Notes on the Book of Leviticus

by Charles Henry Mackintosh

The Lord Jesus Christ was the only perfect Man that ever trod this earth. He was all perfect—perfect in thought, perfect in word, perfect in action. In Him every moral quality met in divine and therefore perfect proportion. No one feature preponderated. In Him were exquisitely blended a majesty which overawed, and a gentleness which gave perfect ease in His presence. The scribes and the Pharisees met His withering rebuke, while the poor Samaritan and "the woman that was a sinner" found themselves unaccountably, yet irresistibly, attracted to Him. No one feature displaced another, for all was in fair and comely proportion. This may be traced in every scene of His perfect life. He could say, in reference to five thousand hungry people, "Give ye them to eat;" and when they were filled, He could say, "Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." The benevolence and the economy are both perfect, and neither interferes with the other: each shines in its own proper sphere. He could not send unsatisfied hunger away; neither could He suffer a single fragment of God's creatures to be wasted. He would meet, with a full and liberal hand, the need of the human family, and when that was done, He would carefully treasure up every atom. The self-same hand that was widely open to every form of human need was firmly closed against all prodigality. There was nothing niggardly nor yet extravagant in the character of the perfect—the heavenly Man.

What a lesson for us! How often, with us, does benevolence resolve itself into an unwarrantable profusion! and, on the other hand, how often is our economy marred by the exhibition of a miserly spirit! At times, too, our niggard hearts refuse to open themselves to the full extent of the need which presents itself before us; while, at other times, we squander, through a wanton extravagance, that which might satisfy many a needy fellow-creature. Oh, my reader, let us carefully study the divine picture set before us in the life of "the Man Christ Jesus." How refreshing and strengthening to "the inward man" to be occupied with Him who was perfect in all His ways, and who "in all things must have the pre-eminence"!

See Him in the garden of Gethsemane. There, He kneels in the profound depths of a humility which none but Himself could exhibit; but yet before the traitor's band He exhibits a self-possession and majesty which cause them to go backward and fall to the ground. His deportment before God is prostration; before His judges and accusers, unbending dignity. All is perfect. The self-emptiness and the self-possession, the prostration and the dignity, are all divine.

So, also, when we contemplate the beauteous combination of His divine and human relations, the same perfectness is observable. He could say, "How was it that ye sought Me? Wist ye not that I must be about My Father's business?" And, at the same time, He could go down to Nazareth, and there set an example of perfect subjection to parental authority. (See Luke ii. 49-51.) He could say to His mother, "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" And yet, when passing through the unutterable agony of the cross, He could tenderly commit that mother to the care of the beloved disciple. In the former case, He separated Himself, in the spirit of perfect Nazariteship, to accomplish His Father's will; while in the latter, He gave expression to the tender feelings of the perfect human heart. The devotion of the Nazarite and the affection of the Man were both perfect. Neither was permitted to interfere with the other: each shone with undimmed lustre in its proper sphere.

Now, the shadow of this perfect Man passes before us in the "fine flour" which formed the basis of the meat-offering. There was not so much as a single coarse grain. There was nothing uneven—nothing unequal—nothing rough to the touch. No matter what pressure came from without, there was always an even surface. He was never ruffled by any circumstance or set of circumstances. He never had to retrace a step or recall a word. Come what might, He always met it in that perfect evenness which is so strikingly typified by the "fine flour."

In all these things, it is needless to say, He stands in marked contrast with His most honored and devoted servants. For example, Moses, though "the meekest man in all the earth," yet "spoke unadvisedly with his lips." In Peter, we find a zeal and an energy which at times proved too much for the occasion; and, again, a cowardice which shrank from the place of testimony and reproach. There was the assertion of a devotedness which, when the time for action arrived, was not forthcoming. John, who breathed so much of the atmosphere of the immediate presence of Christ, exhibited, at times, a sectarian and an intolerant spirit. In Paul, the most devoted of servants, we observe considerable unevenness. He uttered words to the high-priest which he had to recall: he sent a letter to the Corinthians of which at first he repented and afterwards repented not. In all, we find some flaw, save in Him who is "the fairest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely."

In the examination of the meat-offering, it will give clearness and simplicity to our thoughts to consider, first, the materials of which it was composed; secondly, the various forms in which it was presented; and, thirdly, the persons who partook of it.

As to the materials, the "fine flour" may be regarded as the basis of the offering; and in it we have a type of Christ's humanity, wherein every perfection met. Every virtue was there, and ready for effectual action in due season. The Holy Ghost delights to unfold the glories of Christ's Person, to set Him forth in all His peerless excellence, to place Him before us in contrast with all beside. He contrasts Him with Adam, even in his very best and highest state; as we read, "The first man is of the earth, earthy: the second Man is the Lord from heaven." (1 Cor. xv. 47.) The first Adam, even in his unfallen condition, was "of the earth;" but the second Man was "the Lord from heaven."

The "oil," in the meat-offering, is a type of the Holy Ghost. But inasmuch as the oil is applied in a twofold way, so we have the Holy Ghost presented in a double aspect, in connection with the incarnation of the Son. The fine flour was "mingled" with oil, and there was oil "poured" upon it. Such was the type; and in the Antitype, we see the blessed Lord Jesus Christ first "conceived," and then "anointed," by the Holy Ghost. (Comp. Matt. i. 18-23 with chap. iii. 16.) This is divine! The accuracy, which is here so apparent, draws forth the soul's admiration. It is one and the same Spirit which records the ingredients of the type, and gives us the facts in the Antitype. The One who has detailed for us, with such amazing precision, the types and shadows of the book of Leviticus, has also given us the glorious subject thereof in the gospel narratives. The same Spirit breathes through the pages of the Old and those of the New Testament, and enables us to see how exactly the one corresponds with the other.

The conception of Christ's humanity by the Holy Ghost, in the womb of the virgin, unfolds one of the most profound mysteries which can possibly engage the attention of the renewed mind. It is most fully set forth in Luke's gospel; and this is entirely characteristic, inasmuch as, throughout that gospel, it would seem to be the special object of the Holy Ghost to unfold, in His own divinely touching manner, "the Man Christ Jesus." In Matthew, we have "the Son of Abraham—the Son of David;" in Mark, we have the divine Servant—the heavenly Workman; in John, we have "the Son of God"—the Eternal Word—the Life—the Light, by whom all things were made; but the great theme of the Holy Ghost in Luke is "the Son of Man."