Leviticus 6

Trust. Not only is it the name of the hideously incongruous Prince song from the 1989 Batman movie (thank goodness the movie had Danny Elfman to provide the dramatically appropriate and masterful musical score), but it is also the very foundation on which human relationships are built (along with bacon, of course). We shouldn't need God to tell us that we have an obligation to sedulously care for anything or anyone entrusted to us. If you're a tenant, you trust that your landlord won't sneak into your domicile and, chortling all the while, abscond with your prized possessions. I have to trust that the US Postal Service will deliver my checks to the credit card company and that no one will steal any packages left on my doorstep. And we all have to trust that the Motion Picture Academy will do the right thing and not give the Oscar for Best Original Score to Sicario. (I guess we'll know in a week or so whether the Academy has betrayed our trust.)

So yes, it seems just and all that the malefactor has to make restitution plus 20% with his or her guilt offering, but the knowledge that someone has betrayed your trust can hurt more than what any reparation can cover. I don't like it when people betray my trust (though I'm lucky enough that I've only had it happen with small matters), but I know that I betray God's trust whenever I willfully sin. Of course, I feel like crap whenever I sin, but that doesn't stop me from doing it again. I don't have to sacrifice a ram every time I screw up, but shouldn't I devote just as much spiritual effort, if not more, into developing my relationship with God as the Israelites did in preparing their offerings?

The chapter then segues into additional morsels regarding the myriad offerings. For the burnt offerings, God says that "the fire must be kept burning on the altar" (verse 9). The connection here is obvious, but I'll make it anyway (because you know just how utterly profound I am): Christians must also be vigilant about keeping their fire and passion for God and His people burning within them. If we don't tend to fires, they go out eventually (even if it takes billions of years, as it does with stars), so we must also continuously strive to keep our fires alight--not through our own efforts, but through continual mindfulness of and dialogue with God.

Finally, matters circle back to food (as they always seem to do). Yes, priests can eat certain offerings, but they must do so "in the courtyard of the tent of meeting" (verses 16, 26). The priests aren't supposed to horde their provender, though their male family members can eat the sin offering (verse 29). Why not women? Women are not inherently more or less holy than men, right? This is another point in the Bible that I admit causes me some consternation.

Interestingly, when a sin offering is cooked in a clay pot, the priests must break the pot. If you were a pot in the custody if ancient Israelites, you'd definitely want to be a copper pot. Your hapless fellow clay appurtenances would be dashed to pieces after use, but you'd not only survive, but also receive the benefits of complete ablutions. Of course, it's preferable not to be a pot at all--your sole purpose would be to hold scrumptious food, but you'd never be able to consume it. Imagine the torture.