Jesus: From Genesis to Revelation

Day 1: The Day of Atonement -- One Priest, One Sacrifice, Two Goats, and the Mercy Seat

Reading

Historical Context

Leviticus 16 opens with a sobering reference: “after the death of the two sons of Aaron, when they drew near before the LORD and died” (16:1). The Day of Atonement legislation does not arrive in a vacuum. It arrives after Nadab and Abihu offered unauthorized fire and were consumed. The chapter is, in a sense, God’s answer to the question their death raised – how can anyone approach the holy God and survive? The answer is not presumption. The answer is a ritual of exacting precision, performed by one designated person, on one designated day, with designated blood.

The Hebrew term for this day is Yom Hakippurim – literally, “the day of coverings.” The root kippur (from kaphar) means “to cover, to ransom, to make atonement.” In the ancient Near East, similar purification rituals existed in Babylonian and Hittite cultures – ceremonies designed to cleanse temples of accumulated pollution. But the Israelite version is theologically distinct. In Mesopotamian purification rites, the temple was cleansed to appease capricious deities. In Leviticus, the tabernacle is cleansed because a holy God has chosen to dwell among a sinful people and the accumulated contamination of their sin threatens the viability of that arrangement. The pollution is real. The danger is real. And the solution is blood.

The high priest’s preparation is extraordinary. He removes the garments of glory and beauty described in Exodus 28 – the breastplate with its twelve stones, the ephod of gold and blue and purple, the turban with its golden plate reading “Holy to the LORD” – and puts on plain white linen: a linen tunic, linen undergarments, a linen sash, a linen turban (16:4). The Hebrew bad (“linen”) denotes the simplest, plainest fabric. The high priest enters the Most Holy Place stripped of every symbol of rank and authority, dressed as a servant. He must also bathe his body in water before putting on these garments – a ritual washing that signifies a complete change of status. The man who normally stands before the people in splendor now stands before God in simplicity.

The two-goat ritual is unique in the ancient world. Two identical male goats are brought before the LORD at the entrance of the tent of meeting, and lots are cast – one lot “for the LORD” (la-YHWH) and one lot “for Azazel” (la-azazel). The meaning of azazel has been debated for millennia. The Septuagint translated it as apopompaios – “the one sent away.” The Vulgate rendered it caper emissarius – “the goat sent out” – giving us the English word “scapegoat.” Some scholars see it as a reference to a desert demon or wilderness spirit, the idea being that the sin is sent back to the realm of chaos from which it came. Others take it as a compound Hebrew word meaning “goat of removal” (ez-azel). Whatever its precise etymology, the function is clear: one goat dies, its blood carried behind the veil to the mercy seat; the other goat lives, carrying the confessed sins of the people into the wilderness, never to return.

The blood ritual itself follows a precise spatial theology. The high priest first slaughters a bull for his own sin and the sin of his household (16:11) – because the mediator himself needs mediation. He takes the blood behind the veil and sprinkles it on the kapporet – the mercy seat, the golden lid of the ark of the covenant – and before it, seven times (16:14). Seven is the number of completion. The blood is applied where God’s presence dwells, directly above the tablets of the law that Israel has broken. The blood stands between God’s holiness and Israel’s guilt. Then the goat “for the LORD” is slaughtered, and the same ritual is performed with its blood (16:15). The high priest then applies blood to the altar of incense and the bronze altar, purifying the entire sacred complex from the contamination of Israel’s sin. The tent of meeting, the altar, the Most Holy Place – everything is cleansed. The sanctuary can continue to function. God can continue to dwell among his people.

Christ in This Day

The author of Hebrews reads Leviticus 16 as a detailed blueprint of what Christ would accomplish – and the comparison reveals both correspondence and contrast of staggering proportions. “But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption” (Hebrews 9:11-12). Every element of the Yom Kippur ritual finds its fulfillment in Jesus, but at every point the copy is surpassed by the reality.

The high priest removed his garments of glory. Christ set aside the glory of heaven itself. Paul describes it in language that echoes the linen-clad priest: “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:6-7). Aaron stripped down to plain linen to enter the Most Holy Place. The eternal Son stripped himself of glory to enter a human body, and then stripped even further – naked on a Roman cross, exposed before the world. The humiliation of the high priest on Yom Kippur was a shadow; the humiliation of Christ was the substance.

The two goats find their union in a single person. Christ is the goat that dies – “he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5). The blood he carries into the heavenly sanctuary is his own, not the blood of an animal. And Christ is the goat that carries sin away – “As far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12). John the Baptist recognized both dimensions when he declared, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29) – the Lamb who dies and the one who removes. What required two animals to picture, one Savior accomplishes. He bears the penalty and eliminates the stain. He satisfies divine justice and erases human guilt. The author of Hebrews compresses the entire sacrificial system into a single sentence: “By a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14).

And the crucial contrast: the high priest entered the Most Holy Place once a year because the blood of animals could not permanently solve the problem. The ritual had to be repeated because its efficacy was temporary. But Christ “has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself” (Hebrews 9:26). The Day of Atonement happened annually. Good Friday happened once. The veil that separated the Most Holy Place – the veil through which only the high priest could pass, and only on this one day – was torn from top to bottom when Jesus died (Matthew 27:51). The tearing came from above, not from below. God himself opened the way. What Leviticus 16 restricted to one man on one day, the cross opens to every believer for all time: “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh… let us draw near” (Hebrews 10:19-22).

Key Themes

Connections

Old Testament Roots

The mercy seat (kapporet) was constructed in Exodus 25:17-22, where God promised, “There I will meet with you, and from above the mercy seat… I will speak with you about all that I will give you in commandment.” The concept of substitutionary blood goes back to Genesis 22, where a ram was provided in place of Isaac, and to the Passover lamb of Exodus 12, whose blood on the doorposts turned aside the destroyer. The scapegoat sent into the wilderness carrying Israel’s sin anticipates the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53:6 – “the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

New Testament Echoes

Hebrews 9-10 provides the most sustained theological exposition of Leviticus 16 in the New Testament. Romans 3:25 declares that God put forward Christ “as a propitiation (hilasterion – the same Greek word used for the mercy seat in the Septuagint) by his blood.” First John 2:2 affirms that Christ “is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.” Matthew 27:51 records the tearing of the veil at the moment of Christ’s death – the end of restricted access to God’s presence.

Parallel Passages

Compare Leviticus 16 with Isaiah 53 (the Suffering Servant who bears the iniquity of the people), with Psalm 103:10-12 (God removing transgressions as far as the east is from the west), and with Hebrews 13:11-12 (“So Jesus also suffered outside the gate” – the scapegoat sent outside the camp, Christ crucified outside Jerusalem).

Reflection Questions

  1. The high priest had to sacrifice for his own sin before he could sacrifice for the people’s sin. Jesus did not. What does it mean for your confidence before God that your high priest “has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people” (Hebrews 7:27)?

  2. The two goats picture two dimensions of forgiveness: the penalty paid and the sin removed. Which of these truths is harder for you to believe – that the penalty for your sin has been fully paid, or that your sin has been fully carried away? Why?

  3. The veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom when Jesus died. The restricted access of Leviticus 16 – one man, one day – has been replaced by the open invitation of Hebrews 10:22: “Let us draw near.” What prevents you from drawing near to God with confidence? What would change if you truly believed the way has been opened?

Prayer

Father, we stand in awe of the Day of Atonement – its solemnity, its precision, its insistence that our sin is serious and your holiness is real. We thank you that what Aaron could only shadow, Christ has accomplished. He is the priest who needs no sacrifice for his own sin. He is the goat whose blood was carried not into an earthly tent but into heaven itself. He is the scapegoat who carried our iniquities not into a wilderness but into oblivion – as far as the east is from the west. The veil is torn. The way is open. The blood on the mercy seat is his own, and it speaks a better word than the blood of bulls and goats. Give us the courage to draw near – not in pretense or self-righteousness, but in the plain linen of honesty, trusting not in our worthiness but in his sacrifice. Through Christ our high priest, who entered once for all and sat down, because the work is finished. Amen.