At this juncture, it’s worth stepping back a second and talking about the major groups of sacrifices in Leviticus, since we’re transitioning from one to the other here.
(There’s obviously nothing worth saying about this actual verse.)
What we’re about to enter into are the sacrifices that are generally described as involuntary: they’re required in certain situations, and the text lays out what those situations are (at least in general terms and for the most part).
What we just read in Lev 1-3, then, is generally described as the voluntary offerings: ones you can bring whenever you like. And this is true! While the next ones tell us the conditions under which you must offer x, what we’ve read so far just says “if you want to offer x.”
The caveat is that the offerings in Lev 1-3, while they certainly can be brought at any time, are also sometimes required to be brought. We’ll see the scenarios soon enough, but it’s quite common for, say, a whole burnt offering to accompany a required sacrifice.
And the well-being sacrifice, while certainly the kind of thing one could offer just for funsies, is also one of the required offerings on festivals. And here’s where we get to the fun part:
Outside of Leviticus, outside of P, the only sacrifices anyone knows anything about are the ones in Lev 1-3. The involuntary sacrifices we’re about to leap into are entirely the invention of P, as far as we know. No one else mentions them (except other P-like texts. Ezekiel).
To the rest of the world, there were two basic sacrifices: the whole burnt offering, and the well-being offering. These were so common a binary that the well-being offering could just be called “sacrifice,” זבח, because the whole burnt offering was specified as such.
Outside of P, everyone knew that at all the festivals - the pilgrimage ones, the new moon, etc. - what was required was a well-being offering, a זבח. Whenever you read about someone offering a sacrifice outside of P, if it doesn’t specifically say whole burnt offering, it’s this.
The זבח, the well-being offering, is what Moses says Israel wants to go sacrifice in the wilderness. It’s what Elkanah offers every year at the beginning of Samuel. It’s what David pretends to be doing when he’s hiding from Saul in 1 Sam 20. It’s standard.
Thus: what were the only two sacrifices in existence become, in P, the two “offer whenever” sacrifices. It’s almost like a nod to the rest of the culture - sure, you want to do this, fine, here’s how - before getting to the ones that P is instituting now for the first time.
Of course, P has assimilated the whole burnt offering and the well-being offering (and the meal offering) into its general system. But they are actually largely peripheral to it, accompaniments and accoutrements rather than doing core functional work, as we’ll see.
To be super clear: this isn’t a chronological evolutionary development of Israelite religious practice. This is one text, one school perhaps, inventing some new stuff. That text made it into the Bible - but that doesn’t make it representative of any actual practice.
I’ll keep coming back to this as we go. Just to keep in mind: P is a utopian and idiosyncratic concept of the Israelite cult (and everything else). We need to stop treating it as the last word on Israelite cult and ritual. It’s just one word. And it’s a weird word, at that.
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The “sin” offering. But we’re not calling it that.
We know the malady: unintentional sin. Now we get the treatment. It comes in four flavors, but the underlying procedure and concept is the same. And it’s absolutely crucial to understanding P’s system.
I’m going to start with flavor 4: the normal person who commits an unintentional sin. Since, after all, most of us are normal people. And so were most of the Israelites, too. (Kingdom of priests my ass.)
First things first, you have to know you screwed up. Did you unwittingly violate the sabbath? The moment that you realize what day it is, you’re obligated. Or the moment someone yells out the window “Dude, it’s Saturday!” That’s when you’re on the hook.
Here's the introduction to the second major category of sacrifices in Leviticus (and P), and where P goes off into its own little priestly world. Welcome to the involuntary sacrifices. Here we get what you have to offer when you screw up unintentionally.
"How do you screw up unintentionally," you might ask. Well, I'll tell you: when there's a divine commandment not to do something, and you do it without meaning to or without knowing that you did. So says Lev 4:2.
But, you say, give me an example so I know what you mean! Uh...
In pretty classic P style, we get here detailed instructions for a scenario that essentially doesn't exist in reality yet. Because while there have been lots of laws in E to this point, in P...not so much. YHWH hasn't actually given any prohibitions to violate yet.
This section is basically a near-verbatim fulfillment of the instructions from Exod 28, which isn’t so surprising. What’s interesting here is this repeated phrase, “as YHWH had commanded Moses,” which shows up seven times.
What makes this otherwise pretty standard phrase interesting here is that in all of the Tabernacle construction preceding this, that phrase had appeared only once - and that in the late section we just read, in the summary statement of 38:22.
Suddenly it appears after basically every subsection in this chapter - and seven times, which is a number that we’re trained as biblical readers to sit up and take notice of. (It doesn’t always mean something. But it is a semi-regular structuring device, as probably here.)
In much of “Western” thought, it is standard, to the point of barely noticeable, to describe monotheism as an “advance” over polytheism - as “enlightened,” or “superior,” etc. As if the natural course of human development leads naturally to monotheism.
I think this is nonsense.
I saw it just the other day in a recent essay on the ancient Egyptian pharaoh Akhenaten, often considered the first monotheist: the author asks, “Was the king an enlightened religious leader?” as if monotheism is self-evidently enlightened.
It’s natural enough: we are monotheists, we are descended from monotheistic traditions, traditions that replaced polytheism with monotheism, so naturally we think ourselves to be enlightened, and monotheism to be the advanced state of being.
It’s not that lists and numbers and adding are foreign to the priestly story - far from it - but this section seems, to my eye at least, patently a later insertion. It both interrupts and contradicts its context.
At the beginning of the construction section, the Israelites were to bring all of their materials to make all the Tabernacle stuff. But here we’re getting an accounting before they’re done - they haven’t made the priestly garments yet.
You might say, sure, but they’ve made all the stuff that uses the precious metals, so that’s why this is here. But they haven’t, actually: the priestly garments require gold too, plenty of it.
Here we have the long description of everything that Bezalel, master craftsman, made for the Tabernacle. Which is to say, all the good stuff, basically in descending order of awesomeness. (Okay, holiness.)
He starts with the ark, which resides in the innermost sanctum; then the table and the menorah and the incense altar, which are in the chamber just outside the ark. All of these are made of gold, which signals their status and sanctity.
Then it's on to the copper stuff outside the sanctum, in the courtyard: the altar for burnt offerings and the wash basin. And here we encounter what is decidedly one of the weirdest details in the whole thing: the wash basin and its stand are made from...women's mirrors?