And a clean man shall gather the ashes of the heifer, and deposit them outside the camp in a clean place, and it shall be kept for the assembly of the children of Israel for a water of separation it is a purification for sin.
A red heifer has just been burned outside Israel's camp, and a clean man now gathers its ashes and stores them in a clean place. Mixed later with running water, those ashes became the nation's standing remedy for defilement picked up on the road.
Leviticus sets out the sacrifices in their broad meaning. This offering meets a problem that arises on the road:
In Numbers 19 we have a special case of a sin offering. Leviticus and Numbers differ here. Leviticus gives us the sacrifices in their great distinguishing characters. Numbers gives us how they apply in the trials of a walk of faith. It meets the case of people falling into evil, or picking up defilement... This shows the power of the sin offering, as the Spirit brings it to the conscience. It is not a fresh sacrifice. There is no shedding of blood. Only the ashes are sprinkled.
The stored ashes are the last trace of the animal.
The ashes of the heifer bring back to your memory, plainly and surely, what has taken place. They are all that is left of that wonderful victim. Nothing is left but the ashes. The fire of judgment consumed everything else. By these ashes, as a picture, the Spirit of God brings to the memory of the soul, in certain circumstances, what it cost Christ to make us clean. Without that, we will not know, after failure, what purification really is.
The word "kept" carries weight in this verse.
The ordinance of the red heifer stands alone. Other sacrifices come before us again and again, but Scripture records this one nowhere else in Israel's history. There is no account of anyone repeating it. The ashes of the burnt heifer were kept, or should have been kept, all along the journey. It all pictured the sacrifice of Christ, offered once and never to be repeated. His sacrifice never loses its power, so there was no need to repeat it. It perfected for ever.
What survives the fire is also evidence about guilt itself:
Ashes were all that remained: unanswerable proof that our sins could never be charged to us again. They had been charged once — to Christ. The judgment that fell on Him consumed Him, and blood could not blot out again what blood had already wiped out.
Three things stand together here: the ashes go outside the camp, the place chosen for them must be clean, and the men who handle them do not stay clean.
So here, to mark what sin is in God's sight, they killed the heifer outside the camp, and outside the camp they kept the ashes. The sacrifice was holy, or it could not have been a sacrifice fit for His acceptance. The ashes were clean, and they were to be kept in a clean place. Both the heifer and the ashes spoke of One in whom is no sin: the heifer, of Him who offered up Himself; the ashes, of the fiery judgment of God He has endured... Those who prepared the ashes had to acknowledge what sin is. They were ceremonially clean when they began their work, and ceremonially unclean when they had properly finished it.
This purification does not create the bond between God and the Israelite. It repairs something else.
In what sense? With a view to communion, and nothing else — restoring it when broken. It is not a question at all of establishing the relationship; that was already done. On the ground of the relationship that already exists, the Israelite must allow nothing along the way that would spoil the holiness that suits the sanctuary of Jehovah.
The ashes were never sprinkled dry. The ESV calls the mixture "the water for impurity"; older translations call it "the water of separation." Each part of it pictures something.
From the ashes of a red heifer they were to make "a water of separation," and they were to sprinkle that water on people and things that were defiled. The "water of separation" that purified was made from "the ashes of the burnt heifer" — a picture of the death of Christ — and "running [or, living] water" — a picture of the Spirit.
The name given to this mixture points to what it is for. And the defilement it deals with is not always deliberate.
It shows, too, that a believer does not always pick up defilement by his own act. He may come into contact with defilement, even without knowing it, and so he is defiled and needs the "water of purification." Someone may have to judge a sin in the assembly, and his mind is defiled as he listens to the sordid story, so a purification is needed. The text calls the ashes mixed with running water "a water of separation." How necessary separation from evil is! And how necessary it is to be kept in the happy enjoyment of communion with God.
- Cost. The ashes are all that survived the fire — the reminder of what it cost Christ to make us clean.
- Kept. The offering was never repeated. One sacrifice lasted the whole journey, because its value never runs out.
- Proof. The judgment already fell on Christ, so sin can never be charged to us again. Ashes, not fresh blood, are the remedy.
- Applied. Ashes mixed with running water picture the death of Christ brought home by the Spirit. They meet defilement picked up on the road, even without our knowing.
- Communion. The aim is not to start the relationship but to restore fellowship inside it, and to keep the traveller clear of evil.
And he that hath gathered the ashes of the heifer shall wash his clothes, and be unclean until the even. And it shall be unto the children of Israel, and unto the stranger that sojourneth among them, an everlasting statute.
This verse ends the list of men who worked at the red heifer ritual. The last of them only gathered up the ashes, yet he too must wash his clothes and stay unclean until evening. Two questions follow. Why does a work of cleansing leave the worker unclean? And why does God fix this as a lasting rule for Israelite and foreigner alike?
This ordinance is not among the offerings of Leviticus. It stands in the book of the desert march, and one writer links that placement to the trouble it treats.
So in Numbers we get the red heifer, the provision for the wilderness, which is not among the sacrifices in Leviticus. If you touch death, you need your feet washed. The ashes of the heifer were there to restore communion, when the people had lost it on the way through the wilderness.
The man gathers a heap of ashes, not a fresh victim. That difference is the point.
Here the remedy for defilement is put before us in picture form. It is not in a new sacrifice, nor in the shedding of that blood without which there is no forgiveness. It is in applying what speaks of a sacrifice once for all completed, of wrath exhausted and gone. The ashes alone remain, to testify that the fire consumed the victim completely. Other sacrifices were offered again and again. The red heifer is not like them. Alone among legal ordinances, it stands for the lasting power of what has been offered "once for all."
A clean man gathered the ashes, and the work itself left him unclean. That reversal was no accident.
The sacrifice was holy; otherwise it could not have been a sacrifice fit for His acceptance. The ashes were clean, and they had to be kept in a clean place. Both the heifer and the ashes spoke of One in whom is no sin: the heifer, of Him who offered up Himself; the ashes, of the fiery judgment of God He has endured. But because it was connected with sin in any way, God would mark by the words "outside the camp" what sin really is in the eyes of the High and Holy One. Those who prepared the ashes had to acknowledge it themselves. They began their work ritually clean, and they ended it ritually unclean, though they had done it properly.
The chapter repeats the same requirement for each man who touched the work, and the repetition is the lesson.
The priest who sprinkled the blood, and cast the things into the burning of the heifer, was unclean until the evening... The man who had burnt the heifer had to wash his clothes in water, and bathe his flesh in water... The clean man who gathered up the ashes had also to wash his clothes, and be unclean until the evening (v. 10)... Nothing could show us more sharply how serious it is to deal with evil in others. Those who are busy setting others right need to be spiritual themselves, watchful and ready to judge themselves. They need a spirit of gentleness and fear too, in case they become defiled.
"A perpetual statute" means the ashes were meant to last as long as the journey did.
The ordinance of the red heifer stands alone. Scripture brings other sacrifices before us again and again. No other part of Israel's history records this one, and no account says it was ever repeated. The ashes of the burnt heifer were kept, or should have been kept, all along the journey. All of it was meant to point forward to the sacrifice of Christ, offered once and never repeated.
The statute binds "the people of Israel" as a whole, not one special class of men:
The ordinance of the red heifer was not limited to the priests or the Levites; it was for the congregation... The red heifer is a provision for believers, so that they may be cleansed from all defilement along the way. It is no less necessary for the saint than the shed blood is for the sinner.
The verse then reaches wider still, to the foreigner living among them.
- Provision. The red heifer belongs to Numbers, the book of the desert march. It meets defilement picked up on the road, not guilt settled at the start.
- Memorial. He gathers ashes, not a new victim. They prove the judgment is already borne, and they stay ready for the next need.
- Cost. Every hand that touched the work came away unclean. Sin marks even the man who is clearing it away.
- Caution. Even the ash-gatherer had to wash and wait. Anyone who helps to set another right must stay watchful and judge himself, or he will be defiled too.
- Reach. The statute is permanent, and the sacrifice was never repeated. It was given to the whole congregation, and to the foreigner living among them too.
He that toucheth a dead person, any dead body of a man, shall be unclean seven days.
Numbers 19 gives a rule for a people on the move. Anyone who touched a human corpse carried uncleanness for a full week. Why does death, of all things, make a person unclean — and why seven days?
Death is not chosen as the defiling thing at random. Commentators trace it back to the sentence God passed on sin. That is why no one could argue with it.
In every case a person became defiled by contact with death, or with the result of death. No one who was unclean could claim ignorance as an excuse. No one could deny what death was. It was the clearest and most absolute proof of sin: "In the day that you eat of it you shall surely die." "The wages of sin is death." Its consequences made sin plain. So the man who touched death had no excuse to offer.
Who was this ordinance for? Commentators set it beside the sacrifices that answer a sinner's guilt, and find its purpose is different.
The ordinance of the red heifer was not only for the priests or the Levites; it was for the whole congregation... The sprinkled blood, as on the Passover night, keeps us safe from judgment. The great day of atonement sets out the full answer of the cross — a perfect redemption. It meets the need of guilty sinners and establishes new relationships between God and the redeemed. In a word, both of these ordinances have the sinner in view. The red heifer is instead a provision for believers, to cleanse them from all defilement along the way. It is no less necessary for the saint than the shed blood is for the sinner.
Christians do not become unclean by attending a funeral. Yet the danger has only changed form.
He cannot tolerate any uncleanness on those with whom He stoops to walk, and in whom He dwells. He can pardon and blot out. He can heal, cleanse and restore. But He cannot approve unjudged evil, or allow it on His people... True, we are not defiled today by touching "a dead body, a human bone, or a grave." These things stood for moral and spiritual things. We are in danger of touching them every day and every hour.
Note the verb the verse uses: touch. A man became unclean by contact, and not always by his own choice.
It shows, too, that a saint may not always bring defilement on himself by his own act. He may come into touch with defilement, even without knowing it, and so be defiled and need the "water of purification." One may have to judge some sin in the assembly, and listening to the sordid story may defile the mind, so that he needs a purification.
The law fixed a length of time, and the number carries weight. Recovery took a process, not a moment.
But this act of restoration does not give us the idea of either a slight or a rapid process. We know that sometimes a long time passes before someone who has felt his uncleanness is fully restored. As we have seen, the man was unclean "seven days," during which the process of restoration was going on. Seven, in the language of types, means what is complete. So we learn that a fully adequate time must pass, in which he may know certain experiences, before he could be fully restored. In our case that time may be short or long.
The chapter names a cure as well as a problem. The striking thing is what the cure leaves out.
First her blood was sprinkled seven times, in full, before the tent of meeting. On that basis the rest of the sacrifice was burned to ashes, as a standing purification for sin. Then, if an Israelite became defiled, the remedy was not to sprinkle the blood again. The unclean person was sprinkled instead with the water of separation — running water mixed with some of the ashes of the burnt heifer. The Spirit and the word of God make the defiled soul feel what his trifling with sin cost Christ, the Son of God. Christ bore the unsparing judgment of it all before God, when He was made sin for him.
- Contact. Uncleanness came by touch. Death defiles because it is the plain proof of sin, so no one could plead ignorance.
- Wilderness. The rule belongs to the journey. It provides for the redeemed along the way, as the blood provides for the sinner.
- Unwitting. A believer can be defiled without meaning to be, even by hearing an evil matter told. He still needs the water of purification.
- Seven days. Seven marks completeness. Restoration takes its full time; it is not an instant repair.
- Ashes, not blood again. The remedy adds no fresh blood. The Spirit uses the word to make the defiled soul feel what his sin cost Christ.
He shall purify himself with it on the third day, and on the seventh day he shall be clean; but if he purify not himself the third day, then the seventh day he shall not be clean.
Touching a dead body left an Israelite unclean, and God set a timetable for his cleansing instead of an instant fix. Why not the very first day, and why does one sprinkling leave him unclean?
Commentators read this ordinance as God's answer to the defilement believers pick up on the journey home.
It shows how small a matter is enough to check and hinder communion. Sometimes this comes from circumstances we had no control over, as a man dying in a tent made everyone in it unclean. And yet in every instance we find the exact way of restoration, provided in grace. It teaches lessons especially to us, who are travelling on to our rest through a region of sin and death.
The remedy here is not blood sprinkled again. Ashes prove something that fresh blood does not.
If a man tampered with sin, God at least would not make light of his sin. He would let the soul gain by being troubled about it. It was useless for such a person to say: I am sprinkled with the blood. I am clean. Why should I trouble myself more about the sin? Such thoughts do not come from the Holy Spirit... The blood is not the appointed way for meeting sin afterwards. The flesh uses that to make light of sin. Here it was not the blood that purified, but the ashes of the heifer. What did they represent? The full proof of judgment.
Two things go into the sprinkling, and each stands for something.
The ashes are the death of Christ, and the running water is the energy of the Holy Spirit of God bringing to my soul what Christ passed through. He says: Christ has died for you. He has borne the judgment of God for you. And this very sin that you found pleasure in drew from His soul that agonising cry, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?" And He works in my soul the deep sense of what a wretch I am, for I have been finding pleasure in what cost Him pain.
Speed would seem kinder. God ordered otherwise.
It was not permitted to purify oneself on the first day. Am I wrong in thinking that we might have assumed beforehand that this haste was much the best course? Why not at once? God ordered it not for the first day but the third. Defilement can settle on the spirit. When anything succeeds in interrupting communion with God, it is of deep moral importance that we fully realise our offence... The Israelite had to remain until the third day under a sense of his sin. A hasty expression of sorrow does not prove genuine repentance for sin.
Haste and delay can both be hollow.
The man who thinks he has done everything by confessing his sin the moment he was defiled is usually more or less superficial. The man who puts off humbling himself tends to let the delay deaden his conscience. Satan persuades him that the fault is not so serious, that many others have acted as badly; and so the soul gets sleepy, and forgets how grave the sin is.
The verse makes the seventh day depend on the third. Two different things happen in the soul.
The first application on the third day did not restore the Israelite. Nor does the believer's first grasp of the sacrifice of Christ, which the Holy Spirit presses home on his conscience, restore the soul to communion. That first grasp gives the sense that the sin has been put away by the sacrifice of Christ. The second application is the full restoration of the soul to God, with the sense of His grace triumphing over the sin.
Commentators differ on why the third day is singled out. Others take the day itself as the point.
The third day is emphasised as the resurrection day: "if he does not cleanse himself on the third day and on the seventh day, he will not become clean." The "living water" pictures, as always, the Spirit of God. He brings the soul to understand its association with Christ in resurrection, and so makes the death of the cross effective in purifying us from the world. Still, the man is not clean until the evening of the seventh day — ready for the eighth, which begins a new week and the entrance into new creation.
- Contact. A believer travels through a world stamped with death. He picks up defilement he sometimes never chose, and it checks his communion with God.
- Ashes. The remedy is not blood sprinkled again. It is ashes — the proof that the judgment already fell.
- Water. Living water carries the ashes, and the Spirit carries home what the cross cost Christ.
- Timing. Not the first day, so the offence is felt. Not later than the third, so the conscience does not go to sleep.
- Completion. The third day's sprinkling starts the work. The seventh finishes it. Skip the first, and the last brings no cleansing at all.
Whoever toucheth a dead person, the dead body of a man that is dead, and purifieth not himself, defileth the tabernacle of Jehovah; and that soul shall be cut off from Israel; for the water of separation was not sprinkled upon him he shall be unclean; his uncleanness is yet upon him.
This verse sits inside the law of the red heifer. There God deals not with guilt, but with the stain a person picks up along the way. A man touches a corpse, and the harm does not stop with him. It reaches the tent where God lives among His people. Refuse the washing God appointed, and you lose your place in the nation.
Leviticus treats a dead animal far more lightly than a dead man. One writer explains why.
Nothing of death could suit "the sanctuary of the LORD" — not even the touch of a "dead body," or of "a bone of a man." Death in man was a witness that sin was bound up with it. "By a man came death," as well as sin, for death is the wages of sin. We saw in Leviticus 11 that touching the carcass of an unclean animal left a man unclean only until evening. Here, touching the dead body of a man left him unclean for seven days. The reason for the difference is obvious; for man is connected with sin as well as death.
The careless man defiles God's dwelling, not just himself. Why? He never stopped belonging to the people God lived among.
Though only an individual was defiled, the consequences of his act were not confined to himself. He lived outside the camp because of his defilement, yet he was still a member of the people God dwelt among. So if he despised, or even neglected, the cleansing God prescribed, God had to act, because he defiled the sanctuary of the LORD. There was only one alternative. Death had to come in either way. Either the man made use of the death of the heifer, or he suffered death himself under the judicial hand of God.
The penalty fell on a man who had a remedy within reach and left it unused. One writer applies that to life among God's people today.
If I get into evil and do not judge it and get rid of it, I am hurting other people. A careless man then "defiled the tabernacle of the LORD," and if I go on with what is wrong I am contaminating my brothers and sisters. I am one of the congregation, do you not see? How careful our walk ought to be, for the sake of others. He died. For us it is not death, but the unclean believer is out of communion. He does not get the joy that belongs to the company. He is outside morally and practically. Why? Because there was a way of putting himself right, and he did not make use of it. He was careless.
Ashes were stored outside the camp in advance, kept for whoever would need them. This ordinance is not aimed at the unforgiven but at people already redeemed and travelling.
The red heifer is a provision for believers, to cleanse them from all defilement along the way. It is no less necessary for the saint than the shed blood is for the sinner. The truth taught by the red heifer is different from the truth of the day of atonement, but people do not grasp it as readily.
The verse names what was missing: the water was never sprinkled on him. And that water was not blood.
It was in vain for such a man to say, I am sprinkled with the blood — I am clean: why should I trouble about the sin any more? Such thoughts do not come from the Holy Spirit. Being sprinkled with Christ's blood is no reason to take comfort in the presence of sin. It is the strongest motive for shame and humbling. It was not the blood that purified here, but the ashes of the heifer. What did they represent? The full proof of judgment. The Holy Spirit brings back to my memory what Christ suffered. The ashes were mixed with living water. That water is the power of the Holy Spirit — His present action in using the remembrance of the sufferings of Christ.
So what do you do about the things that soil you day by day?
Beware of staying even one hour in contact with what soils your hands and wounds your conscience. It grieves the Holy Spirit and spoils your communion. Be decided. Be whole-hearted. Give up the unclean thing at once, whatever it is — habit, or association, or anything else. Whatever it costs, give it up. Whatever loss it brings, abandon it. No worldly gain, no earthly advantage, can replace a pure conscience, a heart that does not condemn you, and the light of your Father's face.
- Contact. Death carries the mark of sin. Touching a corpse brought seven days of uncleanness — far longer than touching a dead animal.
- Contagion. The defilement never stayed private. It reached the tabernacle and touched the whole people he belonged to.
- Cure. The red heifer is God's provision for believers — people already redeemed but still on the road.
- Content. The water carried ashes, not fresh blood. The Spirit brings home what Christ suffered, so we feel sin instead of brushing it aside.
- Consequence. Being cut off was the price of neglect, not of a missing remedy — the cleansing was there, and he did not use it.