one:
The peace offering pictures the sacrifice of Christ as what brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us.
The verse finishes with a name, and commentators read the meaning of these names:
In the same way Zebulun, "dwelling," speaks of lasting communion with God. That communion must be there if the spirit of true praise is to continue, and if the sense of responsibility is to keep its rightful place. His captain, Eliab, "God is Father," the son of Helon, "the mighty one," speaks of that Spirit of adoption. That Spirit is both the power and the pledge of a lasting communion.
Another writer sets Eliab's name against Zebulun's weakness:
In Genesis 49:13 Zebulun pictures Israel living close to the Gentile nations, a haven for ships, and so giving up her proper separation to God. In beautiful contrast, the name "God is a Father" reminds us of 2 Corinthians 6:14-18. There God calls believers to come out from unholy ties, and to those who do He promises, "I will be a Father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty."
- Recorded — God writes what looks like repetition instead of leaving out one man's name or one item of his gift. He keeps the smallest act of service, and publishes it to millions.
- Repeated — Twelve men, twelve days, one identical list. The sameness says nobody ranks above anybody, whatever their gift or function.
- Weighted — One goat for the sin offering, three animals for the burnt offering, seventeen for the peace offering. Sin is dealt with, but the devotion of Christ and God's longing for communion far outweigh it.
- Shared — The peace offering brings God and His people together. The two oxen point to leaning on the strength of Christ's sacrifice, the fives to the responsibility He has taken up for us.
- Named — Eliab means "God is a Father". The tribe pictured as giving up its separation is led by a man whose name carries the promise that keeps a believer both separate and close.
On the fourth day, the prince of the children of Reuben, Elizur the son of Shedeur.
Reuben was the eldest son, yet in Israel's camp order the tribe of Judah leads and Reuben heads the second group. One writer traces this back to what happened before Jacob died:
Judah led the way; not Reuben the firstborn, though the latter tribe was chief of the second camp. Reuben had lost his place as the eldest before Jacob died. The aged Jacob then prophesied to Judah that his father's brothers would bow down to him. For that tribe to lead the way would seem natural. We know its later history as the tribe the Lord belonged to, so its place as leader was fitting.
So the fourth day is no demotion. God assigned each place, and the same writer adds that no tribe could complain of its place and no jealousy could grow from it.
Scripture gives us only his name and his father's name, so the meaning of those names carries the message:
The leader of the tribe of Reuben was Elizur the son of Shedeur. Elizur means "God is a Rock." What a contrast to his father Reuben, of whom we read, "Unstable as water, you shall not excel" (Gen. 49:4). Reuben in the flesh was utter weakness, just as the flesh proves in all of us. But the strength and stability of God is the portion of the new nature... Shedeur means "the Almighty is fire." That adds the thought of God's consuming holiness judging the flesh and all its works.
The giving was voluntary, and even the title of these leaders carries that idea:
This book shows us service. Service is not just doing certain things, but a voluntary offering up of oneself — a living sacrifice. Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing" (Psalm 110). "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word... Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
Yet the gift does not stand on its own worth. Each man's day ends at the altar:
"Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
The next verses list what Elizur brought, and one writer reads each item as a picture of Christ:
There was one silver dish and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price (see Ex. 30). Both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us that grasping Christ's person is directly connected with the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity. It rightly holds the incense, for there can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity. The sin offering is there, but a single kid shows the comparatively lesser place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
Every prince brought the same list, and one writer sees that sameness as deliberate:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasising a vitally important fact: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A summary in a dozen lines would have saved space. God chose otherwise:
Only the fullest and most detailed account would satisfy Him: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God... Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in full detail and given its due value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. Those twelve princes never imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down, age after age, for countless generations to read!
- Placed — Reuben gives on day four, not day one, because Judah led. God assigned each place, so no tribe could complain.
- Named — Elizur means God is a Rock; Shedeur means the Almighty is fire. Both answer Reuben's instability.
- Willing — the title of these leaders means liberality. Grace worked the willingness in them, and God calls it their own free choice.
- Valued — the altar, not the giver, gives the gift its worth. Our service is tied to Christ's one offering of Himself.
- Recorded — twelve identical entries teach two things. Every servant stands on equal footing, and God forgets no name and no small gift.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
This verse belongs to the fourth day of the twelve-day dedication. Reuben's leader brought the same silver vessels and the same flour and oil as the three leaders before him. So why does Scripture write the list out again, gift by gift and weight by weight, instead of summing it up in one line?
The repetition is not carelessness. It is how God keeps accounts.
Only one thing could satisfy Him: the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its true value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not just remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Reuben's plate weighed what Judah's weighed. Nothing marks one tribe out above another, and that sameness is itself the lesson.
Each tribe's offering is identical, so what Scripture says of Judah's offering applies to all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing this hugely important fact: all stand on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and God accepts all on the same basis.
The same writer reads the metal, the flour, and the oil as a portrait of Christ.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels, just over 4 pounds. The silver bowl weighed 70 shekels, over 2 pounds. Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering. The grain offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, and only the Man of absolute perfection could do that work. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus through and through.
Both vessels came to God full. What filled them is the point.
They presented vessels — plates, basins, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The verse weighs both vessels "according to the shekel of the sanctuary." One writer explains what that standard was.
The spices were measured out by weight, and the unit of weight was "the shekel of the sanctuary." The word comes from a root meaning to weigh, and perhaps first of all to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unvarying. For Scripture says, "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the Lord" (Prov. 20:10).
Each leader came on his own day with his own gift. The worth of those gifts, though, came from somewhere else.
Then, verse 10, came offerings for the altar. The nation's generosity came through each man's own spiritual life — one leader on each day. Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near, and they dedicate the gift on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling offering to God.
- Willing. Each leader came on his own day with his own gift. National generosity showed up one person at a time.
- Weighed. God weighs the plate and basin by the shekel of the sanctuary. His standard is just and unvarying, and it puts a true value on things.
- Filled. Not one vessel came empty. Silver speaks of redemption's price. Fine flour speaks of Christ's perfect humanity, and the oil of the Spirit filling it from His birth.
- Equal. Reuben's offering matches Judah's. People have different functions, but all stand on one footing, and God accepts all on the same basis.
- Remembered. The repetition looks needless. In fact God refuses to lose one name or one gift, and He makes sure untold millions will read the record.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
On the fourth day of the twelve-day dedication, Reuben's leader brought the same three vessels every other prince brought. So why does God record this small gold dish of incense twelve separate times, and what does it mean?
God records the giver's name as well as the gift. One writer reads that name against the tribe's own history:
The leader of the tribe of Reuben was Elizur the son of Shedeur. Elizur means "God is a Rock." What a contrast to his father Reuben, of whom we read, "Unstable as water, you shall not have preeminence" (Gen. 49:4). Reuben in the flesh was utter weakness, just as the flesh proves in all of us. But the strength and stability of God is the portion of the new nature. Shedeur means "the Almighty is fire," which adds the thought of God's consuming holiness judging the flesh and all of its works.
Each prince brought three containers, and not one arrived empty:
The rest of the chapter covers the separate offering of the princes in connection with "the dedication of the altar." Each prince offered separately, on his own day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The dish was small next to the silver vessels beside it. What it was made of, and what it held, carry the meaning:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet odor.
Another writer reads the gold dish together with the silver vessels beside it:
There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price (see Ex. 30), and both held fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping Christ's person connects directly with the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it fittingly holds the incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The recorded weight is not filler. Ten runs through Scripture with a settled meaning:
TEN. Complete ground of human responsibility. Pharaoh was visited by ten plagues (Ex. 7 — Ex. 12). The ten commandments (Ex. 34:28). Abraham gave a tenth of the spoils to Melchizedek (Gen. 14:20). The Israelites gave a tenth to the Levites, and they gave a tenth to the priests (Num. 18:21, 26).
The gift's value came from somewhere outside itself:
Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. The nation gave generously through the spirituality of each man — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Accept these from them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with that one offering of Christ.
Why does Scripture write out the same list of vessels for every prince?
Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and properly valued. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap. Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
- The container — a gold dish weighing only about three ounces, the one gold vessel among the day's gifts.
- The gold — it points to the Godhead glory of Christ, the truth that worship cannot leave out.
- The contents — incense, the fragrance of His beauty rising to God as a sweet odor.
- The weight — ten shekels, the number Scripture ties to human responsibility in full.
- The altar — the altar gave the gift its value. Our service counts the same way: it is joined to Christ's one offering, and God records every item.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
This is the fourth of twelve days at the new tabernacle. Each day one leader brings his gift, and the burnt offering is listed animal by animal: a bull, a ram, a lamb. Two questions come up. Why does Scripture repeat the same list twelve times? And what did those three animals say to God?
Critics have complained about this repetition. The answer lies in what God chooses to notice.
Critics of the Word of God have found fault with the long statements and repetitions about the twelve princes and their offerings. If these critics had penned this chapter, they would have given these offerings in a verse or two. But what unbelief belittles and rejects, is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions, so that we may know this: Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons also saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
God did not keep that record to Himself. He published it.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest, most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail and given its full value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Every leader brought the same three animals. Commentators read that sameness as a statement about standing before God.
The offering of each tribe is identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies to all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing. One is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and all are accepted on the same basis.
The burnt offering here is not one creature but three, and each carries its own note.
A burnt offering was made up of three animals: one young bull, one ram and one male lamb. These speak of the great value of the sacrifice of Christ in itself, as the thing that glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
Another writer reads the same picture from the other side: the animals brought by twelve different men all pointed the same direction.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. Vessels were presented — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty... But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
Priests and offerers ate from other sacrifices. No one ate from this one.
The priest ate part of some sacrifices, and the offerer ate part of others. But the burnt offering was "all" burnt on the altar. It was for God alone. The priests might arrange the wood and the fire and watch the flame rise, and it was a high and holy privilege to do so. But they did not eat of the sacrifice. God alone was the object of Christ, in the burnt offering aspect of His death.
Yet the man who brought it was not left out.
The whole offering was burnt on the altar for the pleasure of Jehovah. Yet the offerer stood accepted before Him in all the power and fragrance of the offering. Nothing less than this could satisfy the love of Christ. He wanted His own to stand before God and the Father in the full acceptance of His work, and in all the acceptability of Himself.
The worth of the gift did not rest in the animals themselves.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. Whatever we bring to God in this way, done in faith and offered to God Himself, is a fragrance of a sweet smell to God.
- Each name. God did not squeeze twelve days into one paragraph. Every leader's gift has its own day and its own lines in Scripture.
- Each equal. Every offering is identical, so no tribe outranks another. Writers apply the same pattern to different gifts in the church today.
- Each animal. The bull speaks of the strength of Christ's sacrifice, the ram of its devotion, the lamb of its submission.
- Each wholly burnt. Nothing of the burnt offering was eaten; it was for God alone — and the offerer was accepted in all its fragrance.
- Each on the altar. The altar, not the gift, sets the value; service offered in faith is joined to the one offering of Christ.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
In Numbers 7 each tribe's leader brings gifts on his own day, and the fourth day belongs to Reuben's leader, who brings a goat for sin along with everything else. So why does God record all twelve identical offerings in full, and why does a sacrifice for sin belong in a celebration of glad giving?
A reader in a hurry would have cut this chapter short. God did not.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in full detail and given its proper value… People may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly; but God never can, never does, and never will.
One writer sets this record beside a gift small enough to overlook.
The same eye that followed the leaders as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
Reuben's goat matches Judah's and Dan's. That sameness carries a lesson.
The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are, and He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word… Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The verse names a male goat, and one writer traces this animal through the law.
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also. The rules for sacrifice mention the sin offering very often, and in most cases the goat, or "a kid of the goats," is the animal used. So if a ruler sinned, he was to bring a male kid of the goats. For one of the common people it was a female kid… On the great day of atonement the two goats had a prominent place: one for a sin offering and the other for the scapegoat. Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ bearing the penalty of our sins, and so giving us a title to enter the presence of the Holy God; and also taking them away, so that they will never be remembered against us again.
Another writer sums up what that one goat means.
Only one kid of the goats was given as a sin offering. The goat brings out the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ, for as the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The occasion was glad, not mournful. One writer sets these twelve days beside the other times this sacrifice was required.
This sacrifice was appointed for special occasions too… And when the leaders of the tribes brought their offerings, starting with the day the tabernacle was fully set up and on the eleven days that followed, each brought a sin offering with them… So when the appointed service had to do with those who brought the offerings, a sin offering was fitting.
That writer adds that others who brought this sacrifice — the cleansed leper, the mother after childbirth — had to "own the holiness of God and the grace that provided what they needed."
One writer looks at what all twelve gifts had in common.
Each one offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty… Whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
- One name. God gave each leader his own day and his own line in the record. He did not sum up twelve gifts in one sentence. Nothing brought to Him is lost or rounded off.
- One footing. Every tribe brought the same gift. No tribe ranks above another before God, and the same is true of His people today.
- One substitute. The goat was the usual animal for this sacrifice. It pictures Christ taking our place in suffering and death.
- One honest admission. Even on a day of glad giving, the people brought a sacrifice for sin. It owned God's holiness and the grace that met their need.
- One subject. Plates, bowls, flour, incense and the goat all spoke of Christ. The givers did not see it; we may.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Elizur, the son of Shedeur.
Numbers 7:35 ends Reuben's day in the twelve-day dedication of the altar, and it signs the gift with the giver's name. Two questions sit inside that one line: why does God repeat the same list twelve times, and why does He name the man who brought it?
God demanded nothing here. The gifts came from the givers' own will.
This book shows us service, not merely doing certain things, but a voluntary offering up of oneself — a living sacrifice. "Prince," in verse 2 of our chapter, means generosity... In 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "They gave themselves first to the Lord." The Lord recognizes and owns them, and then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
The peace offering list is the longest in each prince's gift. One writer takes its numbers as picture-language.
The peace offering involved much more, requiring two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs of the first year. The peace offering symbolizes the sacrifice of Christ. That sacrifice brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen imply fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us, and blessed us in fellowship with Him.
Elizur did not simply hand over animals. He brought them to the altar.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God.
Twelve separate days, one list. That list is worth reading for what the offerings point to.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things... whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Reuben's day was no smaller and no larger than any other. Grant reads that sameness as a statement about God's people.
God is emphasizing the vital fact that all are on an equal footing. One is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A summary would have been shorter. Instead the text names the giver, as it does for all twelve.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. He will go into detail that might seem tedious to us. He would rather do that than leave out a single name of any of His servants, or a single item of their work.
Grant reads the name itself as a message. It stands in contrast to the tribe this man led.
The leader of the tribe of Reuben was Elizur the son of Shedeur. Elizur means "God is a Rock." What a contrast to his father Reuben, of whom we read, "Unstable as water, you shall not have preeminence" (Gen. 49:4). Reuben in the flesh was utter weakness, just as the flesh proves to be in all of us. But the strength and stability of God belong to the new nature. That is what all believers are "in Christ Jesus." Shedeur means "the Almighty is fire." That adds the thought of God's consuming holiness judging the flesh and all of its works.
- Willing — The giving was voluntary: an offering up of oneself, a living sacrifice. Grace produced it, yet God calls it the giver's own will.
- Altar — The gift had no value on its own. What made it acceptable was the altar, which ties our service to Christ's one offering of Himself.
- Peace — The peace offering was the largest part of Elizur's gift. It pictures Christ's sacrifice, which brings believers into fellowship with the Father and the Son.
- Equal — Twelve men, twelve days, one identical list. Gifts and functions differ, but no one is preferred above another. All are accepted on the same basis.
- Recorded — God would rather fill a long chapter with repeated detail than drop one name or one item. He forgets nothing given to Him, and He sees to it that millions read the record.
On the fifth day, the prince of the children of Simeon, Shelumiel the son of Zurishaddai.
The fifth day of the dedication belongs to Simeon, and its leader Shelumiel brings the same gift the princes before him brought. Why does Scripture give a whole verse to one man's turn, and why name his father too?
Simeon is not a leading tribe. In the camp he is one of three tribes on the south side, and the names of that group carry one theme.
Reuben — "See, a Son" — leads the camp placed on the south, "the right hand."... His captain is Elizur, "my God is a rock," the son of Shedeur, "the Almighty is fire." Grouped with Reuben is Simeon, "obedience," whose prince Shelumiel, "at peace with God," the son of Zurishaddai, "my rock is the Almighty," stresses the same truth.
Simeon's record was violent, and Jacob's prophecy condemned him. The name of the man who represents that tribe at the altar says the opposite.
The next tribe, in birth order and perhaps in character, is Simeon, and the prince of Simeon is Shelumiel, "at peace with God." How striking, then, to turn back to Jacob's prophecy and hear him condemn Simeon's cruel anger on God's part! Simeon's paths had not been peace, nor had they been with Him who is "the God of peace." So Simeon could not know peace with God — that deep, sweet rest of a mind shaped to His mind. With the Simeonite prince all this changes. Over Simeon's own evil he too is an overcomer, and his victory is also the victory of faith. There is no evil faith cannot overcome, because the One faith links itself to is the Almighty.
The father's name explains where that peace comes from. It rests on someone other than the man who holds it — and on a personal claim, not a general truth.
Shelumiel was the son of Zurishaddai, meaning "My rock is the Almighty." This reminds us that peace with God depends on the stability of God Himself, the Almighty; and in this case not only is God the Rock, but "my rock." How good it is for us if we make this living truth our own! This is a wonderful support in the battle.
Shelumiel gives as chief, in the name of his whole tribe. A human writer would have folded twelve identical gifts into one sentence. God does not.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe which he represented, and of the offering which he made to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. God describes each offering in detail and gives each its due value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He goes out of His way so that untold millions will read the record.
Simeon's gift is the same as Judah's. Repetition is the point, not a flaw in the writing.
The offering of each tribe is the same, so what applies to Judah's offering applies to all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each offered the same thing. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
Everything Shelumiel carried forward pointed beyond itself.
Each prince brought the same gifts, yet each is described in full... All of it speaks of Christ in one of His many aspects. There was one silver charger and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Ex. 30), and both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us that knowing Christ's person ties directly to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it fittingly holds the incense, for there can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The gift did not stay in the prince's hands.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is tied to this one offering of Christ.
- His name — Shelumiel means "at peace with God," the exact reverse of Simeon's cruel history; grace gives a man a name his past could not earn.
- His father — Zurishaddai, "my rock is the Almighty," shows where that peace stands: not on the man's steadiness, but on God's.
- His day — the fifth day is his alone and written out in full. God records every name and every gift instead of lumping them together.
- His equality — his gift is the same as Judah's. Different tribes, different service, one standing before God.
- His altar — the silver, the flour, the gold and incense all speak of Christ, and it is the altar, not the giver, that gives the gift its value.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
The fifth day of the dedication belongs to Simeon. Its leader, Shelumiel, brings what the four leaders before him brought: the same plate, the same basin, the same weights, the same flour and oil. Why does God write out this identical list twelve times? And what do these weighed vessels of silver hold for us?
A short summary would have done the job. God chose otherwise.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and properly valued... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The twelve gifts are the same, and that sameness is the message. Simeon's gift is no smaller than Judah's.
The offerings of each tribe are identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others... At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact — all are on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The verse weighs Shelumiel's silver "according to the shekel of the sanctuary," not by market scales.
The word comes from the root meaning to weigh — originally, perhaps, to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have been heavier than the usual one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unvarying. For "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the Lord" (Prov. 20:10). This shekel was divided into twenty gerahs, and half a shekel — ten gerahs — was the ransom money for all the men of Israel (Ex. 30:12).
One commentator reads each item as a picture. The metal points one way, the contents another.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds), and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering. The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
Notice what the list never mentions: an empty dish.
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The names in the verse just before this one carry meaning. Jacob once spoke a dark word over Simeon, and the name of Simeon's leader answers it.
The prince of Simeon is Shelumiel, "at peace with God." Again, how significant if we turn back to Jacob's prophecy and hear him denounce, on God's part, Simeon's cruel anger! His paths had not been peace, and he had not walked them with Him who is "the God of peace." So Simeon could not know peace with God — the deep, sweet rest of a mind that agrees with His mind. Now with the Simeonite prince all this is changed... there is no evil which faith cannot overcome, because He with whom it links itself is the Almighty. And so Shelumiel is the son of Zurishaddai — that is, "My rock is the Almighty."
The leaders brought these gifts to dedicate the altar. That setting decides their worth.
"Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
- Pattern — the same list twelve times puts every tribe on equal footing. God records each name and each gift, and forgets no act of service, however small.
- Price — the silver answers to "the shekel of the sanctuary," God's unvarying standard. It speaks of a redemption only a perfect Man could pay for.
- Person — no vessel is empty. Fine flour mixed with oil speaks of Christ's humanity, filled with the Holy Spirit from birth.
- Peace — Shelumiel means "at peace with God," and Zurishaddai means "My rock is the Almighty." Faith overcame the anger Simeon was known for.
- Place — the altar gives each gift its value, and it links our dedicated lives to Christ's one offering.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
Numbers 7:39 belongs to the twelve days when the altar was dedicated. One tribal leader after another brought his gift, and the burnt offering listed here is the same set of three animals every other leader brought. So why does God write out the same list twelve times, and what do these three animals say?
God could have summed up all twelve days in one line. One writer says He would not:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of it all: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a careless heap... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes great care that countless millions will read the record.
Every leader gave exactly the same. One writer reads that sameness as deliberate:
The offerings of each tribe are identical, so that what is true of Judah's offering is true of all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are, and He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
Another writer sets that equality against differences in rank:
This comes out strongly in this long chapter, full of what may seem tedious repetitions. Yet they show how divine love values the response of man's heart to it equally, wherever it is found... A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
Why three animals and not one? Each carries a different note of the same death:
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great value the sacrifice of Christ has in itself, as the thing that glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
The burnt offering differed from the others in how much of it reached God:
Why does it speak so clearly of worship? Because of how it differed from the other offerings. The whole of the burnt offering went up to Jehovah, whether it was a sheep, a goat or a bull, whatever animal a man offered. The whole body of the animal went on the altar. The fire burned it, and it rose in smoke to heaven. As a picture, it came up to God as a sweet smell of Christ in His complete devotion to God's will, even as far as death on the cross.
The gifts were brought to dedicate the altar. One writer turns that around:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling offering to God.
The men bringing these animals were obeying, not interpreting:
They presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt offering or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
- Each name. God would not squeeze twelve identical gifts into one line. He wrote out every name and every item, so millions would read the record.
- Each the same. Every tribe brought the same offering. So no leader outranks another: equal love, equal acceptance, whatever the service.
- Each animal. The bull, ram and lamb sound three notes of one sacrifice: its strength, its devotion, its submission.
- All of it upward. The fire took the whole burnt offering upward. That is why it pictures worship, not just a need being met.
- All of it Christ. The altar, not the giver, gave these gifts their worth. The givers did not grasp what they pictured; seeing it now is our privilege.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
This verse is one line in a twelve-day ceremony. The altar is being dedicated, and each day the leader of one tribe brings the same set of gifts. Every set includes a goat for a sin offering. Why put an offering for sin inside a glad, willing gift — and why does God list it twelve times over?
Across Scripture the goat speaks of both sin and the sacrifice that deals with sin:
The Scriptures we have mentioned show that the goat pointed to the sin, to the witness against it, and to the offering that puts it away… The goat was the ordinary animal for the sin offering. So the goat reminds us of our Lord as the sin-bearer. He came "in the likeness of sinful flesh (Himself ever sinless), and for sin" (Romans 8:3).
One animal, and one only, carried the sin offering that day:
Only one young goat was given as a sin offering. The goat stresses the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The goat is not what the worshipper comes to celebrate. It is what makes his coming possible at all:
Worship in its true character goes on while there is sacrifice for sin, yet, strictly speaking, it is not founded on the presentation of the "sin offering." As redeemed people, we cannot come near to worship without it. It is the door we enter by, but it is not the real character of our worship. Worship rests on the "sweet savour" of the "burnt offering." That means coming up to God not only in the value of the blood, but accepted in Jesus, who has all the positive fragrance of what He was and did for God. What a blessed thought!
Their worth came from where they were laid, not from who brought them:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling fragrance to God.
Shelumiel, the leader of Simeon, brought the gifts on this day. His name is worth weighing against his tribe's history:
The prince of Simeon was Shelumiel, and his name means "at peace with God." That is a striking contrast to Simeon's own character. His father Jacob describes it in Genesis 49:5-7. Simeon, together with Levi, was guilty of cruel, vicious hatred in the murder of the men of Shechem (Genesis 34:25-26). Only the grace of God could make any difference in such a terrible case… Yet God has in pure grace reconciled all believers to Himself (2 Corinthians 5:18), and we are "at peace with God," as Romans 5:1 declares.
No tribe brought more or less than another. Commentators take that sameness as a deliberate lesson:
The offerings of the tribes are all identical. What is said of Judah's offering applies just as much to all the others… Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one brought the same gift. At the very least, God is stressing a truth of great importance: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another… Different people have different gifts or different roles, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A single sentence could have covered all twelve days. Instead God writes out every name and every gift:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
- Sin named. The goat "pointed to the sin, to the witness against it, and to the offering that puts it away." The need is admitted before the gift is given.
- Substitute given. In the sin offering Christ "took our place in suffering and death." That is what the goat pictured.
- Door opened. The sin offering is "the door we enter by," not the theme of praise. Worship rises on the "sweet savour" of the burnt offering.
- Value borrowed. The altar, not the giver, gives the offering its worth. Our service is "identified with this one offering of Christ."
- Equal and recorded. Twelve identical gifts put all "on an equal footing." God records every one, because "He never forgets the smallest thing."
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Shelumiel the son of Zurishaddai.
The fifth day of the altar's dedication belongs to Simeon. The biggest part of that day's gift is the peace offering, and the verse ends with a name: Shelumiel son of Zurishaddai. Why does God spend a whole verse on animals already listed four times before, and why attach a man's name to them?
This is the largest of the offerings brought on each prince's day. One writer reads meaning in both the animals and their numbers:
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more. It required two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs a year old. This is because the peace offering pictures the sacrifice of Christ as what brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us, and blessed in fellowship with Him.
Another writer sets that size beside the single goat brought as a sin offering:
The sin offering is present, but a single goat shows the lesser place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin really is put away. But the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
The name that closes the verse means "at peace with God." It belongs to the tribe of Simeon — the son Jacob condemned for cruel anger:
The next tribe, in birth order and perhaps in character, is Simeon. The prince of Simeon is Shelumiel, "at peace with God." How telling it is to turn back to Jacob's prophecy and hear him condemn, on God's part, Simeon's cruel anger! Simeon's paths had not been peace, nor were they with Him who is "the God of peace." So Simeon could not know peace with God — the deep, sweet rest of a mind shaped to His mind. Now with the prince of Simeon all this is changed.
The father's name in the verse shows where that peace rests:
Shelumiel was the son of Zurishaddai, meaning "My rock is the Almighty." This reminds us that peace with God depends on the stability of God Himself, the Almighty. And here God is not only the Rock, but "my rock." How good it is for us to take this living truth as our own! It gives wonderful strength in battle.
A summary would have been shorter. One writer draws God's character straight out of the repetition:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its proper value… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Every prince brought exactly the same gift. Rank and place in the camp changed nothing:
These were free gifts from the heads of the tribes. They matter because they show the spirit that moved the people, the agreement among them, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this… This long chapter presses the point, full of what may seem like tiresome repetition. Yet it shows how divine love values the response of man's heart alike, wherever it is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record.
What gave Shelumiel's animals their worth? One writer points to the altar, and carries the same principle over to our service today:
Each prince on his day… Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever we bring to God in this way, done in faith and offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to God.
- Peace first. The peace offering is the largest gift of the day. It pictures Christ's sacrifice bringing believers into harmony with the Father and the Son.
- Peace named. Shelumiel means "at peace with God." He leads the tribe Jacob condemned for cruel anger, so his name reverses that history.
- Peace grounded. "My rock is the Almighty" says where that peace stands: not on the offerer's strength, but on God's.
- Peace shared. Twelve princes brought one identical gift each. No tribe ranked above another, and God valued every response alike.
- Peace recorded. God refuses to summarise. He writes each name and each item out in full, so that untold millions would read it.
On the sixth day, the prince of the children of Gad, Eliasaph the son of Deuel.
Moses has just set up and anointed the tabernacle, and for twelve days one leader after another brings a gift for the altar. Day six belongs to Gad, whose gift comes from Eliasaph — and God records his name, his father's name and the date.
The princes were not taxed. Each came forward at his appointed turn, and the wording of the command draws attention to that.
Then, verse 10, came offerings for the altar. National generosity through individual spirituality — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer," not, "Take it from them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar.
Gad's day was not chosen at random. Writers who have laid the lists side by side note that the sequence of the twelve days matches the sequence in which the tribes were arranged around the tabernacle:
The same order as that of the encamping, except, naturally, that Levi has disappeared.
The names in this verse have meanings, and together they show where growth comes from.
Eliasaph, meaning "God has added," was the prince of Gad. Genesis 49:19 says, "Gad, a troop shall tramp upon him, but he shall triumph at last." This is a prophecy of recovery and triumph. So Eliasaph's name shows who brings that triumph: God gives the increase. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." The sense that God knows us leads to spiritual increase in everyday life. This too is connected with preparation for conflict. But God is the source of it all.
Grant quotes Genesis 49:19 from an older translation than the ESV.
Numbers 2:14 calls Eliasaph's father Reuel, not Deuel. Writers put the difference down to a copying slip, not a second man:
Father of Eliasaph, "prince" of Gad. Num. 1:14; Num. 7:42, 47; Num. 10:20. In Num. 2:14 he is called REUEL. This is plainly a case where the letter ד (D) has been mistaken for the letter ר (R).
Gad's gift on day six matched Judah's, and matched every other tribe's. That sameness carries a lesson.
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so what is true of Judah's offering is true of all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are. He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another.
Every gift in this chapter is brought for the dedication of the altar. So which matters more, the gift or the altar?
This emphasises the importance of the altar of burnt offering, which speaks of Christ in His own person sanctifying the value of the sacrifice of Himself. In Matthew 23:19 the Lord asks, "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person. He is Himself greater than the wonderful work He has done.
One writer looks at what these gifts held:
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
One line could have covered all twelve days. Instead God writes out every name and every gift, Eliasaph's among them.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little did those twelve princes imagine that their names and their offerings would be handed down, age after age, and read by countless generations!
- Named. God records the man, his father, his tribe and his day — not twelve gifts in one line.
- Known. Deuel means "known of God" — God knows us first, and spiritual growth follows.
- Added. Eliasaph means "God has added" — the increase comes from God, not from the giver.
- Equal. Gad's gift matches Judah's item for item: God ranks no tribe above another.
- Accepted. The altar makes the gift holy. So the gift of an ordinary sixth day has worth because of Christ, and God keeps it on record forever.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On day six of a twelve-day dedication, the head of the tribe of Gad brings his gift — the same silver plate, basin, flour and oil brought five times already. So why does God record each man's day, and what did the weighed silver and the full vessels mean?
The chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. One writer says its length tells us something about God.
Only one thing would satisfy Him: the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in full detail and gives it its true value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random... He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself — He takes special care that countless millions will read the record.
A second writer says God's record keeping reaches the smallest gift — and reaches us.
The Holy Spirit wrote these details and repetitions so that we may know the Lord notices the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the leaders to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury. That same eye sees us.
Every tribe brought the same gift, down to the shekel. They camped in different places and held different ranks, yet before God they stand level.
These were free gifts from the heads of the tribes, so they carry special weight. They show the spirit that moved the people, the full agreement among them, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this. They are the one people of God, alike in His love... Each leader has his day, each offering its record. Nothing is left out, nothing hurried over... A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
The silver was weighed by the sanctuary's own standard. Both the metal and its contents carry meaning.
There was one silver plate and one silver bowl. These suggest the price of redemption (see Ex. 30). Both were full of fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping who Christ is ties directly to the truth of redemption by His blood.
The word behind "shekel" says something as well.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh, and at first, perhaps, to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never changing, for "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10). This shekel held twenty gerahs, and half a shekel, or ten gerahs, was the ransom money for all the men of Israel (Ex. 30:12).
The ESV calls it "one silver basin"; older translations say "bowl." It was a wide vessel that "was used for holding the blood that had to be sprinkled" (Morrish Bible Dictionary).
Both vessels were full of the grain offering. One commentator takes the flour, the oil and the silver in turn.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering. The grain offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which only the Man of absolute perfection could work. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit ran all through the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
Another writer says the gifts pointed past themselves: "whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it" (F. B. Hole).
One question remains: what gave these gifts their worth?
"Each leader on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. The altar is what gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
- Willing — No command forced these gifts. They were free gifts from the heads of the tribes, and they show the spirit that moved the whole people.
- Weighed — The sanctuary shekel, God's unchanging standard, set the weight, and the silver speaks of the price of redemption.
- Filled — No vessel came empty; flour mixed with oil pictures the perfect humanity of Christ from birth.
- Identical — Every tribe brought the same gift, whatever its rank in the camp: one people, equally loved, equally accepted.
- Recorded — God would rather repeat twelve times than lose one name, one item, or one day; He forgets no gift, however small.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
On the sixth day of the altar's dedication it was Gad's turn, and their leader Eliasaph brought a small gold dish full of incense. Every other leader brought the same thing, which raises three questions: why gold, why incense, and why repeat it twelve times?
Commentators read the vessels of this chapter as pictures of Christ. Each material carries its own meaning. Older translations call this gold dish a spoon or a pan.
The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity. Fittingly, it is filled with the incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
Another writer starts with the weight of the dish:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only three ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. Fitting with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet smell.
The verse does not stop at a gold dish. It says the dish was full. That detail runs through the whole chapter.
Each leader offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They brought vessels — large dishes, bowls and small pans — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether the gift was for a grain offering, or for a burnt offering or sin offering, everything they brought spoke in some way of Christ. They surely did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
Incense belongs to worship. One writer draws a sharp line around what we can bring to God.
Sweet incense was used in coming near to God in worship, and it spoke only of Christ. We can present nothing of ourselves to God. But the believer has the privilege of presenting Christ to God. When the spices are used with the anointing oil, they picture Christ being formed in the believer. Here they do not mean that. Here they speak of the personal graces and beauties of Christ Himself, as He is the theme of worship before God. How little we know of all this!
Eliasaph's dish became valuable because of where he laid it. One writer carries that over to our own service.
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet fragrance to God.
A summary would have taken a few lines. Instead God gives each leader his own day and his own paragraph.
Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail and given its full worth… People may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
If every gift is the same, why not say so once? One writer gives two reasons: equal standing, and God's delight in His Son.
The offerings of each tribe being the same shows that all have the same standing before God. But beyond this, we are to look at all these offerings as pictures of Christ. If we love a person deeply, we never grow tired of looking at pictures of the one we love. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He values the reminders of Him in the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
- Gold. The metal points to the deity of the Lord Jesus. Worship that ignores His divinity is not true worship.
- Full. The dish never came empty. It held incense — the fragrance of His beauty and glory rising to God.
- Only Christ. We can bring nothing of ourselves. The believer's privilege is to present Christ to God, and that is worship.
- The altar. The altar gave the gift its value. So God identifies our dedicated lives with the one offering of Christ.
- Recorded. God spells out every name and every gift. He forgets no act of service, and He never tires of pictures of His Son.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
This verse falls on the sixth of twelve days of gifts. Eliasaph son of Deuel brought the gift for the tribe of Gad, and this line names the three animals set apart for his burnt offering. Two questions come up here. Why does God spell out the same list twelve times? And what do a bull, a ram and a lamb say to us?
Each leader came forward alone, on a day assigned to him, and laid his gift on the newly anointed altar. One writer points to God's wording of the command, and to what gave each gift its value.
Then, verse 10, came offerings for the altar. The whole nation gave, but through the spiritual life of each man — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value... Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with that one offering of Christ.
A summary would have been shorter. God chose the long way.
Only the fullest and most detailed account could satisfy Him: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes every offering in detail and gives each one its true worth... People may hurry past gifts and offerings, or pass them by without care; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift.
Gad had his own place in the camp and his own day in the order. Yet his list of animals repeats the other tribes' lists word for word. One writer draws out what these free gifts show.
They are free gifts from the tribal heads, so they carry special weight. They show the spirit at work in the people, the agreement among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this... Each prince has his day, and each offering its record. Nothing is left out and nothing is skimmed over... A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they stand in complete equality.
The three animals are not interchangeable. Each carries its own note in what the sacrifice of Christ means.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great value the sacrifice of Christ has in itself, as the thing that glorifies God for eternity. The bull points to the strength of that sacrifice. The ram points to its devotion. The male lamb points to its submission.
The men who brought these animals did not read them this way.
Each one offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things... But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
One thing sets the burnt offering apart from every other sacrifice on the altar. Its name says what that is, and so does the purpose it served.
Its very name says this: the word means the "offering that ascends" — it goes up to God... Of all the offerings burned on the altar, this is the only one burned whole — the "whole burnt-offering." Above all, it is God's side of sacrifice... Yet it was also the offering "for acceptance"... Our acceptance is not measured only by the putting away of sin. It is measured by everything precious to God in that perfect "obedience unto death" which put sin away.
The verse belongs to a man, and the record keeps both his name and his father's name. One writer finds a lesson in what those two names mean.
Now we come to Gad, whose prince is Eliasaph — "God has added." He is the son of Deuel — "known of God." What a good thing it is to be known by God!... And this is the real secret of the spiritual increase that the name Eliasaph speaks of... Do we need to be told that we should expect growth in a child of God? Or that when growth is missing, it is sad proof that closeness with God is lacking?
- Known — The gift carries a name: Eliasaph, "God has added," son of Deuel, "known of God." Being known by God is where growth starts.
- Willing — God did not take these gifts; the princes brought them. Each prince comes on his own day, and the altar, not the giver, gives the gift its value.
- Equal — Gad's list matches every other tribe's list. Different places in the camp, identical standing before God.
- Whole — The burnt offering is the one sacrifice burned whole. It goes up to God, and it is brought "for acceptance" — acceptance measured by all that Christ's obedience is worth to God.
- Recorded — God would rather write the same twelve lists than drop one name or one lamb. He delights to record every small act of service.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
This line falls on the sixth of twelve days, as the leader of the tribe of Gad brings his gift for the dedication of the altar. The same clause appears twelve times in the chapter, which raises two questions: why a sin offering belongs among glad, free gifts, and why God wrote it out again and again.
The Hebrew name of this offering is startling. It also came under a rule the other gifts did not.
The name of the sin offering in Hebrew is the same as sin itself. So Christ, who knew no sin, was made sin. The one who offered it had to bring his sin. God appointed the sin offering to be brought only when a man had sinned. He had to offer it for that sin, and was bound to do it. He could not rightly offer the burnt offering until this was done. The burnt offering was not brought because a man had sinned, but of his own free will.
One writer notes what the animal itself pictures.
They gave only one kid of the goats as a sin offering (v.16). The goat emphasizes the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The goat is not out of place here. The same pattern runs through Israel's appointed services.
And when the princes of the tribes each brought their offerings, starting with the day that the tabernacle was fully set up, and on the eleven following days, each brought a sin offering with them. The leper, too, needed such a sacrifice on the eighth day of his cleansing. So did the Nazirite, when his vow was completed. So did the happy mother, when the days of her purification were over. They too had to own the holiness of God and the grace which provided what they needed. So when the specially appointed service had to do with those who brought the offerings, a sin offering was in season.
Each prince gave willingly. Yet the value of his gift lay outside himself.
"Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Accept these from them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. Christ "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
Gad's goat matches Judah's and Naphtali's. Nothing marks one tribe as richer or better placed. Commentators carry that sameness over to the church.
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so that what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasizing the vitally important fact that all are on an equal footing: God does not prefer one above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
This chapter could have been a paragraph. Critics have complained about its repetition.
If the critics of God's Word had written this chapter, they would have given these offerings in a verse or two. But what unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote out the details of the offerings and the repetitions. He did it so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye followed the princes as they approached the tabernacle with their wagons. That eye saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
The goat is one item on a list that also holds flour, oil, incense, a bull, a ram and lambs.
The princes presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
- Named for sin. The offering's Hebrew name is the word for sin itself. The goat points to Christ taking the place of the guilty.
- Needed by the giver. Lepers, mothers, Nazirites, princes — when the service concerned those drawing near, a sin offering was in season. The burnt offering was voluntary; this one was required.
- Valued by the altar. The prince gave freely, yet the altar gave his gift its worth. Our devoted service is identified with the one offering of Christ.
- Level with everyone. Twelve tribes bring twelve identical lists. God prefers no one, and accepts all on the same basis, whatever their gift or function.
- Remembered in full. God spelled out every repeated item. The eye that saw these goats also saw the widow's two coins.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Eliasaph the son of Deuel.
The sixth of the twelve days closes here with the peace offerings of Gad's leader. His gift matches the five days before it and the six that follow. So why does God record the same list twelve times?
The verse ends by naming the giver and his father. Both names carry meaning, and one commentator ties them to what God had promised this tribe:
Eliasaph, meaning "God has added," was the prince of Gad. Genesis 49:19 says, in an older translation, "Gad, a troop shall tramp upon him, but he shall triumph at last." This is a prophecy of recovery and triumph. So Eliasaph's name shows that God brings the triumph by giving the increase. His father's name, Deuel, means "known of God." The sense of God knowing us leads to spiritual increase in practical life. But God is the source of all.
Every day's gift ends with the peace offering, and it is the largest part of all:
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more. It required two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs a year old. The peace offering pictures the sacrifice of Christ as the sacrifice that brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us of this: the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us, and blessed us in fellowship with Him.
Another writer reads the same numbers as a measure of God's desire:
Sin really is put away. But the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Nothing in Gad's gift is larger or smaller than any other tribe's. That sameness is deliberate:
The offering of each tribe is identical. So what is said of Judah's offering applies to all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are. He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and He prefers no one above another.
The items themselves pointed beyond the day they were given:
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — large platters, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they held fine flour mixed with oil as a meat offering, or incense. But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
What gave Eliasaph's gift its value was not the giver:
The whole nation's generosity came through the spiritual energy of each man — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ.
The chapter's length is not padding. It is a picture of how God treats service:
Each name stands out on its own. God describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little did those twelve princes imagine that God would hand their names and their offerings down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The same writer turns that observation on the reader:
There is not a single act of service we do for our Lord that God will not write down in His book. He records not only the act itself, but the style of it too, for God appreciates style as well as we do. He loves a cheerful giver, and a cheerful worker, because that is precisely what He is Himself.
- Named — the verse ends with a man's name, not a total: "God has added," son of "known of God." God is the source of the increase.
- Same — Gad's gift matches every other tribe's. God prefers no one above another; all stand on equal footing.
- Peace — the day's list ends with the peace offering, the largest gift of all; it pictures Christ bringing believers into fellowship with God.
- Altar — each vessel spoke of Christ, and the altar, not the giver, gave the gift its worth; our service joins Christ's one offering.
- Recorded — the long repetition shows a God who forgets nothing. He writes down every small gift, and even the style of it.
On the seventh day, the prince of the children of Ephraim, Elishama the son of Ammihud.
On the seventh of twelve days, Ephraim brings its gift for the dedication of the altar, and Scripture names the man who brings it. Why does God give six verses to an offering identical to the six before it, and what does one tribe's day tell us about how He values the service of His people?
The seventh day is Ephraim's alone. Mackintosh finds the reason for that in what satisfies God:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering has its own detailed description and its true value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random. That would not be like our God... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their gifts would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
Ephraim's gift matches Judah's, Issachar's, Zebulun's, Reuben's, Simeon's and Gad's. The sameness is the message.
As free gifts from the heads of the tribes they have special importance. They show the spirit that moved the people, the unity among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not change this... This long chapter presses the point home. It is full of what may seem tedious repetitions, but they show that divine love values the response of man's heart to it equally, wherever it is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record, nothing is left out, nothing is passed over quickly... The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
Elishama is called the chief of his tribe. Darby points to what that word itself means:
This book shows us service, not just doing certain things, but a voluntary offering up of oneself — a living sacrifice. Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing." (Psalm 110) "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word... Recognised and owned by the Lord, then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
Older translations read Psalm 110:3 as "My people shall be willing"; the ESV has "your people will offer themselves freely."
Ephraim was Joseph's younger son, yet his day comes first. His prince's names then answer a danger hidden in the name Ephraim itself:
Now we come to Rachel's sons, with Joseph claiming his double portion in his two sons. Of these, Ephraim comes first, following Jacob's prophetic word that gave this place to the younger born. Ephraim's prince is Elishama, "God has heard". The very "fruitfulness" that Ephraim's name speaks of can become a snare to us if we have not learned to give the credit for it, with reverence, to the One who hears His people's prayer. The second name, Ammihud, "the people of Majesty," may point to that conscious relationship with the infinite Greatness which gives prayer both its warrant and its drive. All these names breathe a spirit of dependence and of nearness — of lowliness, yet of intimacy — things that must go together. There is wide-open access for those who are humble in heart.
Elishama brought what every other prince brought:
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Yet whether the gift was for a grain offering or for a burnt offering or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
Davison notes what this chapter puts to the princes' credit:
What this chapter puts to their credit is that they brought gifts to sanctify the altar. The altar stands for the claims of God, and the first thing said of these princes is that once the tabernacle was fully set up, they had regard for the rights of God. Let us thank God for those who have both the light and the energy needed to promote what they know is due to Him.
- Willing — "Prince" speaks of liberality. Elishama gave his gift; no one taxed it out of him. Grace produced the willingness, and God calls it his own.
- Named — God refuses to lump the twelve together. Each man's name, tribe and day stand on their own line of the record.
- Equal — The same offering on every day makes one point. Different places in the camp do not change the equal place each tribe holds before God.
- Dependent — Elishama means "God has heard," and Ammihud "the people of Majesty." Both trace Ephraim's fruitfulness back to the God who hears prayer, not to itself.
- Christ-centred — Every vessel Elishama brought was full, and what filled it spoke of Christ. His day is a day of witness to Another.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On the seventh day of the altar's dedication, the leader of Ephraim brought his gift: two silver vessels full of fine flour mixed with oil. Word for word, it repeats what six leaders had already brought. So two questions arise. What do these weighed vessels and their contents mean? And why does God spell out the same list twelve times?
Each weight and each item in this verse is exact. One writer reads what the silver and the flour stand for:
The silver platter of 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl of 70 shekels (over 2 pounds) held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering (v.13). The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus through and through.
The verse gives two silver vessels, and both of them are full. Another writer shows why the two belong together:
Everything here speaks of Christ in one of His many aspects. There was one silver dish and one silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Ex. 30). Both were full of fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us that knowing the person of Christ is tied at once to the truth of redemption by His blood.
Every vessel came full, and the men who carried them did not know what they were picturing:
They presented vessels — dishes, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The silver had to match "the shekel of the sanctuary." One writer explains whose standard that is:
God also fixed the weight: "the shekel of the sanctuary," kept as the standard in the tabernacle... God kept the just weight and the just balance. His priest would not take worthless metal instead of silver, and would not accept less of the precious metal than the Lord required... And in the blessed reality this pictured, the believer declares with confidence, in the hearing of God and of the great High Priest of His sanctuary, that he depends fully on Christ and His precious blood. He knows that this price meets the full estimate God demands.
The gift was laid on the altar. One writer traces what that means for our own service:
Now they come near, and they dedicate the gift on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet fragrance to God.
Why not simply say the twelve leaders all brought the same thing? One writer answers that God will not let one name or one gift disappear into a total:
Each name shines out on its own. God describes each offering in detail and gives each its proper value... He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. How little those twelve leaders imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The gifts being identical carries a second lesson, drawn out for the church as much as for Israel:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing something vital: all stand on equal footing, and no one is to be favored above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles, yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts all on the same basis.
- Weighed — The sanctuary shekel was God's own fixed standard. The believer's dependence on Christ's blood meets that full estimate.
- Filled — No vessel came empty. The silver of redemption held flour mixed with oil, so who Christ is and what He has done come together.
- Valued — The altar gave the offering its worth, and a life given to God has worth on the same ground.
- Recorded — God would rather write the same list twelve times than lose one name or one gift in a summary.
- Equal — Every gift was identical, so no tribe outranked another. Gifts differ today, but all stand before God on the same footing.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
On the seventh day of the dedication of the altar, Elishama of Ephraim brought his gift: silver vessels, animals, and a small golden dish of ten shekels packed with incense. It is the lightest item in the list and the easiest to skip — so why did God have it written down twelve separate times?
Commentators read the dish's two materials — gold and incense — as speaking of who Christ is and how God receives Him.
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet odour.
Every vessel in the prince's gift arrived full. One writer draws the lesson from what was inside them.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The princes brought these gifts willingly. But their value did not rest on the givers.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God in this way — done in faith, offered to God Himself — is a fragrant offering to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
The dish of incense belongs to a named man from a named tribe. Ephraim means fruitfulness, and the names of its leader and his father turn that into a warning about who gets the credit.
Ephraim's prince is Elishama, which means "God has heard." Ephraim speaks of "fruitfulness." That very fruitfulness may become a snare to us, unless we have learned to credit it, with reverence, to the One who hears His people's prayer. The second name, Ammihud, means "the people of Majesty." It may hint at a conscious relationship to the infinite Greatness. That relationship is what entitles us to pray with success, and what stirs us to pray. All these names breathe a spirit of dependence and of nearness — of lowliness, yet of intimacy. The two must go together.
Elishama's golden dish is word-for-word what the other eleven brought. One reason offered for the repetition is that sameness itself is the message.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is emphasizing something vitally important: all are on an equal footing, and no one is preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and God accepts all on the same basis.
The other reason given is that a summary would have saved space but lost something God wanted kept.
Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and given its proper value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record.
- Small. Ten shekels of gold is about three ounces — the lightest thing Elishama brought, and the purest.
- Full. No vessel came empty. The incense in this one speaks of the fragrance of Christ rising to God.
- Accepted. The altar gave the gift its worth, not the giver.
- Named. Elishama means "God has heard," and he leads Ephraim, "fruitfulness" — so fruitfulness may become a snare unless we credit the God who hears.
- Recorded. Twelve identical entries put every giver on the same footing, and show a God who writes down the smallest gift instead of summing it up.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
Numbers 7 gives each of Israel's twelve tribal leaders his own day to bring gifts to the newly set up tabernacle, the tent where God lived among His people. Verse 51 is day seven, when Ephraim's leader Elishama brings the same three animals as everyone else — so why does God spell out the list twelve times?
The bull, the ram and the year-old lamb are not a random set of animals. They form the burnt offering, and one writer weighs it against the other sacrifices of the same day.
The sacrifices speak of the various aspects of our Lord's work. The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there too, but a single young goat shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Each leader brought his animals to the altar. One writer draws a line from that altar to our own service.
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
Nobody taxed Elishama. The word for the men who brought these gifts — "prince" — carries its own lesson.
"Prince" means liberality. "My people shall be willing" (Psalm 110). "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word... In 2 Corinthians 8:5, Gentiles had been made willing — "they gave themselves first to the Lord." Recognised and owned by the Lord, then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
The Psalm is quoted in an older translation; the ESV of Psalm 110:3 reads, "Your people will offer themselves freely on the day of your power."
A summary would have been shorter. God chose the long way, and commentators see His character in that choice.
Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that their names and their offerings would pass down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
Another writer gives a second reason for the repetition. This one is about God's own delight in His Son.
If we especially love a person, we do not get tired of looking at pictures of the one we love. Just so, God loves His Son and appreciates being reminded of Him by the pictures each of the tribes presented. God certainly also wants us never to tire of appreciating every picture of His beloved Son found in the word of God.
Every leader brought the same list, day one to day twelve. Commentators read that sameness as a statement about standing before God, not about talent or output.
They are the one people of God, alike in His love, and to serve in love, that is, freely... This long chapter is full of what may seem tedious repetitions, but they show how equally divine love values the response of man's heart to it, wherever it is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record... The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are absolutely equal.
Commentators differ in emphasis. Some read each animal as a distinct aspect of Christ; others rest on the record itself.
- His day — Elishama had a day of his own. God did not lump the twelve gifts into one sentence; He gave each leader his own space in the record.
- His altar — What Elishama brought had value because of where he brought it. The altar, not the giver, set the worth of the gift.
- His Son — The bull, ram and lamb speak of Christ offering Himself to God in death. God never tires of that picture, even twelve times over.
- His willingness — The word behind "prince" carries the sense of liberality. Grace produced the generosity, and God still counts it as the man's own free choice.
- His equal love — Twelve identical offerings say that no tribe stood nearer than another. Different service never means different favour.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
This line records one animal: a male goat, brought as a sin offering by one of twelve leaders as the altar was dedicated. Two questions press on a reader: why does a joyful dedication need a sin offering, and why does Scripture repeat the same list twelve times?
The goat did not come on its own. It was part of a gift laid on the altar at its dedication, brought by one leader each day. What makes such a gift count is not the giver's generosity but the altar it touches.
Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. The nation's generosity came through each person's own spiritual life — "each prince on his day." The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not "Take it from them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ.
Of all the animals in the day's list, this one alone carries the name of sin. Commentators read the choice of a goat as pointing to a substitute taking the offerer's place.
They gave only one young goat as a sin offering (v.16). The goat emphasizes the substitutionary character of Christ's sacrifice. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The same animal turns up again and again in the laws about sin. It names the problem and carries the answer, and rank decided which goat a man brought.
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also. The rules for sacrifice mention the sin offering very often. In most cases the animal used is the goat, or "a kid of the goats." So if a ruler sinned, he was to bring a male young goat. For one of the common people, it was a female young goat... Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ bearing the penalty of our sins, which gives us the right to enter the presence of the Holy God, and also taking them away, so that they will be remembered against us no more.
The same day's gift also included grain and burnt offerings. Commentators separate two things here: the ground on which a worshipper may come to God, and what his worship is really about.
All that is properly worship, though there is sacrifice for sin, is still not founded on the presentation of the "sin offering." As redeemed people, we cannot draw near to worship without it. It is the door of entrance indeed, but not the true character of our worship. Worship assumes the "sweet aroma" of the burnt offering. We come up to God not only in the value of the blood, but in our acceptance in Jesus, as having all the positive sweetness of what He was and did to God.
A summary would have saved eighty verses. That God refused the summary is itself the lesson commentators draw from the chapter.
Only the fullest and most detailed account could satisfy Him: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. He does not forget it Himself, and He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Every leader brought the same things. Commentators read that sameness as a statement about how God values His people, not as a lack of imagination.
This long chapter presses the point hard. It is full of what may seem tedious repetitions, yet they show how divine love values the response of man's heart equally, wherever that response is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record, nothing is left out, nothing is rushed past... A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they stand completely equal.
These gifts carried a meaning the givers themselves could not see.
Whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
- Altar. The gift's worth came from the altar, not from the giver's generosity.
- Goat. The one animal named for sin points to a substitute — it names the problem and carries the remedy.
- Door. The sin offering is the way in, not the theme; worship itself rests on the sweet aroma of the burnt offering.
- Record. God would rather fill eighty-nine verses than leave one name or one small gift unwritten.
- Equality. Twelve identical offerings say that divine love weighs every heart's response the same.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Elishama the son of Ammihud.
Numbers 7:53 closes the seventh day of a twelve-day dedication of the altar. Elishama, the leader of Ephraim, brought the same peace offerings as every other tribal leader. So why record a gift already described six times? And what do two oxen and three sets of five mean?
A summary would have saved most of this chapter. Commentators see the length itself as the message.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail and valued properly... He will go into detail that may look tedious to us, rather than leave out one name of any of His servants, or one item of their work.
Elishama's list matches every other leader's, down to the last lamb. Writers take that sameness as a statement about where each tribe stands with God.
As free gifts from the tribal heads they have special importance. They show the spirit that moved the people, the full agreement among them, and the equal place they have before God... Divine love values the response of man's heart to it just as much, wherever it is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record.
This verse lists nothing but the peace offering and the giver's name. Commentators read the animals and their numbers as picture language.
The peace offering pictures the sacrifice of Christ. It is what brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility, and the five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully on Himself in His great work for us, and blessed us in fellowship with Him.
Compare the size of the peace offering with the single goat brought as a sin offering.
The sin offering is there, but a single young goat shows the lesser place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Elishama's gift included vessels as well as animals.
None of the vessels they presented were empty — the large dishes, bowls and spoons all held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
Elishama brought his gift on his own day and laid it at the altar.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to that one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God in this way, done in faith and offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God.
The verse closes with two names, Elishama and his father Ammihud. One writer reads both alongside the meaning of Ephraim itself.
Joseph claims his double portion in his two sons, and Ephraim comes first by Jacob's prophetic word. Ephraim's prince is Elishama, "God has heard." The very fruitfulness that Ephraim's name speaks of can become a trap for us. It is a trap if we have not learned to credit it, with reverence, to the One who hears His people's prayer. The second name, Ammihud, "the people of Majesty," may point to a conscious relationship with the infinite Greatness. That relationship is both the ground of successful prayer and the spur to it.
Writers take the Lord's care over this record right down to our own day.
The Holy Spirit wrote down these details and repetitions. He did it so that we may know that the Lord takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons also saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
- Same gift. Elishama brought what every other leader brought. That identical list marks the equal place all God's people have before Him.
- Named giver. God did not lump twelve identical offerings into one summary. He wrote out every name and every item on its own.
- Altar's value. The altar gave the offering its worth. Our service has worth as it is joined to the one offering of Christ.
- Communion sought. The small sin offering sits beside a large peace offering. God clears sin away, but He wants more than that: fellowship with His people.
- Nothing lost. The eye that watched the princes at the tabernacle watched the widow's two coins — and watches still.
On the eighth day, the prince of the children of Manasseh, Gamaliel the son of Pedahzur.
Numbers 7 moves through twelve days, one tribe at a time, and the eighth day belongs to Manasseh. Why does God give each leader his own day and his own paragraph when every gift was the same, and why record these two names at all?
Commentators read the sheer length of this chapter as part of the message.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter is so long: eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its proper value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a careless heap. This would not be like our God... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their offerings would be passed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The eighth day, then, belongs to Gamaliel alone.
So in this chapter "each prince" gets his own appointed day to present his offering. He also gets his own allotted space on the eternal page of inspiration, where God the Holy Spirit writes the fullest record of his gifts.
Manasseh's gift matches every other tribe's, item for item. That sameness is deliberate.
Every tribe's offering is identical... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is stressing a fact of the first importance: all stand on equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles. Yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and all are accepted on the same basis.
The verses that follow list the vessels Gamaliel brought. What was inside them is the point.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — platters, bowls, pans — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The two names in this verse carry their own lesson: reward, and redemption.
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder." In time of conflict this is a wonderful encouragement. There is no reason to look for men's approval or rewards. If we fight with the one motive of pleasing God, we will be content to wait for God's time of rewards. Gamaliel's father, Pedahzur, means "the rock has redeemed." That reminds us that the rewards of service must never become occasions of pride. We are only sinners redeemed by Him who is the one stable Rock.
The tribe's own name adds a further note, and it goes back to Joseph.
"Manasseh" means "forgetting." Joseph said, "God has made me forget all my kindred and my father's house." Put into Christian experience, this is the spirit of the runner. He no longer looks at what is behind him as he presses on toward the prize ahead.
Gamaliel brought his gift for the dedication of the altar. One writer ties that act to Christ's own offering.
National generosity came through individual spirituality — "each prince on his day." Again we see the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service — the dedication of our lives — is identified with this one offering of Christ.
- Day — Manasseh's eighth day is his own. Every prince received his own day and his own space in the record.
- Gift — His gift matched every other gift. No tribe stands higher than another before God.
- Christ — The vessels were never empty. Everything inside them spoke of Christ, whether the givers knew it or not.
- Rock — Pedahzur means "the rock has redeemed." Service never turns into pride, because the giver is a redeemed sinner.
- Reward — Gamaliel means "God is a rewarder," and Manasseh means "forgetting." Together they picture a runner who leaves the past behind and waits for God's own time of reward.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On the eighth day of the altar's dedication, Gamaliel, leader of the tribe of Manasseh, brought his gift — and it matched the other eleven gifts item for item. So why does God list the same gift twelve times, and what do the silver and the flour stand for?
God could have summed up the chapter in a sentence. Instead He names each leader and writes out his gift in full. One writer explains why a summary would not do.
But that would not have suited the divine mind at all. God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor His ways as our ways. Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe which he represented, and of the offering which he made to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes every offering in detail and gives it its proper value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random. This would not be like our God… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The verse reports not just two silver vessels, but what filled them.
The rest of the chapter covers the separate offering of the princes at "the dedication of the altar." Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they held fine flour mixed with oil as a meat offering, or incense. But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
(Older translations call the plate a "charger" and the grain offering a "meat offering.")
One writer links the silver itself to a price paid.
There was one silver charger and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price (see Ex. 30), and both held fine flour for the meat offering. This reminds us that grasping Christ's person connects directly with the truth of redemption by His blood.
The verse gives exact weights, and the flour is not dry.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering (v.13). The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit filled every part of the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
The giver does not set these weights. They follow "the shekel of the sanctuary."
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh — first, perhaps, to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things… One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unvarying, for "Unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10).
Manasseh's gift is no larger than Judah's, and no smaller.
The offering of every tribe is identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others… At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The same writer gives one more reason for the repetition.
If we specially love a person we do not get weary of looking at pictures of the loved one. Just so, God loves His Son and appreciates being reminded of Him by the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
- His day — God gives Gamaliel a day and a paragraph of his own, and will not squeeze His servants' giving into one line.
- His gift — the plate and basin are not empty; every item carries something that speaks of Christ, whether the givers understood it or not.
- His value — silver points to the price of redemption, and the fine flour mixed with oil to a perfect humanity filled with the Holy Spirit.
- His measure — the weights are set by the sanctuary shekel, God's own unvarying standard of what things are worth.
- His record — twelve identical gifts say no tribe ranks above another, and the repetition shows a Father who never tires of pictures of His Son.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
On the eighth day of the dedication, Gamaliel, the leader of Manasseh, brought his gift to the altar. His smallest item is a little gold dish of incense, yet God gives it a line of its own — and the same line for eleven other tribes.
The verse names two things: the metal and what fills it. One commentator weighs the dish and reads both:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of the details of His beauty and glory, which always rises as a sweet odor to God.
The leaders brought containers, and the text says what was inside each one:
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — large dishes, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
None of this incense came back to the giver. One commentator explains what it stood for:
Notice that "all the frankincense" was burned on the altar. Why was this? Because frankincense pictured the fragrance of Christ's manhood, and God alone enjoyed it. There was something in Christ as a Man down here that only God could fully appreciate. Every thought, every look, every word, every movement, every act of "the Man Christ Jesus" gave off a fragrance. It went straight up to the throne of God and refreshed the heart of Him who sat there. Not a single atom of Christ's perfectness or preciousness was ever lost. It might be lost on a cold, heartless world and even on carnal and earthly-minded disciples, but it was not lost on God. It all went up to Him according to its true value.
Gamaliel's golden dish matches the one Judah's leader brought on the first day. Twelve tribes, twelve days, one list — and the sameness is the message:
The offerings of all the tribes are identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are, and He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is stressing a vitally important fact: all are on an equal footing. No one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The same writer gives another reason the repetition is no waste:
If we love someone deeply, we never get tired of looking at pictures of that person. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He values every reminder of Him in the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
God could have summed up three ounces of gold in half a sentence. Instead the chapter runs to eighty-nine verses, and one commentator draws out why:
God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor His ways as our ways. Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He records each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and given its full value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not just remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
The man who brought this dish also carries a name about reward:
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder." In time of conflict this is a wonderful encouragement. There is no reason to look for men's approval or rewards. If we fight simply because we want to please God, we shall be fully content to wait for God's time of rewards.
- Small — three ounces of gold is the least item in the list. God still gives it a verse, because He never forgets the smallest thing.
- Full — no vessel came empty. Every container the leaders brought held something, and all of it spoke of Christ.
- Fragrant — the incense was burned whole for God. It stands for what only God could value in the life of Christ.
- Equal — Manasseh's dish matches every other tribe's. God prefers no one; He accepts all on the same basis.
- Rewarded — the name Gamaliel means "God is a Rewarder." The giver can set men's approval aside and wait for God's time.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
Verse 57 belongs to the eighth day of twelve, when Manasseh's prince Gamaliel brought his tribe's gift for the dedication of the altar. The same list appears for all twelve princes, which raises two questions: what do these animals picture, and why the repetition?
Each of the three animals adds something of its own to the picture.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb. These speak of the great objective value of the sacrifice of Christ as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
The sin offering beside it is a single goat. The numbers themselves show what God values most in the death of Christ.
The sacrifices speak of the various aspects of our Lord's work. The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb, speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is present, but a single goat shows, we may say, the comparatively subordinate place which it occupies in God's thoughts of Christ. Truly sin is put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
The gifts carried a meaning the givers could not see.
The princes presented vessels — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Manasseh's gift is no larger and no smaller than Judah's. The sameness is deliberate.
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is emphasizing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A human writer would have squeezed all twelve days into one sentence. God did the opposite.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to God's sanctuary. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not just remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
God's attention is not reserved for large gifts.
The Holy Spirit wrote the details of the offerings and the repetitions so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
The names in this day's record carry their own meaning.
Manasseh means "forgetting." His prince is Gamaliel, "God is a rewarder," the son of Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed." These names encourage us to forget the things that are behind and to seek our fruitfulness from the Rock who has redeemed us.
- Christ pictured. The bull, ram and lamb are one picture, not three gifts. They show strength, devotion and submission in the sacrifice that glorifies God forever.
- Christ preferred. Three animals for the burnt offering, one goat for the sin offering. Putting sin away is real, yet the devotedness of Christ shines brighter.
- Christ discerned. The princes brought gifts they did not understand. Seeing Christ in them is our privilege.
- Christ shared. Manasseh's offering matches every other tribe's. Distinct gifts never mean different value or a different basis of acceptance.
- Christ remembered. God spends eighty-nine verses rather than drop one name or item. He forgets no act of love, and He lets millions read the record.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
On the eighth day of the altar's dedication, Manasseh's prince Gamaliel brought this male goat as a sin offering — older translations read "one kid of the goats." Two questions press: why a sin offering at all in a chapter of glad, free giving, and why does God repeat the same list twelve times?
One writer explains what the goat itself stands for:
Only one young goat was given as a sin offering. The goat points to Christ's sacrifice as a substitute, for as the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
One goat looks small beside three animals for the burnt offering and seventeen for the peace offering. One writer sees that difference as deliberate:
The burnt offering of one bullock, one ram, one lamb, speak of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is present, but a single young goat shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin really is put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of peace offerings, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
A sin offering appears wherever the worshippers themselves come into view. One writer traces that pattern through Israel's life, including the twelve days of this chapter. A Nazarite, mentioned below, was a person under a special vow of separation to God.
When the princes of the tribes each brought their offerings, starting with the day the tabernacle was fully set up and on the eleven days after it, each brought a sin offering with them. The leper needed such a sacrifice too, on the eighth day of his cleansing. So did the Nazarite when his vow was finished, and the glad mother when her days of purification were over. They all had to own the holiness of God, and the grace that provided what they needed. So when the appointed service had to do with the people who brought the offerings, a sin offering was fitting.
A summary would have saved eighty verses. One writer explains why God took the long way:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of his tribe, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes every offering in detail and values it properly. He does not lump the names and the offerings together... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record.
Manasseh's gift matched every other tribe's, item for item. That sameness carries its own message:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is stressing the vital fact that all stand on an equal footing: no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
These twelve days of gifts were for dedicating the altar. One writer puts the worth of the gift there, not in the giver:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God.
The names of this prince and his father are read together as a caution against pride in service:
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder."... Gamaliel's father, Pedahzur, means "the rock has redeemed." That reminds us that the rewards of service must not become occasions of pride. We must remember that we are only sinners redeemed by Him who is the one stable Rock.
- Substitution. The goat of the sin offering points to Christ, who took our place in suffering and death.
- Proportion. One goat stood beside three animals for the burnt offering and seventeen for the peace offering. Sin is put away in full, yet Christ's devotedness and God's desire for communion weigh more in God's reckoning.
- Need. Wherever the worshipper came into view — leper, Nazarite, mother, prince — a sin offering was fitting. Owning God's holiness never spoils the gladness of giving.
- Record. God will not lump names together. He writes out every gift in full, so that millions read what twelve men brought.
- Equality. The twelve offerings matched because no giver ranks above another. The altar, not the giver, gives a gift its value.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Gamaliel the son of Pedahzur.
Numbers 7 gives twelve days to twelve identical gifts. Verse 59 closes the eighth day, and Gamaliel's last item, the peace offering, is the biggest of all. Why does God repeat the same list twelve times? And why is this one part of the gift so much bigger than the rest?
Each prince came on his own day and brought his gift to the altar. One writer draws out what that altar did for the gift.
Then, verse 10, came offerings for the altar. This was national generosity coming out of the spiritual life of each person: "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." In this way our outward service, the giving of our lives, is tied to that one offering of Christ. When the altar is finally dedicated the result is perfect: all twelve princes have offered willingly.
The name can mislead. One writer corrects a common assumption about what this offering pictures.
The term "peace offering" conveys a wrong thought... Many people take it for granted that this offering pictures Christ making our peace with God. But that is not a correct thought. The peace offering is rather an offering of thanksgiving or praise... The peace offering pictures our communion, as saints of God, resting on the value of the work and precious blood of Christ before God. It is our communion with God Himself, our communion with the Lord Jesus, and our communion with one another as priests of God. Thanksgiving and praise naturally flow from communion. The ground of it all is the value of the work of Christ in God's sight, and no doubt that is why the peace offering rests upon the burnt offering.
The burnt offering took one bull, one ram and one lamb. The peace offering took seventeen animals. One writer finds meaning in those numbers.
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more. It pictures the sacrifice of Christ as what brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us, and that we are blessed in fellowship with Him.
The chapter writes out every name and every item again, day after day. One writer sees the character of God in that.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... People may rush past gifts and offerings, or pass over them without care; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. He does more than remember it Himself: He makes sure that untold millions will read the record.
Another writer adds that God's notice does not depend on the size of a gift.
He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service given to Him.
Gamaliel brought nothing more and nothing less than the prince on day one brought. One writer reads that sameness as a statement about standing.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal ground, and no one is to be put above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles, yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, all accepted on the same basis.
The two names in this verse carry meanings of their own.
Manasseh's prince was Gamaliel, meaning "God is a Rewarder."... There is no reason to look for men's approval or rewards. If we go to war simply wanting to please God, we shall be fully content to wait for God's time of rewards. Gamaliel's father, Pedahzur, "the rock has redeemed," is a reminder that the rewards of service must never become occasions of pride. We must remember that we are only sinners redeemed by Him who is the one stable Rock.
- Altar first. The altar gave the gift its value, not the giver. Every act of dedication joins the one offering of Christ.
- Peace means sharing. This offering is not about peace being made. It pictures communion — with God, with the Lord Jesus, and with one another.
- Biggest portion. Seventeen animals, more than all the rest combined. Fellowship takes the largest place, and the fives speak of responsibility Christ has carried.
- Nothing lost. God writes out every name and every item in full. The eye that watched the princes watched the widow's two coins.
- Equal footing. Gamaliel brought just what the first prince brought. Gifts and roles differ; standing before God does not.
On the ninth day, the prince of the children of Benjamin, Abidan the son of Gideoni.
The dedication of the altar ran for twelve days, one tribe a day. The ninth day belonged to Benjamin, and Abidan the son of Gideoni came forward for the tribe. The chapter names twelve men and repeats twelve identical gifts. Why would God record something so repetitive? And why this man on this day?
The wording of the command shows how these gifts reached the altar.
Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. National liberality by individual spirituality — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." This links our outward service, the dedication of our lives, with that one offering of Christ.
Abidan's place in the line-up is not random. It follows the order God had already fixed for the camp, where Benjamin camped with Ephraim and Manasseh on the west side.
The tribe of Levi stood apart from the rest, but the split of Joseph's tribe into two kept the number at twelve. So three tribes pitched their tents on each side of the tabernacle. The group under Judah faced the entrance into the court. Ephraim's group was on the west side. That put it nearest the holy place, with the cloud of the divine Presence. This explains the reference in Psalm 80 to God shining out "before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh." Notice this too. God commanded the order in which the tribes were to march on their journeys, just as He commanded the order of their tents when they rested.
The chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. One commentator explains why God spells out every name and every gift.
Nothing less than the fullest and most detailed account could satisfy Him. He records each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its true value… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. He does more than remember it Himself — He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes never imagined that their names and their offerings would pass down age after age, for countless generations to read!
Abidan's offering matches Judah's, item for item. The sameness carries its own message.
The offerings of each tribe are identical, so the account of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are. He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and no one is preferred above another.
The names carry meaning. Commentators read Abidan and Gideoni alongside the meaning of Benjamin.
Benjamin means "the son of my right hand." That tells of the dignity of our position. The prince Abidan, "my father is judge," marks that position, along with his father Gideoni, "the one who cuts down." Here we have the sense of adoption together with that godly fear which will remove pride from us.
Benjamin's tribe was known for fighting. The prince's name points somewhere else.
Abidan was the prince of Benjamin. His name means "My father is judge." Genesis 49:27 calls Benjamin "a ravenous wolf." In other words, he was a warrior by nature. But the Lord does not need natural fighters. Peter found this out when he used a sword to cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. The Lord rebuked him and healed the man's ear… So let us remember the lesson of Abidan, "my father is judge." It is He who judges the value of our warfare, with perfect spiritual discernment.
- Given. The princes brought their own gifts to the altar. The command was "they shall offer," not "take it of them."
- Ordered. Abidan gets a day of his own, the ninth. It matches the place God had already given Benjamin in the camp. The order came from God, not from the people.
- Equal. His gift is identical to the other eleven, and that sameness says no tribe stands above another.
- Remembered. God would not compress twelve men into one sentence. He wrote out every name and every item for countless generations to read.
- Judged. Abidan means "my father is judge." The warrior tribe follows a leader whose name says God, not the fighter, weighs the worth of the fight.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On each of twelve days, the head of one tribe brought a gift for the dedication of the altar. This is day nine, and Abidan of Benjamin brings the same gift as the eight before him — so why write the whole list out again?
Every prince came on his own day, yet nothing in the contents varied. The vessels were not brought as ornaments.
The rest of the chapter deals with the separate offering of the princes in connection with "the dedication of the altar." Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they contained fine flour mixed with oil as a meal offering, or incense. Some were for a meal offering, others for burnt or sin offering. But everything they presented spoke of Christ in some way. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
Sameness is itself the message. Nothing in the list marks one tribe out above another, and the pattern reaches beyond Israel.
At the very least, God is stressing something vital: all are on an equal footing. No one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and God accepts all on the same basis.
The metal matters here, and so does the fact that both vessels arrive full.
There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Ex. 30). Both were full of fine flour for the meal offering. This reminds us that grasping Christ's person is directly connected with the truth of redemption by His blood.
The verse calls this a grain offering; older translations call it the meal or meat offering. Its two ingredients each say something about the Lord Jesus.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering. The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus through and through.
The verse weighs the silver by the sanctuary shekel, not by the ordinary one. The name of that weight is telling.
The word "shekel" comes from a root meaning to weigh — first of all, perhaps, to balance. It is that which forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have been heavier than the usual one… But one thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unvarying, for "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Prov. 20:10).
A short summary would have covered all twelve days. God chose not to give one.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. He describes each offering in detail and gives each its due value… He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the least thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
One more thing settled the worth of the gift: where the princes laid it.
Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer," not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value… Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ.
- Day — Benjamin's prince has his own day, but not his own gift. The identical list shows that no tribe ranks above another.
- Gift — the vessels arrive full, and what fills them speaks of Christ. Silver is the price of redemption, fine flour His spotless humanity, oil the Spirit in Him from birth.
- Weight — the sanctuary shekel measures every amount: God's own unvarying standard of value.
- Altar — the offering counts because of where it is laid; the altar, not the giver, gives the gift its worth.
- Record — God fills eighty-nine verses rather than drop one name or one item. He forgets no small act of service.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
A single line in a long inventory: on this day the prince brings a small gold dish weighing ten shekels, packed with incense. The same gift appears twelve times in this chapter, which raises two questions: what do the gold and the incense stand for, and why does God repeat an identical list?
Commentators read the materials of each gift as pointing to Christ. The metal and its contents belong together.
The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity. The incense that fills it suits this well, for there can be no true worship of Christ which ignores His divinity.
The dish was the lightest item in the list, yet nothing about it was slight.
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense pictures the fragrance of the details of His beauty and glory, which always rises as a sweet odor to God.
The list names the containers. One writer looks at what was inside them.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. Each one held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The princes brought these gifts for the dedication of the altar. One writer points to where the value of such a gift actually came from.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet fragrance to God.
A summary sentence would have covered all twelve princes. God chose otherwise, and writers see His character in that choice.
Nothing could satisfy God but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. God describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
A second reason for the repetition is the sameness. All twelve princes gave exactly the same gift.
This long chapter makes the point strongly. It is full of what may seem tedious repetitions. But they show how equally divine love values the heart's response to that love, wherever it is found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record, nothing is omitted, nothing passed over quickly... The children of a king may be ranked and decorated differently, yet they are in absolute equality as his children.
Ridout ties the incense to the golden altar, and the golden altar to the believer.
The golden altar of incense is a picture of the worship of the believer. You cannot enjoy the presence of God without being a worshipper, and that is the service at the golden altar. The material for praise is Christ Himself. Our praise is not our happy feelings; not anything of our own that we bring to God; but the worship we bring is the fragrance of Christ's precious name — not as the ground of our acceptance, but as what is infinitely precious to God.
- Gold — the smallest vessel was the pure one. Gold speaks of the Godhead glory of Christ, and no true worship can bypass who He is.
- Filled — no vessel came empty. Every dish carried something that spoke of Christ. The incense pictured the fragrance of His beauty rising to God.
- Altar — the altar gave the gift its value, not the giver's skill. Our lives, offered in faith, belong with Christ's one offering.
- Recorded — God would not compress twelve days into one sentence. He wrote out each name and each item, so millions would read what one man gave.
- Equal — all twelve gifts were the same. Different tribes, different places in the camp, but one acceptance before God.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
Numbers 7 records twelve days of gifts, and verse 63 falls on the ninth day, when the leader of Benjamin brings his offering for the new altar. Every other leader brought the same bull, ram and lamb, which raises two questions: what do these three animals mean, and why does God list them twelve times?
The man offering on this day is Abidan, and commentators find a lesson in his name.
Abidan was the prince of Benjamin, his name meaning "My father is judge" (v.11). Genesis 49:27 calls Benjamin "a ravenous wolf." In other words, he was a warrior by nature. But the Lord does not need natural fighters... So let us remember the lesson of Abidan, "my Father is judge." God as a Father judges according to every person's work (1 Peter 1:17). It is He who judges the value of our warfare, with perfect spiritual discernment.
Each of the three animals says something different about the one sacrifice.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great value of Christ's sacrifice in itself, the sacrifice that glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
One thing sets the burnt offering apart from every other sacrifice.
The burnt offering comes first here, and the meaning of its place in the list is clear. It is the only offering that goes up to God on the altar in full. "Burnt offering" means, more exactly, the "offering that goes up." It is the offering that is all offering — the pattern of all offerings — God's own in the highest sense. In keeping with that, He shows His delight in it. The altar takes its name from it, and its fire is never allowed to go out. It is the basis of the peace offering. Everything marks it as, in the fullest sense, the first of the offerings.
The twelve days were all for dedicating the altar.
Then, in verse 10, came the offerings for the altar. The nation's generosity came through each man's own devotion — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the Spirit at work in each one. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near, and they dedicate the gift on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ.
Benjamin's bull, ram and lamb match what Judah brought on day one and Naphtali on day twelve. Commentators treat that sameness as the point.
The offering of each tribe is identical, so what is true of Judah's offering is true of all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are, and He has perfect reason for what He puts in His word... At the least, God is stressing a truth of great importance: all stand on equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts and different tasks, yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts them all on the same basis.
Those who brought these animals were not told what they pictured.
The rest of the chapter is occupied with the separate offering of the princes in connection with "the dedication of the altar." Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. Vessels were presented — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty... But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
A short summary would have saved eighty verses. Commentators say that would not have been like God.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full worth... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Some readers call this repetition padding.
The critics of the Word of God have found fault with the long statements and repetitions about the twelve princes and their offerings. If these critics had written this chapter, they would have given these offerings in a verse or two. But what unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith... The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
- Altar first. The twelve days were for dedicating the altar. The altar is what gives the offering its value. God accepts the gift because of where it is laid.
- Gift. The three animals show one sacrifice from three sides: the bull its strength, the ram its devotion, the lamb its submission. The burnt offering is the one that goes up to God in full.
- Sameness. Benjamin brought what Judah brought. Commentators read this as God saying that no one stands on better footing than another.
- Record. God spends eighty-nine verses rather than drop one name or one item. The same eye that watched the princes saw the widow's two small coins.
- Judge. Abidan means "my Father is judge" — He alone weighs what our service is worth, and He forgets none of it.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
On the ninth day it is Benjamin's turn. Its leader lays down the same gifts as every other leader: silver filled with flour, gold filled with incense, animals for burnt and peace offerings. In the middle of that generous pile sits one small item — a single male goat for sin. Why does a day of dedication need a sin offering at all? And why does God spell out the same list twelve times?
Only one animal that day is a sin offering. The choice of animal carries its own meaning.
Only one young goat was given as a sin offering (v.16). The goat emphasises the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The vocabulary itself points to that exchange.
We remember, too, that the words for "sin" and "sin-offering" are the same. So it is said of our blessed Lord, "For our sake He made Him to be sin (or sin offering) who knew no sin" (2 Cor. 5:21).
This was a happy occasion. The tabernacle was new, and the tribes were giving freely to dedicate the altar. Yet every leader still brought a sin offering. One writer lists other moments that called for the same sacrifice, including the end of a Nazirite's vow of special dedication to God.
And when the leaders of the tribes each brought their offerings, starting with the day the tabernacle was fully set up and on the eleven days that followed, each brought a sin offering with them. The leper needed such a sacrifice too, on the eighth day of his cleansing. So did the Nazirite, when his vow was complete, and the happy mother, when the days of her purification ended. They also had to own the holiness of God and the grace which provided what they needed. So whenever the appointed service had to do with the people who brought the offerings, a sin offering was called for.
The goat sits alongside flour, oil, incense and other animals. Commentators read the whole set as one portrait, drawn in pieces.
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The value of these gifts did not come from the givers.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." This is how our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is tied to that one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, done in faith and offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to Him.
Benjamin's goat is no bigger and no smaller than Judah's.
The offerings of the tribes are all identical, so what is true of Judah's offering is true of all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are. He has a perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. At the very least God is stressing something vitally important: all are on an equal footing, and one is not to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A human historian would have summarised the twelve days in a sentence. God spends eighty-nine verses.
Each name shines out in its own distinctness. God describes each offering in detail and gives it its value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. Those twelve leaders little imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down, age after age, for countless generations to read!
- One goat. One male goat among all the day's gifts is the sin offering. It pictures a substitute taking the offerer's place.
- One need. The same sacrifice appears at the leper's cleansing, the Nazirite's vow and the mother's purification. Every approach to God starts by owning His holiness.
- One altar. The gift had no value in itself. The altar gave it worth, and tied the giver's devotion to Christ's own offering.
- One standard. Twelve leaders, twelve days, one identical list — no tribe ranked above another before God.
- One record. God writes out every name and every item instead of summarising, because no act of love for Him is ever lost.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Abidan the son of Gideoni.
This verse closes the ninth day of a twelve-day sequence of gifts. It names the giver, Abidan son of Gideoni, and lists animals that match the eight days before it. Two questions follow. What did these animals mean? And why does God write the same gift out twelve times?
Of all the animals each prince brought, the peace offering took the most. One writer explains what the numbers stood for:
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more. It required two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five male lambs a year old. The peace offering stands for the sacrifice of Christ, the sacrifice that brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect agreement and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has fully taken our responsibility upon His great work for us, and has blessed us in fellowship with Him.
Each prince brought dishes, flour, oil, incense and animals. One writer says the givers could not see what all of it pointed to:
The rest of the chapter deals with the separate offering of the princes in connection with "the dedication of the altar." Each one offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They brought vessels — dishes, bowls, spoons — and none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they brought spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but we have the privilege of seeing it.
Each prince came on his own day, and one thing gave every gift its worth:
The ninth prince brought exactly what Judah's prince brought on day one. One writer sees a lesson in that sameness:
The offering of each tribe is identical. So what is said of Judah's offering applies just as much to all the others. The repetition may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are. He has a perfect reason for what He puts in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each offered the same. At the least, God is stressing a fact of the first importance: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another.
The tribes camped in different places and did not all hold the same rank. Another writer says none of that touched their place before God:
Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect the equal place they have before God. They are the one people of God, alike in His love... Each prince has his day, and each offering its record. Nothing is left out, and nothing is rushed over... The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
A summary could have covered all twelve princes in a sentence. Instead each man's name stands beside his own gift:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own... People may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly. God never can, never does and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift... Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
One writer answers the reader who finds the repeated lists tiring:
If we love someone deeply, we do not get tired of looking at pictures of them. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He values being reminded of Him by the pictures each tribe presented. God also wants us never to grow tired of appreciating every picture of His beloved Son found in the word of God.
- Same gift — Every prince brought the same offering, Abidan on day nine included. All stand on equal footing. No one is preferred above another.
- Same value — Places in the camp did not change that. They are one people, alike in His love, like a king's children — ranked differently, equally his.
- Same altar — The gift was not made valuable by the giver's rank. The altar is what gave the offering its value.
- Same Christ — The peace offering pictures the sacrifice that unites believers with the Father and the Son. Every vessel and animal spoke of Christ, though the givers did not know it.
- Same record — God wrote down each name and each item for countless generations to read. He delights to record every little loving gift.
On the tenth day, the prince of the children of Dan, Ahiezer the son of Ammishaddai.
The tenth day belongs to the tribe of Dan, and its leader Ahiezer son of Ammishaddai steps forward. This verse repeats the nine before it, which raises two questions: why one day for each leader, and why the full record of each identical gift?
The chapter does not lump the twelve leaders together. God assigns each one a slot in time and a slot in Scripture.
So, in the chapter before us, "each prince" gets his own appointed day for presenting his offering. He also gets his own space on the eternal page of inspiration, where God the Holy Spirit writes the fullest record of his gifts.
Grant explains what each tribe was doing on its day.
Each tribe therefore was to show (symbolically) appreciation for Christ and His sacrifice as each one offered on a different day for the twelve days.
Dan's gift matches Judah's, item for item.
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are. He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vitally important fact: all stand on an equal footing, and He prefers no one above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The detail is deliberate. It shows what God delights in.
Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. More than that, He goes to special trouble so that untold millions will read the record.
Dan opens a new group among the twelve. His leader's two names carry meaning, and one of them clashes with what Genesis says about Dan.
The sons of Jacob's servant wives are considered now, and Dan is mentioned first. The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." What a contrast this is to the character of Dan in Genesis 49:17: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of brotherly help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict. Ahiezer was the son of Ammishaddai, meaning "the people of the Almighty." Once the people's relationship to the Almighty is settled, a brother relationship follows.
Dan's name means judgment. One writer draws out what that name implies about rule.
The first of these is Dan, "judgment," the spirit of rule, which, as Dan's origin points out, is really service. Yet how quickly man turns it away from service!... Instead of using his place to bless those entrusted to his care, he uses it for himself. He feeds his ambition or his greed in some form, and becomes a rebel against the One who gave him his authority... But for this, as for everything else, God has a remedy. Dan is here in his place with his captain Ahiezer — "brother of help," the son of Ammishaddai — "the people of the Almighty." Let those names be true of them, and the ruler becomes, according to God's design, the "helping brother" of those he is appointed to lead.
What God did with these twelve names, He does with every servant.
And this, notice, is a sample page from the book of eternity. How solemn! And yet how encouraging! Every single act of service we render to our Lord will be set down in His book. And not only the substance of the act, but the style of it also, for God appreciates style as well as we do. He loves a cheerful giver, and a cheerful worker, because that is precisely what He is Himself. It pleased His heart to see generosity flowing around His sanctuary from the representatives of the twelve tribes.
- Day — Dan's tenth day is his own. God gives each leader a separate occasion rather than one collective ceremony.
- Gift — Dan brings the same gift as every other tribe. All twelve stand on equal footing, and God prefers none above another.
- Name — Ahiezer means "brother of help," and Ammishaddai means "the people of the Almighty." Help among brothers follows a settled relationship with God.
- Service — Dan stands for rule, and God designed rule to be service. One writer notes how quickly a leader uses his place for himself instead.
- Record — The long, repeated account is a sample page from God's book. He notes what each man gave and the spirit he gave it in, and forgets nothing.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
On the tenth day of the altar's dedication, Dan's leader brought his gift. It is word for word the gift of the nine leaders before him. So why does God spend another verse on the same list, and what do the silver dishes and the flour mixed with oil say?
Brevity was never God's aim here.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of every man. He records each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its full value. The names and the offerings are not thrown together at random.
Critics call the repetition padding. One writer answers that the length is itself the lesson. He links it to a gift small enough to be missed.
What unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote the details of the offerings and the repetitions. He did it so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye followed the princes as they approached the tabernacle with their wagons. That eye also saw the two coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
One writer takes each part of the gift — the silver, the flour, the oil — as a picture of Christ.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds). The silver bowl weighed 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both were full of fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering. The grain offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the Holy Spirit beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
Another writer looks at what the vessels held.
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. Each held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Dan's turn came late in the order. Yet the record weighs his gift like every other.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasising a vitally important fact: all are on an equal footing. He prefers no one above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
These gifts were for the dedication of the altar. One writer places the worth of the gift outside the giver.
National generosity through individual spirituality — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit… Now they come near. The gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ.
The man whose offering this was had a name that cuts against his tribe's reputation.
The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." The character of Dan in Genesis 49:17 is the complete opposite: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving brotherly help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict.
- Recorded — God refuses to summarise. He writes out every name, weight and item, because He takes notice of what His people give Him.
- Equal — God weighs Dan's late gift like every other. Different days, different tribes, one standard of acceptance.
- Full — No vessel came empty. The silver speaks of redemption's price. The fine flour speaks of Christ's perfect humanity, and the oil of the Spirit filling it from His birth.
- Accepted — The altar, not the giver, gives the gift its value. God takes our devoted lives as bound up with the one offering of Christ.
- Changed — The tribe once pictured as a serpent supplies a "brother of help." By pure grace God made Dan a help in conflict.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
This verse belongs to the tenth of twelve days at the dedication of the altar. A tribal leader brings a small gold dish of ten shekels, filled with incense — the same gift the other eleven leaders brought on their own days. So why does God spell out the same list twelve times? And what is a small gold dish doing in the middle of it?
Translations name the vessel differently — dish, cup, pan or spoon — but all mean the same small gold container. Commentators read both the metal and the perfume in it as pointing to Christ.
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory — a fragrance that always rises to God as a sweet odour.
Another writer links the gold to what filled it, and draws a line for worship:
There was one silver plate and a silver bowl, and both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. These suggest the redemption price, and remind us that grasping Christ's person is tied directly to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity. Fittingly, incense fills it, for there can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The leaders brought containers, but the containers were never the point. What filled them was.
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The dish came full, and full of one thing only. That shapes what a worshipper has to bring.
Sweet incense had its place in the approach to God in worship, and it spoke only of Christ. We can bring nothing of ourselves to God. But the believer has the privilege of presenting Christ to God... the personal graces and beauties of Christ, as He is the theme of worship before God. How little we know of all this!
Twelve days of identical gifts could have been summed up in one sentence. Commentators see the repetition as deliberate, and as a window into God's character.
Only the fullest and most detailed account could satisfy Him — each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. Each offering is described in detail and valued as it deserves... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing, and He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
Every leader brought the same gift, so no tribe could claim a larger place than another. Writers take the lesson in two directions. One applies it to the gathered people of God today:
The offerings of all the tribes are identical, so what is true of Judah's offering is true of all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on an equal footing. No one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all have the same value in God's eyes, and all are accepted on the same basis.
Another reads the same evenness as a mark of God's love:
This long chapter is full of what may seem tedious repetitions. But they show how equally divine love values the response of man's heart to it, wherever found. Each prince has his day and each offering its record. Nothing is left out, nothing rushed over... A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
- Gold — the metal stands for the Godhead glory of Christ. Worship that leaves out His divinity is not the worship this vessel pictures.
- Incense — what fills the gold is the fragrance of Christ's beauty rising to God. That fragrance is the one thing a worshipper has to bring.
- Full — no vessel came empty. The contents mattered more than the container, and they all spoke of Christ, though the givers did not know it.
- Recorded — God would rather write out the same list twelve times than lose one name or one small loving gift.
- Equal — one gift, twelve days, no ranking. Gifts and roles differ; standing and worth before God do not.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
On the tenth of twelve days, the leader of the tribe of Dan brings his gift to the altar. It matches the nine before it, item for item, and that raises the question of the whole chapter: why does God record the same three animals twelve times instead of once?
Commentators read each animal as showing a different side of the same sacrifice.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great objective value of the sacrifice of Christ as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
The three animals do not add up to three offerings.
The burnt offering of one bullock, one ram, one lamb, speak of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death.
One writer looks at everything the leaders carried to the altar on their days.
The rest of the chapter deals with the separate offering of the princes for "the dedication of the altar." Each one offered on his own day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — large plates, bowls, and dishes — yet none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
This verse names one kind of sacrifice: a burnt offering. The fire took the whole animal.
It was not a sin offering, but a burnt offering — that is, all of it went up as a sweet smelling offering to God. The sin offering tells us of the fact of the Lord's suffering under the curse of God. But in wonderful contrast to this, the burnt offering speaks of Christ's suffering and death being of infinitely precious value to God.
The twelve days of gifts were for dedicating the altar. One writer draws a line from that altar to our own service.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever we bring to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a fragrant aroma to God.
The altar is read as pointing past the sacrifice to the One who offered it.
This shows how important the altar of burnt offering is. It speaks of Christ in His own person, sanctifying the value of the sacrifice of Himself. The Lord asks in Matthew 23:19, "For which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person, for He is Himself greater than the wonderful work He has done.
Dan was the son of a servant woman, not of Leah or Rachel, and his tribe camped at the rear of the march. None of that changes what he brings or how it is recorded.
These are free gifts from the tribal heads. They matter because they show the spirit moving the people, the unity among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this... This is strongly emphasized in this long chapter, full of what may seem tedious repetitions, but which show how equally divine love values the response of man's heart to it, wherever found. Each prince has his day, each offering its record, nothing is left out, nothing passed over quickly... The children of a king may be variously ranked and decorated, yet they are in absolute equality as his children.
One writer explains the repeating list with a picture from everyday life.
If we especially love someone, we never grow tired of looking at pictures of them. Just so, God loves His Son and appreciates being reminded of Him by the pictures that each of the tribes presented. God also wants us never to tire of appreciating every picture of His beloved Son in the word of God.
- One offering. The bull, ram and lamb are not three gifts but three angles on a single sacrifice — strength, devotion, submission.
- One direction. As a burnt offering, the whole gift went up to God — precious to Him, with nothing held back.
- One altar. The altar, not the giver, gives the gift its value — and the altar points to Christ Himself, greater than the work He did.
- One standing. Every tribe's day is written out in full, because rank in the camp changes nothing about a person's place before God.
- One Son, twelve times. God repeats the list because He never tires of the picture of His Son, and neither should we.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
Twelve days of gifts marked the dedication of the altar, and on the tenth day Dan's prince, Ahiezer, brought his tribe's turn. Why does a list of glad gifts include a sacrifice for sin, and why does Scripture repeat the same list twelve times?
Among the silver dishes, the flour and the incense, one animal alone is named for sin. Commentators point to what the choice of animal pictures:
Only one young goat was given as a sin offering. The goat stresses that the sacrifice of Christ was substitutionary, for as the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
The same writer, on another such goat, adds what it says about the people who bring it:
The goat stood as a substitute for the people. It was one more reminder of the sin that lived inside them — sin that had to be judged, and that was judged through the sacrifice of Christ, our Substitute.
This goat is no odd intrusion. The same sacrifice marked Israel's brightest days: priests set apart for service, a leper declared clean, a special vow completed, and these twelve days of gifts:
When the princes of the tribes each brought their offerings, starting on the day the tabernacle was fully set up and on the eleven days that followed, every one of them brought a sin offering with him... So whenever the appointed service had to do with the people who brought the offerings, a sin offering was fitting.
Where the appointed service concerns the people who bring it, the goat appears. Another commentator gives the reason in a line:
Man is still here, and sin is not yet out of the question, so the goat is added as an offering for sin.
Dan's goat matches what Judah brought on the first day. Nothing marks the tenth day out from the first:
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so that what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others... Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing the deeply important fact that all stand on equal footing: no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions, yet all have the same value in the eyes of God, and all are accepted on the same basis.
A modern editor would compress this chapter to a paragraph. Commentators argue that the length is the point:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God... He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special care that untold millions will read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
That care reaches the smallest giver as well as the greatest:
The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the smallest service done for Him.
Each prince brought vessels, flour, incense and animals. Every one of those items carried a meaning the giver could miss:
But whether for a grain offering, or for a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
One commentator marks both the willingness of the givers and the source of their gift's worth:
The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer," not, "Take it of them." Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. Christ "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
- One goat. One goat in the whole list is the sin offering. It pictures Christ taking our place in suffering and death.
- Sin owned. It appears on a day of joy because the occasion concerns the people who bring it, and their need is still real.
- Same gift. Dan's tenth-day offering matches every other tribe's, item for item.
- Equal place. That sameness says no one is preferred. Different gifts, different functions, one basis of acceptance.
- Named forever. God kept no summary. He recorded every name and every gift for countless generations to read. The eye that watched the princes saw the widow's two small coins.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Ahiezer the son of Ammishaddai.
This verse ends the tenth of twelve days when Israel's tribal leaders brought gifts for the dedication of the altar. Ahiezer of Dan gave exactly what the nine leaders before him gave — so why does God list the same gift twelve times?
One writer sees the identical gifts pointing beyond themselves:
The rest of the chapter deals with the separate offering of the princes in connection with "the dedication of the altar." Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — platters, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Grain offering, burnt offering, sin offering — everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
One writer notes who does the offering here, and what makes it count:
Then, in verse 10, came offerings for the altar. National generosity through individual spirituality — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it of them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with this one offering of Christ.
This verse names far more animals than the burnt and sin offerings of the same day. One writer reads that gap as deliberate:
The sacrifices speak of the various aspects of our Lord's work. The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is present. But a single goat shows, we may say, the comparatively secondary place it occupies in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away. Yet the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
The name that ends the verse is not filler. Read next to Genesis 49:17, it shows a reversal:
Now the list turns to the sons of Jacob's servant wives, and Dan comes first. The prince of Dan was Ahiezer, meaning "brother of help." What a contrast this is to the character of Dan in Genesis 49:17: "Dan shall be a serpent in the way." Instead of giving brotherly help, he would give satanic harm. Again, God makes a wonderful change by His pure grace, so that Dan would be a help in conflict. Ahiezer was the son of Ammishaddai, meaning "the people of the Almighty." We should expect a brotherly relationship when the people's relationship to the Almighty is established.
A human writer would have summed up twelve identical gifts in one sentence. One writer sees God's own character in the repetition:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is described in detail and given its due value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The record did not stop with Ahiezer's day:
There is not a single act of service we render to our Lord that He will not write down in His book. And not only the substance of the act, but the style of it too, for God appreciates style as well as we do. He loves a cheerful giver and a cheerful worker, because that is exactly what He is Himself. It pleased His heart to see the tide of generosity flowing around His sanctuary from the twelve tribes' representatives.
- Same gift — every leader brought identical items, yet each had his own day. The sameness points to the one Christ they all pictured without knowing it.
- Altar first — the gift did not make the altar valuable. The altar gave the gift its value, and the leaders offered it freely rather than having it taken from them.
- Fullest list — the peace offering's two oxen and three sets of five outnumber every other animal that day. God wants communion with His people.
- Named giver — the day ends with a name. "Ahiezer, brother of help," from the tribe Genesis calls a serpent, shows grace turning harm into help.
- Full record — God used eighty-nine verses rather than drop one name or one item. The same book still records service today, both its substance and its style.
On the eleventh day, the prince of the children of Asher, Pagiel the son of Ocran.
The eleventh of the twelve days belongs to Asher. Its prince, Pagiel son of Ochran, brings just what the ten princes before him brought. So why does God's Word give this repeat offering a fresh paragraph, a fresh name and a fresh date?
The Lord did not ask Moses to collect the gifts in a single heap. He gave each leader a day of his own:
National generosity came through individual spirituality — "each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit. The Lord said to Moses, "They shall offer" (v. 11), not, "Take it from them." Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way identified with that one offering of Christ.
Asher's name means happy. The two names in this verse point the other way:
Asher follows Dan: his prince is Pagiel — "event of God," the son of Ocran — "afflicted." Strange names these in connection with Asher — the "happy," whose portion in Jacob's prophecy matches his name. Yet "for those who love God all things work together for good," and sorrow in His hands is turned into joy. For true happiness here, and as a guard against its dangers, some strain of sorrow seems bound to mix in with it. It is something in which the soul has to submit itself to God — to say it is the Lord, "the event is of God." Paul's thorn in the flesh, given after he was caught up to the third heaven, may tell us this even about the most spiritual joys.
Every prince brought the same list:
As free gifts of the tribal heads they have special importance, showing the spirit that moved the people, the unity among them, and the equal place they have before God. ... This long chapter is full of what may seem tedious repetitions. Yet they show how equally divine love values the response of man's heart to that love, wherever it is found.
The same equality holds in the church today:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same thing. At the very least, God is emphasising the vitally important fact that all are on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different individuals have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
Pagiel brought vessels, flour and incense. One writer looks at what filled them:
The princes presented vessels — platters, bowls, dishes — but none of them were empty; they held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The metals carry meaning too:
The grain offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, the work only of the Man of absolute perfection... The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of the details of His beauty and glory, which always rises as a sweet odour to God.
A short summary would have done for us. It would not have done for God:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God... Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Each offering is carefully described and properly valued. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself; He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
That record-keeping is not confined to princes:
The same eye that followed the princes as they approached the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury; the same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
- His day. The Lord gave each leader his own day. Pagiel's gift was his own act of devotion, not a share in a national collection.
- His name. Pagiel means "event of God," Ochran "afflicted." Set beside Asher, "happy," these names teach that joy here is mixed with submission to God.
- His gift. The silver dishes and the gold pan of incense pointed to Christ. The altar gave the gift its worth.
- His equality. Ten princes had already brought the same gift. No tribe stands nearer to God than another, and the same is true in the church.
- His record. God refused to summarise. He wrote out every name and item in full, and the eye that watched the princes also saw the widow's two coins.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
This is the eleventh of twelve days. The head of the tribe of Asher brings his gift to the altar, and the record lists every item by weight. Why does Scripture spell out the same list twelve times? And what do a plate and basin of flour and oil say about God?
Every tribal head had his own day, yet no one brought a larger or smaller gift than his neighbour. Commentators find a lesson in that sameness.
These were free gifts from the tribal heads. So they matter in a special way. They show the spirit that moved the people, how united they were, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and their different relations to one another, do not change this… Each leader has his day, and each offering has its record. Nothing is left out, and nothing is rushed over.
A human writer would have summed up twelve identical offerings in one line. God does not.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God… He delights to record every little act of service and every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does not only remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
Commentators read all three materials here as pictures of Christ. Older versions call this grain offering the meal offering.
The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which only the Man of absolute perfection could accomplish. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the Holy Spirit beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
The plate and the basin do not arrive empty. One writer takes that detail as a mark of real giving.
They presented vessels — large dishes, bowls, and spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or they held incense. Whether the gift was for a grain offering, a burnt offering or a sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
The verse gives weights. It also names the standard behind them.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh, and at first, perhaps, to balance. It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have weighed more than the usual one… One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and unchanging, for "Unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Proverbs 20:10). This shekel was divided into twenty gerahs, and half a shekel, or ten gerahs, was the ransom money for all the men of Israel.
The names of the giver and his tribe carry meaning too.
Strange names these in connection with Asher — the "happy," and whose portion in Jacob's prophecy answers to his name. Yet "He makes all things work together for good to them that love Him," and sorrow in His hands is turned into joy. To true happiness here, as well as for a guard against the dangers of it, some strain of sorrow seems of necessity to mingle with it, something where the soul has to submit itself to God — to say it is the Lord, "the event is of God."
The gift had no value of its own. Its worth came from the altar.
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to God.
- Recorded — God fills a long chapter with repetition rather than leave one name or one gift out. He never forgets the smallest act of service.
- Equal — the eleventh gift matches the first. A different place in the camp never means a different place in God's favour.
- Full — the plate and basin came full, not empty. Every item in them spoke of Christ: silver for the value of His redemption, fine flour for His perfect humanity, oil for the Spirit filling it.
- Weighed — the sanctuary shekel set the measure. It is God's own just and unchanging standard for the true value of things.
- Accepted — the altar gave the gift its worth. That ties our own dedication to Christ's one offering of Himself.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
Twelve tribal leaders each brought an identical gift to the altar, one leader on each of twelve days. This line belongs to the eleventh day, Asher's day, and it raises two questions: why name so small a dish, and why list the same gift twelve times?
The materials carry the message. One writer weighs the dish, then reads the gold and the incense:
The golden dish of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of the details of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet odor.
Another writer links the two materials to worship:
The golden dish reminds us of our Lord's deity, and the incense fittingly fills it, for there can be no true worship of Christ which ignores His divinity.
One writer looks at the whole set of vessels the leaders brought, and at what filled them:
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, dishes — but not one of them was empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. Whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
Every leader's golden dish weighed the same ten shekels. One writer reads that sameness as a statement about standing before God:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all are on an equal footing, and none ranks above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. People have different gifts and different functions. Yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and He accepts them all on the same basis.
A shorter chapter could have said that all twelve gave the same thing. One writer sees God's character in the long form:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and values it properly. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He makes sure that untold millions will read the record.
Some readers treat the repetition as a flaw in the writing. Another writer answers them:
Critics of the Word of God have found fault with the long statements and repetitions about the twelve princes and their offerings. If these critics had written this chapter, they would have given the offerings in a verse or two. But what unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith... The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the smallest service done for Him.
One writer ties these twelve gifts to the offering of Christ:
The nation's generosity came through each person's own spiritual life — "Each prince on his day." Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near, and they dedicate the gift on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value... So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ... When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect, for all twelve princes have willingly offered. In the same way, when the Church is presented to God, it is like a perfect weight offered.
- Gold — the dish points to the Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. That is why the incense belongs inside it: worship that ignores His deity is not worship of Him.
- Incense — what filled the dish stands for the fragrance of His beauty and glory, always rising to God as a sweet odor.
- Never empty — every vessel in this chapter came full. Each leader brought something that spoke of Christ, whether he knew it or not.
- Never ranked — each tribe brought the same gift. All stand on the same footing, and God accepts them all on the same basis.
- Never forgotten — the repetition is not padding. The God who noticed a widow's two small coins wrote out each name and each gift for millions to read.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
On the eleventh of twelve days, the leader of Asher brought his gift for the dedication of the altar. His burnt offering repeats what ten men had brought before him, so why record the same three animals again, and what do they show?
Our instinct would be to save space. One writer starts there:
If a man were giving an account of what happened on those twelve days, he would very likely have summed it all up in one short statement. He would have told us that the twelve princes each offered such and such things.
God chose otherwise, and the detail itself is the message:
But that would not have suited the divine mind at all. Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record. He will go into what might seem to us tedious detail — even what man might call needless repetition. He would rather do that than leave out a single name of any of His servants, or a single item of their work.
Each of the three animals shows something different in the sacrifice of Christ:
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). These speak of the great objective value of the sacrifice of Christ as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
Three animals went up as a burnt offering, but the sin offering beside them is a single goat. One writer weighs that difference:
The burnt offering of one bull, one ram, one lamb speaks of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there, but a single kid shows, we may say, the comparatively lesser place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away, but the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death.
The value of these animals did not rest in the giver:
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is in this way tied to that one offering of Christ. What is brought to God like this, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet fragrance to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect total offered.
Asher's gift is identical to Judah's on day one. One writer finds the point in that sameness:
The offerings of each of the tribes are seen to be identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the very least, God is stressing the vitally important fact that all stand on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred over another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God, today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The two names in this day's record carry meaning, and that meaning shapes Asher's blessing:
Asher's prince was Pagiel, which means "event of God." His father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted." Genesis 49:20 tells us, "Asher's food shall be rich, and he shall yield royal delicacies." Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered by God's dealings — events of God — that bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, little as we might appreciate this at first.
- Recorded. God will not squeeze twelve identical gifts into one line. He gives each man's name, tribe and offering in full, because He delights to record every small act of service.
- Read by millions. God took special pains that untold millions would read what each prince gave.
- Christ. In the day's burnt offering, the bull shows the strength of His sacrifice, the ram its devotion, the lamb its submission.
- Outshining. Three animals for the burnt offering, one goat for the sin offering. Sin is truly put away, yet the devotedness of Christ far outshines it.
- Equal. Every prince brought the same, so no one ranks above another. Today too, people differ in gift but share one basis of acceptance.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
On the eleventh day of the altar's dedication, Pagiel son of Ocran brought Asher's gift: silver, gold, grain, a burnt offering, and one male goat for a sin offering. Two questions follow — why does a celebration need a sin offering, and why does God list the same gifts twelve times?
The animal carries its own message. Older translations render the phrase here "one kid of the goats."
The goat suggests sin, but its remedy also. In the rules for sacrifice we find very frequent references to the sin offering. In most cases the goat, or "a kid of the goats," is the animal used for that sacrifice… On the great day of atonement, two goats held the prominent place: one for a sin offering and the other for the scapegoat. One was killed as a sin offering, and its blood was taken into the holiest place and sprinkled on the mercy seat. On the head of the other, Aaron laid his hands, confessing all the sins of the nation… Here we have a two-fold picture of Christ. He bore the penalty of our sins, and so gave us a title to enter the presence of the Holy God. He also took them away, so that they will never be held against us again.
The link goes deeper than the choice of animal.
We remember, too, that the words for "sin" and "sin offering" are the same. So it is said of our blessed Lord, "For our sake he made him to be sin (or sin offering) who knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Not every occasion in Israel called for a sin offering. This one did.
But on the Sabbaths… the burnt offering was the fitting sacrifice, and no sin offering was required… And when the leaders of the tribes brought their offerings, each one brought a sin offering with them. That began on the day the tabernacle was fully set up, and ran through the eleven days that followed. The leper also needed such a sacrifice on the eighth day of his cleansing. So did the Nazirite when his vow was completed, and the happy mother when the days of her purification were over. They too had to acknowledge the holiness of God and the grace that provided what they needed. So when the appointed service had to do with those who brought the offerings, a sin offering was called for.
The names on this day carry meaning too.
Asher's leader was Pagiel, which means "event of God." His father's name, Ocran, means "afflicted"… Asher means "happy." But even the blessing of Asher has to be tempered with God's dealings — events of God — to bring affliction. For true happiness always comes through suffering, even if we do not see this at first. How well Paul understood this when he wrote, "For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Corinthians 12:10).
A summary would have been shorter. God chose the full record.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account — each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God… Each name shines out in its own distinctness. Every offering is described in detail and valued as it deserves. The names and the offerings are not thrown together in a heap… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
Pagiel's goat matched every other leader's goat.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasising the vitally important fact that all are on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God, today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions. Yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, and all are accepted on the same basis.
Pagiel and the other leaders brought their gifts. We can see more in them than they did.
Whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
- Sin named. The goat is the regular animal of the sin offering. The word for the sin and the word for the offering are one and the same.
- Sin answered. The same animal points to the offence and to its cure. Christ bore the penalty, and He carried the guilt away for good.
- Every day. For eleven days after the first, a sin offering came with the gift. Where the worshippers themselves are in view, this sacrifice belongs.
- Every name. God refuses a summary. Each leader gets his own day and his own written record, kept for untold millions to read.
- Every one equal. Twelve tribes brought the same offering. No worshipper outranks another: different gifts, equal standing.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Pagiel the son of Ocran.
The eleventh day of the dedication belongs to Asher. Like every other tribe, Asher's list ends with the largest item of all — the peace offering. Two questions hang over this verse, as over the whole chapter. Why does God spell out the same gift twelve times? And why is the peace offering the biggest part of it?
The peace offering asked for far more animals than anything before it. One writer reads that size as a picture of shared life with God:
The peace offering (v.17) involved much more, requiring two oxen, five rams, five male goats and five lambs of the first year. For the peace offering symbolizes the sacrifice of Christ as that which brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect concord and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. The five rams, the five goats and the five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon Himself in His great work for us, and blessed us in fellowship with Him.
Set against the single kid of the sin offering, the scale here says something about God's own desire:
The sin offering is present, but a single kid shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin truly is put away. Yet the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Pagiel's oxen, rams, goats and lambs were not valuable in themselves. Something else made the gift acceptable:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to God.
Those bringing the animals had no idea what they were picturing:
But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
Asher's gift comes near the end of the list. Yet nothing here differs by so much as one lamb from what Judah brought at the start:
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so that what is said of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others… Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At least, God is emphasizing a fact of the highest importance: all are on an equal footing, and no one ranks above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
A human historian would have written one sentence and moved on. The repetition is deliberate:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God… He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined that God would hand their names and their offerings down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
The same care reaches forward to us:
The same eye followed the princes as they approached the tabernacle with their wagons. It saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service done for Him.
The names in this verse carry meanings in Hebrew. One writer reads Asher and his prince together:
Asher means "happy." His prince is Pagiel, "the event of God," the son of Ocran, "afflicted." These names show us the paradox which grace alone can interpret: affliction under the stroke of God produces a happiness which is not that of the world.
- Altar first. The gift had no value of its own. The altar gave it worth. God accepts our service on the same ground — Christ's one offering.
- Peace largest. The peace offering outweighs every other item. God wants more than sin dealt with; He wants communion with His people.
- Same for all. Asher brought exactly what Judah brought — different days, the same gift, equal standing.
- Named, not counted. God refused to summarise twelve identical gifts. Each prince got his own day, his own name, his own line of Scripture.
- Still watching. The eye that recorded Pagiel's oxen saw the widow's two coins, and forgets no service done for Him today.
On the twelfth day, the prince of the children of Naphtali, Ahira the son of Enan.
On the twelfth and final day of the altar's dedication, Ahira son of Enan brings Naphtali's gift — the same gift the eleven leaders before him brought. So why does God write out the same list twelve times, and why does the last tribe get as much space as the first?
Naphtali comes at the end of the line, yet the text does not hurry. One writer notes that the chapter gives every leader two things: a day of his own and a space of his own on the page.
So in the chapter before us, each prince gets his own appointed day to present his offering. He also gets his own allotted space on the eternal page of inspiration, where God the Holy Spirit writes down the fullest record of his gifts.
Some readers call this repetition clumsy padding. One writer answers them, and turns the answer into comfort.
Critics of the Word of God have found fault with the long statements and repetitions about the twelve princes and their offerings. But what unbelief belittles and rejects is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions. He did it so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
Mackintosh draws the same conclusion from God's refusal to lump the names together:
He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little did those twelve princes imagine that their names and their offerings were to be handed down, from age to age, to be read by countless generations!
Naphtali's gift is no smaller than Judah's, though Judah went first. One writer reads the sameness of the twelve offerings as God putting every tribe on one level.
The offerings of each of the tribes are identical, so what the text says of Judah's offering applies equally to all the others. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the least, God is stressing the vital fact that all stand on equal footing: He prefers no one above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
One writer takes the vessels themselves — plate, bowl and spoon — as a picture of Christ.
There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest redemption price, and both held fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us: grasping Christ's person connects directly to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it rightly holds the incense, for there can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
Each vessel came loaded, not empty, and the men who carried them understood less than we do:
They presented vessels — plates, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty... whether for a grain offering or for a burnt or sin offering, everything they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
One writer draws a line from these gifts to our own service today.
It is the altar that gives the offering its value. Christ "through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." In this way God identifies our outward service, the dedication of our lives, with that one offering of Christ... When the altar is dedicated at last, the result is perfect — all twelve princes have given willingly.
One writer treats these two names as the hardest in the whole list, and offers his reading as a suggestion, not a certainty.
His prince is Ahira, "brother of evil," the son of Enan. Enan seems to mean "eyed," or "having eyes." This is perhaps the hardest name to interpret of all we have had... May it be that in Ahira we find one whose eyes have affected his heart, and made him a man of sorrows in sympathy with the sorrow around him? ... And this would fit well with the character of Naphtali, whose own name is a memorial of "struggling."
- Each on his day. Ahira comes twelfth, and God still gives him a day of his own and a paragraph of his own.
- Each the same. The same gift on every day says one thing: no tribe ranks above another, and God values no believer above another.
- Each gift full. No vessel was empty. Plate, bowl and spoon each carried something that pictures Christ, though the givers did not yet know it.
- Each gift on one altar. The worth came from the altar, not from the giver. Our service counts because it rests on Christ's one offering.
- Each act kept. The eye that watched twelve leaders bring their wagons also saw a widow's two coins. He keeps even the smallest service.
His offering was one silver dish of the weight of a hundred and thirty [shekels], one silver bowl of seventy shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary, both of them full of fine flour mingled with oil for an oblation;
This is the twelfth and last day of the dedication. Ahira, leader of the tribe of Naphtali, brings his gift, and God records it item by item — the same plate, bowl and flour the eleven princes before him had brought. Why write out twelve identical offerings twelve times, when one summary would have told us the facts?
A summary would have been the human way to write this chapter.
But that would not have suited the divine mind at all. God's thoughts are not our thoughts, nor His ways our ways. Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he stood for, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God. So we get this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its proper value... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself: He takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
There is a second reason for the repetition, drawn from what the gifts picture.
The offerings of each tribe being the same indicates that all are on the same standing before God. But besides this, we are to look at all these offerings as pictures of Christ. If we specially love a person we do not grow weary of looking at pictures of the loved one. Just so, God loves His Son and appreciates being reminded of Him by the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
Ahira's name was not folded into a group total. One writer reads this chapter as a page out of God's own records.
And may we not say that this seventh chapter of Numbers is one of those specimen pages from the book of eternity, on which the finger of God has engraved the names of His servants and the record of their work... Each one has his own special place on the roll, and each one his place in the Master's heart; and all will come out by and by.
The last tribe's gift matched the first tribe's, item for item. One writer draws out what that says for God's people now.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing the vitally important fact that all are on an equal footing: one is not to be preferred above another. This is certainly just as true in the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The sanctuary shekel sets the weight of both silver vessels, and both arrive full. One writer reads the metal and the contents as two pictures of the same Person.
The silver platter weighed 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl 70 shekels (over 2 pounds). Both were full of fine flour mixed with oil as a grain or meal offering. The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, which could be the work only of the Man of absolute perfection. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the presence of the Holy Spirit beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus.
It is worth noticing what the text never says about any of these vessels. (Older translations call the plate a "charger" and the grain offering a "meat offering.")
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. Vessels were presented — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they contained fine flour mixed with oil as a meat offering, or incense. But whether for a meat offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
The word translated "chief" or "prince" carries its own lesson about how these gifts came. (The quote below uses an older wording of Psalm 110:3; the ESV reads, "Your people will offer themselves freely.")
Prince, in verse 2 of our chapter, means liberality. "My people shall be willing" (Psalm 110). "Willing" and "liberal" are the same word... The Lord recognised them and owned them as His, and then comes the generosity. Grace worked it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
Yet what made the gift acceptable was not the giver's warmth but where the gift was laid.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the giving of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God like this, done in faith and offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
- Willing. The word behind "chief" means liberality. Grace produced the giving, and God still called it their own free choice.
- Weighed. Silver by the sanctuary standard speaks of the value of redemption. The fine flour speaks of Christ's perfect humanity, and the oil of the Spirit who filled it from His birth.
- Filled. No vessel came empty. Plate and bowl alike were full, and what filled them pictured Christ.
- Accepted. The altar, not the giver, gave the gift its worth. Faith's service is joined to the one offering of Christ.
- Recorded. Twelve identical gifts, twelve separate entries. All stand equal before God, and not one name is lost from a record millions would read.
one cup of ten [shekels] of gold, full of incense;
The twelfth and last day of the dedication belongs to Naphtali, and his gift ends with a small gold dish of incense. That same list has already appeared eleven times, word for word, so two questions arise: why the repetition, and what does the gold dish mean?
Each tribe brought its offering on its own day, yet nothing in the list ever varied. One writer draws a lesson from that sameness:
The offering of each tribe is identical, so what is said of Judah's offering applies just as much to all the others. The repetition may seem unnecessary to us, but God is wiser than we are, and He has a perfect reason for what He puts in His word, whether we understand it or not. Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one offered the same. At the least, God is stressing something very important: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is certainly just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions, yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, all accepted on the same basis.
The dish itself was tiny — the smallest item in the whole offering. One writer, who calls it a pan, reads both its metal and its contents as pictures of Christ:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only 3 ounces, and it was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal glory of the Lord Jesus as God. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet smell.
The pairing is not accidental. Commentators note that the silver vessels earlier in the list held flour, while only the golden one held the incense — and they draw out what that ordering means for worship:
There was one large silver dish and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price... and both were filled with fine flour for the grain offering. This reminds us that grasping who Christ is ties in at once with the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it is fittingly filled with the incense, for there can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The gift belongs to Ahira, leader of Naphtali, and his name has puzzled readers. One writer works through the difficulty rather than around it:
Naphtali's prince (v.15), Ahira, "brother of evil" is the most difficult as regards interpretation... "Brother of evil" can then be understood only in the sense of "brother of trouble," and could refer to the sympathetic character of the believer in bearing the burden of others... Ahira's father was Enan, meaning "having eyes," and may speak of the concern that looks on the sorrows of others.
A summary sentence would have saved eighty verses. The commentators see the length itself as the message:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account: each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... People may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly, but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing, and He does not only remember it Himself — He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record. Those twelve princes never imagined that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, read by countless generations! God will go into detail that seems tedious to us, even what we might think needless repetition. He will not leave out a single name of any of His servants, or a single item of their work.
A second reason for the repetition rests on God's love for His Son:
If we love someone deeply, we never grow tired of looking at pictures of them. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He values every reminder of Him in the pictures that each tribe presented. God also wants us never to grow tired of enjoying every picture of His beloved Son that is found in the word of God.
All twelve days served one purpose: dedicating the altar. This verse closes the last of them:
Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined to this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling aroma to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, the result is perfect: all twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
- Smallest, richest. Three ounces of gold carried the incense. The lightest item in the list spoke of Christ's glory as God, and of the fragrance of His beauty rising to God.
- Gold holds the incense. Worship that leaves out Christ's divinity is not true worship.
- Twelve days, one value. Every tribe brought the same gift. No tribe ranked above another, and in the church too, all are of the same value to God.
- Nothing edited out. God would rather write what looks to us like tedious detail than drop one name or one item of His servants' work.
- The altar decides. The altar gives the offering its value. Our dedication counts because it is joined to the one offering of Christ.
one young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt-offering;
This verse lists the burnt offering of the twelfth and last leader, brought on the closing day of the dedication of the altar. Eleven leaders had already brought the same three animals, so why does God write the list out again?
Each leader came on his own day, yet nobody brought anything different. One writer looks at what filled the vessels they handed over:
Each offered separately on his day, but each offered the same things. They presented vessels — platters, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they contained fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
With this twelfth gift the dedication of the altar is complete. The leaders come forward, and one writer points to where the worth of their gift lies:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a sweet-smelling fragrance to God. When the altar is dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have willingly offered.
Three animals make up this burnt offering. One writer reads each one as a different side of one sacrifice:
A burnt offering was made up of three animals: one young bull, one ram and one male lamb. They speak of the great value the sacrifice of Christ has in itself, as the thing that glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
One writer points out what happened to this offering:
The priest ate part of some sacrifices, and the man who brought it ate part of others. But the burnt offering was "all" burned on the altar. It was for God alone. The priests might lay the wood and the fire and watch the flame rise... But they did not eat any of the sacrifice. God alone was the object of Christ, in the burnt offering aspect of His death.
Another writer links it with worship:
Why does it speak of worship so clearly? Because it stands in contrast to the other offerings in this way: the whole of the burnt offering went up to Jehovah. A sheep, a goat, a bull — whatever animal the offerer brought, all of it went up. The whole body was laid on the altar, burned by fire, and rose to heaven as smoke.
A person writing this record would have summed up twelve identical days in one line. God did not. One writer finds the reason in God's own character:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account. He wanted each man's name, the tribe he represented, and the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out in its own distinctness... He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. Those twelve princes had no idea that their names and their offerings would be handed down from age to age, for countless generations to read!
Every tribe's gift was identical, and that sameness teaches something:
At the very least, God is stressing something of great importance: all are on an equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
The same writer explains the repeated detail by the way love behaves:
If we love someone deeply, we never get tired of looking at pictures of the one we love. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He values every reminder of Him in the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
- Day — Each leader brought his gift on his own day. The dedication of the altar closed only when every tribe had offered.
- Gift — Bull, ram and lamb show strength, devotion and submission in the one sacrifice of Christ.
- Value — The altar gave the gift its worth. In the same way, the dedication of our lives is tied to the one offering of Christ.
- Portion — No one ate a burnt offering. It all went up in fire, so it speaks of worship for God alone.
- Record — Twelve identical entries are not waste. God keeps every name and every detail, and He never tires of pictures of His Son.
one buck of the goats for a sin-offering;
This is the twelfth and last day of the dedication of the altar. Ahira, the leader of Naphtali, brings the same offering the eleven leaders before him brought. Among the bulls, rams and lambs stands one goat for a sin offering. Why does a day of gladness need a sacrifice for sin? And why does God spell it out a twelfth time instead of summing it up in one line?
Only one animal is named for the sin offering: a single goat. Writing on the same item in the first leader's offering, one commentator explains why it is a goat:
Only one young goat was given as a sin offering (v.16). The goat highlights the substitutionary character of Christ's sacrifice. As the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
Another writer points to the Hebrew word itself, and to the verse that applies it to Christ:
We remember, too, that the words for "sin" and "sin-offering" are the same. So it is said of our blessed Lord, "For our sake He made Him to be sin (or sin offering) who knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21).
A sin offering is not out of place on a day of joy. One writer lists the other times Israel needed one:
All through the week when Aaron and his sons were set apart, there was a sin offering for them every day... So too, when the Levites were set apart for their work, Aaron offered a sin offering for them, a young goat. The leaders of the tribes also brought their offerings, starting on the day the tabernacle was fully set up and going on through the eleven days that followed. Each one brought a sin offering with him. A leper also needed such a sacrifice on the eighth day of his cleansing... So whenever the appointed service had to do with the people bringing the offerings, a sin offering was fitting.
Each leader came forward on his own day and laid his gift on the altar. One writer draws a line from that altar to Christ:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
By the twelfth day no one has added anything and no one has held anything back. One writer reads this sameness as a statement about how God values His people:
As free gifts from the heads of the tribes, they carry special weight. They show the spirit that moved the people, the agreement among them, and the equal place they hold before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this... This long chapter puts heavy stress on it. It is full of what may seem tiresome repetition. Yet the repetition shows how evenly God's love values the answer of man's heart to it, wherever that answer is found. A king's children may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
Men would have summed up all twelve gifts in one sentence. God would not:
Men may pass over gifts and offerings quickly or carelessly. But God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. And He does more than remember it Himself. He takes special pains that untold millions will read the record.
Another writer answers the same complaint by asking whose eye is watching:
What unbelief belittles and rejects, is precious to faith. The Holy Spirit wrote down these details and repetitions so that we would know this: the Lord takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the leaders as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons also saw the two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury. That same eye sees us.
- Same need. On the twelfth day, as on the first, the leader brings one goat for a sin offering. The last tribe owns its sin just as the first did.
- Same substitute. The goat marks Christ as the substitute. He took the place of the guilty in suffering and death, and Hebrew uses one word for both "sin" and "sin offering."
- Same altar. The altar, not the gift, gives the offering its value. Our service counts because it is identified with the one offering of Christ.
- Same standing. Twelve identical gifts on twelve separate days say one thing: rank in the camp changes nothing. All stand on one level before God.
- Same eye. God writes out in full what men would have shortened. The eye that watched the leaders also saw the widow's two small coins — and it sees us.
and for a sacrifice of peace-offering, two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Ahira the son of Enan.
Numbers 7:83 closes the twelfth and last day of gifts at the dedication of the altar. Ahira, the leader of Naphtali, brings exactly what the eleven leaders before him brought — so why does God write out twelve identical lists instead of one summary?
A person writing this chapter would have shortened it. One writer says God's way is the opposite:
Nothing would satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. Each name shines out on its own. He describes every offering in detail and gives it its full value. Man may pass over gifts and offerings quickly, or without care. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He will go into detail that may seem tedious to us — yes, what man might call needless repetition — rather than leave out one name of any of His servants, or one item of their work.
Ahira gives last, and gives no more and no less than the first leader gave. That sameness carries weight:
These were free gifts from the tribal leaders. So they carry special weight: they show the spirit that moved the people, the full agreement among them, and the equal place they have before God. Each leader has his day. Each offering has its record. Nothing is left out, nothing is passed over quickly... The children of a king may hold different ranks and honours, yet as his children they are completely equal.
The verse lists the animals of the peace offering. One writer reads each of them as a picture of Christ:
The peace offering pictures the sacrifice of Christ as the thing that brings believers together with God the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ in perfect harmony and unity. The two oxen suggest fellowship in depending on the strength of Christ's offering. Five is the number of responsibility. So the five rams, five goats and five male lambs all remind us that the Lord Jesus has taken our responsibility fully upon His great work for us.
The sin offering in this same list was one goat kid. The sizes are not equal, and that matters:
The sin offering is there, but only one goat kid. That shows, we may say, the smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away. Yet the devotedness of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full count of the peace offering, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
The verse closes with the giver's name. Writers find meaning in the names themselves, and admit this one is hard:
The leader of Naphtali is Ahira, "brother of evil," the son of Enan, which seems to mean "eyed," or "having eyes." Perhaps this is the hardest of all these names to interpret. Could it be that in Ahira we find a man whose eyes have touched his heart, and made him a man of sorrows who feels the sorrow around him? We would expect such a spirit to find a voice among these leaders of Israel. So the "brother of evil" would become the "brother born for adversity" that Proverbs speaks of. This fits the character of that Naphtali, whose own name is a memorial of "struggling."
Each gift was laid on the altar, and the altar is what settles its worth:
Each leader on his day. Here again is the individual energy of the Spirit... Now they come near, and the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ.
Why would God want the same picture twelve times over? One writer answers with an everyday comparison:
We are to look at all these offerings as pictures of Christ. If we love a person deeply, we never grow tired of looking at pictures of the one we love. In the same way, God loves His Son, and He is glad to be reminded of Him by the pictures that each of the tribes presented.
- Altar — the altar gave the gift its worth, not the giver. God accepts our service because it stands with the one offering of Christ.
- Day — each leader had his own day and his own space on the page. God does not shrink a servant's name into a summary.
- Equal — all twelve gifts match. Rank and work differ; standing before God does not.
- Peace — the peace offering is the biggest item in the list. God wants communion with His people, not only sin dealt with.
- Delight — the repeating is not padding but pleasure. God never tires of hearing about His Son, and He records every small act of love.
This was the dedication-gift of the altar, on the day when it was anointed, from the princes of Israel twelve silver dishes, twelve silver bowls, twelve cups of gold
Twelve leaders of Israel brought gifts on twelve days. This verse adds them all up in one line. Why does God total gifts He has already listed one by one? And what did all that silver and gold mean?
The total is more than arithmetic. It presents the whole nation's giving as one act.
The princes of the people offer a free-will offering to Jehovah, for the service of the sanctuary and the dedication of the altar, one gift for each tribe. They all agreed together, and each offered the same... They were Israel's gifts in the limited but perfect unity of the twelve. None was missing from that ordered unity, and the whole of it stood complete before God that day.
The verse calls the whole sum a gift for the altar. Writers point to that altar to explain why the gift counted at all.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ... offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is identified with that one offering of Christ... When the altar is dedicated at last, the result is perfect: all twelve princes have offered freely. So when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
Another writer finds the same order in the Lord's own question about gift and altar:
The Lord asks in Matthew 23:19, "Which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred?" The gift speaks of the sacrifice Christ made at Calvary. The altar speaks of Christ in His own person. He Himself is greater than the wonderful work He has done.
The items counted here were not chosen at random, and none of them came empty.
When we see what the gifts mean, the repeated listing and the total at the end of the chapter no longer surprise us. Everything here speaks of Christ in one or another of His many aspects. There was one silver plate and a silver bowl. These suggest the redemption price (see Exodus 30). Both held fine flour for the grain offering. That reminds us how closely grasping Christ's person ties to the truth of redemption by His blood. The golden dish reminds us of our Lord's deity, and fittingly it holds the incense. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
The total is twelve of each item, so every tribe gave the same. One writer draws a lesson from that.
The repetition here may seem unnecessary to us. But God is wiser than we are. He has perfect reason for what He includes in His word, whether we understand it or not... At the least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal footing, and no one is to be preferred above another. Certainly this is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different functions. Yet all are of the same value in God's eyes, and God accepts all on the same basis.
Scripture gives the total and all twelve days of gifts as well. One writer sees God's own character in that detail.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. So we have this long chapter of eighty-nine verses. Each name shines out on its own. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing... He will go into detail that might seem tedious to us. He would rather do that than leave out one name of any of His servants, or one item of their work.
That care reaches past Israel to the smallest service given today:
The Holy Spirit wrote down these details and repetitions so that we may know one thing: Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons. That eye saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. The same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
- Altar first. The whole sum was "for the altar," and the altar speaks of Christ Himself. The altar gives every gift its value, not the giver's generosity.
- Gift second. Silver for the redemption price, fine flour for the grain offering, the golden dish with incense for His deity — the items counted here all speak of Christ.
- Each counted. God writes out every name, every item and every day instead of lumping them together.
- All equal. Twelve identical gifts mean no tribe ranks above another. Different gifts, different work — one standing before God.
- Nothing lost. The eye that watched the princes also saw the widow's two coins — the smallest service done to Him is on record.
each silver dish of a hundred and thirty [shekels], and each bowl seventy all the silver of the vessels was two thousand four hundred [shekels] according to the shekel of the sanctuary;
After twelve days of identical gifts, Scripture stops and adds up the silver, weighed by the sanctuary standard. Why would God spend a verse on arithmetic, and what does the weight of silver say about what was given?
One sentence could have covered all twelve days. God chose a chapter of eighty-nine verses instead.
Nothing would satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and values it properly. People may rush past gifts and offerings, or ignore them; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every small act of service, every small loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing. He does not forget it Himself, and He also takes special care that untold millions will read the record.
The meaning of the gifts explains both the repeated lists and the final total.
The gifts were the same for every prince, yet each one is described at length. When we see what the gifts mean, we are not surprised that they are listed again and again, or that the total is given at the close of the chapter. Everything here speaks of Christ in one or another of His many aspects.
The verse does not just give a number. It names the shekel behind the number.
The word comes from a root meaning to weigh, and perhaps first meant to balance. It is what gives a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have weighed more than the ordinary one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never varying, for "Unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the Lord" (Prov. 20:10). The shekel was divided into twenty gerahs, and half a shekel, or ten gerahs, was the ransom money for every man of Israel (Ex. 30:12).
Note: Ridout quotes an older translation of Proverbs 20:10; the ESV reads, "Unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the Lord."
The verse gives two weights because there were two vessels. Neither came empty.
The silver platter of 130 shekels (just over 4 pounds) and the silver bowl of 70 shekels (over 2 pounds) were filled with fine flour mixed with oil, as a grain or meal offering (v.13). The meal offering speaks of Christ in the pure details of His perfect humanity. The silver speaks of the value of His redemption, a work only the Man of absolute perfection could do. "Mixed with oil" reminds us that from His birth the Holy Spirit's presence beautifully filled the humanity of the Lord Jesus through and through.
Every plate weighed the same, and every basin weighed the same. The totals here are twelve times one gift.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing something vital: all stand on equal ground, and no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles, yet God values them all alike and accepts them all on the same basis.
The twelve days end in one dedication. Darby connects that finished offering with the Christian's own service.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the giving of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. When the altar is at last dedicated, the result is perfect: the twelve princes have all given willingly. In the same way, when the Church is presented to God, it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered.
- Standard — God weighs the silver by "the shekel of the sanctuary." That measure never varies, so it gives a true estimate of value — and half of that shekel was Israel's ransom money.
- Substance — The plate and the basin came full. The silver speaks of the value of redemption, and the fine flour mixed with oil speaks of the perfect humanity of Christ.
- Record — God will not pass over a gift. He records every name and every small act of service, and He makes sure millions read it.
- Equality — Twelve tribes, twelve days, one identical weight. No one is preferred above another: different gifts, one basis of acceptance.
- Sum — Add up the twelve days and the altar is dedicated: a perfect weight offered. Our own giving of ourselves is identified with the one offering of Christ.
twelve golden cups full of incense, each cup of ten [shekels], according to the shekel of the sanctuary all the gold of the cups, a hundred and twenty [shekels].
Twelve princes brought the same gifts on twelve days. The chapter ends by adding it all up, and this verse totals the small gold dishes — twelve of them, each holding incense and weighed by the sanctuary standard. Why would God spend a verse on the total weight of twelve little dishes, and what did their contents mean?
One writer notes how small each dish was, and what its gold and its contents picture:
The golden pan of ten shekels weighed only three ounces, and was full of incense. The gold speaks of the personal Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. In keeping with this, the incense stands for the fragrance of every detail of His beauty and glory, which always rises to God as a sweet scent.
The offering included several kinds of vessel, and one feature runs through them all:
They presented vessels — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty. They held fine flour mixed with oil as a meal offering, or incense. But whether for a meal offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. No doubt they did not know this, but it is our privilege to see it.
(Older translations call these gold dishes "spoons.")
One writer draws a test for the worshipper out of the gold paired with incense:
Each prince brought identical gifts, yet the record describes them at full length. Once we see the meaning of the gifts, the repeated listing does not surprise us, and neither does the total sum at the close of the chapter. All here speaks of Christ in some one of His many aspects... The golden spoon reminds us of our Lord's deity, and it is fitting that incense fills it. There can be no true worship of Christ that ignores His divinity.
Each dish weighed ten shekels by "the shekel of the sanctuary" — God's own weight. The same standard measured the holy spices, and one writer explains the word itself:
Weight determined the amount of the spices, and the unit was "the shekel of the sanctuary." The word comes from a root meaning to weigh... It is what forms a true estimate of the value of things. The shekel of the sanctuary, or sacred shekel, may have been heavier than the ordinary one... One thing we know: the shekel of the King of kings would be just and never changing. After all, "unequal weights and unequal measures are both alike an abomination to the LORD" (Proverbs 20:10).
The verse adds the twelve dishes into a single figure, 120 shekels. One writer sees a perfect whole in that finished total:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value... When the altar is finally dedicated, there is a perfect result — the twelve princes have willingly offered. So when the Church is presented to God it is, so to speak, a perfect weight offered; and so far as we are led by the Spirit, the result is perfect. But when flesh comes in, there is disorder.
Why does the chapter list these gifts twelve times over and then add them up again? One writer meets that objection head-on:
Only one thing could satisfy Him: the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe he represented, and of the offering he brought to the sanctuary of God... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record. How little those twelve princes imagined it! Their names and their offerings would pass down age after age, for countless generations to read.
- Weighed — the ten shekels answer to "the shekel of the sanctuary," God's own unchanging standard — the weight that "forms a true estimate of the value of things."
- Filled — not one vessel came empty. Every dish, bowl and charger carried something, and what it carried spoke of Christ.
- Gold — the metal points to the Godhead glory of the Lord Jesus. The incense inside points to the fragrance of His beauty rising to God. Worship that leaves out His deity is not true worship of Him.
- Totalled — the twelve separate gifts add up to one sum, 120 shekels. One writer sees in that finished total the whole people — and the Church — presented to God as one perfect weight.
- Remembered — God would not compress twelve days into one line. He records every small gift by name, and takes care that generations should read it.
All the cattle for the burnt-offering was twelve bullocks, twelve rams, twelve yearling lambs and their oblation; and twelve bucks of the goats for a sin-offering.
This verse adds nothing new. It is God's total at the end of twelve days of giving. It counts what the tribal leaders brought to dedicate the altar. Why does God add up a list He has already written out twelve times over? And what do these animals picture?
Everything in this total depends on where the gifts were placed. One writer points to the altar, not the giver.
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." Our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is identified with this one offering of Christ. What we bring to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a fragrance of a sweet smell to God. When the altar is at last dedicated, there is a perfect result: the twelve princes have willingly offered.
The three burnt offering animals are not interchangeable. Each one pictures something different.
A burnt offering then consisted of three animals, one young bull, one ram and one male lamb (v.15). They speak of the great value the sacrifice of Christ has in itself, as that which glorifies God for eternity. The bull emphasizes the strength of that sacrifice; the ram, its devotion; and the male lamb, its submission.
The proportions matter. Each prince brought three animals for the burnt offering, but only one goat for the sin offering.
The sin offering is present, but a single kid shows, we may say, the comparatively smaller place it holds in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away. But the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full number of the peace offering, with its two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
Another writer reads the same goat as a picture of substitution.
Only one kid of the goats was given as a sin offering (v.16). The goat emphasizes the substitutionary character of the sacrifice of Christ, for as the sin offering He took our place in suffering and death.
Twelve men brought the same offering on twelve separate days. The total multiplies one man's gift by twelve. One writer sees God levelling the tribes by that sameness.
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At least, God is emphasizing the deeply important fact that all are on an equal footing: no one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the assembly, the church of God today. Different people have distinct gifts or distinct functions, yet all are of the same value in the eyes of God, all accepted on the same basis.
One writer looks at the vessels and the grain offering counted in this verse, and at what the givers did not yet see.
Vessels were presented — chargers, bowls, spoons — but none of them were empty; they contained fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, or incense. But whether for a grain offering or for burnt or sin offering, all that they presented spoke in some way of Christ. Doubtless they did not know this, but it is our privilege to discern it.
A few lines of summary would satisfy most writers. It did not satisfy God.
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe which he represented, and of the offering which he made to the sanctuary of God... Man may pass hastily or carelessly over gifts and offerings; but God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing; and not only does He not forget it Himself, but He takes special pains that untold millions shall read the record.
The same eye that added up these animals, another writer observes, is still watching.
The Holy Spirit wrote down the details of the offerings and the repetitions, so that we may know that Jehovah takes notice of the devotion and sacrifice of His people. He keeps a record of it all. The same eye that followed the princes as they came to the tabernacle with their wagons saw the two small coins the poor widow put into the treasury. That same eye sees us. He will not forget the least service rendered to Him.
- Altar first. The gift did not make the altar holy. The altar gave the gift its value, and our own dedication is identified with Christ's one offering.
- Value counted. Bull, ram and lamb each add a note — strength, devotion, submission — all glorifying God for eternity.
- Sin in proportion. One goat against three burnt offering animals. Sin is truly put away, yet the devotion of Christ outshines that effect of His death.
- All alike. Twelve identical gifts on twelve days: no tribe ranked above another. Different function, equal acceptance.
- Nothing lost. God counted every animal because He forgets no small service. The eye that watched the princes' wagons also saw the widow's two coins.
And all the cattle for the sacrifice of the peace-offering was twenty-four bullocks, sixty rams, sixty he-goats, sixty yearling lambs. This was the dedication-gift of the altar, after it had been anointed.
Twelve leaders brought twelve identical gifts on twelve days. This verse adds up the peace offering animals and names what the whole thing was for: the dedication of the altar. Why does Scripture spend eighty-nine verses on twelve days of the same gift, and then total it all again at the end?
God keeps records differently from us. One writer points to the sheer length of this chapter as proof:
Nothing could satisfy Him but the fullest and most detailed account of each man's name, of the tribe which he represented, and of the offering which he made to the sanctuary of God. That is why this chapter runs to eighty-nine verses. Each name stands out on its own. He describes each offering in detail and gives it its proper value. People may rush past gifts and offerings, or not care about them. God never can, never does, and never will. He delights to record every little act of service, every little loving gift. He never forgets the smallest thing.
Each leader brought what his neighbour brought. The total is that sameness multiplied by twelve:
The tribal leaders gave them freely, so they carry special weight. They show the spirit that moved the people, the agreement among them, and the equal place they have before God. Their different places in the camp, and in relation to one another, do not affect this. This long chapter stresses it. The chapter is full of repetitions that may seem tedious. But they show that God's love values every response of man's heart to it just as much, wherever He finds it. Each prince has his day. Each offering has its record. God leaves nothing out and rushes past nothing.
Another writer carries the same equality into the present day:
Each tribe offered on a different day, but each one the same. At the very least, God is stressing a vital fact: all stand on equal ground. No one is to be preferred above another. This is just as true in the church of God today. Different people have different gifts or different roles, yet all have the same value in the eyes of God, and God accepts all on the same basis.
Look at the proportions in the total. The animals for burnt offering and the goats for sin offering are few. The peace offering animals run to sixties — two oxen and five of each other kind from every leader. One writer finds meaning in that balance:
The burnt offering of one bullock, one ram, one lamb, speak of the perfection of the one offering of Himself to God in death. The sin offering is there, but a single young goat shows, we may say, that it holds a lower place than the rest in God's thoughts of Christ. Sin is truly put away. Yet the devotion of Christ far outshines this effect of His death. And in the full set of peace offering animals, with its numbers two and five, we see how God longs for communion with His people.
The total was a dedication offering for the altar. That one detail decides what the gifts were worth:
Now they come near; the gift is dedicated on the altar. It is the altar that gives the offering its value. "Christ, through the eternal Spirit, offered Himself without blemish to God." So our outward service, the dedication of our lives, is joined with this one offering of Christ. Whatever is brought to God in this way, done in faith, offered to God Himself, is a pleasing aroma to God. When the altar is finally dedicated, there is a perfect result: the twelve princes have willingly offered.
No law in the chapter ordered these gifts. The word used for the men who brought them carries the idea itself:
This book shows us service. Service is not just doing certain things. It is a willing offering up of oneself — a living sacrifice. The word for prince in verse 2 of our chapter means generosity. "My people shall be willing." "Willing" and "generous" are the same word. First the Lord recognizes and owns them, and then the generosity comes. Grace wrought it in them, and God calls it their own voluntary will.
The line quoted follows an older translation; the ESV reads, "your people will offer themselves freely."
The accounting is not the end of the story. One writer notes what God did once the gifts were in:
Once the offerings had been presented, Jehovah showed His approval and His joy. He spoke to Moses out loud, from between the Cherubim.
- Willing — no law ordered these gifts. Grace produced them, and God called the generosity the givers' own.
- Altar — their size did not make them acceptable. The altar did, and the altar points to the one offering of Christ.
- Equal — twelve identical gifts on twelve days. No tribe ranked above another, and no believer does either.
- Counted — God records every name and every item, even where it reads as repetition. He forgets no small act of service.
- Answered — when the last total was in, God spoke from between the Cherubim. Willing gifts, brought to the altar, end in communion.
And when Moses went into the tent of meeting to speak with Him, then he heard the voice speaking to him from off the mercy-seat which was upon the ark of testimony, from between the two cherubim; and he spoke to Him.
Numbers 7 spends eighty-eight verses on the gifts the tribal leaders brought at the dedication of the tabernacle, the tent of meeting. Then one sentence closes the chapter: Moses steps inside and hears God. The last verse answers a question the whole chapter raises: once a people has given to God, what does God do next?
Verse 89 closes a whole section. The gifts of the twelve tribes lead straight into the way God now speaks to His people.
Here ends this part of the book. The camp is arranged according to God's order, and He places it under His blessing. Then the leaders of the people offer a free-will offering to Jehovah. It is for the service of the sanctuary and the dedication of the altar, according to the number of the tribes... Then we have the form of the communications of Jehovah to Moses to instruct him in the way. We see that it is in the tabernacle from between the cherubim. It is not now a law to the people from Sinai, a covenant, but the regulation of a people in connection with God.
The verse marks a difference between where Moses met God and where the nation did.
When Moses entered the tabernacle he heard "the voice speaking to him from above the mercy seat that was on the ark of the testimony, from between the two cherubim." He had access to the mercy seat and received his directions from there. The people's place of approach was the bronze altar.
The mercy seat was the gold lid over the ark, and the ark held the tablets of the law. Where God speaks from shapes what He says.
Here Jehovah gives voice to His gracious intention of coming down from the fiery mountain to take His place on the mercy seat. He could do this because the tables of the testimony lay unbroken beneath. The symbols of His power, whether in creation or in providence, rose on the right hand and on the left... From here He issued His commands. The gracious source they came from, and the medium they came through, softened and sweetened them. They are like the beams of the midday sun passing through a cloud: we can enjoy their warm and reviving light without the brightness dazzling us. "His commandments are not burdensome" when we receive them from the mercy seat. They come joined with grace, and grace gives the ears to hear and the power to obey.
Moses went in as mediator, standing for the people before God. What he could do there, Aaron the high priest could not.
Moses as the mediator had access to God in a way Aaron had not. He could enter God's presence with no sacrifice offered and no incense burnt (Num. 7:89). His position was unique, and it foreshadowed the position of Christ. He was as mediator identified with the people. He could intercede for them. He was accepted, and they were accepted. And He could enter God's presence and be at home there, with no sacrifice offered first.
Moses did not go in for himself alone. What he heard inside was for the people outside.
Why did Moses go in to commune with God? It was to receive these divine communications to pass them on to the people. He received them in the immediate presence of God — inside the veil, at the throne of God, from between the two cherubim. There the voice of God spoke out loud the instructions He wanted Moses to pass on to His people. Here again we have a beautiful picture of our Lord Jesus Christ. Through Him, as we read in Hebrews 1, the voice of God has reached us. He is greater than Moses, for through this wonderful Person God has spoken to us in His Son.
An Israelite knew of the mercy seat, but not as a place he could walk up to. Faith looks at it differently.
The Israelite was familiar with the thought of the throne of God. He also knew the mercy seat, with the cherubim of glory spread over it. But it seemed strange to him that this mercy seat could be a place of free access for him... Faith's thought is that through Christ we can draw near with boldness to a throne of grace... For us it has become the throne of grace because of Christ's finished work, and the sprinkled blood which shows God's acceptance of the Sacrifice.
- Giving first. Twelve days of offerings end with God speaking from the tent.
- Then speaking. The voice comes from inside the tent, not from the fiery mountain. It is not law from Sinai, but guidance for a people already in relationship with God.
- From the mercy seat. The commands come from the gold lid that covers the law. They reach Moses softened by grace, not blazing with judgment.
- Through a mediator. Moses enters where Aaron could not, and with no sacrifice offered. He pictures Christ, who is at home in God's presence and brings God's voice to us.
- Now open. What one man heard behind a curtain has become a throne of grace that faith draws near to with boldness.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses saying,
The verse is a single line: the LORD speaks to Moses. It follows Moses hearing the voice from the mercy seat. Before any word about setting the Levites apart for service, God speaks about light.
Moses' visits inside the tent had a purpose beyond himself.
In the end of Numbers 7 and the beginning of Numbers 8, two things stand out: the voice and the light. Why did Moses go in to commune with God? It was to receive these divine communications and pass them on to the people. He received them in the immediate presence of God, inside the veil and from the throne of God, between the two cherubim. There the voice of God gave him, out loud, the instructions He wanted passed on to His people. Here again we have a beautiful picture of our Lord Jesus Christ, through Whom, as we read in Hebrews 1, the voice of God has reached us. He is greater than Moses indeed, for through this wonderful Person God has spoken in the Son.
Of all the tabernacle furniture, this chapter names only one piece.
It is remarkable that the lampstand is the only part of the furniture of the tabernacle brought in at this place. We have nothing about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table. The lampstand alone is before us. It is not in its covering of blue and goatskins, as in chapter 4, where it, like all the rest, wears its travelling dress. Here we see it lit, not covered. It comes in between the offerings of the princes and the consecration of the Levites... It is only in the light of the sanctuary that the true worth of anything or anyone can be seen.
The lamps threw their light back onto the stand itself. Commentators read this two ways. One takes the lampstand as the vessel of testimony in the world:
The lampstand represents the Church holding up the light by the power of the Spirit — "holding forth the word of life." ... The light showed up the lampstand, as well as everything else. So it should be now with the Church; the light should not only shine from it, but on it, showing what it is in the mind of God.
Others take the lampstand as a picture of Christ risen, and the light as the Spirit:
The lights — the Holy Spirit — were to give light in front of the lampstand — the perfections of Christ risen. In other words, the one distinct work of the Spirit is to display the perfections and glories of Christ.
(The older translation reads "over against the candlestick.")
The command goes to Aaron, not to the Levites whose consecration fills the rest of the chapter.
In Numbers 8, after the order about the lights, we have some final words put in a very particular way: the priesthood alone keeps up the lights. It is not Levite service, but the link with Christ in the sanctuary in the presence of God, on which they depend. This really, though in secret, keeps up the true light of testimony.
The words of the command carry their own lesson.
There is a footnote by J.N.D. in the New Translation. It says the phrase "light the lamps" really means "caused to ascend." The same term appears for the burnt offering and for the incense on the golden altar. In each case it is "caused to ascend," and it conveys the thought that the work is first of all for the pleasure of God. Let us keep that before us in our service for God... it will deliver us from serving only for others to see.
So who was this light for?
This was not a light for the hosts of Israel to see, for the first veil hid it from those outside. It was for the eye of Jehovah in the first place, but also for those who had the privilege of serving inside the holy place.
Verse 3 answers verse 1 with three words: "Aaron did so."
Be assured of this: it is useless to talk about response if we are not obedient to the voice of God. Someone has said, "That which is light becomes law to us," and that is very true. If we do not answer to the light God gives us, we shall not receive more.
- Voice. God speaks from the mercy seat first. Every instruction here starts as something heard, not invented.
- Light. His first word concerns light. The lampstand alone stands uncovered and burning, between the princes' gifts and the Levites' service.
- Object. The lamps shine back on the stand itself. Commentators differ: some see Christ risen there, others the Church as testimony. Both agree the Spirit's light displays it.
- Hands. Priests, not Levites, keep the lamps lit. Service outside depends on a link with Christ in the sanctuary.
- Response. The lamps "ascend" for God's eye first, and Aaron did so: light received becomes light obeyed — or God gives no more.
Speak unto Aaron, and say unto him, When thou lightest the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light over against the candlestick.
Numbers 8 opens with a message from God to Moses for Aaron. It is about the seven lamps on the golden lampstand, and where their light was to fall. The command is short, but it raises two questions. Why does light come up at this point in the book? And what were the lamps meant to light up?
Only the lampstand appears at this point in the book, and it appears uncovered.
It is striking that the lampstand is the only piece of tabernacle furniture brought in at this point. We have nothing about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table. The lampstand alone is before us. And it is not wrapped in its covering of blue and badger skins, as in chapter 4, where it, like everything else, is dressed for travel. Here it stands lit, not covered. It comes in between the offerings of the princes and the consecration of the Levites, and gives out its mysterious light as the Lord commanded. In the wilderness you cannot do without light.
The chapters on either side show two ways of serving God: by what His people give, and by what they do. The lamps stand between them.
Numbers 7 has shown us that God's people may serve Him with their offerings, and that God notices each offering one by one… Next, God's people may serve Him by what they do. We see this in the Levites in Numbers 8. But God will weigh it all in the light of the sanctuary, that is, the light of the Holy Spirit. And remember, the light of the Spirit is to shine through us, His people.
Older translations read "when you light the lamps." One writer looks at what that word actually means.
A footnote by J. N. Darby in the New Translation says that the phrase "when you light the lamps" really means "caused to ascend." The same word is used of the burnt offering and of the incense on the golden altar. In each case it is "caused to ascend." The thought is that the work is done first of all for the pleasure of God. Let us keep that before us in our service for God. Cause it to ascend, seeking God's pleasure first. Nothing else shapes service like this, and it saves us from serving only for others to see.
Inside the holy place, no outsider ever saw that glow.
Those outside never saw the light of the lamps fall on the varied features of the lampstand. The lamps did not shine to attract Israel or any nearby nation. They did not shine to light anyone's path through the darkness of the world. The priests serving inside did walk in that light, but the aim of the shining was God Himself.
The lamps threw their light back onto the lampstand itself. Commentators differ on what that lampstand pictures. For some it is the risen Christ.
The lights — the Holy Spirit — were to give light in front of the lampstand — the perfections of Christ risen. In other words, the one distinct work of the Spirit is to show the perfections and glories of Christ.
Others read the lampstand as the Church, lit up so that everyone can see what God means it to be.
The lampstand represents the Church by the power of the Spirit holding up the light — "holding forth the word of life."… The light showed the lampstand, as well as everything else. So should it be now with the Church; not only should the light shine from it, but on it, showing what it is in the mind of God.
The way the lamps burned says something about how God's servants work alongside one another.
There were seven lamps (seven conveys the idea of perfection or completeness) but there was only one light, not seven lights. If our service for God is right, it will not clash with the service of others. It will blend with theirs into one united service in the light of the holy place.
Aaron did not only start the lamps; he also cared for them through the night.
The finest proof of true spiritual work is that it exalts Christ. If attention is sought for the work or the workman, the light has grown dim, and the one who serves in the sanctuary must trim the wick. It was Aaron's job to light the lamps, and he was also the one who trimmed them… The golden shaft held up the lamps. The priest's hand supplied the oil and trimmed the wicks. It is all in Christ, from Christ, and by Christ.
- Placed — Only the lampstand appears here, uncovered and burning. It stands between the gifts of chapter 7 and the Levites of chapter 8.
- Weighed — God weighs both what His people give and what they do in the light of the sanctuary.
- Ascending — The word for lighting the lamps means "caused to ascend." Serve for God's pleasure first, not for anyone else's eye.
- Focused — The light shines back onto the lampstand. Commentators read that lampstand either as the risen Christ, whose glories the Spirit displays, or as the Church, seen as God means it to be.
- Sustained — Seven lamps gave one light, and the same priest who lit them supplied the oil and trimmed the wicks.
And Aaron did so; he lighted the lamps thereof over against the candlestick, as Jehovah had commanded Moses.
Aaron lights the lamps of the golden lampstand, doing just what God told him through Moses. The scene is small, but its position matters: light must shine in the wilderness before God says another word about who may serve Him.
Why does the lampstand appear at this point, between a chapter about gifts and a chapter about workers?
It is striking that the lampstand is the only piece of the tabernacle's furniture brought in at this point. We hear nothing about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table… Here we see it lit, not covered. It comes in between the offerings of the princes and the consecration of the Levites. It sheds out its mysterious light, just as the Lord commanded. We cannot do without light in the wilderness. So the golden lampstand must be stripped of its covering and allowed to shine as a testimony for God… Only the light of the sanctuary shows the true worth of anything or anyone.
The ESV says the lamps shine "in front of the lampstand." Older translations read "over against" it, and one writer draws out that older wording.
The term here translated "over against" is unusual, and carries the thought of lighting up the lampstand itself, illuminating it. This is quite different from shining on the bread of the Presence, and it is an extra idea. It is the light displaying to believers the beauty of the vessel itself — God fully revealed in Christ.
Another writer reads the lampstand itself as a picture of Christ, and the oil as the Holy Spirit:
The lampstand is the type of Christ as in the sanctuary, that is, Christ in glory… The oil in the seven lamps represents the Holy Spirit. Applied spiritually, we have here the picture of the Spirit of God shedding light on Christ. This is why He is given to His people, to glorify Christ. And this is the great need of God's people on their journey through the wilderness. The eyes of the pilgrim and stranger, passing through the wilderness, must be fixed on Christ in glory.
Oil does two jobs here, and the number of lamps matters too.
As the anointing oil it points to power, but in the lamps it points to light in the holy place. We need both of these in our service for God. Light without power would leave us helpless to answer the light. Power without light would leave us confused, not knowing what to do. But power with light lets us serve our God with understanding… There were seven lamps (seven carries the idea of perfection or completeness) but there was only one light, not seven lights. If our service for God is right it will not clash with others. It will blend with theirs in one united service in the light of the holy place.
The verse records no discussion and no delay. One writer ties that obedience to real progress in the things of God, and then traces the steps behind it.
It is useless talking about response if we are not obedient to the voice of God. Someone has said, "That which is light becomes law to us," and that is very true. If we do not answer the light God gives us, we shall not receive more… The message became a command to him, and he obeyed God and did what God commanded. This is the path of true progress.
What begins as a message from God (verse 1) becomes a command (verse 3), and leads to illumination (verse 4) — light in our souls.
If the light falls on the stand and not on itself, service has a test built into it.
The very finest evidence of true spiritual work is that it tends directly to exalt Christ. If attention is sought for the work or the workman, the light has grown dim, and the minister of the sanctuary must use the snuffers. It was Aaron's job to light the lamps, and he was the one who trimmed them too. In other words, the light we as Christians are responsible to give is not only founded on Christ but kept burning by Him, moment by moment, all night long. Apart from Him we can do nothing.
The test covers both what God's people give and what they do:
Numbers 7 has shown us that God may be served by the offerings of His people… Then, God may be served by the activities of His people. This is seen in the Levites, as recorded in Numbers 8. But all will be measured by God in the light of the sanctuary; that is, the light of the Holy Spirit.
- Spoken. God's word came first; Aaron lit nothing until Moses brought him the command.
- Obeyed. Light received becomes law; refuse to act on the light you have, and you receive no more.
- Aimed. The lamps shine back on the lampstand — the Spirit's one business is to display Christ, not the lamp.
- United. Seven lamps, one light: real service blends with others rather than competing.
- Measured. That sanctuary light weighs both what we give and what we do; work that draws eyes to the worker has already dimmed.
And this was the work of the candlestick [it was] of beaten gold; from its base to its flowers was it beaten work; according to the form which Jehovah had shewn Moses, so had he made the candlestick.
Israel worshipped at a tent in the wilderness, and inside it stood a gold lampstand. Numbers 8 stops to say how that lampstand was made — so why does this one piece of furniture appear here, and why does its making matter?
One writer begins with what is missing from this passage, and with where the lampstand sits in it.
We have nothing about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table. The lampstand alone is before us, and not in its covering of blue and badgers' skins. In chapter 4 we see it, like all the rest, in its travelling dress. Here we see it lighted, not covered. It comes in between the offerings of the leaders and the consecration of the Levites, and sheds forth its light according to the commandment of the Lord. We cannot do without light in the wilderness, so the golden lampstand must be stripped of its covering and allowed to shine in testimony for God. Never forget: that is the great object of everything. It may be the offering of our goods, as with the leaders, or the dedication of our persons, as with the Levites. It is only in the light of the sanctuary that the true worth of anything or anyone can be seen.
One writer weighs what the lampstand is not made of.
Verse 4 reminds us that the workmanship of the lampstand was all of hammered gold, made of one piece. There was no acacia wood in it at all. The lampstand does not symbolize the humanity of the Lord Jesus in any way, but His glory as the eternal God. Life is completely divine, and so is light, showing the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. We need that light for our whole path on earth.
Commentators differ on what the lampstand pictures. Another writer reads the same missing wood differently:
The lampstand was of pure gold, which is a symbol of Deity. No acacia wood — a picture of humanity — goes into the making of the lampstand. So it is not a picture of the Son of God, who alone of the persons of the Deity became man. We have no difficulty in seeing that it pictures God the Holy Spirit.
Older translations call this hammering "beaten work". One writer hears in it what it cost to give us light.
Again and again we are told that the lampstand was of "beaten work". It was not cast, but hammered out... Is this not significant? The True Vine would have fruit-bearing branches. The True Lampstand would have light-bearing branches. The True Grain of Wheat would not stay alone, but bear much fruit. For that there must of necessity be "the sufferings of Christ", and that "beaten work" surely suggests them. Because He died, we live; because He went through the darkness of Calvary, we are now "children of light". Had He not died, the blackness of darkness must have been our portion. But the Lamb has died, and both life and light are ours through His death.
One writer finds two processes behind a lampstand of pure gold, beaten into shape.
The crucible is some severe, sharp, short trial — it separates. Its object is to make a vessel of pure gold. It does not add to it or take from it... We are gold, and we are put into the crucible to separate us from the dross... The hammer is slow, sure, and it forms... We are not fit to be light-bearers for God if we shrink from the crucible and hammer. If we really want to be light-bearers for Him, we will welcome the crucible because it separates, and the hammer because it forms.
The verse ends with the pattern God showed Moses. One writer says what that shuts out.
This left nothing to the natural mind of Moses... Blessed be God, He has left nothing to the mind of fallen man. He has revealed everything fully in His Word — no longer a "pattern," but Him who is His very image. The "pattern" will be full of Him in its smallest details.
One writer follows the word "showed" and the three steps behind it.
In this word "showed" we have the thought of "illumination," and this is the main thought connected with the light... What begins as a divine communication (verse 1) becomes a command (verse 3), and leads to illumination (verse 4), light in our souls. In its application, first we hear what God has to say to us. Then through grace we answer to it, and so we grow in the knowledge of God.
- Pattern. Nothing about the lampstand came from human imagination. Moses followed what God showed him, leaving nothing to the natural mind.
- Pure. Gold alone, with no wood — because light, like life, is entirely divine in its source.
- Beaten. Hammered, not cast — writers see in that the sufferings of Christ, through which light came to us.
- Placed. The lamp stands between the leaders' gifts and the Levites' consecration. Only the light of the sanctuary shows the true worth of either.
- Shining. God speaks, grace answers, and light grows in the soul.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Take the Levites from among the children of Israel, and cleanse them.
God's first order about the tribe of Levi is not about work. It is about washing. Two questions sit inside that short command. Why lift one tribe out from the rest of Israel? And why do men God has already chosen still need cleansing before they serve Him?
The Levites did the practical work of the tabernacle, God's tent among Israel. Aaron's family served as priests. Commentators read the two groups as two sides of one Christian life.
If Aaron and his sons represent the Church as a holy priesthood, offering up spiritual sacrifices that are acceptable to God by Jesus Christ, the Levites are a picture of the saints, set apart to God for His will and His service… Some prize above all else the privilege of being in God's presence as worshippers. Others count it the highest favour that God lets them serve. But the perfection of the Christian life lies in joining the two together… The one who most enjoys his priestly privilege will be the best qualified for his Master's service.
The Levites were not volunteers. God had already taken them in place of Israel's firstborn sons. Those were the sons He spared when judgment fell on Egypt. That earlier claim stands behind the command to take them now.
Jehovah took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for Israel's firstborn, the sons He spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. Blood had redeemed them, and He counted them as belonging to Him in a marked way… So the Levites were tied to mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them so much the better for the service of the sanctuary. Who can dare to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry…
The order to cleanse assumes something is wrong. Commentators find the trouble in Levi's own nature.
Looking at Levi by nature, we could see that his character was such that God would have no fellowship with him at all… But God will not leave him there. So God must Himself provide the remedy. God Himself must cleanse this self-willed, cruel and fierce man… Man's sin must always be brought into the presence of God's grace.
The cleansing that follows uses water, not blood. Commentators give a reason for that.
There is no mention of sprinkling with blood, as there was with the leper. The Levites already stand on the ground of redemption, and so in a recognised relationship with God. The question here is purification, not expiation, and so it is cleansing with water… In the full Christian sense, water means death. Washing here means applying death to all that we are as children of Adam, so that everything contrary to God is put out of the way… The blood has expiated our guilt. The water has cleansed us from our sinful condition by bringing it to an end in the cross of Christ.
The cleansing had two hands in it:
Moses first sprinkled the purifying water on them, but the Levites did the rest themselves: let them shave, let them wash, let them make themselves clean… Our first right desires after God began when the Spirit had done that work in our souls for us. Then a work done by us was to follow, as we see plainly in this picture. To shave all our flesh means, in New Testament language, cleansing ourselves from all defilement of the flesh (2 Cor. 7:1). To wash our clothes means separation from the circles we once moved in before the grace of God reached us.
Commentators turn this onto anyone who works for God today. The warning is about motive.
Self-will can never serve God; no, we must set it aside if we would know what true service is. Sadly, much of what passes for service would prove to be only the fruit of a restless will, if we judged it in the light of God's presence… The heart is so deceitful that we may imagine we are doing the Lord's work, when in reality we are only pleasing ourselves.
- Claimed — God's right to the Levites rested on redemption. They stood in place of the firstborn God spared in Egypt through blood. Salvation comes before service.
- Cleansed — The washing used water, not blood. These people already stood in relationship with God, so the need was purification, not expiation.
- Shared — Moses sprinkled the water, but the Levites shaved and washed themselves. The Spirit works in us first, and then we work.
- Shaved — Levi's own nature was cruel and fierce. Shaving means cleansing ourselves from the defilement of the flesh, because self-will can never serve God.
- Sent — Only then could they serve. Commentators read the Levites as a picture of every believer set apart for God's work. Nearness to God and practical service belong together.
And thus shalt thou do unto them, to cleanse them sprinkle upon them water of purification from sin; and they shall pass the razor over all their flesh, and shall wash their garments, and make themselves clean.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And they shall take a young bullock and its oblation of fine flour mingled with oil; and another young bullock shalt thou take for a sin-offering.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And thou shalt bring the Levites before the tent of meeting; and thou shalt gather together the whole assembly of the children of Israel.
Israel is camped at Sinai. The Levites are the tribe set apart to work at the tabernacle, God's tent among His people. Before they can do a single duty there, God calls the whole nation together to watch. Why must this happen in full public view? And what does one tribe's service have to do with everyone else?
The Levites did not design their own setting apart. Every step of it — the washing, the shaving, the offerings, the place — came by God's command.
We now turn the reader's attention to a very interesting ceremony. It took place in the wilderness of Sinai, in front of the whole congregation. It was the setting apart of the Levites by the rite God laid down, for the duties they were to perform. As with the priests, so with the Levites, it was for God to say how that should be done. He alone knows what is needed for those He will employ in His service.
God does not only tell Moses to bring the Levites forward. He tells him to gather the whole nation to watch.
All of this was done in the most public way. First came washing and shaving. They were sprinkled with the water of purifying, and the hair of their body was shaved off. Their clothes were washed too, and in this way they made themselves clean. The need to be purified by water declared that in themselves they were not pure. The shaving of all their hair meant giving up every thought of serving God in their natural strength.
To stand at the tent of meeting is to stand in God's presence. No one stands there on his own footing. The sacrifices of the previous verse make that approach possible.
They were called, or marked out, for their special place. They were presented before the Lord as the offering of Israel. They also had to stand before Him in the value of the sacrifices they were told to bring. This teaches very plainly that no one can render true service without the sense of acceptance in Christ… There was no peace offering, as people have often noticed, because it was a question of service, and not of communion.
The crowd is not an audience. In the next verse they lay their hands on the Levites. That act joins them to what the Levites will do.
Then the Levites had to present their offerings. The whole congregation of the people had already identified themselves with them by laying on hands. The force of this act is shown here. By it the people identified themselves with the service, so that they were regarded as serving their God in the service of the Levites.
The same act settled an older claim. God had a right to every firstborn son in Israel.
By laying their hands on the Levites, the people owned that they were identified with them. From now on the Levites were to stand in the place of their firstborn males and do the Lord's work. So the people fully owned God's rightful claim on their firstborn. They also owned His way of redeeming their children from a service He could justly have demanded.
The Levites already belonged to the Lord. Yet He arranges to receive them back from the hands of Israel.
The Levites were chosen out of Israel for the service of the tabernacle. Yet the whole congregation was identified with them, as the laying on of their hands showed. What is more, Aaron presented the Levites to the Lord as the gift of the children of Israel. They belonged to the Lord already. He claimed them because He had delivered them from Egypt through judgment. Still He would receive them as the gift of His people, so that His people might be represented before Him in all the service of the Levites.
One writer links this ceremony to a line in the New Testament about the church.
The laying on of hands identified the person who did it with the victim… Romans 15:16 points back to this consecration of the Levites. It sees the church as offered to God in this way from among the Gentiles. The Israelites also laid their hands on the Levites. So the whole people were, in a sense, identified with them in this consecration, as an offering made by them to the Lord. In this way the Levites represented them before Him.
- Called — God decides how His servants are prepared, not the servant. He marked out the Levites Himself.
- Cleansed — the washing said they were not pure in themselves. The shaving said they must give up serving God in their natural strength.
- Covered — at the tent of meeting they stood in the value of the sacrifices they brought. No one can serve truly without the sense of acceptance in Christ.
- Connected — the whole congregation laid hands on them. So Israel was counted as serving God in the Levites' service.
- Committed — God claimed them as His own, yet received them back as the gift of His people.
And thou shalt bring the Levites before Jehovah; and the children of Israel shall put their hands upon the Levites.
This verse sits inside the ceremony that set the Levites apart for the tabernacle. Moses brings them out in front of the whole assembly, and the people lay their hands on them. The gesture looks simple. Yet it raises the question of the chapter: what does that hand on the head say, and why must the whole nation share in setting one tribe apart?
The same act appears in the sacrifices, and it always carries one sense. The man who lays on his hand joins himself to the one he touches.
The children of Levi belonged to the Lord as His redeemed. He saved them when He judged sin, and they were themselves offered as an offering to the Lord. Laying on hands joined the man who did it to the victim. If it was an offering for sin, the offering was identified with the sinner in his sin. If it was a burnt offering, the offerer was identified with the value of the victim's consecration to God's glory in the matter of sin. Romans 15:16 points back to this consecration of the Levites, and sees the church offered to God in the same way from among the Gentiles. The Israelites laid their hands on the Levites too. So the whole people were, in a sense, identified with them in this consecration, as an offering they made to the Lord. In this way the Levites represented them before Him.
The gesture is not unique to this ceremony:
It is the same Hebrew word for "lay" as in Deuteronomy 34:9, where Moses laid his hands on Joshua; and as in Numbers 8:10, where the Israelites laid their hands on the Levites, expressing fellowship or identity for special service in each case.
The Levites did not serve on their own account. Their work counted as the whole nation's work.
The whole congregation of the people identified themselves with the Levites by laying on hands. This rite shows its force here. By it the people identified themselves with the service, so that they counted as serving their God in the service of the Levites.
It also shows what God's workers look like:
The act of laying on hands expressed identification. So the Levites give us a distinct view of the people of God in the wilderness. They present them to us as a company of earnest workers — and note, not as casual labourers running here and there, each doing what seemed right in his own eyes. Nothing of the sort.
The hands also sealed an exchange. God had claimed every firstborn son in Israel, and He took the Levites instead.
By laying their hands on the Levites, the people owned that they were one with them. From now on the Levites would stand in the place of their firstborn sons to do the Lord's work. They fully owned God's rightful claim on their firstborn. They also acknowledged His way of redeeming their children from a service He could rightly have demanded.
The Levites already belonged to God. Yet He let the people hand them over as their own gift.
This is very beautiful, and also a striking display of God's grace. God chose the Levites out of Israel for the service of the tabernacle. Yet the whole congregation was identified with them, as their laying on of hands showed. And Aaron presented the Levites to the Lord as the gift of the children of Israel. They belonged to the Lord, who claimed them because He had delivered them from Egypt through judgment. Still He will receive them as the gift of His people, so that His people stand represented before Him in all the service of the Levites.
Israel lost a tribe and gained by it:
How happy we are when we fully recognise the rights of the Lord, and at the same time find our own portion so much the better. We are not poorer because a thing is the Lord's. We are so much the richer, because His things are ours.
The order in the chapter matters. They are given to God first, and set to work after.
In verses 10 and 11 the Levites come before the Lord and are offered to Him, so that they may serve Him. All this happens under the direction of priestly communion. God first brings the whole Church to Himself, and then sets it in service under spiritual priestly direction... No service is intelligent or reasonable unless it springs from priestly communion with the Lord. An intention to obey is not enough on its own. It is communion which gives power and intelligence in service.
- Identified — hands laid on a head join the two. Here the nation joins itself to the tribe that will serve for it.
- Exchanged — God claimed every firstborn son. The people owned that claim, and took His way of redeeming their sons through the Levites.
- Given — God received what was already His as the people's own gift. So the whole nation stood represented in the Levites' work.
- Enriched — giving a tribe to the Lord left Israel richer, because what is His becomes theirs.
- Ordered — given to God first, then put to work. Service that does not begin in communion with Him is not real service.
And Aaron shall offer the Levites as a wave-offering before Jehovah from the children of Israel, and they shall perform the service of Jehovah.
Numbers 8 records the day God set the tribe of Levi apart. In verse 11 the ceremony reaches its point: Aaron presents them to God as a wave offering brought by the people. Why were living men handled like a sacrifice, and what does that say about anyone God calls into His service?
The word "wave" describes a gesture of presentation. One writer traces the order of the ceremony and its meaning:
The Levites were given to Aaron and his sons, just as the church is given to Christ, the true Priest and Son over the house of God. They were given for the service of the house. Israel first offered them to the Lord for His service through Aaron the priest (v. 11). It was a wave offering (tenupha) — that is, they were presented before the Lord as consecrated to Him.
Another writer links the waving to the ascended Christ:
Then the Levites were offered as a wave offering before the Lord (v.11). This may seem strange, since the Levites were probably not waved in a literal way. Still, it was called a wave offering because, as servants of God, they were identified in picture with Christ ascended to the right hand of God. For Christ, ascended in glory, provides all ministry today (Eph. 4:8). Therefore, ministry is from heaven, on a far higher level than anything earthly.
Another writer sees the point in the numbers: God did not take a portion, but the whole tribe:
On that day all the Levites were publicly consecrated to God's service — all the firstborn in Israel belonged to Him (Ex. 13:2), but He accepted the Levites in their place, as far as their numbers went, man for man. A heave offering here, as in the other cases, would have been out of place. It was not some of the firstborn whom God claimed, nor some of the Levites that He accepted.
The verse calls them an offering "from the people of Israel." Just before Aaron waved them, the people laid their hands on them. That act tied the whole nation to what followed:
The Levites were chosen out of Israel for the service of the tabernacle, yet the whole congregation was identified with them. Their laying on of hands showed it. What is more, Aaron presented the Levites to the Lord as the gift of the children of Israel... Do we not learn this? Service is individual in its responsibility to the Lord. Yet it is still rendered on behalf of His people, and in connection with their unity.
Paul takes up the same picture in his own work among the nations:
Turn to Numbers 8 and you find the account of the "offering up" of the Levites before the Lord, in the place of the firstborn of the children of Israel, that "they may do the service of the LORD"... Read in this light, Paul regarded his preaching of the gospel among the Gentiles as a priestly service. His aim was that the nations might be presented to God as an acceptable offering, through the infinite value and power of the sacrifice of Christ, sanctified by the Holy Spirit.
They are offered first; only then do they work. One writer draws out the principle:
The Levites are first offered to God. (v. 13.) "After that the Levites shall go in to serve at the tent of meeting." (v. 15.) Here is the true character of service — "first gave themselves to God," then God employs them... The service of the Levites was entirely the consequence of their being the Lord's. "The Levites shall be mine." (v. 14.) For as it is written, "You are not your own, for you were bought with a price." (1 Cor. 6:20.) It is blessed to say, "My beloved is mine;" but it is greater progress and a deeper joy to say, "I am His."
They were not only offered to God; they were handed over to Aaron:
The Levites were given as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, for service in the tabernacle of the congregation... Given to Him for salvation, as every believer is, we have also to remember that we are a gift to Him for His absolute disposal. Our only proper attitude, therefore, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what do You want me to do?"
Another writer names the goal all this service serves:
Does this not show that all true Levitical service aims at supporting priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real goal of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
- Claimed — God claimed every firstborn and took every Levite in their place, man for man. He took all of them, not a portion.
- Consecrated — "Waved" means presented. Aaron lifted them before God as set apart to Him. They were given to him, as the church is given to Christ.
- Carried — the people laid hands on them, so the Levites stood for the whole nation. Service is personal, yet it is done for all God's people.
- Committed — offered first, employed second. Service follows from belonging to the Lord.
- Completed — the aim is worship, not activity. Levite service exists to support priestly service in God's presence.
And the Levites shall lay their hands upon the heads of the bullocks, and thou shalt offer the one for a sin-offering, and the other for a burnt-offering, to Jehovah, to make atonement for the Levites.
The Levites were set apart for God's service. Before they could begin, two bulls had to die for them — verse 12 puts their hands on those animals and names the result: atonement for the men about to serve.
The gesture of laying hands on an animal's head was not a blessing. It joined the man and the victim. With the two bulls, the result ran in opposite directions.
The Levites laid their hands on both the sin offering and the burnt offering. This act of laying on hands expressed one simple fact: identification. But how different the result in each case! When Levi laid his hands on the head of the sin offering, it transferred all his sins to the victim — all his guilt, all his fierceness, cruelty, and self-will. When he laid his hands on the head of the burnt offering, the transfer ran the other way. It gave Levi everything that made the sacrifice acceptable, all its perfection... That weighty passage at the close of 2 Corinthians 5 sums up the teaching of all this: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."
The verse says both bulls made atonement. But one word here covers two different pictures.
Here we have presented to us, in type, the two grand aspects of the death of Christ. The sin offering gives us the one; the burnt offering gives us the other... In the sin offering, we see Christ bearing sin in His own body on the tree, and enduring the wrath of God against sin. In the burnt offering, we see Christ glorifying God even in the very matter of making atonement for sin. Both make atonement. But the sin offering measures atonement by the depth of the sinner's need. The burnt offering measures it by Christ's devotedness to God. In the one, we see how hateful sin is; in the other, how precious Christ is.
Atonement "for the Levites" assumes something is wrong with the Levites. By nature, Levi had no remedy of his own.
Looking at Levi by nature, we could see that his character was such that God would have no fellowship with him at all. Left to himself, Levi would stay forever in his own home, in the company of the "instruments of cruelty" that were there. But God will not leave him there. So God Himself must provide the remedy. God Himself must cleanse this self-willed, cruel and fierce man.
The one ceremony produced two results, and the men needed both before they could serve.
It teaches very plainly that no one can render true service without the sense of acceptance in Christ... Putting their hands on the head of the sin offering transferred, so to speak, their guilt to the bull. Before it was offered, the bull became identified with their sin. The same action with the burnt offering worked the other way: the Levites became identified with all the acceptance of its sweet fragrance as it burned on the altar. There was in this way clearance from guilt and positive acceptance.
The burnt offering does not only cover the worker. It covers the work.
In verse 12 the Levites laid their hands on the head of the sin offering, the whole company thus standing guilty before God. They laid them on the burnt offering too, and that identified them fully as accepted in all the perfectness of Christ's sacrifice — a sweet fragrance to God. Just as He bore our sins, which were laid on Him, so God accepts all our services through the burnt offering. Laying my hand on the burnt offering identifies me with the fragrance of Christ in the presence of God.
One sacrifice is missing from this list, and the order of the other two matters.
In the offerings that went with their consecration there was no peace offering, because it was a question of service and not of communion. But they did offer the sacrifices that represented the effectiveness of the atonement, and the devotedness of the Lord Jesus even to death. These marked out the ground and nature of their service... In the application the sin offering comes first.
- Identified. Hands on the head joined the man to the animal; the same action sent guilt one way and acceptance the other.
- Cleared. The sin offering took Levi's sins, fierceness and self-will — the very nature that shut him out of God's presence.
- Accepted. The burnt offering put all the perfection of the sacrifice to the Levite's account, so he stood before God in its sweet fragrance.
- Qualified. Only then could the Levites serve. Without the sense of acceptance in Christ, no one renders true service.
- Covered. The burnt offering covers the servant and the work alike. God accepts our service through it, not on its own merit.
And thou shalt set the Levites before Aaron, and before his sons, and offer them as a wave-offering to Jehovah.
The Levites are the tribe given to Aaron and his sons to do the work of the tabernacle, and this verse seals that arrangement. Why are living men waved like a sacrifice, and why must the priests receive them before the Lord does?
The order matters. The Levites do not pass straight to God. They go first to Aaron's family, and the gift reaches the Lord through their hands.
The Levites were given to Aaron and his sons, as the church is given to Christ, the true Priest and Son over the house of God, to be used in the service of the house. Israel first offered them to Jehovah for His service through Aaron the priest (v. 11). It was a wave offering (tenupha); that is, they were presented before the Lord as set apart to Him. Then (v. 13) they were set before Aaron and his sons, and so given to the Lord through their hands — given wholly to Him instead of the firstborn (vv. 16-19).
So the Levite's work rests on the priest's office.
All the Levites, whatever their different kinds of service, were given to Aaron and his sons. They were given wholly and completely to serve Aaron on behalf of the children of Israel. This made the service of the tabernacle depend on Aaron's priesthood; without that it had no place and no fitness. The worth and acceptance of the outward service hung entirely on the inner worship. The tribe of Levi was joined to Aaron and served him, and had no other reason to exist... All real service flows from the Lord, and so it depends on Him in the sanctuary and points back to Him there. If the source is made human, or the motives come from the world, the service becomes false.
Here the offering was the men themselves, and God took the whole tribe, not a few.
When that was done in the wilderness, the Levites did not only bring a burnt offering and a sin offering; Aaron waved them as an offering themselves... On that day all the Levites were set apart in public for God's service. All the firstborn in Israel belonged to Him (Ex. 13:2), but He accepted the Levites in their place, man for man, as far as their number went. It was not some of the firstborn whom God claimed, nor some of the Levites that He accepted. He claimed all the firstborn, but took all the Levites in their place, as a wave offering from the children of Israel.
Commentators differ here. One writer doubts the Levites were literally lifted at all.
The Levites were offered as a wave offering before the Lord. This may seem strange, for it is not likely that the Levites were really waved. Yet it was called a wave offering because, as servants of God, they were identified in picture with Christ ascended to the right hand of God. All ministry today comes from Christ ascended in glory (Eph. 4:8). So ministry is from heaven, on a far higher level than anything on earth.
The handing over also sets the aim of the work.
There we read that the Levites were given ("gifted", according to Young's Concordance) to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levite service aims to support the service of the priests in the presence of God? This is the real goal of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
A gift belongs to the one who receives it.
The Levites were given as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, for service in the tent of meeting. Seen this way, the Levites are a picture of all believers as servants, and we learn that the Church is given to Christ for His service on the earth. We are given to Him for salvation, as every believer is; but we must also remember that we are a gift to Him, for Him to use exactly as He chooses. So the only right attitude is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what will You have me to do?" How precious it is to remember that we are wholly the Lord's, and that this leaves no room at all for self-will or for pleasing men.
- Given. The Levites pass as a gift to the priest first, and through him to the Lord. They keep nothing back.
- Waved. They are not just workers. They are the offering itself, and God takes the whole tribe in place of Israel's firstborn.
- Lifted. Some tie the waving to Christ raised to God's right hand. Then ministry comes from heaven, not from earth.
- Attached. Levite work exists only to support the priest's work. Outward service draws its worth from the worship inside.
- Asking. A gift belongs to its receiver. That leaves the servant one question: Lord, what do You want me to do?
And thou shalt separate the Levites from among the children of Israel, that the Levites may be mine.
Numbers 8 ends the ceremony that set the Levites apart, and verse 14 gives God's aim in it: a tribe taken out from Israel and owned by Him. On what ground can God call them His own?
One writer draws out what that setting apart means for believers now.
The ceremony set the Levites apart from the rest of Israel as the Lord's special property. Today, all believers should value being set apart for the Lord's service — not set apart from other believers, but from the world.
God's claim is not arbitrary. The Levites stood in the place of Israel's firstborn, whom God spared in Egypt on the night of judgment.
They were redeemed by blood, and counted emphatically to belong to Jehovah. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "The Levites shall be mine." ... The grace of God had exempted those they answered to in the time of judgment. So the Levites were identified with mercy — the great, distinguishing mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better to serve in the sanctuary. Who dares to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God and take seriously the solemn warning of the Lord and His apostle. (Matt. 7:22; 1 Cor. 9:27)
Three steps made up their cleansing, and each one reaches into daily life.
The sprinkling of the Levites was done for them. But then they had to carry out what it meant themselves — first to themselves, and then to all the details and surroundings of their daily lives. They were to shave, as in the case of the leper, all their flesh. No product of the flesh was to escape the sharp edge of the word of the cross, however attractive it might look to people. ... They were, moreover, to wash their clothes. Clothes are a picture of habits and surroundings. We must keep bringing all these under the water, if we are to stay before God with a good conscience and ready for His service.
Two bulls were offered, and one offering was missing.
When they put their hands on the head of the sin offering, it transferred their guilt, so to speak, to the bull. Before it was offered, the bull became identified with their sin. In the same action with the burnt offering, though, the Levites became identified with all the acceptance of its sweet aroma as it burned on the altar. So there was clearance from guilt and positive acceptance. ... There was no peace offering, as has often been noted: this was a question of service, not communion.
Being taken out for God did not cut the Levites off from the nation.
If we are His people, let us not forget that the people of Israel showed their agreement and joy. They took their part in it too, by identifying themselves with the Levites who were then set apart for Jehovah. How happy we are when we fully recognise the rights of the Lord, and at the same time find our own portion so much the better. We are not made poorer because a thing is the Lord's; we are so much the richer, because His things are ours.
Belonging to God was not the end of it. One writer sets out three steps in our service.
So, as regards our service, we have these three principles. First, we are redeemed, delivered from the judgments that the enemies of God lie under, and taken out from among those enemies. Second, as a result of this first fact, we belong completely to God. Bought with a price, we are no longer our own, but God's, to glorify Him in our bodies, which are His. Third, we are given entirely to Christ, who is the Head of the house of God, the Priest, for the service of His tabernacle. Blessed bondage, happy giving up of self, true deliverance from a world of sin!
Service has a goal beyond itself.
Does this not show that all true Levitical service aims to support priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real end in view of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
- Redeemed — blood had spared the firstborn. That is why God can say "Mine". Salvation comes before service, never after it.
- Cleansed — sprinkled, shaved, washed. What they received had to be lived out in daily habits.
- Accepted — the sin offering carried their guilt away. The burnt offering brought them in. There was no peace offering: this was service, not communion.
- Separated — taken out from among the people, yet the people shared in it. The Lord's rights never leave His people poorer.
- Given — redeemed, so owned. Owned, so handed to the Priest. And the end of it all is worship.
And afterwards shall the Levites come in to do the service of the tent of meeting. And thou shalt cleanse them, and offer them as a wave-offering.
The Levites were the men God took for His own service instead of Israel's firstborn sons. The phrase "after that" carries the weight of this verse: before they could serve at the tent of meeting, two things had to be finished — a cleansing and an offering.
Commentators read the washing and shaving of verses 6–7 as a picture. God deals with what a man is by nature before He uses him.
Here we have, in type, the only divine principle of cleansing. It is the application of death to nature and all its habits. It is the word of God brought to bear upon the heart and conscience, in a living way... The pure water and the sharp razor were called into action. The washing and shaving had to go on before Levi was fit to approach the vessels of the sanctuary.
One writer points out who does each action here, and what each one pictures.
Moses first sprinkled the purifying water on them, but the Levites themselves did the rest of the actions in this verse: "let them shave… let them wash… make themselves clean." The water of purifying points to being born again. We see it no doubt in John 3, where the Lord tells Nicodemus, "unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God." Our first right desires after God began when the Spirit had done that work in our souls. A work done for us came first; then came a work done by us, as we clearly see in this picture. To shave all our flesh means, in New Testament language, to cleanse ourselves from all defilement of the flesh (2 Cor. 7:1). To wash our clothes means separation from the circles we moved in before the grace of God reached us (2 Cor. 6:17).
Another writer presses the same razor into ongoing use. Anyone who wants to serve like a Levite "must constantly use the sharp knife of self-judgment to remove all that is of self" (Arno Clemens Gaebelein).
The second condition is the wave offering. Why not a heave offering? The answer shows how much of Israel God claimed.
On that day all the Levites were publicly consecrated to God's service. All the firstborn in Israel belonged to Him (Ex. 13:2), but He accepted the Levites in their place, as far as they would go, man for man. A heave offering here, as in the other cases, would have been out of place. It was not some of the firstborn whom God claimed, nor some of the Levites that He accepted.
One writer sets the offering out in two steps.
Israel first offered them to the LORD for His service through Aaron the priest (v. 11). It was a wave offering (tenupha); that is, they were presented before the Lord as consecrated to Him. Then (v. 13) they were set before Aaron and his sons, and so under their hand given to the Lord, wholly given to Him instead of the firstborn.
Service at the tent of meeting is the goal of the whole ceremony. That service pointed toward the priests, and through them to God.
There we read that the Levites were given ("gifted" according to Young's Concordance) to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levitical service has in view the supporting of priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real end in view of all true ministry, that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
The people made this offering. So the service that followed was not a private career, but the nation's work done through a few men.
They are then presented before the LORD, and offered, on the part of the people, to do what as a whole they were responsible for. The Levites are therefore the people's representatives, and their service (in this picture) belongs to the people of God at large. So they become the Lord's, being, as taken instead of the firstborn, His by right of redemption, and then given to the priests for the service of the tent of meeting.
Another writer names the source of such service now: "all ministry today is provided by Christ ascended in glory (Eph. 4:8)" (Leslie M. Grant).
- Cleansed — water and razor come before the tent of meeting. No one is fit to handle holy things until the growth of nature is cut away.
- Cleansed twice over — Moses sprinkles the water; the Levite shaves and washes. The Spirit's work comes first, then ours.
- Offered — a wave offering, not a heave offering, because God claimed all of them, not a selection.
- Given — offered to the Lord, they are then handed over to the priests; the servant does not own his own service.
- Serving — the aim of all service is worship. The Levites stand in for the whole people, doing work that belonged to everyone.
For they are wholly given unto me from among the children of Israel; instead of every one that breaketh open the womb, instead of every firstborn among the children of Israel, have I taken them unto me.
Here God claims a whole tribe as His own. He has taken them in place of every firstborn son in Israel. Two questions follow: what gives God that right, and what does it mean to belong to Him "wholly"?
The claim does not rest on anything in the Levites. It rests on a night in Egypt. God destroyed the firstborn of Egypt, and the blood of the Passover lamb bought Israel's firstborn. One writer traces the claim back to that event:
First, the basis of the Lord's claim on the Levites was the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems... So all the firstborn among the people of Israel were bought with a price. That price was the blood of the Passover Lamb, a picture of the precious blood of Christ.
"Instead of" is the key phrase. The Levites took the place of men who should have died under the destroying angel's sword. That gives them a new standing:
The Levites were taken instead of those on whom the sword of the destroying angel should have fallen. In other words, the Levites were a picture of a dead and risen people. They were no longer seen in the circumstances of nature, but in new life through grace — the place God Himself had put them in.
Mercy came first, and mercy is what fitted them for the work. One writer puts the order plainly:
So the Levites were linked with mercy — the great, distinguishing mercy that rescued Israel from the doom of Egypt. That fitted them all the better to do the service of the sanctuary. Who dares to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God...
The tribe is given to God, and in the same chapter God hands them to Aaron and his sons for the work of the tabernacle. One writer sees the church in this double giving:
We find here again what we have already seen. The Levites were given to Aaron and his sons. In the same way the church is given to Christ, the true Priest and Son over the house of God, for use in the service of the house... Then they were set before Aaron and his sons, and so given to the Lord under their hand, wholly given to Him instead of the firstborn.
That service had an aim beyond itself:
Does this not show that all true Levitical service has in view the supporting of priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real aim of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
What does that ownership mean for the one who serves?
They were wholly the Lord's. He claimed them absolutely, for they were His through redemption. In the same way now the servant must recognise that he is not his own, and that he is wholly devoted to the Lord's will. No other claim may ever come between him and the Lord.
Notice where the line of separation falls:
In this way the ceremony separated the Levites from the rest of Israel as the Lord's special property. Today, all believers should value this fact of being set apart for the Lord's service — not set apart from other believers, but from the world. To be devoted to the Lord's service is a wonderful privilege.
One writer presses the same claim on every Christian today:
All these things were pictures, written for our instruction, so that we may understand that we belong to the Lord, on the ground of redemption, as absolutely as the Levites did... In saying this, we are not speaking of "gifts," or of those called out for service in a special and extraordinary way, but of all Christians. All alike have been redeemed, bought with a price, and are therefore the Lord's servants.
- Redeemed. God's claim starts at the blood of the Passover lamb. He claims those He redeems, and the price came before any service.
- Substituted. The Levites stand where the firstborn stood. A lamb died in their place, so they count as a people brought through death into new life.
- Owned. "Wholly given" means He owns them completely. That claim rests on redemption, and it covers every Christian. No other claim may come between the servant and the Lord.
- Given. God hands those He owns to the work of His house, as He gives the church to Christ.
- Aimed. All such service exists to support worship in God's presence. It separates the servant from the world, not from fellow believers.
For all the firstborn among the children of Israel are mine, both of man and beast; on the day that I smote every firstborn in the land of Egypt, I hallowed them to myself.
God points back here to the night judgment passed through Egypt, when He took Israel's firstborn — people and animals alike — as His own. That claim explains why a whole tribe was later given to serve at the sanctuary, and it raises a sharper question: what does redemption entitle God to ask of those He saves?
The claim is not random. It rests on one night, when God both judged and rescued.
The Lord's claim on the Levites rests on the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems, and so we read, "All the firstborn among the people of Israel are Mine... On the day that I struck down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt I consecrated them for Myself." (v. 17.) All the firstborn of Israel were bought with a price, the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, a type of the precious blood of Christ.
Israel's firstborn were no safer in themselves than Egypt's. They lived because something else died in their place.
The Lord passed through the land of Egypt with the sword of justice drawn, to strike all the firstborn. Israel's firstborn would not have escaped, if the sword had not fallen on the neck of the spotless victim. Someone has put it well: "There was death in every house, not only in the houses of the Egyptians, but also in those of the Israelites: in the former, it was the death of Egypt's firstborn; in the latter, the death of God's LAMB."
To consecrate, or sanctify, is to set apart for God. One writer traces the first two times the Bible uses the idea.
The first mention of sanctification in the Bible comes with creation, when God sanctified the seventh day on which He rested (Gen. 2:3). The second comes with redemption, when He brought Israel out of Egypt. Here persons were in question, for He said, "Sanctify to Me all the firstborn" (Ex. 13:2). Blood had redeemed them, so God set them apart for Himself in their standing before Him. Because of that place, a very special way of life suited them — or rather suited the Levites, who later took their place.
(Where older translations say "sanctify," the ESV says "consecrate.")
The claim covers the cattle as well as the children. One writer reads the rescue from Egypt as taking in the animals too.
Moses redeemed them all out of Egypt... and he sanctified them all to Jehovah under the law — the fruit of the land and of the cattle, as well as the fruit of man. This shows us that Jehovah claimed the whole created order as His own. The firstborn of animal as of man was sanctified to Himself (Num. 8:17).
The tribe of Levi did not earn its place at the sanctuary. It stepped into a place already bought.
That is, Jehovah took them in a very special way as the formal substitute for the firstborn of Israel, the ones He spared when the destroying angel struck Egypt. They were redeemed by blood, and plainly counted as belonging to Jehovah... The Levites were identified with mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. This fitted them all the better to do the service of the sanctuary. Who dares to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry...
The exchange was counted exactly, and the extra firstborn had to be paid for.
Chapters 3 and 4 show that God afterwards took all the Levites instead of the firstborn of the children of Israel. The exchange was so solemn and exact that the 273 firstborn of Israel who were more than the number of the Levites all had to be redeemed at the value God set on them. (See chap. 3:44-51.)
Commentators read the arrangement forward. What was true of one tribe pictures everyone God has bought.
If we have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, let us understand our place, our privileges and our responsibilities. God has paid that great price for us and claimed us for Himself. We have no option but to answer His claim with our whole heart... We are the Levites of this day. The honour of the family falls above all on the firstborn. It is his duty and privilege to give himself to the family's interests and to carry out his father's wishes. This is our place, by the infinite grace of God.
- Judgment. The claim dates from one night. God struck the firstborn of Egypt, and He points back to that act as His title deed.
- Price. Israel's firstborn lived only because a lamb died. The blood of the Passover lamb bought them, so they belonged to the One who paid.
- Set apart. "Consecrated them for Myself" means set apart for God. The claim covers man and beast alike.
- Substitute. God took the Levites in place of the spared firstborn. They stepped into a place redemption had already won.
- Service. That same rescuing mercy fitted them to serve the sanctuary. Salvation comes before ministry, then as now.
And I have taken the Levites instead of all the firstborn among the children of Israel.
God speaks here about a swap He made: the tribe of Levi taken in place of every firstborn son in Israel. Two questions follow. Why did God have any claim on those firstborn? And what does it mean for a redeemed people to belong to Him?
Commentators trace God's right here back to one night in Egypt.
First, the basis of the Lord's claim on the Levites was the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt. If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems... So all the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price, the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, which pictures the precious blood of Christ. Later all the Levites were taken instead of the firstborn of Israel. The swap was so solemn and exact that the two hundred and seventy-three firstborn who outnumbered the Levites all had to be redeemed at the value God set.
The swap was exact. The Levites were also an offering in themselves, presented to God on the nation's behalf.
On that day all the Levites were set apart for God's service in public. Every firstborn in Israel belonged to Him (Ex. 13:2), but He accepted the Levites in their place, as far as their number went, man for man... God did not claim only some of the firstborn, and He did not accept only some of the Levites. He claimed all the firstborn, but took all the Levites in their place as far as they would go — a wave-offering from the children of Israel.
The Levites stood in for men whom mercy had spared. One writer draws a rule for service out of that.
They were redeemed by blood, and counted emphatically to belong to Jehovah. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine."... God's grace had spared the very men the Levites stood for when judgment fell. Being tied in this way to mercy — the great mercy that marked Israel out and rescued them from the doom of Egypt — the Levites were all the better fitted to serve in the sanctuary. How can anyone dare to take up the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry.
One commentator reads the Levites' position as a picture of a believer who has died and risen with Christ.
So the Levites were taken instead of those the destroying angel's sword should have struck. In other words, they were a picture of a dead and risen people. God no longer looked at them in their natural condition, but in the new life He Himself had given them by grace. Every sinner must travel this same path to know anything of Levi's later story by experience. There is no other way to escape the judgment of the law on one side, or the awful working of the sin that lives in us on the other. We must simply see ourselves "dead" to both, and "alive to God through Jesus Christ."
The Levites were servants, not priests. Notice the order too: God owns them before they go in to work.
The Levites represent the saints in service. The priests picture the Church in communion; the Levites are servants to the priests. The Levites are offered to God first. "And after that the Levites shall go in to do service." This is the true character of service — they "first gave themselves to God," and then God puts them to work... The Levites served only because they belonged to the Lord. "The Levites shall be mine." For as it is written, "you are not your own, for you were bought with a price." It is a happy thing to say, "My beloved is mine;" but it is greater progress and a deeper joy to say, "I am His."
This picture is not limited to a special class of workers. One writer applies the tribe to every Christian.
Jehovah took the tribe of Levi instead of the firstborn sons of the whole nation, for special service in His house and for His Name. They were a privileged people, called to give themselves to God's interests, and God took special care of them... They were a picture of the whole Christian company today.
- Claim. God takes only what He has redeemed. His right over the firstborn goes back to the night He struck Egypt and spared Israel under the blood.
- Price. The firstborn were bought with a price: the blood of the Passover lamb, which pictures the blood of Christ. The swap rests on a sacrifice.
- Substitute. The exchange was exact, man for man, with a ransom paid for every one left over; God settles for nothing partial.
- Life. The Levites stood where the sword should have fallen. They picture a dead and risen people, living the new life God gave them.
- Service. Belonging comes first, and work follows. Salvation comes before ministry. The deeper joy is not "my beloved is mine" but "I am His."
And I have given the Levites as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, from among the children of Israel, to perform the service of the children of Israel in the tent of meeting, and to make atonement for the children of Israel; that there be no plague among the children of Israel, when the children of Israel draw near to the sanctuary.
God hands one whole tribe over to another: the Levites are His to give, and He gives them to Aaron and his sons. The verse names a gift, a service and a danger held off — so why would coming near God's sanctuary put a redeemed people at risk of a plague?
A concordance sharpens what "given" means, and one writer follows it to the point of the gift:
The Levites were given to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Young's Concordance renders that word as "gifted." Does this not show that all true Levitical service aims at supporting priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real goal of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
Another writer finds the same giving in the church:
Here again we find what we have already seen. The Levites were given to Aaron and his sons. In the same way the church is given to Christ, the true Priest and Son over the house of God, for use in the service of the house.
The tribe's own character makes this gift startling:
What a place for the self-willed, fierce, and cruel Levi! What a triumph of grace! What an illustration of the power of the blood of atonement and the water of purification! By nature and by practice they were far off from God. But the "blood" of atonement, the "water" of cleansing and the "razor" of self-judgment had done their blessed work. So the Levites were now fit to be presented as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, and to be joined with them in the holy services of the tabernacle of the congregation.
God took the Levites in place of Israel's firstborn. One writer shows what that substitution fitted them for:
They were redeemed by blood, and counted as belonging to Jehovah in a marked way. In place of Israel's firstborn He accepted the Levites. "They shall be mine."… So the Levites were tied to mercy — the great mercy that set Israel apart and rescued them from the doom of Egypt. That made them all the more fitted to do the service of the sanctuary. Who can presume to undertake the service of God without knowing that God has accepted him on the ground of redemption? Salvation comes before ministry, if we listen to God.
The last clause explains the whole arrangement. Israel was redeemed, yet still needed shielding at the sanctuary — and God acted first:
Atonement in God's government divides into two parts. One kind was made to prevent God's dealing in government. The other stopped that dealing once it had begun. Numbers 8:19 is an instance of the first kind… In another way God provided for His people, to shield them from His dealing in government. He took the Levites in the place of the firstborn of Israel, on whom He had a special claim… What care this showed on God's part! He cared for the welfare of His ransomed but stiff-necked people, and for keeping them safe from judgment. All the people were redeemed, and the firstborn were God's in a special way. But He chose the Levites, and gave them to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the children of Israel in the sanctuary… God did not give this command after the attempt had been made and had ended in a terrible disaster. He gave it, and Moses announced it, as the provision the Lord made to prevent what must otherwise have happened.
A servant's place turns on two things: whom he represents, and whose he is:
In their service the Levites represented the whole assembly… Looking at the Levites as a picture of all saints as servants, we learn that the Church is given to Christ for His service on the earth. We were given to Him for salvation, as every believer is. We must also remember that we are a gift to Him, entirely at His disposal. Our only proper attitude, therefore, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what will You have me to do?"
- Redeemed — redeemed by blood, the Levites stand in place of Israel's firstborn. Salvation comes before ministry.
- Cleansed — blood, water and the razor of self-judgment did their work. Fierce Levi became fit to be handed to the priests.
- Gifted — "given" here means gifted. God Himself makes the present, and the church is likewise given to Christ, entirely at His disposal.
- Aimed — Levite work exists to support priestly work, so the goal of all true service is worship.
- Shielded — this atonement was made to prevent judgment, not to stop it once begun. God gave the Levites before disaster struck, not after.
And Moses and Aaron, and all the assembly of the children of Israel, did to the Levites according to all that Jehovah had commanded Moses concerning the Levites so did the children of Israel to them.
Numbers 8 closes the setting apart of the Levites, and verse 20 records that Moses, Aaron and the whole nation did it. Two things stand out: the whole congregation helped set apart one tribe, and no one chose his own way, because the work followed "all that the LORD commanded."
The verse names Moses, Aaron and all the congregation. That last group is the surprise: ordinary Israelites helped set apart men from another tribe. One writer draws out what they gained by it:
At the consecration of the Levites, the Israelites laid their hands on the heads of the Levites. The LORD had already shown clearly that the Levites belonged to Him. But it would have been a sad loss if the people had not taken an even deeper interest in them because they were the LORD's servants. If we are His people, let us not forget how the people of Israel showed their agreement and joy. They took their part in it too, by identifying themselves with the Levites who were then set apart. We are not made poorer because something is the Lord's. We are so much the richer, because His things are ours.
Why did the people lay hands on them? The act tied the two sides together, and it changed how God viewed every other Israelite:
Then the Levites had to present their offerings. The whole congregation of the people had identified themselves with them by laying hands on them. The force of this act shows clearly here. By it the people identified themselves with the service, so that they counted as serving their God in the service of the Levites.
The ceremony was also an admission. One writer sets out what the people owned as their hands rested on the Levites:
Laying their hands on them meant they were identified with them, because from then on the Levites would stand in the place of their firstborn sons to do the Lord's work. So they fully owned God's rightful claim on their firstborn. But they also owned His way of redeeming their children from a service He could rightly have demanded.
One writer traces that claim back to the price paid for Israel's firstborn, and applies it to believers now:
If God redeems through sacrifice and judgment, He claims those whom He redeems... All the firstborn among the children of Israel were bought with a price: the price of the blood of the Passover Lamb, which stands for the precious blood of Christ. Now all these things were pictures. They are written for our instruction, so that we may understand that we belong to the Lord, on the ground of redemption, as completely as the Levites did.
The verse says twice that everything followed what the LORD commanded. Levite service had that same character all through:
The Levites show us the people of God as a company of earnest workers. They were not mere aimless labourers, running to and fro, each one doing what seemed right in his own eyes. Nothing of the sort. The men of war had their family line to show and their standard to keep to. In the same way, the Levites had their centre to gather round and their work to do. Everything was as clear and definite as God could make it. What is more, all of it was under the direct authority and direction of the high priest.
The chapter also says who received the Levites. That one detail sets the direction of all their work:
There we read that the Levites were given ("gifted", according to Young's Concordance) to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levite service aims at supporting priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real aim of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
- Claimed — God owned the Levites before He used them. His right rested on redemption: the blood of the Passover lamb that spared Israel's firstborn.
- Shared — the congregation's hands on the Levites meant the whole nation counted as serving God in the service of that one tribe.
- Given — Aaron and his sons received the tribe, so that the work of servants would end in worship in God's presence.
- Richer — owning that the Levites belonged to the LORD left Israel no poorer but richer, because His things are ours.
- Exact — verse 20 records obedience, not invention. The work was clear, the centre was clear, and the high priest directed it all.
And the Levites purified themselves from sin, and they washed their garments; and Aaron offered them as a wave-offering before Jehovah; and Aaron made atonement for them to cleanse them.
God claimed the tribe of Levi for the work of the tabernacle. This verse records the moment the earlier instructions were carried out: cleansing, a wave offering, and atonement, all before a single task began. Why do men chosen by God need washing and atonement first? And what does each part of the ceremony mean?
The ceremony used water, not blood. One writer treats that difference as deliberate.
There is no mention of sprinkling with blood, as there was with the leper. The reason is that the Levites are regarded as being already on the ground of redemption, and so in a recognised relationship with God. It is a question, therefore, of purification and not of expiation, and so of cleansing with water... The blood has expiated our guilt. The water has cleansed us from our sinful condition, bringing it to an end in the cross of Christ.
The ceremony divides the work. Someone else sprinkled them, but the shaving and the washing of clothes were their own to do.
The sprinkling with water at their consecration pictures purification from sins. This they could not do for themselves, another had to do it. But they could take the sharp razor themselves and remove all the hair from their bodies. Hair stands for what belongs to the flesh, the old nature. They also had to wash their clothes. That pictures the water (the Word) applied to our habits and to our ways... He who would be a true Levite in service must constantly use the sharp knife of self-judgment to remove all that is of self.
One writer presses this further, and measures much of what we call service against it.
We are completely convinced that we are fit for God's work only so far as the cross and the sharp razor of self-judgment have brought our nature under their power. God can never use self-will in His service. No, we must set it aside if we want to know what true service is. Sadly, much passes for service that is only the fruit of a restless will. The light of God's presence would show it for what it is.
The Levites were probably never lifted and waved, so the word raises a question. One writer answers it by pointing to where ministry comes from today.
Then the Levites were offered as a wave offering before the Lord (v.11). This may seem strange, for the Levites were probably not waved at all. Yet it was called a wave offering for a reason. As servants of God they were to be identified, in picture, with Christ ascended to the right hand of God. For all ministry today is provided by Christ ascended in glory (Eph. 4:8). Therefore, ministry is from heaven, on a far higher level than anything earthly.
The consecration included a sin offering and a burnt offering. Both made atonement, but not in the same way.
In the sin offering, we see Christ bearing sin in His own body on the tree, and enduring the wrath of God against sin. In the burnt offering, we see Christ glorifying God even in the very matter of making atonement for sin. Atonement is made in both. In the sin offering it is atonement measured by the depth of the sinner's need. In the burnt offering it is atonement measured by Christ's devotedness to God. The one shows us how hateful sin is; the other shows us how precious Christ is.
One writer sees the whole ceremony as a picture of the church set apart for service, and points to an offering that is missing.
This pictures the consecration of the members of the church to God for service... In the offerings that went with their consecration there was no peace offering, because it was a question of service and not of communion. But the sacrifices that were offered showed the effectiveness of the atonement, and the devotedness of the Lord Jesus even to death. They marked out the ground and nature of their service.
One writer applies this to every believer, and it settles who decides what a servant does.
Given to Him for salvation, as every believer is, we have also to remember that we are a gift to Him for His absolute disposal. Our only proper attitude, therefore, is that of Saul of Tarsus, who said, "Lord, what will You have me to do?" How precious to remember that we are wholly the Lord's! As His, there is no room at all for self-will or for pleasing men. Our one aim is that, whether we are present or absent, we may be acceptable to Him.
- Claimed — the Levites already stood on redemption ground. The water was for purification, not for expiation.
- Cleansed — someone else sprinkled them. The razor and the washing of clothes were their own work: the old nature, and daily habits.
- Covered — both offerings made atonement. One is measured by the sinner's need, the other by Christ's devotedness to God.
- Consecrated — waved before the Lord, they picture servants joined with Christ in heaven. All true ministry comes from there.
- Commissioned — no peace offering appears, because the question here is service, not communion. The servant is a gift, and a gift keeps no right of self-will.
And afterwards the Levites came in to perform their service in the tent of meeting before Aaron, and before his sons; as Jehovah had commanded Moses concerning the Levites, so did they to them.
The chapter ends as the Levites at last enter the tent of meeting to serve — but only after washing, offerings and the handing over of the whole tribe to God. The verse's closing line says everything followed God's command exactly, which raises two questions: what comes before service, and whose service is it?
The words "after that" point back to everything the chapter has just described. One writer lists what had to be true of the Levites before they served:
It is no light thing, then, to take up the Lord's service. It may help to recall the points of the Levites' instruction. They were designated for their work by the Lord Himself. So God Himself must mark out every true servant, and mark him out so plainly that God's people can see his call. They were wholly the Lord's. He claimed them absolutely, for they were His through redemption. In the same way the servant now must recognise that he is not his own, and that he is wholly devoted to the Lord's will. No other claim must ever come between him and the Lord. Finally, the Levites were to stand before God in all the value of Christ's death, enjoying what He was as the perfect example of complete devotion to God's glory. No one can ever serve rightly unless he lives in the sense of God's present acceptance and favour, and enjoys in his own soul God's delight in His beloved Son.
Their duty in the wilderness was to carry the holy things from place to place. One commentator reads that literal task as a picture of what believers do while passing through the world:
This service is the carrying of the holy things through the wilderness. For us it is the type of showing Christ and the heavenly truths of Christianity in the world as we pass through it. It is true that these things are in their travelling dress. Only faith can know them as they are in themselves, in their innermost reality. Yet this testimony is of the highest possible value, and God counts it so. If it is His good pleasure to go through the world in this way, He trusts Himself to the loving obedience of His people to carry Him through.
The Levites did not work on their own. They served in front of the priests, and that position shows what all their labour aimed at:
Numbers 8 sets out this link between Levitical and priestly service clearly. There we read that the Levites were given ("gifted", according to Young's Concordance) to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levitical service aims to support priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real aim of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
Just before this verse, the whole nation had laid their hands on the Levites. That act meant the work the Levites now began was not theirs alone:
Then the Levites had to present their offerings. The whole congregation of the people had already identified themselves with the Levites by laying hands on them. The force of this act is clear here: by it the people identified themselves with the service, so that they counted as serving their God in the service of the Levites.
Commentators apply this setting apart of one tribe to every Christian, and tie it to Christ risen:
For us today, the Levitical service in which every believer is to share is tied directly to Christ as the High Priest in resurrection. He is the Source of all direction and all power for such service.
Another writer sets the two roles side by side:
This subject of the Levites concerns Christians. In Old Testament language, we are both Levites and a holy priesthood (1 Peter 2:5). As a holy priesthood we offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God by Jesus Christ — a service common to all. But answering to the Levites, we are to be for the Lord Jesus as they were given to Aaron. As saints we each have something to do that helps God's work forward on the earth.
- Cleansed first. The words "after that" hold back all service until the washing, the offerings and the atonement are done. Entering the Lord's work is no light thing.
- Given, not volunteering. The Levites were a gift to Aaron and his sons. The servant's first fact about himself is that he is not his own.
- Carrying, not displaying. Their job was to carry the holy things through the desert. That pictures showing Christ in the world, and God counts that testimony as of the highest value.
- Serving for others. Israel had laid hands on the Levites, so the whole nation counted as serving God in what they did.
- Aimed at worship. All of it stood before the priests. The end of every real ministry is worship rising to God — and every believer today is both Levite and priest.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
This short verse opens a new instruction. The Lord speaks to Moses, and what follows sets the ages at which the Levites — the tribe set apart to serve at the tabernacle — begin and end their work. It matters for what it introduces: God Himself, not the worker, sets the term of service.
The Lord sets the span of service, and the end of it is a gracious provision:
Their period of service was fixed. It was uniform, from 25 to 50 years. It was a gracious provision that at 50 the Levite was permitted to retire from the harder work. There is no clash here with the statement of chapter 4. From 25 to 30 they could do the lighter work of the tabernacle, just as the Levites over 50 years were exempt from the harder tasks. The Lord still fixes the period in which His servants are to serve Him, as He also looks out for their comfort (John 21:12, 18-19).
The age given here does not match Numbers 4. Commentators differ on why; many read the first five years as a trial run:
On the surface these scriptures do seem to disagree about the age at which the Levites started their service. But there cannot be a mistake on such a simple matter. The difficulty disappears at once with a suggestion many make and accept: they were tested from twenty-five to thirty before they began their appointed work. If so, the first five years were a probationary period before their formal installation.
Later, once Israel was in the land, the age changed again:
It may be that they spent the first five years on probation, learning their duties. Israel had settled in Canaan, and the work of carrying the tabernacle was over. Then they started their service at the age of twenty. They worked till they were fifty years of age. 1 Chr. 23:24-27.
At fifty the heavy lifting stopped, but the Levite was not sent home:
The closing verses show that Levitical service began at twenty-five years of age. After five preparatory years, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
Release was itself a blessing, and honour in service never rested on the size of the task:
Exemption from service was given as a blessing, but keeping the charge remains. The priestly service never departs, but we get greater in it... True honour in service is that we are wholly the Lord's. There is a saying: if an angel came down from heaven to earth, he would be as glad to sweep the streets as to be a king. The only honour is to do what God set him to do. We should not be seeking ourselves, but the Lord's glory.
The Levite who stopped carrying loads still kept the charge. That leaves one question: whose word decides?
In chapter 9 the people both journeyed and rested at the commandment of the Lord. In the same way the Levites kept "the charge" both in their labours and when they stopped waiting on their service. We learn that the will of the Lord is to govern us in the same way, whether in activity or retirement. At His word we are to labour, and at His word we are to rest. The only concern, therefore, of the servant is to be in communion with the Lord's mind.
Scripture supplies living examples of people whose usefulness outlasted their physical strength:
Age is bound to limit our physical labour, but it does not limit the help we can still give. So there is no reason for anyone to be set aside from spiritual service. Even a woman, Anna, is a lovely example of this (Luke 2:36-38). She was a true prophetess and had been a widow for 84 years. She "served God with fasting and prayers night and day." John too was over 90 when God gave him the wonderful privilege of serving Him by writing the Book of Revelation.
Still, the pattern carries a warning about time running out:
Christian service needs a certain maturity, no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our 'window of opportunity' to serve Him 'in the desert' will have gone!
- Called — the Lord speaks, and He fixes how long His servants serve. He also looks out for their comfort.
- Tested — many read the five years from twenty-five to thirty as a trial before formal installation.
- Charged — full work ran from thirty to fifty. Then the heavy labour ended, but the charge remained.
- Released — release was a blessing, not a dismissal. Old age changed the kind of service, never the privilege of it.
- Governed — at His word we labour and at His word we rest, so the servant's one concern is communion with the Lord's mind.
This is that which concerneth the Levites from twenty-five years old and upward shall he come to labour in the work of the service of the tent of meeting.
Numbers 8 closes by fixing the working life of a Levite: when he starts serving at the tent of meeting, and when he stops. Two questions follow. Why twenty-five here, when chapter 4 says thirty? And what happens to a servant once his strong years are behind him?
Before this verse names any task, the chapter has shown the Levites cleansed, presented, and given to God. One writer draws out that order:
"After that the Levites shall go in to do service" (v. 15). Here is the true character of service — "they gave themselves first to the Lord," then God employs them. The Levites are offered for an offering to the Lord (v. 13)... The service of the Levites was entirely the consequence of their being the Lord's. "The Levites shall be Mine" (v. 14). For as it is written, "You are not your own, for you were bought with a price" (1 Cor. 6:20). It is blessed to say, "My beloved is mine," but it is greater progress and a deeper joy to say, "I am His."
Numbers 4 sets the age at thirty; this verse says twenty-five. Commentators agree there is no error, but they explain the gap in two ways. One reading treats the five years as a trial period:
On the surface these scriptures do seem to disagree about the age at which the Levites started their service. But there cannot be a mistake on such a simple matter. The difficulty is removed at once by a suggestion often made and widely accepted: they were tested from twenty-five to thirty before they entered on their appointed work. If so, the first five years were a probationary period before their formal installation.
Another reading takes twenty-five as the start of real but lighter work:
Their period of service was fixed... There is no clash here with the statement of chapter 4. From 25 to 30 they could do the lighter work of the tabernacle. Levites over 50 were also free from the harder tasks. The Lord still fixes the period in which His servants are to serve Him, as He also looks out for their comfort.
Why twenty-five, and not some other age? One writer ties the number to the servant's condition:
The age (v. 24) of twenty-five years shows maturity for service; that is, the full energy of the Spirit. Exemption from service was given as a blessing, but keeping the charge remains. The priestly service never departs, but we grow greater in it.
The limits match the weight of the work. Carrying burdens took strength, and God took that into account:
If God called people to do His work, He will provide all that is needed to carry it on... To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So no one had to take part in the Levites' work of bearing burdens until he had reached thirty years of age. And no one had to continue that service after fifty years of age... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
The end of heavy work is not the end of usefulness. The lesson reaches anyone whose active years are over:
This does show that age will limit our physical labour. It does not limit the help we can still give, so there is no reason to set anyone aside from spiritual service. Even a woman, Anna, is a lovely example of this (Luke 2:36-38). She was a true prophetess and had been a widow for 84 years, "worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day." John too, when over 90 years old, had the wonderful privilege of serving God by writing the Book of Revelation.
One phrase survives the retirement rule: "keep the charge."
In chapter 9 the people both journeyed and rested at the commandment of the Lord. In the same way the Levites kept "the charge" both in their labours and when they stopped their active service. The will of the Lord governs us in just this way, whether we are active or retired. At His word we are to labour, and at His word we are to rest. The only concern, therefore, of the servant is to be in communion with the Lord's mind.
- Given first. God took the Levite as His own before He gave him work. Service flows out of belonging to Him.
- Charged at twenty-five. Commentators differ: were the five years to thirty a test, or lighter duty? Either way, chapter 4 and chapter 8 agree.
- Measured strength. The age limits exist because God will not overtax anyone He calls, and He supplies what the work needs.
- Released at fifty. The heavy carrying ends as a kindness. The privilege of serving does not end; it only changes shape.
- Charge kept to the end. Working or resting, the servant's one business is the same — to hold the charge the Lord has given him.
And from fifty years old he shall retire from the labour of the service, and shall serve no more;
The chapter closes with a rule about time: God Himself set the year when a Levite's tabernacle work came to an end. Was that ending a loss or a kindness? And what was left for a man once his work stopped?
One writer looks at the Hebrew word behind this chapter. Elsewhere it pictures troops gathering; here it should be read as "service."
Host, tzava, as in verses 23, 30, and so on; see Exodus 38:8 and 1 Samuel 2:22, tza-va (to assemble by troops). But in Numbers 8:25 it should be "service," as in verse 23 of this chapter.
An earlier chapter starts the Levites at thirty; this one starts them at twenty-five. One explanation covers both ages. It also explains why the numbers changed later in Israel's history.
According to Numbers 4:3 and following, the Levites appear to have started their tabernacle service at the age of thirty. But Numbers 8:24-26 gives the age as twenty-five. It may be that they spent the first five years on probation, learning their duties. Later Israel settled in Canaan, and the labour of carrying the tabernacle ended. Then they started their service at the age of twenty. They laboured until they were fifty years of age. 1 Chronicles 23:24-27.
The upper age is not a dismissal. One writer links the age limit to the strength the work demanded.
To bear burdens required strength. Now God would not overtax the strength of anyone called to labour for Him. So no one was called to the Levitical work of bearing burdens before the age of thirty. And no one was asked to continue that service after fifty... What a thing it was, and is, to be the servants of God. He, the Almighty, thinks of them, and considers them.
What ends at fifty is the heavy lifting, not the man's place in God's house.
After fifty their heavy labours ended, but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
Two people in the New Testament show what that altered service can look like in old age.
This does show that age will limit our physical labour. It does not limit the help we can still give. So there is no reason for anyone to be set aside from spiritual service. Even a woman, Anna, is a lovely example of this (Luke 2:36-38). She was a true prophetess and had been a widow for 84 years. She served God with fasting and prayer, night and day. John too was over 90 when God gave him the wonderful privilege of serving Him by writing the Book of Revelation.
The next verse keeps the retired Levite in the tent with his brothers. One writer weighs what the older Levite laid down and what he still owed.
They were no longer to carry the appointed burdens (chapter 4) on their journeys through the wilderness. They might still share with their "brothers in the tent of meeting." But they were to keep the charge of the Lord, even if they did no service... We learn that the will of the Lord is to govern us in the same way, whether in activity or retirement. At His word we are to labour, and at His word we are to rest. The only concern of the servant, therefore, is to be in communion with the Lord's mind.
Commentators differ on how much was left to the older Levite. Another reading takes the exemption further:
They entered at twenty-five. After fifty they ministered with their brothers, but had no proper charge.
One writer calls the release itself a blessing, and points to a service with no end date.
The age of twenty-five (verse 24) shows maturity for service, that is, the full energy of the Spirit. Exemption from service came as a blessing, but keeping the charge remains. The priestly service never departs, but we grow greater in it... True honour in service is that we are wholly the Lord's.
- Limit. God set both ends of the Levite's working life. Service ran from twenty-five to fifty, and the first five years were likely a probation.
- Kindness. The upper age shows God's care for His servants. He would not overtax the strength of anyone He called to labour for Him.
- Change. The burden-bearing stopped; the belonging did not. Age altered the character of service without ending the privilege.
- Charge. The retired Levite still kept the charge of the Lord. His will governs work and rest alike — we labour at His word, and we rest at His word.
- Nearness. The task ends, but nearness to God does not. The priestly service never departs, and true honour is simply that we are wholly the Lord's.
but he shall minister with his brethren in the tent of meeting, and keep the charge, but he shall not serve [in] the service. Thus shalt thou do unto the Levites with regard to their charges.
This verse closes the long section on setting apart the Levites, and it closes with a timetable. Heavy work stops at fifty, yet the man stays in the tent of meeting — so what is left to him?
The ages here, read with Numbers 4, give a career in three stages, not two.
The closing verses show that Levitical service began at twenty-five years of age. After five preliminary years, full service began at thirty and continued until fifty. After fifty their heavy labours ended but they still ministered and kept the charge. Old age did not end their privilege of service but only altered its character.
The rule looks like a limit. It is also a kindness: God keeps the harder tasks for those strong enough to carry them.
Their period of service was fixed. It was uniform, from 25 to 50 years. It was a gracious provision: at 50 the Levite could retire from the harder work. There is no clash here with the statement of chapter 4. From 25 to 30 they could do the lighter work of the tabernacle, just as the Levites over 50 were free from the harder tasks. The Lord still fixes the period in which His servants are to serve Him, as He also looks out for their comfort (John 21:12, 18-19).
The service that ends is the carrying of burdens described in Numbers 4. What stays is the charge, and that makes the verse a lesson about rest as well as work.
Then, at the age of fifty, they were to stop attending to the service of the tabernacle, and were to serve no more. Still, they were to continue to "minister to their brothers in the tent of meeting by keeping guard, but they shall do no service." So they were no longer to carry the appointed burdens (chapter 4) on their journeys through the wilderness. They might still share the work with their brothers in the tent of meeting. But they were still to keep the charge of the Lord, even if they did no service… We learn that the will of the Lord is to govern us in the same way, whether in activity or in retirement. At His word we are to labour, and at His word we are to rest.
Two examples show that usefulness can outlast strength.
After 50 they could still help the other Levites in ministering, but were to do no work. This does show that while age is bound to limit our physical labour, it does not limit the help we can still give. So no one need be set aside from spiritual service. Even a woman, Anna, is a lovely example of this (Luke 2:36-38). A true prophetess, she had been a widow for 84 years, and she "served God with fasting and prayers night and day." John too was over 90 when God gave him the wonderful privilege of serving Him by writing the Book of Revelation.
If service has a start and a finish for the Levite, it has one for every servant — and the finish may not wait for old age.
Depending on the exact task, Levites started their active service at the age of 25 or 30. They retired into an advisory role when they were 50 (Numbers 3 and 4). Christian service also calls for a certain amount of maturity, no doubt different levels of it for different tasks. And a point in time comes when active service is over. This may not be at age 50, but it could be any time. When the Lord comes, our "window of opportunity" to serve Him "in the desert" will have gone!
The verse keeps the retired man inside the tent of meeting, with his brothers. That fits what the chapter says Levite work was for.
Numbers 8 clearly sets out this link between Levitical and priestly service. There we read that the Levites were given ("gifted", according to Young's Concordance) to Aaron and to his sons to do the service of the tabernacle. Does this not show that all true Levitical service exists to support priestly service in the presence of God? This is the real aim of all true ministry: that worship to our God and Father and our Lord Jesus Christ may be the result.
- Charge given. The Levites came to the priests as a gift, so all their work aimed at the worship offered in God's presence.
- Charge carried. Testing ran from twenty-five. Full service ran from thirty to fifty, the strongest years spent on the heaviest burdens.
- Charge lightened. Stopping at fifty was mercy, not dismissal. The Lord fixes how long His servants serve, and He cares for their comfort.
- Charge kept. The burdens go; the charge stays. Old age changes the character of service, not the privilege of it — Anna and John show how much is still possible.
- Charge closing. Every servant's window shuts at some point, so the one question, in labour or in rest, is what the Lord's mind is now.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the first month of the second year after their departure from the land of Egypt, saying,
The verse fixes a date and a place: one year after Israel left Egypt, still camped at Sinai, God speaks to Moses again. What He says next is a command to keep the Passover. Commentators find as much meaning in the timing as in the command.
The opening line gives a date. Set it beside the end of Exodus, and it shows what had just happened in the camp.
It helps us to look at the date in verse 1. From Exodus 40:17, and from verse 15 of this chapter, we learn that this was the very time when the tabernacle was "set up," and when the cloud "covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle." So it was at the very moment when God fully took possession of His sanctuary, so that He might dwell among them — the sign and fruit of accomplished redemption.
This chapter reaches back about a month before the census that opens the book. One writer sees a deliberate lesson in that order.
The instructions about the Passover fill the first half of chapter 9. God gave them to Moses at the beginning of the first month of the second year. That is about a month before the events we have been considering, as we see if we compare the first verse of our chapter with the first verse of Numbers 1. The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture makes this point: God only numbers and counts as His those He has redeemed.
The phrase "after they had come out of the land of Egypt" measures a whole year — and they are not home yet.
Time has passed here. It is a year since their deliverance, and they are still in the wilderness... They had been in slavery, but they were out of Egypt and in the wilderness, though not yet in Canaan. They remembered their deliverance, and along with it came toil and testing, because they were in the wilderness. So we have the joy and peace of deliverance, but not yet rest. They were out of Egypt, but in trouble and trial.
God now commands the feast a second time, in a desert far from where it began.
God commands the Passover at this particular moment, and so we learn that He would have His people always remember the ground of redemption on which His grace had placed them. In Egypt, they linked the Passover with shelter from judgment... In the wilderness they kept it as the ground of their deliverance from their slavery under Pharaoh, of their passage through the Red Sea — in a word, of the LORD's salvation. The blood of the Passover lamb had, in fact, secured everything for them which they now enjoyed.
This is the second Passover, and the three Passovers together trace the whole journey.
Israel kept the first Passover in Egypt. The second was in the wilderness at Sinai, with their faces turned towards the land of promise. They kept the next one in the land of Canaan. This shows how essential the blood is for everything. The blood delivers out of Egypt, it keeps in the wilderness and brings into the land of promise.
Mackintosh takes the same three stages and asks what the blood met at each one:
Was it a question of the judgment of God against Egypt? The blood of the lamb screened them from it. Was it a question of the countless and nameless wants of the wilderness? The blood of the lamb secured a full provision for them. Was it a question of the dreaded power of the seven nations of Canaan? The blood of the lamb was the sure and certain pledge of complete and glorious victory.
- Redemption first. The Passover comes a month before the census. God counts as His only those He has redeemed.
- Redemption housed. God had just taken possession of the tabernacle, and His glory filled it. He now dwelt among a redeemed people.
- Redemption remembered. A year on, still in the desert, God tells them to keep the feast again, so they never forget the ground they stand on.
- Redemption carries. Egypt, wilderness, Canaan — the blood of the lamb shelters, provides, and plants them in the land.
- Redemption without rest yet. Deliverance is real, but it has brought them into trial, not yet into Canaan. They have joy and peace now; rest is still ahead.
Let the children of Israel also hold the passover at its set time;
Israel had been out of Egypt for a year and was still in the wilderness. God told them to hold the Passover again — the meal that had marked their shelter from judgment in Egypt. Why keep it here, and why fix the time and the manner so tightly?
The date in verse 1 matters. It falls at the moment Israel set up the tabernacle — God's tent-dwelling among them.
This was the very time when the tabernacle was set up. God took possession of His sanctuary to dwell among them — the sign and fruit of completed redemption. In prescribing the Passover at this particular moment, we learn that God would have His people always remember the ground of redemption on which He had in grace placed them. In Egypt, the Passover was linked in their minds with shelter from judgment. In the wilderness they kept it as the ground of their rescue from Pharaoh's slavery, of their passage through the Red Sea — in a word, of the Lord's salvation. The blood of the Passover lamb had in fact secured everything they now enjoyed.
Israel kept this feast in three different places, not one.
There are three distinct settings in which we find this great redemption-feast kept: in Egypt (Ex. 12), in the wilderness (Num. 9), and in the land of Canaan (Josh. 5). Redemption lies at the foundation of everything in the history of God's people. Are they to be delivered from the slavery, the death and the darkness of Egypt? It is by redemption. Are they to be carried through all the difficulties and dangers of the desert? It is on the ground of redemption. Are they to walk over the ruins of Jericho's walls and stand on the necks of the kings of Canaan? It is because of redemption.
Israel was free, but not yet home.
A year has passed since their deliverance, and they are still in the wilderness. They had been in slavery, but they were out of Egypt and in the wilderness, though not yet in Canaan. They had the memory of deliverance, along with toil and testing as its fruits, because they were in the wilderness. So we have the joy and peace of deliverance, but not yet rest.
Darby then sets two responses side by side:
Unbelief may say, "We shall die in the wilderness," but faith will always keep the Passover. It recognises God's deliverance, and this is blessing.
The verse fixes both when and how.
Verses 2-5 require obedience to everything God had commanded about it. He had laid down the time and the manner, and what He laid down was to stand for all time. This principle of obedience is as true for us who are under grace as it was for Israel under law. Only one variation was permitted, as we see in verses 6-8.
Grace met the one who could not keep it, without weakening the command:
On the one hand the Passover must be kept — the remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no pathway out of the world without the death of Christ. On the other hand, suppose they were not in a fit condition because of defilement. The Lord makes special provision for that here. He would not lower the Passover by setting aside its absolute obligation. At the same time He would kindly take account of the conditions of the journey that might get in the way.
Mackintosh carries this straight over to the Lord's Supper.
There is this connection between the Passover and the Lord's Supper: the first was the type, the second the memorial, of the death of Christ. So we read in 1 Corinthians 5, "For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed." That sentence establishes the connection. The Passover was the memorial of Israel's redemption from Egypt. The Lord's Supper is the memorial of the Church's redemption from the heavier and darker slavery of sin and Satan. So the faithful Christian keeps the Lord's Supper at its appointed time, as the faithful Israelite kept the Passover at its appointed time.
He also makes longing for the feast a test of the heart:
The more deeply anyone entered into what had been accomplished on that memorable night, the more earnestly he would long for the fourteenth day of the first month to come round again. He wanted to mark that glorious occasion. If anything kept him from keeping it in the first month, he would gladly and thankfully take up the second. But the man who could be content to go on year after year without keeping the Passover only proved that his heart was far from the God of Israel.
- Ground. God set the feast at the moment He came to dwell among them, so that redemption stayed in front of their eyes.
- Everywhere. Egypt, desert, Canaan — every stage of the journey rests on the same redemption.
- Faith. Unbelief says they will die in the desert. Faith keeps the feast and owns the deliverance already given.
- Appointed. God fixed the time and the manner, not Israel. That principle of obedience holds under grace too.
- Remembrance. The Lord's Supper is to a Christian what the Passover was to an Israelite. Steady neglect of it shows where the heart is.
on the fourteenth day in this month between the two evenings, ye shall hold it at its set time; according to all the rites of it, and according to all the ordinances thereof shall ye hold it.
A year out of Egypt, camped in the wilderness of Sinai, Israel hears God command the Passover again — on a set day, at a set hour, by every rule. Why repeat redemption so exactly, and why now, before the march to Canaan begins?
The order matters. The Passover comes before the census that opens the book:
The instructions about the Passover fill the first half of chapter 9. Moses received them at the beginning of the first month of the second year — about a month before the census. We can see this by comparing the first verse of our chapter with the first verse of Numbers 1. The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the type emphasised this fact: God numbers and counts as His only those He has redeemed.
The same blood carried them at every stage of the road:
In a word, the blood of the lamb met the people in Egypt; it went with them through the desert; and it planted them in Canaan. It was the blessed basis of all God's actions in them, with them, and for them. Was it a question of God's judgment against Egypt? The blood of the lamb screened them from it. Was it a question of the countless and nameless needs of the wilderness? The blood of the lamb secured full provision for them. Was it a question of the dreaded power of the seven nations of Canaan? The blood of the lamb was the sure and certain pledge of complete and glorious victory.
A feast kept in a desert is kept by people still on the road:
After Egypt, the next place where Israel kept the Passover was the wilderness. God told them to keep it there "according to all its statutes and all its rules" (Num. 9:3). The wilderness is the place of every believer seen as a pilgrim. The world has become a desert to him, and he is passing through it, though not of it, because he is waiting for the return of his Lord… In the wilderness we feed on the Passover as the memorial of our deliverance from Egypt. In it we see Christ going down into death. He bore all the judgment that was our due, going through it and exhausting it. He also met and conquered all the power of the enemy.
The verse fixes the day, the hour, and then every rule. God will not lower His own terms:
We see Jehovah would not lower His end or His ways. On the one hand the Passover must be kept — the remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no pathway out of the world without the death of Christ… The death of Christ is the necessary and only possible foundation for any blessing from God; but besides, when they are in the wilderness, the death of Christ is just as necessary. Where indeed is it not necessary?
Grace allowed a second-month Passover. It did not allow a reduced one:
Grace permitted the second month instead of the first. Even so, it allowed no looseness about the rites and ceremonies of the feast. The unleavened bread and bitter herbs were always to have their place. None of the sacrifice was to remain till morning, and no one was to break a single bone of it. God cannot allow any lowering of the standard of truth or holiness. A man, through weakness, failure, or the force of circumstances, might be behind the time; but he must not be below the mark. Grace permitted the first; holiness forbids the second.
One writer carries this over to the Lord's Supper:
There is this connection between the Passover and the Lord's Supper: the first was the type, the second the memorial, of the death of Christ… Every true and faithful Israelite would surely keep the Passover at the appointed time and according to all its rites and ceremonies. In the same way, every true and faithful Christian will celebrate the Lord's Supper at its appointed time, and by all the principles the New Testament lays down about it.
- Appointed first. God commands the Passover before the census and before the march. He counts as His only those He has redeemed.
- Appointed blood. One lamb covers the whole road: it screened them in Egypt, supplied them in the desert, and planted them in Canaan.
- Appointed place. Kept in the desert, the feast belongs to pilgrims. They are delivered people, passing through a world that is not theirs, waiting for their Lord.
- Appointed terms. The day and every rule are God's. He would not lower His ways; the remembrance of Christ's death is needed everywhere.
- Appointed grace. He opened a second month for those who missed the first, but lowered no rule. Weakness may put us behind the time, never below the mark.
And Moses spoke to the children of Israel, that they should hold the passover.
A year out of Egypt, camped at Sinai, God commands Israel to keep the Passover again, and this verse shows Moses passing that word on to the people. Why must a redeemed people keep rehearsing their redemption?
The instructions about this feast reach back to a month before the census that opens the book of Numbers. One commentator draws out what that order pictures.
The instructions about the Passover, which fill the first half of chapter 9, came to Moses at the beginning of the first month of the second year. That is about a month before what we have been considering. We can see this by comparing the first verse of our chapter with the first verse of Numbers 1. The Passover commemorated the basis on which the redemption of the people rested. That came first, and the numbering of the people followed. So the picture stresses this fact: God only numbers and counts as His those whom He has redeemed.
Moses adds nothing and softens nothing. He passes the command on as God gave it. The same writer draws out the rule behind that.
Verses 2-5 enforce obedience to all that God had commanded about it. God had laid down its time and its manner, and what He had laid down was to stand for all time. This principle of obedience is as true for us who are under grace as it was for Israel under law.
The Passover was not a one-off ceremony left behind in Egypt. Israel kept it in Egypt, keeps it here in the desert, and would keep it again in the land. One writer sees in that pattern the death of Christ, needed at every stage.
On the one hand the passover must be kept — the remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no pathway out of the world without the death of Christ — the passover kept in Egypt. Without the blood of the Lamb first, they could never have left Egypt or crossed the Red Sea. The death of Christ is the necessary and only possible foundation for any blessing from God. And when they are in the wilderness, the death of Christ is just as necessary. Where indeed is it not necessary? When we enter Canaan, there we find the passover meets us in the foreground. (Joshua 5) Everywhere the death of Christ is essential — as for God's glory, so for man's blessing.
In the desert, keeping this feast meant trusting a deliverance the people could not yet see finished. They were out of Egypt but not yet in the land. That is where faith and unbelief show themselves.
They were to keep the passover as an offering to the Lord. It was to remind them, and keep them fully aware, that they were the Lord's delivered people. We have the same principle in spiritual form in the Lord's supper. There is deliverance in Christ, but trial and testing in our actual condition here. Unbelief may say, "We shall die in the wilderness," but faith will always keep the passover. It recognises God's deliverance, and this is blessing.
One writer points out how rare this obedience turned out to be, and why.
This was the only passover mentioned in the wilderness; there is no record of any other. And when we consider the constant unbelief of the people, we are not surprised. What moral value would a memorial of deliverance have, if the people doubted that deliverance?
Writers link this feast to the Lord's Supper — the bread and cup Christians share in remembrance of Christ's death. One of them sets the two side by side.
The Passover was the memorial of Israel's redemption from slavery in Egypt. The Lord's supper is the memorial of the Church's redemption from the heavier and darker slavery of sin and Satan. So every true and faithful Israelite would keep the Passover at the appointed season, with all its rites and ceremonies. In the same way, every true and faithful Christian will celebrate the Lord's supper at its appointed season, following all the principles the New Testament lays down about it. If an Israelite had neglected the Passover, even once, he would have been cut off from the congregation.
- Redeemed first — God commands the feast of redemption before the census. He counts as His only those He has redeemed.
- Relayed exactly — Moses passes the command on without changing its time or manner. That same obedience belongs to people under grace.
- Needed everywhere — out of Egypt, through the desert, into the land. At every stage the death of Christ is the foundation.
- Held by faith — unbelief says the wilderness will be a grave. Faith keeps the feast and owns the deliverance God has given.
- Kept today — the Lord's Supper is to the Christian what the Passover was to Israel. Keep it at its season, in its appointed way.
And they held the passover in the first [month] on the fourteenth day of the month, between the two evenings, in the wilderness of Sinai according to all that Jehovah had commanded Moses, so did the children of Israel.
One year out of Egypt, still camped at Sinai, Israel keeps the Passover again, exactly as God commanded. It is the only Passover the Bible records in the whole desert journey, and that raises two questions: why here, and why never again until Canaan?
Commentators find this feast kept at three stages of Israel's story — in Egypt, in the desert, and in the promised land:
We find this great redemption-feast kept in three distinct places: in Egypt (Ex. 12), in the wilderness (Num. 9), and in the land of Canaan (Joshua 5). Redemption lies at the foundation of everything in the history of God's people. Are they to be delivered from the bondage, the death, and the darkness of Egypt? It is by redemption. Are they to be carried along through all the difficulties and dangers of the desert? It is on the ground of redemption. Are they to walk over the ruins of the threatening walls of Jericho, and plant their feet on the necks of the kings of Canaan? It is by virtue of redemption.
The chapter opens by giving the month and the year. That date matches another event: the setting up of the tabernacle, Israel's tent of worship:
Exodus 40:17 and verse 15 of this chapter show that this was the very time when the tabernacle was set up, and when "the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle." So God took full possession of His sanctuary at this very time, to dwell among them — the sign and fruit of accomplished redemption.
The desert journey has not yet begun. One writer notes the second date God allowed, and why the memory of redemption came first:
Next comes the command to keep the Passover, and the appointment of a second Passover for those kept from the first by distance or defilement. For the trials of wilderness life, how necessary it was to carry with them the remembrance and joy of redemption! That meant knowing God as acting for them in grace, whatever difficulties they had to find their way through.
The verse ends by noting that Israel did everything the LORD commanded. God left nothing about the feast to Israel's judgment:
It was the striking memorial of Israel's redemption — the clear expression of Israel's unity. Keeping it strictly, with all the rites and ordinances God appointed, was a duty binding on the whole congregation of Israel. Anyone who wilfully neglected it was to be cut off from the congregation. It was not to be neglected on the one hand, nor tampered with on the other. We could not imagine a faithful Israelite changing the smallest detail of the order laid down for the feast. Neither the time nor the way of keeping it left the slightest room for human ideas. The Word of the Lord settled everything.
After this verse the record goes quiet. Israel's next Passover comes only in Canaan, and commentators give different reasons for the gap. One writer links the silence to the people's unbelief:
This was the only Passover mentioned in the wilderness; there is no record of any other. And when we think of the people's constant unbelief, we are not surprised. What moral value would a memorial of deliverance have, if that deliverance were doubted? A deliverance from one form of death to another would be a mockery. Yet, going by Israel's own complaints, that is what the LORD had done for His people: brought them out of Egypt so that they might be killed in the wilderness.
Another points instead to the generation born in the desert:
As far as I know, there is no evidence that they kept it after Sinai (Num. 9) until they were in Canaan. Those born in the wilderness were not fit to keep it, because they stayed uncircumcised until they crossed the Jordan. Once they were circumcised under Joshua, they kept it.
- Blood first. Redemption is the ground of every stage — rescue from Egypt, survival in the desert, and victory in Canaan.
- Timed by God. The feast falls when God moves in among His people — the tabernacle set up, the glory filling it, redemption accomplished.
- Fuel for the road. God gives the memory of redemption before the desert trials, so the people carry its joy into every difficulty.
- Kept as commanded. God alone fixed the date and the manner. No faithful Israelite would change either, and wilful neglect meant being cut off.
- Then silence. Scripture records no other Passover until Canaan. Some writers point to the people's unbelief, others to the uncircumcised generation born in the desert.
And there were men, who were unclean through the dead body of a man, and could not hold the passover on that day; and they came before Moses and before Aaron on that day.
Israel kept the Passover at Sinai, and then a new case came up: some men had touched a dead body, so they were unclean and shut out of the feast. That raises two questions — does a worshipper's state matter to God, and what does He do when the person shut out is not to blame?
Where did this new case come from? One writer traces it to the desert itself:
A deeply interesting question, surely, but one that had no answer yet. Exodus 12 gives a very full statement of all the rites and ceremonies of the feast, yet it anticipates no such case. The wilderness brought this new point to light. The difficulty came up in the actual walk of the people — in the real, practical details of desert life — and it needed a solution.
Contact with death runs through the book of Numbers, and the desert itself explains why:
Defilement by the dead is characteristic of the book of Numbers… The wilderness is barren. It has nothing that would sustain life, so it suggests death. In many places the skeletons of animals and men lie far and wide, bleaching in sun and wind. The world bears the same stamp and seal of death, the clear mark of its distance and alienation from the living God.
These men had every right to the feast. What they lacked was a state to match it, and they felt the loss:
They were not only conscious of their uncleanness. They also felt the pain of losing the privilege of celebrating the memorial of their redemption… These children of Israel had a perfect title to the Passover feast. But they now understand that the title, by itself, was not enough. There must also be a state suited to the title. And further, the Lord alone could order how the feast was kept.
The men brought the case to Moses and Aaron. One writer admires what Moses did next:
Moses had no answer to give, but he knew who had, and he waited on Him. This was the very best and wisest thing for Moses to do. He did not pretend to be able to give an answer. He was not ashamed to say, "I do not know." With all his wisdom and knowledge, he did not hesitate to show his ignorance. This is true knowledge — true wisdom.
God's answer was a Passover kept one month later. That was not a loosening of the rule:
Then in Numbers 9 comes a special provision. It covers any impurity picked up in the wilderness that might stop the Passover being kept at the right season. It is the resource of grace, and is found only here… We see that the Lord would not lower His end or His ways. On the one hand the Passover must be kept — the remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere… On the other hand, if they were not in a fit condition through defilement, the Lord here makes a special provision for it.
The delay was never a way around cleansing:
Their stay outside, and their loss of the privileges God's people normally enjoy, might be only temporary. Numbers 9:6-10 shows this. Defilement in the first month kept these men from the Passover, yet the grace of God allowed them to take it in the second month. But the condition was always the same: the defilement had to be removed in a way suited to the glory of God.
One writer draws a sharp line between being hindered and being careless:
These men had been defiled not by their sin, but by duties connected with the dead… So the provision did not excuse carelessness, but it did cover unavoidable duties. We may well take this teaching to heart in relation to the Lord's Supper… To miss it through carelessness means spiritual loss. It is not so if necessary and right duties hinder us.
Yet the second month is a mercy with a memory attached:
Whenever we let defilement push the redemption of our blessed Lord into second place, God must show us we have done so. He does this even in His restoring grace. So the very grace that restores us to God's thoughts reminds us of our failure.
- Defilement: The desert raised a case the first Passover never covered: contact with death, the mark the world bears.
- Desire: These men grieved at being shut out. Their right to the feast was real, but they still needed a state to match it.
- Dependence: Moses would not answer from himself — "I do not know" is called true wisdom here.
- Deferral: God did not cancel the feast or skip the cleansing. He moved the date, so grace met the need and the standard stood.
- Discernment: God provides for those held back by real duty. Carelessness only brings loss, and even restoring grace reminds us of the failure.
And those men said to him, We are unclean by reason of the dead body of a man why are we kept back, that we may not present the offering of Jehovah at its set time among the children of Israel?
A year after leaving Egypt, Israel keeps the Passover at Sinai, and some men are shut out because they had touched a dead body. They ask Moses whether that must cost them their place at the memorial of their redemption.
Nothing in the first Passover rules had covered a case like this.
This is a deeply interesting question, but so far no answer had been given for it. The original rules in Exodus 12 say nothing about such a case, although they give a very full statement of all the rites and ceremonies of the feast. It was reserved for the wilderness to bring out this new point. The difficulty came up in the actual walk of the people, in the real practical details of desert life. A solution had to be found for it.
Defilement came by contact, and one writer applies that to the company a believer keeps today.
Some of the people had been defiled by contact with a dead body, and that barred them from keeping the Passover (v.6). This speaks seriously to us today. There are many dead bodies in Christendom. They profess to be Christian, but they have no life in them, so the corruption of death taints them. If someone joins in fellowship with such a group, it defiles him, even though he himself is not dead. He must be purified from this defilement before he can rightly take part in the Lord's supper.
Before they ask anything, they admit what is wrong.
They plainly confessed the defilement. Then this question came up: were they to be shut out from the holy privilege of coming before the Lord in His appointed way? Was there no resource, no provision for such a case?
No one disputed their right to the feast.
Many a Christian might learn a lesson from these Israelites. They were not only aware of their uncleanness. They also felt, with real pain, the loss of the privilege of celebrating the memorial of their redemption… These children of Israel had a perfect title to the Passover feast. But now they understand that the title by itself was not enough. There must also be a state suited to the title. And the Lord alone could order how the feast was kept.
The answer could have gone two ways: relax the feast, or abandon the men. It did neither.
We see that the Lord would not lower His end or His ways. On the one hand, the passover must be kept. The remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere… On the other hand, they might not be in a fit condition, because of defilement. For that case the Lord here makes a special provision. He would not lower the passover by setting aside its absolute obligation. At the same time, He would look with pity on the circumstances of the journey.
Faced with a question he had no answer for, the leader of the nation refused to invent one.
"And Moses said to them, Stand still, and I will hear what the Lord will command concerning you." Lovely attitude! Moses had no answer to give; but he knew who had, and he waited on Him. This was the very best and wisest thing for Moses to do. He did not pretend to be able to give an answer. He was not ashamed to say, "I do not know."
The Lord's reply covered both the defiled man and the traveller.
The men who were defiled made a confession of it. Moses did not know what to do about their case, so he turned to the Lord for instruction, and the answer came at once. The grace of God met this need in a blessed way… He gave them time for cleansing and for return from the journey, and then a month later they could keep the Passover. None was to be shut out from the feast of redemption which God in His grace had provided for His people. Confession and self-judgment are needed in keeping the Lord's Supper. If the wanderer returns, he finds a welcome at the table He has spread for His people.
- Contact. Touching what is dead defiles. That is what kept these men from the feast — so a believer should watch what he joins himself to.
- Confession. They admitted their defilement plainly; confession and self-judgment are still needed at the Lord's table.
- Longing. They felt the loss of the memorial with real pain. Their title to the feast was perfect, but a title alone was not enough — the state had to match it.
- Waiting. Moses had no answer of his own, so he took the case to the Lord. The Lord alone could order how the feast was kept.
- Grace. God would not lower the feast, and He would not shut the man out. A second month was pure grace, and the one who returns still finds a welcome.
And Moses said to them, Stay, and I will hear what Jehovah commands concerning you.
Israel is in the desert, keeping the Passover, and a small group cannot join because contact with a dead body has left them unclean. When they bring their case to Moses, he tells them he has no answer yet.
Moses faced a case the earlier instructions had not covered.
A deeply interesting question, but one for which no answer had yet been provided. The original instructions in Exodus 12 anticipate no such case. Yet they give a very full statement of all the rites and ceremonies of the feast. It was reserved for the wilderness to bring out this new point. The difficulty appeared in the actual walk of the people, in the real practical details of desert life. That is where it called for a solution.
The men had not sinned; their defilement came from handling the dead. Even so, the leader would not bend the command to fit the case.
Moses knew that he had no authority to vary God's instructions, so he went to the Lord to hear what He had to say. The men in question had been defiled not by their sin but by attending duties in connection with the dead. God allowed them to eat the feast exactly a month later, but they had to keep all the ordinances connected with it. So this sanctioned no carelessness, yet it made provision for unavoidable duties. We may well take this teaching to heart in relation to the Lord's Supper. To miss that through carelessness means spiritual loss. It is not so when necessary and right duties hinder us.
Waiting cost Moses something. As leader, he had to admit he had no reply.
"Wait, that I may hear what the LORD will command concerning you." Lovely attitude! Moses had no answer to give, but he knew who had, and he waited on Him. He was not ashamed to say, "I do not know." With all his wisdom and knowledge, he did not hesitate to show his ignorance. This is true knowledge — true wisdom.
The same writer turns this on the reader, and on our habit of covering gaps in our knowledge with speech.
We are often so silly as to be ashamed to expose our ignorance. We foolishly imagine that our reputation for wisdom and intelligence suffers when we say, "I don't know." That is a total mistake. Those words are a fine sentence, and they express true moral greatness. We always attach much more weight to the words of a man who never pretends to knowledge he does not have. But a man who is always ready to speak, in flippant self-confidence, we are never ready to hear.
These men were Israelites, redeemed with the rest. Their right to the feast was clear. Something more was still needed.
Moses could only refer the matter to the Lord. From this we gather that the word of the Lord alone must govern the observance of the Passover. These children of Israel had a perfect title to the Passover feast. But they now understand that the title, by itself, was not enough. There must also be a state suited to the title. And further, the Lord alone could order the manner of its celebration.
God's reply set a second date, a month later, for the defiled and for those far from home.
Moses did not know what to do about their case, so he turned to the Lord for instruction. The Lord gave it at once. The grace of God met this need in a blessed way. They had time for cleansing and for return from the journey, and then a month later they could keep the Passover. None was to be shut out from the feast of redemption which God in His grace had provided for His people.
The second month was real relief. It was not a loophole.
The wilderness is where human failure comes fully out. The wilderness is also where God displays the infinite resources of His grace. But let us say it once more, and may it sink deep and wide into our hearts. The richest provisions of divine grace and mercy give no warrant whatever for lowering the standard of divine truth. Suppose a man had pleaded defilement or distance as an excuse for not keeping the Passover, or for keeping it in any way other than God had commanded. He would certainly have been cut off from the congregation.
- Question. Desert life raised a case the written instructions had not covered. The wilderness is where the real difficulties surface.
- Wait. Moses' greatness shows in his pause; he had no answer, but he knew who had, and he was not ashamed to say so.
- Word. No leader may adjust God's command to fit a hard case; only the Lord could set the terms of His own feast.
- Grace. The reply opened a second date, a month later, leaving time to get clean and to travel home. No redeemed Israelite stayed shut out.
- Standard. Mercy met the need of those truly hindered. It never lowered the rule for the careless.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
In this verse God answers a question no one on earth could settle. Men who had touched a dead body wanted to know why that should shut them out of the Passover. What follows is God's own reply — and it shows how He handles His people when the wilderness gets in the way of worship.
The case was new. The first Passover instructions had never covered it. One writer shows where the gap appeared.
The original instructions in Exodus 12 do not deal with a case like this, even though they set out all the rites and ceremonies of the feast in full. It took the wilderness to bring this new point out. The difficulty came up in the people's actual walk — in the real practical details of desert life — and it needed an answer. So the record of this whole matter belongs where we find it: in Numbers, the book of the wilderness.
Moses had no answer of his own. One writer calls what he did next the wisest possible move.
Moses had no answer to give; but he knew who had, and he waited on Him. This was the very best and wisest thing for Moses to do. He did not pretend to be able to give an answer. He was not ashamed to say, "I do not know." With all his wisdom and knowledge, he did not hesitate to show his ignorance. This is true knowledge — true wisdom.
From this verse on, God does not lower His standard. He joins two things that can seem opposed.
From verse 9 on we see grace and holiness brought together to meet defilement. Defilement now is death above all, because the Spirit of God works in us with power, and so we know sin in its real force as death. God brings in the remedy where the need is, the moment the matter at hand is being kept back from offering to the Lord.
God's answer moved the date. It never cancelled the duty, because the Passover held something too important to drop.
On the one hand, the Passover must be kept. Remembering the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no path out of the world without the death of Christ, which they kept in Egypt… On the other hand, if defilement left them unfit, Jehovah here makes a special provision for it. He would not lower the Passover by setting aside its absolute obligation. But at the same time He would look with pity on the circumstances of the road, which could get in the way of keeping it.
Grace made room for weakness. It did not lower the standard.
The grace of God can meet us in our greatest weakness, if only we feel that weakness and confess it. But do not let this most precious and comforting truth lead us to treat sin or defilement lightly… Through weakness, failure, or the pressure of circumstances, a man might be behind the time. But he must not be below the mark. Grace allowed the first; holiness forbids the second.
One writer applies this provision to the Lord's Supper. He draws a line between being hindered and being careless.
These men had been defiled not by their own sin but by duties they carried out in connection with the dead. God allowed them to eat the feast exactly a month later, but they had to keep all the ordinances that went with it. So carelessness got no approval, yet unavoidable duties got provision. We may well take the teaching of this to heart in relation to the Lord's Supper, which was instituted just as the prophetic meaning of the Passover was about to be fulfilled. To miss it through carelessness means spiritual loss. It is not so when necessary and right duties keep us away.
Another writer puts the welcome of it plainly.
No one was to be shut out from the feast of redemption that God in His grace had provided for His people… If the wanderer only returns, he finds a welcome at the table He has spread for His people.
- Need. The problem came up on the road, not in the rulebook. Exodus 12 never covered it; the wilderness brought it to light.
- Silence. Moses did not guess. He waited on the One who had the answer, and this verse is God's reply.
- Grace. God did not scold the defiled men. He brought the remedy to the exact point of need, where defilement had kept them from offering to Him.
- Standard. The date moved; the requirements did not. Grace let a man be behind the time, never below the mark.
- Welcome. Being hindered need not keep anyone from the table God has spread. If the wanderer returns, he finds a welcome.
Speak unto the children of Israel, saying, If any one of you or of your generations be unclean by reason of a dead body or be on a journey afar off, yet he shall hold the passover to Jehovah.
A practical problem came up in the desert: some Israelites had touched a dead body, so they could not keep the Passover at its set time. God's answer covers anyone defiled and anyone far away on a journey, and it names a second date instead of cancelling the feast.
This provision is not found in the original Passover law given in Egypt. One writer connects that fact to the character of the book it sits in.
The Red Heifer is given in full detail only in the fourth book, because it is the special provision for defilements along the way; and this book deals with the wilderness path of God's people. So only here do we have the gracious means of a second-month Passover for those who missed the first through a passing defilement. The Passover itself was instituted and set out most fully in the second book as the sacrificial basis of redemption.
Mackintosh makes the same observation from the side of experience: the difficulty surfaced in real desert life, and no answer to it had been given before.
The original law in Exodus 12 does not foresee any such case, though it gives there a very full statement of all the rites and ceremonies of the feast. It was reserved for the wilderness to bring out this new point. The difficulty came up in the actual walk of the people — in the real practical details of desert life — and it needed a solution. So Numbers, the book of the wilderness, is the fitting place for the record of this whole affair.
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Uncleanness and distance are very different problems, yet God treats them together. Neither one excuses a man from the feast. A later date answers both.
On the one hand the Passover must be kept — the remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no pathway out of the world without the death of Christ... On the other hand, if they were not in a fit state because of defilement, the Lord here makes a special provision for it. He would not lower the Passover by setting aside its absolute obligation. But at the same time He would kindly allow for the conditions of the road that might make keeping it impossible.
The extra month makes room for weakness. It does not lower the rules.
The grace of God can meet us in our greatest weakness, if only we feel that weakness and confess it. But do not let this precious and comforting truth lead us to trifle with sin or defilement. Grace allowed the second month instead of the first. But it did not on that account allow any looseness about the rites and ceremonies of the feast. The unleavened bread and bitter herbs were always to have their place. God cannot allow any lowering of the standard of truth or holiness. A man might be behind the time through weakness, failure, or the pressure of circumstances. But he must not be below the mark.
The delay is not empty. A month is what the two hindrances need: time to wash, and time to travel home. But grace for the hindered is not cover for the careless.
God gave time for cleansing and for the return from the journey, and then a month later they could keep the Passover. No one was to be shut out from the feast of redemption that God in His grace had provided for His people... If the wanderer only returns, he finds a welcome at the table He has spread for His people... But if anyone did neglect the Passover on purpose, he was to be cut off from his people. Such neglect showed that he had no heart for the Lord and His redemption.
The rule exists because some men wanted in. They did not resent the shut door; they wanted the place they had lost.
God tenderly regarded the desire of His people. Longing to be fully one with His own, and to enjoy the privileges He Himself has given, is always the sign of a right state of soul. So He directed that an exceptional provision be made for this case. Such believers, and any who might be on a journey, should not be barred from their place at the Passover table. They were to keep the feast on the fourteenth day of the second month, and they were to be careful at the same time to keep it according to all its rules.
One writer applies the same two hindrances to the breaking of bread today.
When someone is cleansed from the defilement of unholy company, he is to be welcomed to the breaking of bread. And if distance has made fellowship impossible, that must not hinder fellowship when he returns from his journey.
- Hindrance. Two things could keep an Israelite from the feast on time: touching a dead body, and being far away on a journey.
- Question. The men did not shrug at the shut door. They asked for their place, and that longing is the sign of a right state of soul.
- Grace. God gave a new date, not an excuse: the fourteenth day of the second month. That is just enough time for cleansing to finish and travellers to get home.
- Standard. Grace allowed the later month, but not one loose rite: a man may be behind the time, but never below the mark.
- Result. No one who wanted in was shut out of the feast of redemption. But the man who skipped it on purpose was cut off from his people.
In the second month, on the fourteenth day, between the two evenings, shall they hold it; with unleavened bread and bitter herbs shall they eat it.
Israel kept the Passover in the wilderness, on the day God had set. But some men had touched a dead body. That shut them out of the very feast that marked them as a redeemed people. This verse is God's answer: a second date, one month later, with every detail of the first feast still standing.
Exodus 12 gives a very full statement of all the rites and all the ceremonies of the feast. Yet it never allows for a case like this one. It took the wilderness to bring this new point out. The difficulty came up in the actual walk of the people, in the real practical details of desert life, and it needed an answer.
Notice what God protects here, and what He adjusts.
This provision is the resource of grace, and it is found only here... On the one hand the passover must be kept. The remembrance of the death of Christ is necessary everywhere. There is no way out of the world without the death of Christ, which they kept in Egypt. When they are in the wilderness, the death of Christ is just as necessary. When we enter Canaan, we find the passover meets us there in the foreground (Joshua 5)... On the other hand, suppose they were not in a fit condition because of defilement. Jehovah here makes a special provision for that. He would not lower the passover by setting aside its absolute obligation. But at the same time He would look with pity on the circumstances of the road that might make keeping it impossible.
A later date did not mean an easier one.
Though grace allowed the second month instead of the first, it did not allow any slackness about the rites and ceremonies of the feast. "The unleavened bread and bitter herbs" were always to have their place. None of the sacrifice was to remain till the morning, and not one bone of it was to be broken. God cannot allow any lowering of the standard of truth or holiness. A man, through weakness, failure, or the force of circumstances, might be behind the time. But he must not be below the mark. Grace permitted the first; holiness forbids the second. If anyone had presumed on the grace to set aside the holiness, he would have been cut off from the congregation.
The bread and the herbs are more than part of the meal.
Leaven is a picture of evil. So the unleavened bread speaks on one side of the absence of evil, and on the other of purity and holiness. The apostle Paul speaks of the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth... The bitter herbs stand for what comes of entering into the sufferings of Christ on our behalf: repentance, and self-judgment in the presence of God. These two things picture the state of soul in which alone we can really feed on the lamb roasted with fire.
Grace here does more than excuse these men. It gives them a way in.
They were given time to be cleansed and to get back from their journey. Then, a month later, they could keep the Passover. Restores the Lord's Supper line so the application is grounded
This second date did not stay on paper. A king later used it for a whole nation.
At the time of Hezekiah's revival, the Passover was not kept on the fourteenth day of the first month, but on the fourteenth of the second month (2 Chr. 30:15). That was the date the Word authorized for those who were unclean, or on a journey when the feast was held. The priests were in the first case. They had lacked the zeal to sanctify themselves, so they were unclean, and Hezekiah acted accordingly.
- Cause — a man was unclean from a death, or far off on a journey. Exodus 12 had never covered such a case.
- Gift — grace moves the date, not the standard: a man may be behind the time, but never below the mark.
- Reach — no one is shut out. The delay gives the unclean time to get clean, and the traveller time to come home.
- Cost — the bitter herbs come with the bread. Repentance and self-judgment are the state of soul that can feed on the lamb.
- Result — a whole nation later used this second date. Hezekiah's people owned their uncleanness and kept the feast.
They shall leave none of it until the morning, nor break a bone thereof according to every ordinance of the passover shall they hold it.
Some Israelites had touched a dead body and missed the Passover at its set time, so God let them keep it a month late. But they had to keep it in full — grace moved the date, never the standard.
A second month was not a softening of the feast. It made sure that neither death nor distance cost anyone the Passover.
There are two great foundation truths set out in the Passover: redemption, and the unity of God's people. These truths are unchangeable... Circumstances were not to interfere with it. Death or distance was not to interrupt it. "If any one of you or of your descendants is unclean through touching a dead body, or is on a long journey, he shall still keep the Passover to the LORD." Keeping this feast was binding on every member of the congregation. So Numbers 9 makes a special provision for those who were not up to the mark of keeping it in the proper order. Turn to 2 Chronicles 30 and you will see that Hezekiah and the congregation in his day made use of this gracious provision.
The permission touched the date only. The rules in this verse — nothing left till morning, no bone broken — still bound the man who came late.
The grace of God can meet us in our greatest possible weakness, if only we feel and confess that weakness. But do not let this most precious and comforting truth lead us to trifle with sin or defilement. Grace permitted the second month instead of the first. Even so, it allowed no looseness about the rites and ceremonies of the feast... God cannot allow any lowering of the standard of truth or holiness. Man, through weakness, failure, or the force of circumstances, might be behind the time; but he must not be below the mark.
Read verse 3 beside verses 11–12 and something odd appears. The first month gets a phrase; the second month gets an item-by-item list.
Why is it that in this ninth chapter of Numbers the directions for the second month are much more detailed than those for the first? Surely it is not that the ordinance was more important in the one case than in the other... for the first month we simply read that they shall keep it "according to all its statutes and all its rules." But for the second month we get a detailed statement of what those statutes and rules were.
The lamb was never eaten alone. Unleavened bread and bitter herbs went with it, and each one carries a meaning.
Keeping the feast of "unleavened bread" pictures feeding on Christ, on Him in His unstained purity. The bitter herbs were eaten with the lamb's body on the Passover night; self-judgment went together with faith in God's mercy through the Lamb.
Whatever the family could not eat had to be burnt. That rule says something about God's own estimate of the sacrifice.
Further, nothing of the Passover was to remain till the morning. What is the meaning of that? Whatever they could not eat had to be burnt with fire. The death of Christ is infinitely precious to God; it all goes up as a sweet aroma to Him. What I fail to grasp, God appreciates.
For centuries Israel obeyed this rule without knowing why. The reason came to light on the day Jesus died.
Why God gave that instruction to the people in Egypt was not clear at the time. Israel had kept many a Passover since then, and observed that ordinance. Yet the reason for it stayed a mystery. Now it came to light. And John marks it, in that the soldiers did not break the Lord's legs... But God, we must say, held them back from it. For in what they did not do, those Roman soldiers did not know they were carrying out God's mind.
Bones hold a body together. That picture sets a standard for how we hold the truth about Christ.
They were not to break a bone of the Passover lamb. The bones are the framework of the body. So the foundational truths of the Person and work of Christ must be kept in unbroken faithfulness.
- Grace — uncleanness or distance delayed some; God gave a second month, so that no one lost the feast of redemption.
- Standard — the delay touched the date only: a man might be behind the time, but never below the mark.
- Detail — the fuller list of rites comes with the second month, not the first — right where failure had come in.
- Wholeness — no bone broken: we take the Lamb whole, and we hold the truth of His Person and work unbroken too.
- Fulfilment — Roman soldiers left His legs unbroken without knowing why, and the reason for the old command came to light at the cross.
But a man that is clean, and is not on a journey, and forbeareth to hold the passover, that soul shall be cut off from among his peoples; because he presented not the offering of Jehovah at its set time that man shall bear his sin.
Men who were unclean could not keep the Passover on time, so God gave them a second date a month later. Verse 13 marks the limit of that mercy: it names the man who has no such hindrance and stays away anyway.
God opened the second month for those who could not come, not for those who would not. The words "who is clean and is not on a journey" mark off the man this allowance never covered.
God gave time for cleansing and for the return from the journey, and then a month later they could keep the Passover. None was to be shut out from the feast of redemption which God in His grace had provided for His people... But if someone neglected the Passover on purpose, he was to be cut off from among his people.
The penalty is heavy because a missed Passover was never just a missed date. How much a man valued that memorable night decided how much he longed for the feast.
On that memorable night the congregation of Israel found refuge and rest under the shelter of the blood. The more deeply anyone entered into the divine reality of what was done then, the more he would long for the return of "the fourteenth day of the first month," so that he could mark that glorious occasion again. And if anything prevented him from keeping the feast in "the first month," he would take up "the second" all the more gladly and thankfully. But the man who could be satisfied to go on year after year without keeping the Passover only proved that his heart was far away from the God of Israel.
The verse pins the guilt to a time: the man did not bring the offering at its appointed time. Grace moved that time by a month, but it changed nothing about what the feast required.
The grace of God can meet us in our greatest possible weakness, if only we feel and confess that weakness. But do not let this most precious and comforting truth lead us to trifle with sin or defilement. Grace permitted the second month instead of the first. But it did not on that account allow any carelessness about the rites and ceremonies of the feast... Through weakness, failure, or the power of circumstances, a man might be behind the time. But he must not be below the mark.
The verse leaves the man to bear his own sin. Commentators read him in two ways. Some see a picture of unbelief:
The keeping of the Passover was so serious a matter that a man who was not defiled and not travelling had to keep it. If he refused, he was to be cut off in death. This pictures someone who has no regard for the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus. Only through that sacrifice can anyone have a true relationship with God.
Others apply it to Christians who have a memorial of their own and let it slide.
We have a memorial of our redemption, and He whose death and resurrection secured it has His own appointed way of being remembered: the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the cup. To neglect it is a very solemn thing, and many Christians might well take the warning to heart. Grace now reigns through righteousness. But that should only make us feel the unspeakable love more deeply — the love that lays the remembrance of Himself upon our hearts.
Verse 13 turns on a distinction worth keeping. Being kept away is one thing; staying away is another.
Spiritual decline follows only from deliberate absence from the Lord's table. Sometimes circumstances put up a barrier that cannot be crossed, even when there is the strongest desire to be present when the ordinance is kept — and that desire is always there where the mind is spiritual. But we may lay it down as a fixed principle of truth: no one can make progress in the divine life who stays away from the Lord's table on purpose.
- Provision — God opened a second month. No Israelite who was unclean or away from home had to miss the feast of redemption.
- Boundary — that provision covered those who could not come, not those who would not. A man who was clean and at home had no excuse.
- Diagnosis — settled neglect of the memorial proved that a man's heart was far from the God who redeemed him.
- Standard — grace let a man be behind the time, never below the mark. The later date changed none of the rules of the feast.
- Application — commentators differ on whether the cut-off man pictures unbelief or a careless believer. Both readings press the same point. Staying away from the remembrance of Christ's death on purpose is never a small thing.
And if a stranger shall sojourn among you, and would hold the passover to Jehovah, according to the rite of the passover, and according to the ordinance thereof, so shall he do. Ye shall have one rite, both for the stranger and for him that is born in the land.
The Passover was Israel's family meal, kept on the anniversary of the night God brought them out of Egypt. Verse 14 turns to an outsider — a foreigner living among them — who may keep it under the same rule as the native-born. So who may come to God's table, and on what terms?
This is not a passing visitor. It means a non-Israelite who had joined himself to Israel and its God. The Greek Old Testament calls him a proselyte:
This was the name given to anyone from the nations who embraced the Jewish faith. The name is a Greek word, from a verb meaning "to come to." The Greek translation uses it where the Hebrew has "the stranger" who sojourns among you. Such a person might eat the Passover and offer a burnt offering or sacrifice, if all the males in his family were circumcised.
The verse lays no duty on the outsider. It only removes the barrier:
Suppose a man had no claim at all — an outsider to the commonwealth of Israel, a stranger to the covenants of promise. If he wanted to keep the Passover to the Lord, he might do so. This is one of the striking early hints of grace found even under the law. Such hints announce very plainly that God was always looking on to the time when His grace could travel out in the gospel to all the world: "let the one who desires take the water of life without price." Notice too: the stranger got no command to keep the feast. If he wished to keep it, the way was open. He only had to have the qualification for it, just as the children of Israel did.
Israel was slow to accept this side of God's character:
This provision was not only for those hindered on the due date. In His kindness God thought of "the stranger" too. Such a man might also take part, if he kept all the ordinances. So, under the law God was dealing only with Israel, yet He kept the door open for any stranger whose heart was touched and drawn toward Himself. The average Jew was slow to admit this, as we see in Peter's words in Acts 10:34-35. Now, in the gospel, all distinctions have disappeared. There is "no difference," either in guilt or in the richness of the grace offered, as the letter to the Romans declares.
The welcome came with a condition. He must keep the feast according to the ordinance.
A stranger (v. 14) might keep the Passover, but he must keep it according to the ordinance and in the way laid down. Grace brings us to God. But it always brings us according to what God is, so it never departs from the principle of holiness — the eternal ordinance of God's house in the Spirit. If a man is not spiritually holy, his worship is only detestable to God.
One mark settled who could eat. And one kind of person was still shut out:
The main point in the Passover regulations is this: only the circumcised may take part. Once circumcised, a stranger was no longer a stranger. That is clear enough when we remember what circumcision implied. It also helps us understand why the "hired servant" is named among those shut out. The covenant of grace will not mix with the idea of wage-work. The feast of redemption is for people with no power for good, who shelter under the shadow of the Almighty: "while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly."
These Passover rules have a counterpart at the Lord's table:
There is this connection between the Passover and the Lord's Supper: the first was the type, the second the memorial, of the death of Christ. So we read in 1 Corinthians 5, "Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed." That sentence establishes the link. The Passover was the memorial of Israel's redemption from slavery in Egypt. The Lord's Supper is the memorial of the Church's redemption from the heavier and darker slavery of sin and Satan.
One writer applies the verse's single rule to the church today:
The same principle is just as true in the assembly of God today: there are to be no double standards.
- One door. God did not shut the outsider out. If he wanted to keep the feast, the way was open — an early hint that grace would one day travel to the whole world.
- One invitation. The stranger got no command to keep the feast. Desire, not duty, brought him in — the open call sounded long before the gospel.
- One rule. He came in on God's terms, not softened ones. Grace brings people near, but always according to what God is, so holiness is never set aside.
- One mark. Circumcision qualified him. The hired servant had no place, because the feast of redemption belongs to those who cannot earn it.
- One table. The Passover was the type and the Lord's Supper is the memorial of one death. The same even-handed rule stands today: no double standards.
And on the day that the tabernacle was set up, the cloud covered the tabernacle of the tent of testimony; and at even it was upon the tabernacle as the appearance of fire, until the morning.
Israel has just set up the tabernacle. On that very day a cloud settles over it — visible by day, glowing like fire through the night. Here God takes His place in the middle of His people. Everything that follows in Israel's journey depends on it.
The date at the start of the chapter ties this scene to the finished tabernacle in Exodus 40.
From Exodus 40:17, and verse 15 of this chapter, we learn that this was the very time when the tabernacle was set up. It was the moment when the cloud "covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle." So it was exactly then that God took possession of His sanctuary, so that He might dwell among them — the sign and fruit of accomplished redemption.
The verse gives the tabernacle a second name: the tent of the testimony.
A tent was all He would use until then; but that was the tent of meeting — not just where Israel was to meet, but where God was to meet them. It was also called the tabernacle of testimony. Deep inside it lay the ark, which held the tablets that bore witness of what God required from man.
The cloud marked the spot where God had come to live, and it met every need of a people camped in open desert.
God's presence is in this place of worship. It gives light, guidance, shelter, everything, and so (v. 15) "the cloud covered the tabernacle." God's presence was there. Israel was to know that God brought them out of Egypt so that He might dwell among them (Ex. 29:46). Here is the power of grace: anything that does not fit with holiness sets aside the purpose of redemption, "that I may dwell among them."
The same cloud looked like fire once evening came. One writer draws a lesson from dark times.
Redemption places us in the wilderness with God. It is the presence of God Himself that leads us. We must acknowledge the presence of God if we want to be strong and courageous as we cross the wilderness… In the darkness and difficulties the presence of God is even more clearly seen.
The next verse says this was the unbroken pattern. One writer ties that steadiness to God Himself.
God granted His presence on the ground of redemption. And since with Him there is "no variation or shadow due to change" (James 1:17), we find here the words, "So it was always." They forfeited His presence only by turning away from Him, as we have to learn later on.
Nothing in the landscape could tell Israel where to go. That is what made the cloud so valuable — and so testing.
You could not imagine a lovelier picture of complete dependence on divine guidance, and complete submission to it. There was not a footprint or a landmark anywhere in that "great and terrible wilderness." So it was useless to look for guidance from those who had gone before. They depended on God for every step of the way… To a mind that will not bend — a will that has never been broken — this would be unbearable. But to a soul that knows, loves, trusts and delights in God, nothing could be more deeply blessed.
The cloud both sheltered the camp and told it when to move.
Protection always requires obedience, and obedience always requires protection. To leave out the first is legalism; to leave out the second is lawlessness.
The sign was public and constant. The chapters that follow show how little that changed the people's hearts.
Nothing could be more stirring and heart-searching than the constant sight of the cloud over the tabernacle in the centre of Israel's camp — a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night. Every Israelite could see it from his tent door. And yet the history of their complaining proves how little their hearts really rose to it. Circumstances had more effect on them than the fact of God's presence and its proven power and grace. It was then, as now, a question of faith in God. May we not ask ourselves whether we are more believing than they were?
- Redemption first. The cloud came down the day the tabernacle went up. It was "the sign and fruit of accomplished redemption," not a reward for good behaviour.
- Presence next. God brought Israel out of Egypt to dwell among them. His presence gave "light, guidance, shelter, everything."
- Never changing. "So it was always" — cloud by day, fire by night, because with God there is no variation or shadow due to change.
- Obedience answers. Protection and obedience are two halves of one relationship. Drop either one and you get legalism or lawlessness.
- Sight is not faith. Every Israelite could see the cloud from his tent door. Yet circumstances moved them more than God's presence did.
So it was continually the cloud covered it, and at night it was as the appearance of fire.
Numbers 9:16 is about steadiness: cloud by day, fire by night, without a break. What did that steady sign mean for a people camped in a trackless desert? And what does it say about how God leads His people now?
The tabernacle was the tent where God came to live among the people He had rescued from Egypt. The cloud that settled on it was the visible proof.
In this place of worship you find God's presence. It gives light, guidance, shelter, everything, so (v. 15) "the cloud covered the tabernacle." God's presence was there. The people of Israel were meant to know that God brought them out of Egypt so that He might live among them.
The words "So it was always" carry the weight of this verse. One writer roots that permanence in God's own character, and names the one thing that ever broke it.
God granted His presence on the ground of redemption. And since with Him there is "no variation or shadow due to change" (James 1:17), we find here the words, "So it was always." The people lost His presence only when they turned away from God, as we learn later on.
The cloud never left, and that shaped how Israel lived each day.
The cloud was always there, so that whatever they did should have been done knowing that the Lord was with them. The uncertainty from day to day, the lack of water, and so on, made them depend on the Lord. The difficulties of the way taught them that God was always near to help them.
Darkness did not hide God from Israel. It did the opposite.
In the darkness and the difficulties God's presence is even more plain and visible.
The sign never depended on the hour or the conditions around them.
It always stood out against the natural world around them: a cloud by day, and by night its glory flashing into fire. It made them independent of their circumstances — able to travel by day or by night. The Keeper of Israel is with them, watching without sleep and caring without pause. He leads; they follow. In the wilderness, where there is no way, He marks the way.
Because the cloud decided everything, Israel could not plot a route or set a date.
There was not a footprint or a landmark anywhere in that "great and terrible wilderness." So it was useless to look for guidance from those who had gone before. They had to lean on God for every step of the way. They lived in constant waiting on Him. To a mind that refuses to submit — a will that has never been broken — this would be unbearable. But to a soul that knows, loves, trusts, and delights in God, nothing could be more blessed.
That left the people with a very small and very demanding job.
On the people's part, their responsibility had two parts: to keep their eye on the cloud — the sign of the Lord's presence — and to let its movements alone guide them. The Lord's will, expressed in this way, was to be their only law. So their one responsibility was to obey without question.
No one in the camp could miss this sign.
Nothing could be more stirring and heart-searching than the constant sight of the cloud over the tabernacle at the centre of Israel's camp — a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night. Every Israelite could see it from his tent door. And yet the story of their complaining shows how little their hearts rose to it. Their circumstances affected them more than the fact of God's presence, with its proven power and grace.
We have no pillar of cloud overhead today. One writer names what has taken its place.
The cloud in its movements made known Jehovah's will. We have no such external sign to declare the will of God to us. We have the internal presence of the Holy Spirit. And He guides us through His Word, which we must consult for direction and guidance.
Israel lived under a limit that we share.
When they traveled they did not see beyond the cloud, or beyond the fire. In the same way, believers today do not have to see in advance what they may meet. Instead they can trust the Lord to lead in the way He chooses.
- Presence. The cloud on the tent showed God living among the people He had rescued — giving them "light, guidance, shelter, everything."
- Always. "So it was always" rests on God's own unchanging nature. Only the people's turning away ever cost them the sign.
- Night. The same presence turned to fire when darkness fell. In trouble God's nearness became more visible, not less.
- Obedience. With no landmarks ahead, Israel's whole duty shrank to two things: watch the cloud, and move only with it.
- Now. No pillar hangs over us. The Holy Spirit lives in us and guides us through Scripture — and we still cannot see past the next step.
And when the cloud rose from the tent, then the children of Israel journeyed; and at the place where the cloud stood still, there the children of Israel encamped.
Israel has just kept the Passover in the wilderness. The tabernacle now stands with the cloud resting over it. From here the nation has no map and no schedule of its own. Every march and every halt waits on a cloud that lifts when God chooses.
The cloud was not a sign for Israel to read. Its rising and settling carried the weight of a word from God.
In this way the Lord placed Himself at the head of His redeemed people. In His patient grace He led them through every stage of their wilderness journey. The movement of the cloud counted as the Lord's word. If it rose from the tabernacle, that was the same as His command; and it meant the same if it stayed on the tabernacle. ... So the Lord took charge of guiding His people all along their journey. He made His presence known to them through the cloud, and His will through the movements of the cloud.
No earlier travellers had left a trail for Israel to follow.
You could not imagine a lovelier picture of complete dependence on God's guidance, and submission to it, than the one here. There was not a footprint or a landmark anywhere in that "great and terrible wilderness." So it was useless to look for guidance from those who had gone before. They had to lean on God alone for every step of the way.
The wilderness had no road, and that was on purpose.
God takes this care of us on Himself because we are in the wilderness, where there is no way. He does it so that God Himself might be our way. He will not give us a way that nature can find out. You find His way only in communion with the Lord. When we say "There is no way," this will throw us upon God, who will lead us in His own way.
The verse gives two instructions, not one. Neither the timing nor the destination belonged to the people.
The people had a two-fold responsibility. They were to keep their eye on the cloud — the sign of the Lord's presence — and to follow only its movements. ... When to set out again, or where to pitch camp next, was not their concern at all. The One who had redeemed them out of Egypt did everything for them. Knowing this, they could have rested in His infinite love and wisdom without a single care or anxiety.
Marching behind a cloud means you only ever see as far as the cloud.
When travelling they could not see beyond the cloud, or beyond the fire. Believers today do not have to see in advance what they may meet. They can trust the Lord to lead in the way He chooses.
Jesus Himself lived this way, and it explains His delays.
So Jesus never went anywhere except where the cloud led Him. When they told Him that Lazarus was sick, He waited two days — and yet He loved Lazarus. It matters that we do not only avoid what is evil. We should also do what we do because it is the Lord's will. Not a step in my journey, but the Lord has thought about it for me.
The danger is not an unclear cloud. It is reading our own preference into it.
How often we falsely imagine, and boldly claim, that the cloud is moving in the very direction we already want to go. We want to do a certain thing, or make a certain move, and we try to persuade ourselves that our will is the will of God. So God is not guiding us; we are deceiving ourselves. Our will is unbroken, and so we cannot be led in the right path. The real secret of God's guidance is to have our own will fully subdued.
Christians have no such outward sign today. Writers point instead to the Spirit and the Scriptures.
As long as the cloud rested on the tabernacle, the people of Israel stayed in camp. When it moved, they went on with their journey. ... The cloud's movements made the Lord's will known. We have no such outward sign to declare the will of God to us. We have the inward presence of the Holy Spirit. And He guides us through His Word, which we must consult for direction and guidance.
- Presence leads. The Lord put Himself at the head of His redeemed people and made His presence known through the cloud.
- Presence speaks. The cloud's lifting and resting carried the force of a command. Guidance was never guesswork.
- Presence sets the pace. Staying put was obedience just as much as marching. The next campsite was never Israel's to choose.
- Presence exposes the will. The usual failure is not a hidden cloud but an unbroken will that reads its own wishes as God's direction.
- Presence remains. No visible cloud leads believers today. The Spirit within takes that place, guiding through the Word — and Christ Himself moved only where the cloud led.
According to the commandment of Jehovah the children of Israel journeyed, and according to the commandment of Jehovah they [remained] encamped; all the days that the cloud dwelt upon the tabernacle they encamped.
Israel has camped in a desert with no roads. One thing tells them whether to move or stay: a cloud resting over the tent where God lives among them. This verse says the cloud is more than weather. Its rising and settling carry the Lord's own command, so marching and camping are both obedience.
The cloud was not a signal sent from a distance. It showed God Himself at the head of His people, and its every move had the weight of a command.
In this way the Lord placed Himself at the head of His redeemed people. In His patient grace He led them through the various stages of their wilderness journey. The movement of the cloud was the same as the Lord's word. If it rose from the tabernacle, that was the same as His command; and the same was true when it stayed on the tabernacle. So the Lord took charge of guiding His people through their whole pilgrim path. He made His presence known to them through the cloud, and His will by the movements of the cloud.
The ground itself gave them nothing to go on.
You could not imagine a lovelier picture of complete dependence on God's guidance, and submission to it. There was not a footprint or a landmark anywhere in that "great and terrifying wilderness." So it was useless to look for guidance from those who had gone before. They had nothing but God to lean on for every step of the way. They were in a position of constant waiting on Him. To an unsubdued mind — an unbroken will — that would be unbearable. But to a soul that knows, loves, trusts and delights in God, nothing could be more deeply blessed.
There is no road, and God meant it that way.
God takes this care of us on Himself because we are in the wilderness, where there is no way. He does it so that He Himself might be our way. He will not give us a way that nature can find out. We only find His way in communion with the Lord.
The verse weighs setting out and staying put alike. Standing still can be the harder half.
It might feel hard to stay month after month, and year after year, in the same place. Their progress might look slow. Their own human energy might urge them to press forward. But until God gave His clear approval, "they remained in camp." Man might scoff at their inaction and call it foolishness. Man might criticise their long delays and put them down to weakness. But "the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men."
Darby sees Jesus living by this same rule, delay and all.
So Jesus never went anywhere except where the cloud led Him to go. When they told Him Lazarus was sick, He stayed two days — and yet He loved Lazarus. It is important that we do more than avoid evil. What we do, we should do because it is the Lord's will. There is not a step in my journey that the Lord has not thought about for me.
Living at the command of the Lord cost Israel the ability to plan anything.
They could make no plans of their own. When they camped they did not know how long it would be. When they marched they did not know how long it would last. They had to fix their eyes on the cloud every morning, every night and all day long. They had to look up.
Mackintosh warns that we can use the language of guidance to bless what we already wanted.
How often we imagine, and confidently claim, that the cloud is moving in the very direction that suits our own leaning. We want to do a certain thing, or make a certain move, and we try to persuade ourselves that our will is the will of God. So instead of God guiding us, we deceive ourselves. Our will is unbroken, and so He cannot guide us properly. The real secret of being guided by God is a will that is fully subdued.
The sign has changed. The guidance has not.
The cloud in its movements made known the Lord's will. We have no such outward sign to declare the will of God to us. We have the inward presence of the Holy Spirit. And He guides us through His Word, which we must consult for direction and guidance.
- Presence — The cloud showed God living among a redeemed people. He took His place at the head of their march.
- Word — When it rose or rested, that was His command. Moving and staying were both His will, not their choice.
- Waiting — Staying put was obedience as much as setting out. Long delays looked like weakness, but they were God's timing.
- Will — Guidance needs a subdued will. Without it we mistake our own wishes for the cloud.
- Way — In a desert with no path, God Himself is the way. Today the Spirit, through His Word, does what the cloud once did.
And when the cloud was long upon the tabernacle many days, then the children of Israel kept the charge of Jehovah, and journeyed not.
Israel had just kept the Passover, and a cloud had covered God's tent since the day they raised it. That cloud set their whole travel schedule, and this verse holds the hardest case of all: the long halt, when nothing moved for days on end.
One writer explains how a cloud could carry the force of a spoken command:
The cloud's movement carried the same weight as the Lord's word. If it rose from the tabernacle, that was the same as His command. If it stayed on the tabernacle, that was His command too. The Lord took on the guidance of His people through their whole journey. He made His presence known to them by the cloud, and His will by the movements of the cloud.
The same writer shows how little was left for Israel to decide, and how ready they had to be:
If the cloud stayed on the tabernacle, they stayed in their tents and did not travel. If it rose — even the next morning, after they had just pitched their tents — they were to march forward again. When to start travelling again, or where to camp next, was not their concern at all. The One who had redeemed them out of Egypt undertook everything for them.
The verse does not say they waited. It says they kept the charge of the Lord. One commentator carries that over to us:
When the cloud stayed many days (v.19) they were to keep the charge of the Lord. So while we stay here we have only one thing to occupy us — God. And if our eye is healthy, our whole body will be full of light.
That charge centred on the sanctuary — the tent they had built and had to carry:
The business of Israel was now with the sanctuary. We too are sanctuary people — "a spiritual house, a holy priesthood." First they built its parts and vessels. Then they either kept the charge of the Lord when the cloud rested on it (Numbers 9:19), or they carried it as the testimony of God through the wilderness.
No one had crossed that desert ahead of them:
You could not imagine a lovelier picture of complete dependence on divine guidance, and submission to it, than this one. There was not a footprint or a landmark anywhere in that great and terrible wilderness. It was therefore useless to look for guidance from those who had gone before. They had to lean wholly on God for every step of the way. They lived in constant waiting on Him. To an unsubdued mind — an unbroken will — this would be unbearable. But to a soul that knows, loves, trusts and delights in God, nothing could be more blessed.
The same writer applies the halt straight to how we speak about our own plans:
This means giving up our own will, our own plans, our own management altogether. We must follow the cloud; we must wait always — wait only on God. We cannot say, "We shall go here or there, do this or that, tomorrow or next week." Every movement of ours must fall under the ruling power of one commanding sentence, one we often write and speak far too lightly — "If the Lord wills."
Waiting that long drew mockery from onlookers. One writer answers it:
It might be hard to linger month after month, and year after year, in the same place. Their progress might look slow. Their own natural energy might urge them to press forward. But until God gave His express sanction, they remained in their tents. People might mock their inaction and call it foolishness. People might blame their long delays on weakness. But "the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men."
- Stillness speaks. A cloud that stays put speaks as loudly as a cloud that rises. The long halt in this verse is an order, not silence.
- Stillness works. Israel did not just wait out the delay. They kept the charge of the Lord, busy with His sanctuary while the cloud rested on it.
- Stillness depends. The wilderness held no footprints to follow. Every step threw them on God — unbearable to an unbroken will, but sweet to a heart that knows and loves Him.
- Stillness surrenders. Following the cloud leaves no room for our own timetable. Every plan stands under "If the Lord wills."
- Stillness wins. Months in one place can look like weakness. But God's slowness is wiser and stronger than our hurry.
And if it were so that the cloud was a few days upon the tabernacle, according to the commandment of Jehovah they encamped, and according to the commandment of Jehovah they journeyed.
Israel had just kept the Passover at Sinai. Now the cloud over the tabernacle set the timetable for the whole camp, and one thing fixed every short stop and every march: the command of the LORD.
The cloud was not just a signal in the sky. Its rising and its resting carried the force of a command.
In this way the Lord placed Himself at the head of His redeemed people. In His patient grace He led them through the various stages of their wilderness journey. The movement of the cloud counted as the Lord's word. If it rose from the tabernacle, that was the same as His command; and so too if it stayed on the tabernacle. So we read: "At the command of the LORD the people of Israel set out, and at the command of the LORD they camped." He made His presence known to them through the cloud, and His will by the movements of the cloud.
The length of each stop varied. The people had no say in it.
The cloud also acted as a sign that regulated when the people moved and when they stayed. Such matters were not settled by the votes of the people or by the wisdom of Moses, but by the command of the LORD. The cloud might rest for only two days, or it might rest for a month or even a year. While it rested, the people rested. When it moved, the people moved. So the wisdom of God regulated their wilderness journey.
The whole camp lived by watching.
That huge camp depended on the cloud: over 600,000 men of twenty years and older, the 22,000 Levites, and hundreds of thousands of women and children. They could make no plans of their own. They did not know where they would go the next day. When they camped, they did not know how long it would be. When they marched, they did not know how long it would last. They had to keep their eyes on the cloud every morning, every night, and all through the day. They had to look up.
Waiting was not doing nothing. It was doing what God said.
It might seem very trying to linger month after month and year after year in the same place. Their progress might look slow. The energy of the flesh might urge them to press forward. Yet they "remained in camp" until God gave His express sanction. People might scoff at their inaction and call it foolishness. They might criticise their long delays and call them weakness. But "the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men." The Lord brought them into the land in His own time and in His own way.
Getting the timing wrong in either direction costs the same thing.
Suppose an Israelite in the desert decided to act independently of Jehovah. Suppose he moved when the cloud was at rest, or halted while the cloud was moving. We can easily see what the result would have been. And so it will always be with us. If we move when we ought to rest, or rest when we ought to move, we will not have the divine presence with us.
We can misread the cloud when our own will has already chosen.
How often we wrongly imagine, and boldly claim, that the cloud is moving in the very direction our own inclination leans. We want to do a certain thing, or make a certain move, and we try to persuade ourselves that our will is the will of God. So instead of being divinely guided, we are self-deceived. Our will is unbroken, and so we cannot be guided rightly. The real secret of being guided by God is to have our own will thoroughly subdued.
For us the guide is a Person, not a rulebook.
We are passing through a trackless desert — a moral wilderness. There is absolutely no way. We would not know how to walk, or where to go. But one sentence fell from the lips of our blessed Lord — the most precious, the deepest, the most far-reaching of all: "I am the way." Here is divine, infallible guidance. We are to follow Him... This is living guidance. It is not acting by the letter of certain rules and regulations. It is following a living Christ, walking as He walked, doing as He did.
- Command, not cloud. The cloud was the visible form of a spoken will — its rising and resting each carried the force of God's word.
- Command sets the clock. A few days, a month, a year — God's wisdom fixed the length of every halt, not the people's votes or even Moses' judgement.
- Command in both directions. The verse says "according to the command" twice — once for staying, once for going. Remaining in camp was obedience as real as marching.
- Command needs a bent will broken. We easily tell ourselves the cloud is moving where we already wanted to go. Only a subdued will reads God's guidance truly.
- Command has a face. Christ says, "I am the way" — guidance now is not a rulebook to apply but a living Person to follow.
And if it were so that the cloud was there from the evening until the morning, and that the cloud was taken up in the morning, then they journeyed; or a day and a night, and the cloud was taken up, they journeyed;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
or two days, or a month, or many days, when the cloud was long upon the tabernacle, dwelling upon it, the children of Israel [remained] encamped, and journeyed not; but when it was taken up, they journeyed.
Numbers 9 ends with the camp under a cloud. The cloud wrote the nation's diary: two days, a month, a year — it made no difference. The verse raises a hard question: what do you do when God says nothing but "stay"?
God set the length of every halt, not the people camped under the cloud. One writer shows how far this took the decision out of human hands.
The cloud acted as a sign that controlled when the people moved and when they stayed. Such matters were not settled by the votes of the people or by the wisdom of Moses, but by the commandment of the Lord. The cloud might rest for only two days, or for a month, or even a year. While it rested the people rested. When it moved the people moved. So the wisdom of God controlled their whole journey through the wilderness.
Another writer finds freedom from worry in the same arrangement. He names what the people were responsible for, and what it saved them from.
The people's responsibility was two-fold: to keep their eye on the cloud — the sign of the LORD's presence — and to be guided by its movements alone. The Lord's will, expressed this way, was to be their only law, so unquestioning obedience was their only responsibility. When to start travelling again, or where to pitch camp next, was absolutely not their concern. The One who had redeemed them out of Egypt undertook everything for them. Knowing this, they might have rested in His infinite love and wisdom without a single care or anxiety.
Verse 19 says that during the long halts Israel "kept the charge of the LORD." Standing still had its own work.
When the cloud stayed many days (v.19) they were to keep the charge of the Lord. So while we stay here we have but one thing to occupy us — God; and if our eye is healthy, our whole body will be full of light.
Is this sweet or suffocating? It depends on what you think of the One holding you there.
They were wholly cast upon God for every step of the way. They were in a position of constant waiting upon Him. A mind that has never been subdued — a will that has never been broken — would find this unbearable. But to a soul that knows, loves, trusts, and delights in God, nothing could be more blessed.
The life of Jesus is read as the cloud-pattern lived out in a man, both in moving and in staying still.
He was always dependent. Every movement, every act, every word — all He did, and all He left undone — was the fruit of the most complete dependence upon God, and subjection to Him. He moved when God would have Him move, and stood still when God would have Him stand.
One of His delays is picked out to show that a pause is not coldness — it can be the very shape of love.
So Jesus never went anywhere except where the cloud led Him to go. When they told Him that Lazarus was sick, He stayed two days, and yet He loved Lazarus. It is important that we not only avoid evil. What we do should be done because it is the Lord's will. Not a step in my journey, but the Lord has thought about it for me. If the cloud does not move we cannot move, and our complete inability to act is our power against Satan.
The common problem is not a lack of light. We read our own preference as God's direction.
How often do we imagine, and even say, that the cloud is moving in the very direction that suits what we already want. We want to do a certain thing, or make a certain move, and we try to persuade ourselves that our will is the will of God. So instead of God guiding us, we deceive ourselves. An unbroken will cannot be rightly guided. The real secret of being guided by God is to have our own will fully subdued.
The unanswered prayer about which road to take may itself be the answer.
We pray about it, and get no answer. We pray again and again, and get no answer. How is this? The simple fact is that God wants us to be quiet — to stand still — to remain just where we are. So let us stop straining our minds and troubling our souls about what we ought to do. Let us do nothing but wait on God.
- Cloud decides. Two days or a year, the Lord's command fixed the length of the stay — not the people's vote, not even Moses' wisdom.
- Waiting is work. Israel spent the long halts keeping the charge of the Lord — with one occupation, God Himself.
- Trust makes it sweet. Total dependence is unbearable to an unbroken will and deeply blessed to a soul that knows and loves God.
- Christ is the pattern. He moved when God moved Him and stood still when God held Him. Staying two days while Lazarus lay dying was love, not neglect.
- Silence is guidance. Prayer that gets no answer about the next step often means: stay where you are and wait.
At the commandment of Jehovah they encamped, and at the commandment of Jehovah they journeyed they kept the charge of Jehovah according to the commandment of Jehovah through Moses.
Numbers 9:23 closes a passage where one thing set every move of a nation of former slaves: a cloud over the tent of God's presence. It raises the question every believer asks — how does God make His will known, and what do we do while nothing moves?
The verse says twice that Israel moved "at the command of the LORD." What they watched was a cloud.
The cloud's movement was the same as the Lord's word. If it rose from off the tabernacle, that was His command; and so if it stayed on the tabernacle. The Lord took charge of guiding His people through their whole journey. He made His presence known to them through the cloud, and His will by the movements of the cloud.
Half of the verse is about not moving. Sitting still can look like failure.
But "the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men."
God commanded both the resting and the journeying. So an Israelite could disobey in either direction.
Suppose an Israelite in the desert had decided to make some move on his own, apart from the Lord. Suppose he moved when the cloud was at rest, or stopped while the cloud was moving. We can see what the result would have been. And so it will always be with us. If we move when we ought to rest, or rest when we ought to move, we shall not have the divine presence with us.
The desert had no paths to follow, and that was deliberate.
If we have no word from God, we can do nothing, because it is by every word that comes out of the mouth of the Lord that man lives... God takes this care of us on Himself, because we are in the wilderness where there is no way. He does it so that He Himself might be our way. He will not give us a way that nature can find out. We find His way only in communion with the Lord. When we say "There is no way," this will throw us on God, who will lead us in His own way.
The same pattern shows up in the life of Jesus.
So Jesus never went anywhere except where the cloud led Him to go; so when they told Him that Lazarus was sick, He waited two days, and yet He loved Lazarus. It matters not only that we avoid evil. Whatever we do, we should do because it is the Lord's will. There is not a step in my journey that the Lord has not thought about for me... If the cloud does not move we cannot move; our utter inability to act is our power against Satan.
No cloud hangs over believers today. Guidance now comes through two things, and never through one alone.
Two things give us confidence — the written word, and the Holy Spirit. For human reason cannot fathom the word; without the Spirit it comes to nothing. The Holy Spirit guides us by the word. Both are necessary: not the word only without the Spirit, nor the Spirit without the word. We need the Holy Spirit to give us the desire to understand the word, and the strength to walk and obey.
The danger is rarely open rebellion. It is mistaking our own preference for His direction.
How often do we fool ourselves and firmly claim that the cloud is moving in the very direction we already want to go. We want to do a certain thing, or make a certain move, and we try to persuade ourselves that our will is the will of God. So instead of God guiding us, we deceive ourselves. Our will is unbroken, so we cannot be guided rightly. The real secret of being guided by God is to have our own will thoroughly subdued.
- Command — The cloud and God's word said the same thing. Israel saw His presence in it and read His will from it.
- Command to stop — Staying in camp for a month or a year was as much obedience as marching. Delay is not failure.
- Command to go — Moving when God rests, or resting when God moves, forfeits His company either way.
- Christ — He waited two days over a friend He loved, because the will of God, not the urgency, set His pace.
- Compass — Now the written word and the Holy Spirit guide together, never one alone. The chief obstacle is a will that has already decided.
And Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying,
Numbers 10 opens the way so much of Israel's life opens: the Lord speaks, and Moses listens. What follows this short line is an order to make two silver trumpets. Their sound would govern when the nation gathered, when it moved, and when it went to war.
The chapter before describes the cloud that led the people. Now God gives them something to hear as well as see.
The lovely institution of "the silver trumpets" comes in, with striking fitness, right after the instruction about the movement of the cloud, and is bound up, in a very marked way, with the whole history of Israel, not only in the past but also in the future. The sound of the trumpet was familiar to every circumcised ear. It was how God made His mind known. The form was clear and simple enough for every member of the congregation to understand, however far he was from where the testimony came. God took care that everyone in that vast assembly, however far away, heard the silvery tones of the trumpet of testimony.
Two things sound in every blast: who bought the people, and what that purchase gives Him the right to do.
When the priests of God blew long and loud on them they proclaimed to the furthest limits of Israel that the people were God's, that He had redeemed them at His own cost and by His own power, and that having redeemed them He had rights over them, and that He could summon them whenever He pleased to listen to His word at the door of His sanctuary. They were to hold themselves at His disposal. It did not matter what they were doing. God's call had to be obeyed. Their own pursuits came second — in fact they had to drop them at once, the moment the silver trumpets sounded in their hearing.
The number and the workmanship both carry meaning, and both point back to the One who redeemed.
These trumpets, then, are two, since two is the number of sufficient testimony; "silver," as being the voice of the Redeemer; "of beaten work," because it involved suffering for Him who came down among men to fill that place. Then they have two special uses — for journeying, and for assembling together. In the second case, one blast is enough to gather the princes, but for the whole assembly there are repeated blasts. Sadly, do God's people now think there is any need of the Word of God to summon them together?
The cloud was something to see. The trumpets gave the same guidance in a form the whole camp could hear. Only one family could sound them.
The silver trumpets were also given for guidance. They made known the mind of the Lord in a way that could be heard. The cloud was seen. It stands for guidance by the eye. The silver trumpets were heard… The trumpets sounded in time of war, and a promise of victory and deliverance goes with them. In the future the trumpet will sound again for the gathering of Israel… The sound of the trumpets was to them the voice of God giving direction and a comforting assurance at the same time. They represent the Word of God. It must not be overlooked that the sons of Aaron, the priests, had to blow the trumpet. They were in holy communion with the Lord and made known His will to the people. As Israel depended on the sound of the trumpets, so we as His people depend on the testimony of His Word. His will is learned in priestly closeness to Himself.
The trumpet carried God's command. So nothing in the camp — worship, travel, or battle — began on human initiative.
Any movement — festive, religious, or hostile — that did not come from that familiar sound could only be the fruit of a restless and unbroken will. The Lord could in no way approve it. The pilgrim host in the wilderness depended on the sound of the trumpet as much as on the movement of the cloud. The testimony of God, given in that particular way, was to govern every movement among the many thousands of Israel.
Centuries later, David moved the ark with great celebration — and one thing was absent.
Nothing was lacking in the expression of their joy — yet something was missing. There were no trumpets: those silver trumpets that should have sounded when the ark set out. It was only a detail, you may say, like the new cart; but this detail revealed something serious: David had not taken the Word of God as the rule for his conduct.
- Spoken. It starts with God speaking to Moses. Every note the trumpets sounded was His word, not a human idea.
- Silver. Their blast announced that the people were God's own, bought at His cost and answerable to His call at any moment.
- Two. Two trumpets of beaten work: sufficient testimony, and the voice of a Redeemer whose place among men cost Him suffering.
- Priestly. Only Aaron's sons blew them: God's mind is learned in closeness to Him and then passed on to everyone else.
- Obeyed. Worship, travel and war all waited on that sound. David ignored it and kept the joy, and the joy did not make the act right.
Make thee two trumpets of silver; of beaten work shalt thou make them; and they shall serve for the calling together of the assembly, and for the journeying of the camps.
Israel already had a cloud to see. Now God gives them a sound to hear. Two questions sit inside the command. Why silver? And why does God tie every move of a whole nation to the sound of a trumpet?
The cloud led Israel without a word. The trumpets add what the cloud could not give: a message no one could mistake.
We have seen in the cloud and the fire the providential guidance of God over His people. Yet we are not left to depend on this alone. The trumpets now speak of the plainly declared word of God. 1 Corinthians 14:8 reminds us, "And if the bugle gives an indistinct sound, who will get ready for battle?" So the trumpets had to sound just as the Lord instructed, so that no one could mistake their message.
Guidance from God can be checked against His Word. And each detail of the trumpets carries weight — the metal, the number, and the method.
We need the balancing truth: God's guidance is according to the Word. Everything that claims to be such guidance must be tested by the Word. These trumpets are two, the number of enough testimony. They are "silver," because silver is the voice of the Redeemer. They are "of beaten work," because it meant suffering for Him who came down among men to fill that place. Then they have two special uses — for journeying, and for assembling together.
The metal itself is redemption money. That settles who may sound a note for God.
Here it is two — adequate testimony — the trumpets of silver. "Every charge must be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses." No one is fit to bear testimony unless he is conscious of redemption. That is why the trumpets were of silver — the redemption money.
The way the trumpet was made explains why its sound governed every move in the camp.
Each trumpet was to be made of one piece, and they fulfilled a double purpose. In other words, the testimony had one source, even though its aim and practical result might vary. Every movement in the camp was to come from the sound of the trumpet… Any movement — festive, religious, or hostile — that did not come from that familiar sound could only be the fruit of a restless and unsubdued will. The Lord could in no way approve it.
The verse names two purposes. The same call that gathers people also sets them moving.
Chapter 10 speaks of the silver trumpets. They served for calling the assembly of the people together and for the journeying of the camps, but they serve other purposes too. It was the testimony of God, given in public, with two chief aims: to gather the people, and to make them journey. And so it works out in practice. The testimony of God gathers His people around Him, and makes them go forward.
God did not let just anyone sound the call — and no one in the camp was free to ignore it.
It belonged to the sons of Aaron, the priests, to blow the trumpets. Only those in priestly nearness and communion can know God's mind and pass it on. The priestly family had a high and holy privilege. They gathered round the sanctuary of God, caught the first movement of the cloud, and passed it on to the furthest parts of the camp. They were responsible to give a clear sound. Every member of the army was just as responsible to obey at once and without question. To move without the testimony would be to move in the dark. To refuse to move, once the testimony was given, would be to stay in the dark.
That nearness is not a one-time qualification; the signal has to be caught fresh each time.
It is not enough to give out a testimony, even a divine one. The testimony you give must come from God for that moment. That is why abiding communion is needed.
A camp of that size could have left people at the edges out of range. God arranged otherwise.
The sound of the trumpet was familiar to every circumcised ear. It passed on the mind of God. The form was clear and simple enough for every member of the congregation to understand, however far he was from the source of the testimony.
- Silver first. The trumpets came from redemption money. No one sounds a note for God who is not conscious of redemption himself.
- One piece. Hammered from one mass. Many different calls, but one source and one authority behind them all.
- Priestly lips. Only those near enough to the sanctuary to catch God's mind could pass it on, and they had to catch it fresh each time.
- Two purposes. The same testimony gathers God's people to Him and sends them forward on the journey.
- Every ear. However far off a man camped, the call reached him. To move without it was to move in the dark; to sit still once it sounded was to stay there.
And when they shall blow with them, the whole assembly shall gather to thee at the entrance of the tent of meeting.
The camp is now in order, and the cloud leads it. God adds a sound. Two silver trumpets will call the whole nation to one place, and to Moses — which raises three questions: why silver, why two, and why that spot?
The trumpet was not decoration. It was God speaking out loud to a whole nation.
Chapter 10 speaks of the silver trumpets. They served to call the people together and to set the camps moving, but they served other purposes too. This was the testimony of God, given in public, with two main aims: to gather the people, and to make them journey. And that is how it works in practice. God's testimony gathers His people around Him, and makes them go forward.
The metal and the number both carry meaning. It helps to set the trumpets beside the golden lampstand with its seven lamps.
It is striking that the lampstand was not only to be hammered work of gold, but there were to be seven lamps, the perfect number. Here it is two — testimony that is enough — and the trumpets are of silver... No one is fit to bear testimony unless he knows he has been redeemed. That is why the trumpets were made of silver — the redemption money.
The sound announced a price already paid, and God's claim with it. Nothing an Israelite was doing could outrank it.
When the priests blew long and loud on these trumpets, they announced to the farthest edges of Israel that the people belonged to God. He had redeemed them, and He had rights over them that could not be challenged. They were to keep themselves ready for whatever He wanted. It did not matter what they were doing. God's call came first, and their own plans had to take second place — they had to drop them, in fact, and drop them at once, the moment the silver trumpets sounded the call to gather.
The people could not gather wherever they liked. God named one spot, and going there meant drawing near to Him.
The most common use was to gather Israel together. The trumpet was not so much about the journey; that had more to do with the cloud. The silver trumpets were blown to gather the people at the door of the tent of meeting. So they were called to draw near to the presence of God.
That meeting place was a picture. What it pointed to is not a place but a person.
The tabernacle was the centre God appointed for His redeemed people in those days. From that centre His words went out to them, and He called them to it whenever He chose. That was the shadow, the picture; Christ is the substance, the reality. If we obey the Word of God, Christ will be our one and only centre, for He is the One in whom God has declared all His will for us.
Not anyone could pick up a trumpet. The right belonged to Aaron's sons, the priests, and the reason matters.
It was the sons of Aaron, the priests, who were to blow the trumpets. The mind of God can only be known and passed on by those who stay close to Him as priests and share His thoughts. It was the high and holy privilege of the priestly family to gather round the sanctuary of God. There they caught the first movement of the cloud and passed it on to the farthest parts of the camp. They had to give a clear sound, and every member of the marching host had the same duty: to obey at once and without question.
The number of trumpets decided who had to come.
When both were blown, the whole assembly was to meet Moses at the door of the tent of meeting. When only one was blown, the leaders came, the heads of the thousands of Israel.
The command assumes everyone comes. What if they do not?
Suppose the priests at the tabernacle blew the silver trumpets, calling the people together to hear the Word of the Lord, and the people were so taken up with other things that they ignored the call... Would God be indifferent? No! The call would go on sounding until it stirred some of them. From one tribe and then another, out would come those who felt God's claim and owned it. And there they would stand at last in the meeting place God had appointed, where He could speak to them... Not many, let us say — only two or three compared with the huge crowd of the people — but obedient to the call of God and united in that obedience! Would the Lord despise them?
- Silver — the trumpets were made of redemption money. Every blast said the people had been bought and belonged to God.
- Two — one trumpet called only the leaders. Both together made the testimony full, and full testimony calls everyone.
- Priests — only those near the sanctuary, sharing God's mind, could sound it. The call comes from nearness, not from opinion.
- The door — the call was always to one appointed place, to draw near to God. That centre is now Christ Himself.
- Response — God's call comes first, and other plans give way. If only two or three obey, He still meets them there.
And if they blow with one, then the princes, the heads of the thousands of Israel, shall gather unto thee.
God gave Israel two silver trumpets, and every move of the camp waited on their sound. Here one trumpet calls only the tribal leaders — so why does God speak to some before He speaks to all?
The metal itself carried a message.
These trumpets were made of silver. That suggests that whatever Jehovah says to His people, He says it on the basis of redemption.
That ownership gave the signal its force. When the priests sounded, no Israelite could plead that he was busy.
When the priests blew long and loud on these trumpets, they announced to the furthest limits of Israel that the people belonged to God. He had redeemed them, and His rights over them could not be challenged. They were to hold themselves at His disposal. It did not matter what they were doing. God's call was urgent. Their own plans had to take second place — in fact they had to drop them at once, the moment the silver trumpets sounded the call to assemble.
The number blown told the hearers who was wanted. Two trumpets called the whole camp. One trumpet called the leaders.
If both trumpets were blown, all the congregation of Israel was to gather before Moses at the door of the tabernacle (v. 3). There were occasions when all had to be present to hear some special message from the Lord. If only one trumpet was blown, this was to summon the leaders of each tribe. No doubt they heard a message the rest of the congregation did not need. For instance, only apostles and elders were called together in Acts 15:2. They had to consider whether Gentile believers should keep the law of Moses. Then they passed God's decision on to the people.
The verse calls them the heads of the tribes. They came to Moses, heard God's word through him, and carried it back to the people.
The command put the trumpets in the hands of the priests alone, and that was a safeguard. A signal has weight only if the one sounding it has heard from God first.
And it was a command that only the priests should blow the trumpets. They were the men who, being near to Him, understood the Lord's mind and were in communion with it… To blow at their own will, or on their own idea of danger, would only produce confusion. It would call the workers away from their work, and so do the work of the enemy. To be able to sound at the right moment, they had to be with their Lord, with their eye on Him.
The trumpet governed worship, marching and war alike.
It shows as clearly as possible that God's people must depend completely on God's testimony in all their movements, and be wholly subject to it… They worshipped and they fought, they journeyed and they halted, in simple obedience to the trumpet call. It was not in any way a question of their likes or dislikes, their thoughts, their opinions, or their judgement. It was entirely a matter of unquestioning obedience.
Some writers read verse 4 forward. They link the single trumpet, which gathered the princes, with a trumpet still to sound.
Saints, however, will hear this "trump of God," and by it they will be gathered together to the Lord. Others have pointed out that this seems to connect with Numbers 10:4. There, the blowing of one trumpet was the signal for gathering the princes of Israel to Moses. The saints gathered in this way are to reign with Christ, and that is why they are pictured as princes. The gathering of all the assembly to Moses at the door of the tabernacle, by the blowing of both trumpets, seems on the other hand to speak of the regathering of Israel for millennial blessing (Num. 10:3).
Commentators differ here. Others warn against pressing trumpet passages together.
Do not confuse the trumpets spoken of here with the resurrection trumpet of 1 Corinthians 15:52, or the "trump of God" in 1 Thessalonians 4:16. Some make this mistake, and as a result they put forward wild theories about the coming of the Lord.
- Silver first. The trumpets were silver, and silver speaks of redemption, so God's every order came to a people He had already bought.
- Bought, therefore summoned. God's rights over Israel could not be challenged, so His call outranked whatever they were doing.
- One or two. Two trumpets gathered the whole congregation; one gathered the tribal heads for a message the rest did not need to hear.
- Priestly lips only. Only those near enough to know the Lord's mind could sound the call. Blowing it from personal alarm spreads confusion and serves the enemy.
- Obedience, not opinion. Worship, marching and war all waited on the trumpet. The camp moved by God's testimony, never by its own judgement.
And when ye blow an alarm, the camps that lie eastward shall set forward.
Israel's camp lived by sound: the priests blew silver trumpets, and everyone knew when to gather and when to march. Verse 5 turns to the other blast — the alarm — and it starts the east camps moving.
The word for "alarm" is not the word used for the ordinary trumpet call. One writer explains the difference in sound.
Scripture uses a different word for blowing an alarm with the silver trumpets from the word used to call the assembly together or to gather the princes. The first seems to be a louder and longer blast, perhaps broken up into short, repeated sounds. The trumpet-call can hardly mean anything but testimony.
Another writer ties the sustained note to the purpose of setting out.
Then they have two special uses — for journeying, and for assembling together… For the journeying, it was an "alarm" — a sustained note.
The east camps did not choose their own moment to break camp. Every action in Israel waited on the trumpet.
Each trumpet was to be made of one piece, and they served a double purpose. In other words, the source of the testimony was one, however much the object and practical result might vary. Every movement in the camp was to be the result of the sound of the trumpet. In a word, the silver trumpet regulated it all — the solemn assembly and the army for war, the instruments of music and the weapons of war. Any movement, whether festive, religious, or hostile, that was not the result of that familiar sound could only be the fruit of a restless and unsubdued will. The Lord could in no way approve it.
Not everyone could blow the trumpets. One writer shows what that limit means now, and what a false alarm costs.
It was a command that only the priests should blow the trumpets. They alone, being near Him, understood the Lord's mind and were in communion with it… In the same way now, only those who live in the enjoyment of their priestly privileges, near to and in communion with the mind of Christ, know how to sound an alarm. To blow at their own will, or on their own idea of danger, would only produce confusion. It would call the builders away from their work, and so do the enemy's work for him.
Israel already had the cloud. The trumpets added something the cloud could not give.
The silver trumpets were also given for guidance. They made known the mind of the Lord in an audible way. The cloud was seen. It stands for guidance by the eye. The silver trumpets were heard… The sound of the trumpets was the voice of God to them. It gave direction and, at the same time, comforting assurance. They picture the Word of God. As Israel depended on the sound of the trumpets, so we as His people depend on the testimony of His Word.
One writer names the two ends the trumpets served.
It was the testimony of God, given publicly, with two main ends in view: to gather the people, and to make them journey. And that is how it works in practice; the testimony of God gathers His people around Him, and makes them go forward.
The alarm was the order to break camp. One writer shows why a travelling people needed it.
The people were pilgrims in that great wilderness, and they were not to settle down and make their home in it. They were travelling to Canaan, and they needed reminding of the fact. So when the time came for them to move on, an alarm was blown; the trumpets kept them on the move, and we need this too. How quickly we can stagnate and sleep, and forget our heavenly home and calling!
- One sound. Every movement in the camp waited on the trumpet. Nothing moved without that signal.
- Two calls. The alarm was not the gathering call. It was a louder, longer, broken note, and it meant one thing: set out.
- Priests only. The call had to come from someone near enough to know God's mind. Self-appointed alarms only scatter the workers.
- Heard, not seen. The cloud guided the eye; the trumpet reached the ear. Its notes carried direction and comfort, and they picture God's Word.
- Never settle. The testimony that gathers God's people also moves them on. The alarm exists because we fall asleep so easily.
And when ye blow an alarm the second time, the camps that lie southward shall set forward; they shall blow an alarm on their setting forward.
Numbers 10:6 gives the second note of the travel signal: the first alarm started the camps on the east, and this one starts those on the south. So what was an "alarm"? How did it differ from the call to assemble? And why could Israel not move a step without it?
The alarm was not one blast but a series. Each blast sent one section of the camp on its way. The record names only two, and one commentator looks ahead to what this call will one day mean:
When it was time to travel, an alarm (or advance) was blown (v. 5). The first alarm moved the camps on the east side; the second called the camps on the south side to move (vv. 5-6). Nothing is said about the north and west sides. Maybe the alarm was blown a third and fourth time for them. At the coming of the Lord, His word will be a ringing call to summon all believers away from earth to His own glorious presence. It will be wonderful to hear Him say, "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away" (Song of Songs 2:10).
The march also had a goal:
At the first alarm the camps on the east set forward, and at the second alarm the camps on the south set forward (vv. 5-6). This shows the camps moving forward towards the promised land.
What kind of sound was it? One commentator compares the words used:
The word for blowing an alarm with the silver trumpets really is different from the word used for calling the assembly together, or for gathering the leaders. The alarm seems to have been a louder and longer blast, perhaps broken up into short and persistent sounds. There is little doubt that the trumpet-call stands for testimony. So it is the testimony of God that gathers His people out of the world, draws them together, and leads them forward on their journey through the wilderness.
The two blasts had two purposes, and the alarm brought comfort with it:
The trumpets were blown to gather the people to the joy of communion. There was also the alarm trumpet, sounded as God's own testimony in the presence of the enemy. The effect was this: the people would be comforted by the thought that, when the silver trumpets blew an alarm, it was God after all who dwelt in the camp. He who directed them heard the sound.
Only the priests blew the trumpets, and no one in the camp could ignore them:
It also belonged to the sons of Aaron, the priests, to blow the trumpets, for God's mind can only be known and passed on by those who draw near to Him as priests and share His thoughts. It was the high and holy privilege of the priestly family to gather round the sanctuary of God, to catch the first movement of the cloud there, and pass it on to the most distant parts of the camp… For anyone to try to move without the word of command, or to refuse to move once that word was given, would have been outright rebellion… To move without the testimony would be to move in the dark. To refuse to move, once the testimony was given, would be to stay in the dark.
Israel already had the cloud overhead. The trumpets added a second kind of direction:
The silver trumpets were also given for guidance. They made the mind of the Lord known in a way people could hear. The cloud was seen. It stands for guidance by the eye. The silver trumpets were heard… To Israel the sound of the trumpets was the voice of God, giving direction and comforting assurance at the same time. They are a picture of the Word of God. Israel depended on the sound of the trumpets, and we as His people depend in the same way on the testimony of His Word.
People who camp want to stay camped. The alarm would not let them:
The people were pilgrims in that great wilderness, and they were not to settle down and make their home in it. They were travelling to Canaan, and they needed to be reminded of it. So when the time came for them to move on, an alarm was blown. The trumpets kept them on the move, and we need that too. How quickly we can stagnate and sleep, and forget our heavenly home and calling!
- Sound — the alarm was not the gathering call. It was louder and longer, broken into short, persistent notes.
- Source — only the priests blew it. God's mind is learned near Him, then passed on to the whole camp.
- Signal — each section waited its turn. The second alarm moved the south side, and the whole march headed for the promised land.
- Submission — moving without the sound was rebellion. So was refusing to move after it. Both left a person in the dark.
- Stirring — pilgrims settle down, so the alarm sounded. God's Word still says "keep moving," and one day it will say "come away."
And when the congregation is to be gathered together, ye shall blow, but ye shall not blow an alarm
The same silver trumpets could sound in two ways: one note started the march, the other gathered the people. So why did the two calls have to differ, and who decided which one Israel heard?
The chapter gives the trumpets two main uses. For gathering the people the note was a long blast, never the alarm.
All is carefully ordered by God. "But when the assembly is to be gathered together, you shall blow a long blast, but you shall not sound an alarm." So we see there were these two cases in particular. The trumpets were blown for gathering to the joy of communion. There was also the alarm trumpet sounded by God's own testimony in the presence of the enemy. The effect was this. When the silver trumpets blew an alarm, the people took comfort. It was God after all who dwelt in the camp. He who directed them heard the sound.
The call had a tone as well as a meaning. One writer draws from it a lesson about how God's will reaches His people.
But notice: it was not a terrifying, harsh sound that marked this ministry. It was the sweet melody of the silver trumpet that told them to obey the divine will. We should never forget this. It is one thing to tell our brothers what the will of the Lord is. It is quite another to do it in the way and spirit that suits Him who is full of grace and truth.
Every movement in the camp had its own signal. No movement was legitimate without one.
Was the congregation to be gathered in festive joy and worship? It was by a certain sound of the trumpet. Were the tribes to be gathered in hostile array? It was by a blast of the trumpet. In a word, the silver trumpet regulated it all — the solemn assembly and the warlike host, the instruments of music and the weapons of war. Any movement — festive, religious, or hostile — that did not come from that familiar sound could only be the fruit of a restless and unsubdued will. The Lord could in no way approve it.
Only the priests were to blow the trumpets. One writer shows what happens when someone sounds a signal of his own.
It was a command that only the priests should blow the trumpets. Only they were near enough to understand the Lord's mind and to be in communion with it... In the same way now, only those who are living in the enjoyment of their priestly privileges know how to sound an alarm. They are near to the mind of Christ and in communion with it. To blow at their own will, or on their own idea of danger, would only produce confusion. It would call the builders away from their work, and so do the work of the enemy.
The blast did more than pass on orders. It said whose the people were.
When the priests blew long and loud on these trumpets, the sound reached the furthest limits of Israel. It proclaimed that the people belonged to God. He had redeemed them, and He had rights over them that could not be challenged. They were to hold themselves at His disposal. It did not matter what they were doing. God's call was urgent, and their own pursuits had to take second place. In fact they had to drop them at once, the moment the silver trumpets sounded out their assembling call.
The gathering blast called Israel to one place, and God had chosen it. One writer carries that forward to believers now.
In those days the tabernacle was the centre God appointed for His redeemed people. From that centre His words went out, and to it He summoned them when He pleased. That was the shadow, the picture. Christ is the substance, the reality. If we are obedient to the word of God, Christ will be our one and only centre. Hear, then, the call of the silver trumpet of the Word on this point: "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them" (Matthew 18:20).
- Redeemed — every blast announced that the people belonged to God. He had redeemed them, and they were to hold themselves at His disposal.
- Priestly — only those near enough to know His mind could blow. An alarm sounded on one's own guess of danger calls the workers away and does the enemy's work.
- Distinct — one note sent the camps forward, another gathered them. The two were never to be mixed.
- Gentle — the gathering call was not harsh or frightening. Tell others God's will in the way and spirit that suits Him.
- Gathered — the call drew Israel to the one place God appointed. The same call now draws believers to Christ as their one centre.
the sons of Aaron, the priests, shall blow with the trumpets; and they shall be to you for an everlasting statute throughout your generations.
God did not let just anyone sound the two silver trumpets. Only one family could blow them, the sons of Aaron, and the rule was to last for good. So why must the men who sound God's signals be priests? What does the trumpet announce, and what does it ask of those who hear it?
The trumpets were more than a signal for moving camp. What they sounded was God's own testimony.
Chapter 10 speaks of the silver trumpets. They were used to call the people together and to move the camps on, but they served other purposes too. This was the testimony of God, given in public, with two main aims: to gather the people, and to make them travel. And that is how it works in practice. The testimony of God gathers His people around Him, and makes them go forward. … The priests were to be in communion with their head, and so to know God's thoughts intimately. They sounded the trumpets when needed.
The restriction is deliberate. A man cannot pass on a message he has not been near enough to receive.
Notice that only the sons of Aaron, the priests, were allowed to blow the trumpets. Those who carry God's testimony must be free to come into His presence, and must be in communion with His mind. Nehemiah 4:18 pictures this well: "The man who sounded the trumpet was beside me." He stood close to his leader, to catch the guidance of his eye and to hear the word of command. It is not enough to give out a testimony, even a divine one. The testimony given must be received from God for that moment, and so the one who gives it must live in constant communion with Him.
The blast did more than gather a crowd. It told Israel whose they were.
When the priests of God blew them long and loud, they announced to the furthest limits of Israel that the people belonged to God. He had redeemed them at His own cost and by His own power. Having redeemed them, He had rights over them. Whenever He pleased, He could call them to listen to His word at the door of His sanctuary. They were to hold themselves at His disposal. Whatever they were busy with, God's call had to be obeyed. Their own plans had to take second place, and be dropped at once, the moment the silver trumpets rang in their ears.
How the message sounds matters, not only what it says.
But notice: this ministry was not marked by a terrifying, harsh sound. It was the sweet music of the silver trumpet that called them to obey God's will. We should never forget this. It is one thing to tell our brothers and sisters what the will of the Lord is. It is quite another to do it in the way and spirit that suits Him who is full of grace and truth.
The same rule that gave the priest a duty gave the camp one too.
It also belonged to the sons of Aaron, the priests, to blow the trumpets. We can only know God's mind, and pass it on, when we stay near Him as priests and in communion with Him. The priestly family had the high and holy privilege of gathering round the sanctuary of God. There they caught the first movement of the cloud and passed it on to the most distant parts of the camp. They had to give a clear, certain sound. Every member of the fighting host had the same duty to obey at once, without question… To move without the testimony would be to move in the dark. To refuse to move, once the testimony sounded, would be to stay in the dark.
The rule was to hold "throughout your generations." So who blows the trumpet now?
God appointed the sons of Aaron to blow the trumpets, so this was priestly work (v.8). Those who served in the sanctuary day by day stayed near to the Lord. They were the ones who would have proper discernment from God about what was needed and fitting in these things. All believers are priests today, yet we cannot say that all have the discernment needed to act as priests.
- Nearness first. Only priests blew the trumpet. Only those who come freely into God's presence can pass on His mind.
- Redemption sounded. God redeemed His people at His own cost, so every blast announced His claim on them.
- Reach. The priests carried the sound to the furthest tent, so no one in the camp had to guess what God wanted.
- Certainty and sweetness. The sound had to be definite enough to obey and gracious enough to match the God who sent it.
- Two-sided obedience. The priest owed a clear note. The camp owed a quick answer. Moving without the testimony, or refusing to move once it sounded, both left Israel in the dark.
And if ye go to war in your land against the enemy that oppresseth you, then ye shall blow an alarm with the trumpets; and ye shall be remembered before Jehovah your God, and ye shall be saved from your enemies.
The silver trumpets of Numbers 10 directed every move Israel made. Here they are blown in war, and the question is why a trumpet blast, and not a sword, is what saves.
The chapter keeps two notes apart: one gathers the people, the other answers an attack. One writer sets them side by side, and shows what the alarm told Israel about God.
They blew the trumpets to gather the people to the joy of communion. There was also the alarm trumpet, sounded as God's own testimony in the presence of the enemy. The effect was this: it comforted the people to know that, when the silver trumpets blew an alarm, it was God after all who lived in the camp. He who guided them heard the sound. They were reminded not only that God was there, but that He would act for them and in them against every enemy.
The words behind "blow" and "sound an alarm" are not the same, and the difference is audible.
The word for blowing an alarm with the silver trumpets is not the word used for calling the assembly together, or for gathering the princes. The alarm seems to mean a louder and longer blast, possibly broken up into short, repeated sounds. There is little doubt that the trumpet-call means testimony.
The alarm was not open to anyone with breath and a trumpet.
Note that only the sons of Aaron, the priests, were allowed to blow the trumpets. Those who raise God's testimony must have free access into His presence, and be in communion with His mind. Nehemiah 4:18 pictures this well: "The man who sounded the trumpet was beside me" — close to his leader, to catch the guidance of his eye, and to hear the word of command.
Someone had to care enough about the oppressed to sound for them.
How touching this is! It shows the deep interest in the welfare of God's people, and the sympathy in times of trouble and distress, that those will show who live in communion with the Lord Jesus. They feed in the holy place, and in a clean place, on the very things with which the atonement was made. Their heart and soul go out to God for His people.
The metal is not decoration. It ties the battle cry back to a price already paid.
The silver tells us of redemption. Those notes on the silver trumpets called to mind God's covenant with His earthly people, and His promise to His Heavenly people. They also called to mind the price paid on the cross to buy the redemption of both the Heavenly and the earthly people.
Israel was never a match for its enemies, and God arranged it so. The trumpet turned weakness into an appeal.
They had to do this when they were fighting their enemies. They were sure to meet enemies, and their own strength was never a match for them. God made them that way, so that in every time of stress they would depend on Him. He was their refuge and resource and strength. When they blew the trumpets on the day of battle it was as though they said: "O God, we are Yours. You have redeemed us. Take up our cause against the oppressor." And God always answered their appeal.
So the trumpets outranked the weapons.
They could do without their swords and spears and shields, but not without these trumpets. If they did not blow them, they ran the terrible risk of defeat. But if they blew them, God said, "you shall be remembered before the LORD your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies." If we lose the sense that we belong to God in the conflict, we cannot win. But as we remember it, we are "more than conquerors through Him who loved us."
The instruction looks past the wilderness to settled life in the land, and past Israel to us.
Once God had brought the people into the land, if war arose they sounded an alarm. They proclaimed the testimony of God without fear, and God remembered His people and stepped in. So with us: we need never fear the enemy's attack. Instead of being frightened, let us give a faithful testimony. God has pledged Himself to answer it by coming in with power.
The same trumpet sounds again in prophecy. One writer links the trumpets of Revelation back to this verse: "following the old arrangement of Numbers 10:9, God Himself now declares Himself on behalf of His people, and against their enemies" (Frederick W. Grant).
- Alarm — the war blast was longer and broken, not the same as the gathering call. It was God's testimony raised where the enemy could hear it.
- Priests — only those with access into God's presence could sound it, and they sounded it out of sympathy for people in distress.
- Silver — the metal recalls redemption and the price paid on the cross, so the cry is that we belong to God because He redeemed us.
- Remembered — God made Israel weak on purpose, so that dependence, not strength, would bring Him in.
- Saved — the trumpets mattered more than the swords. God has pledged Himself to answer a faithful testimony with power.
And in the day of your gladness, and in your set feasts, and in your new moons, ye shall blow with the trumpets over your burnt-offerings and over your sacrifices of peace-offering; and they shall be to you for a memorial before your God I am Jehovah your God.
Numbers 10 gives Israel rules for the silver trumpets — how the camp gathers, and how it sets out. Verse 10 adds a different use: the trumpets sound over the sacrifices on glad days, at feasts, and at the start of every month, and God calls that sound a reminder of His people before Him.
The trumpets carried a message. Their material and their use both say what that message was.
The blowing of the trumpets was testimony for God, and testimony connected with redemption. The material of the trumpets shows this. In verse 2, for example, they called the assembly together and started the camps on their journey. God's testimony now does the same. It gathers the saints out of the world and around their true Centre, and leads them onward in their journey.
Verse 8 restricts the blowing to Aaron's sons. That restriction still shapes the joy of verse 10 — the note is sounded by those closest to God.
On days of gladness, on solemn days, and at the beginning of months, the trumpets also sounded over the sacrifices of burnt offerings and peace offerings. Holy rejoicing cannot fail to connect with those wonderful aspects of Jesus in His complete surrender to God. It cannot fail to connect with the ground laid for our fellowship with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ, and with one another (v. 10). The priests, then, were the great movers in this time of rejoicing and solemn gladness.
Worship in Israel came with a condition attached.
When they brought their burnt offerings and peace offerings to God, they had to blow these trumpets. The joyful notes of redemption had to ring out when they came near to God with the things that spoke of worship. This teaches us that we can only come to God in worship as those who are redeemed. Israel offered no sacrifice to God in Egypt, while still under Pharaoh's power. They needed freedom from their enemies, and redemption gave it to them. In the joy of their freedom they worshipped the Lord.
The two offerings named are not interchangeable. Each carries its own weight in the scene.
In the day of rejoicing, no less than in the day of trial and oppression, at their set times and at the new moons — the times of revival and renewed hope — over their burnt offerings and peace offerings (as justifying their acceptance and marking out fellowship with God) the note of the silver trumpet was to be heard. All this is easy enough to interpret; but there is still great need to call it to mind. To know and to do are, sadly, not at all the same thing.
The sound was to be "a memorial." Writers take this in two directions: it reminded the people who they were, and it reached God's own remembrance.
The silver trumpets announced that the people were the Lord's people. They announced that He had the right to call them to His sanctuary whenever He chose. More than that, they announced that He delighted to have them near Himself. This brought the fact back to their memories. It also pointed forward. He will remember His covenant with Abraham, and will say to Israel — now cut off and not His people — "You are My people."
The reminder also reached God.
The blowing of the trumpets was for a memorial. It called God's attention, so to speak, to His people. And it brought in His power on their behalf, as faithful testimony always does.
Every new month began with this sound. In ordinary life, every fresh start calls for the same confession.
At the beginnings of their months the trumpets also had to come out. This shows us that in every change in our lives we must remember that we are the redeemed of the Lord. Is there a young man receiving promotion in his profession? Let him blow the silver trumpet. A young man and woman to be married in the Lord? Let the silver notes ring out with more joy than anything else: they belong first of all to the Lord. Are any thinking of moving from one town to another, or from one land to another? Let them make the change with the deep sense that they are not their own, but the Lord's.
Commentators also look ahead to Israel's future.
They will cry to the Lord their God and He will remember them and will save them from their enemies. Then will come the time of gladness, the fulfilment of the feasts. It will be their new moon. They will once more stand before God on the ground of acceptance — the burnt offering. God will bring them back into fellowship with Himself — the peace offering. In that day everyone will see that the Lord is their God.
- Redemption sounds first. The silver trumpet is testimony tied to redemption. Israel worshipped only after God set them free, never in Egypt.
- Redemption speaks through priests. The priests were the great movers in Israel's gladness, and the note they sounded pointed to Jesus.
- Redemption crowns the offerings. The note rang out over the burnt offering and the peace offering — acceptance first, then fellowship.
- Redemption reaches God. The trumpet was a reminder before Him. They were His people, He delighted to have them near, and His power came in on their behalf.
- Redemption governs every new season. Each new month, each promotion, marriage or move calls for the same confession: we belong to the Lord. Israel's own day of gladness will sound it too.