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.