Original Meaning
AS THE LAST chapter before the section that deals mainly with the building of the tabernacle (chs. 25–40), Exodus 24 is a transitionary chapter of sorts.1 It revisits a number of things we have seen throughout the book. The covenant, whose stipulations have been recorded in 20:22–23:19, is confirmed through worship, sacrifice, personal dedication, and the writing of the law. But this chapter also looks ahead. As it opens, Moses is called to ascend the mountain yet another time (24:1). He does so in verses 13–18, and during this time on Mount Sinai he receives instructions concerning a number of things that will not only dominate the concluding chapters of Exodus, but the Pentateuch and much of the Old Testament: the building of the tabernacle, the priesthood, and Sabbath regulations. Also during this visit the famous golden calf incident takes place (ch. 32).
Verses 1–2 set the tone for the chapter as a whole. Moses, Aaron, his two oldest sons (Nadab and Abihu), and the seventy elders are to ascend the mountain. At least one of the reasons for doing so is “to worship” (the other being the giving of the tablets, v. 12). It is Israel’s presence at the mountain and their worshipful response that drives much of the context of this chapter.
The action depicted here echoes 19:12–24, which contains the rather complicated set of instructions regarding who may and may not approach the mountain and ascend it. The present verses, however, are clear as to who is permitted to do so. Aaron and his two oldest sons are to come up with Moses, as are the seventy elders.
Immediately a few questions come to mind. To whom is God talking here? Verse 1 begins by telling us that he spoke to Moses, and the speech begins this way: “you and Aaron.” The end of verse 1 and the beginning of verse 2, however, implies that God is not speaking to Moses: “You are to worship at a distance, but Moses alone is to approach the LORD.” The “you” addressed in this sentence is certainly not Moses, but the others, those not permitted further up (the Hebrew “you” is plural). It seems that, although not made explicit, these words are the message that Moses is to bring to the people so they can all hear. God is speaking to the people about who will have access to the mountain.
Mention of the names Nadab and Abihu should not be totally unexpected. They have already been mentioned in the genealogy of chapter 6 (6:23), though we have not heard anything about them since. Now the reason for earlier specifying Aaron and his sons becomes clearer. These are the priests of God who will be permitted to step closer than their countrymen. What was anticipated in chapter 6 is taking clearer shape in chapter 24.
Less clear is where the seventy elders came from. They may well be the product of Jethro’s advice in 18:17–23, although we must remember that the number “seventy” is not mentioned there. Hence, the specificity with which these elders are numbered is unexpected. Nevertheless, it is no more unexpected than, for example, the sudden mention of Joshua and Hur in 17:9–10. I see no reason to attribute this situation to alternate “traditions” (one mentioning seventy elders, the other not specifying the number), as some are tempted to do. This is simply another case of what we have seen throughout the book. The Exodus story was well known to the original audience of the book. This was not the first time they were hearing about it, so not all the gaps needed to be filled in for them.
We should also pause here to remind ourselves of the significance of the partitioning of the mountain. As we have noted earlier, the fact that fewer and fewer people are granted access to Mount Sinai the closer we get to the top is reflected in the construction of the tabernacle (and later the temple). That is, the tabernacle was built with Mount Sinai as a pattern. Without forcing the matter too much, something along the lines of a three-part division seems to be at work in verses 1–2. Moses alone is permitted to go up to “approach the LORD.” The priests and elders may come up, but they have to worship at a distance. The people may not come up at all (cf. 19:12). These two verses, therefore, are a fitting opening to the chapter that will lead us to the final main section of the book, the building of the tabernacle.
We might now expect some indication that Moses and the others actually do what God tells them to do in verses 1–2. To read about this, however, we must wait for verse 9. Verses 3–8 “intervene”2 to fill us in on the action at the foot of the mountain.
Verse 3 clearly implies that Moses, after receiving the instructions of verses 1–2, makes his way down the mountain to tell the people what God has told him, or as the text puts it, “all the LORD’s words and laws.” Likely “words” and “laws” are a shorthand reference to the Ten Commandments and the Book of the Covenant: “Words” (debarim) introduces the Ten Commandments in 20:1 and “laws” (mišpaṭim) introduces the Book of the Covenant in 21:1. It seems, therefore, that Moses here repeats verbatim the content of these legal corpora. Now for a second time (see 19:8, see comments), the people respond in almost the exact same words of utter enthusiasm as before: “Everything the LORD has said we will do.”3 This enthusiasm is short-lived, as the ensuing chapters will demonstrate.
According to verse 4 Moses wrote down “everything the LORD had said.” This can be none other than the contents of the entire previous scene, that is, the Ten Commandments and the Book of the Covenant. This is the second time in Exodus that Moses is said to write (cf. 17:14; 34:28). It also seems that this is what is referred to as the “Book of the Covenant” (20:22–23:19), although the term itself is not introduced until verse 7.
While we are on the subject of writing, we should jump down to verse 12. It is not clear how to square Moses’ writing activity in verses 4 and 7 with verse 12, which says that God is the one who will write the “laws and commands” on “tablets of stone.” In fact, this seems to be one of the very reasons for which Moses is called up the mountain (the other reason being to receive the instructions for the tabernacle). Although verse 12 is not explicit, the context strongly suggests that the contents of this writing are the Ten Commandments and the Book of the Covenant. Are we to presume that Moses first wrote these things down and later received a divinely written copy for perpetuity? No. Rather, this is another of several ambiguities we have encountered in our reading of Exodus.
In fact, it appears as if the writer intentionally presents the readers with this ambiguity in order to underscore Moses’ “divine” activity, something we have seen throughout Exodus. It is both Moses and Yahweh who bring Israel out of Egypt. It is both who divide the sea. Here, it is both who write—the same thing. If anything, rather than ferreting out what precisely Moses or God wrote, it is enough to see in Moses’ act of writing his status and authority as Israel’s leader.
After recording God’s words to him, Moses builds an altar (v. 4). This does not seem to be in response to a specific command of God, unless we look back to 20:24–26. That altar, however, had specific instructions (made of earth and uncut stone), none of which is present in 24:4. Moreover, what we do find in 24:4, twelve pillars representing the twelve tribes, is not mentioned in 20:24–26. Probably no connection should be made between these two passages.
There is, however, some conceptual overlap between the altar built here and the one built in 17:15. For one thing, these are the only two altars Moses is said to build in Exodus. Further, in both passages, building an altar is preceded by Moses’ writing, and both look ahead to what Israel will later experience. The battle with the Amalekites in chapter 17, as we have seen, is a preview of the conquest battles. The altar of chapter 24, complete with directions to offer sacrifices on it (vv. 5–8), anticipates the more developed sacrificial system of the following chapters. Instructions for building this more “permanent” altar are given in 27:1–8 (see also 38:1–7).4
Upon this altar are to be offered burnt offerings and fellowship offerings. Burnt offerings (cf. 10:25; 18:12) are presumably a well-known practice to the Israelites and therefore need no elaboration in this context. More important, burnt and fellowship offerings are mentioned together in 20:24, where the altar of earth and uncut stone is mentioned. Mention of these two types of offerings in 24:5 not only hearkens back to 20:24, but anticipates what is to come. The following chapters frequently mention burnt offerings in conjunction with the tabernacle (29:18, 25, 42; 30:9; 40:29). Fellowship offerings are also mentioned (29:28). Interestingly, the only other passage in Exodus that mentions both in the same verse is 32:6, the golden calf episode, a factor that helps highlight the seriousness of that transgression.
The nature of these burnt and fellowship offerings is significant. Burnt offerings are typically made for atonement for sin and consecration, that is, devotion and commitment to God. Fellowship offerings celebrate fellowship with God. The nature of these two offerings parallels how the blood of the sacrifices was used. One half was sprinkled on the altar, while the other half was put in bowls (v. 6) and was sprinkled on the people (v. 8). The former represents sin atonement (burnt offerings), the latter fellowship.
The sequence is as follow. Moses sprinkles the altar, thus symbolizing Israel’s atonement from sin. Next, the Book of the Covenant is read, to which the people respond again with enthusiastic assent (v. 7). Then the blood is sprinkled on the people with these words: “This is the blood of the covenant that the LORD has made with you in accordance with all these words.” This blood sprinkled on the people indicates that the fellowship between them and God has just been confirmed. That is why it is called the “blood of the covenant.”
We should note also that this covenant is essentially not a matter of a mutual agreement or pact made between God and the Israelites. It is, as we read, “the covenant that the LORD has made with you.” It is by his initiative. He is the instigator. What the Israelites are to do is to accept and agree to live by the terms of the covenant that God and God alone has stipulated—these stipulations being the “Book of the Covenant.” Israel’s choice was never between making a covenant either with other gods or with Yahweh, but between making a covenant with other gods (23:32) or accepting the covenant Yahweh graciously, mercifully, lovingly made with them.
Only after this confirmation of the covenant can we proceed to the next scene, a return to what was introduced in verses 1–2: Moses, Aaron and his sons, and the elders worship on the mountain. More to the point, we are told they “went up and saw the God of Israel” (vv. 9–10). At first glance, it is difficult to know what this means precisely, especially since 33:20 seems to say the exact opposite: “No one may see me and live.” Moreover, 24:1–2 says that Moses alone is to approach God. Not only does it say nothing about seeing God, it says specifically that the others are to “worship at a distance.”
This passage creates some tension, to be sure. We must remember, however, that it is a tension that the passage itself recognizes. This is the significance of verse 11, where the writer goes out of his way to add that those who saw God did not die. In other words, for the biblical writer, the fact that they saw God but did not die is worthy of special comment. Thus, it seems that 24:10 and 33:20 are both based on the same premise that seeing God is something that ought to have severe ramifications.
So why are Moses and Israel’s leaders permitted to see God at this time? This must be understood in the broader context of the passage. The Israelites are at a crucial point in their redemptive journey. The covenant stipulations have just been given and the covenant confirmed by the sprinkling of blood. By showing himself to the leaders, God is giving them an added dose of his presence to solemnize what has just happened and to prepare them for what is to come. Israel’s leaders receive a vivid experience to undergird their own status as figures of authority.
What, then, does it mean to see God? The description given in verses 10–11 does not seem to be complete. In fact, this description is not so much of seeing God but only of seeing his feet and what lies under them! But perhaps this is precisely the point. The leaders do not actually see God in any full sense. In this case, “[seeing] the God of Israel” probably means that they see him in part. Such an understanding removes the notion of contradiction between this passage and 33:20, the latter having to do with seeing God’s glory. Thus, 24:10 describes the content of their vision—they see God’s feet and the “pavement” below. When meeting the heavenly King, their gaze does not rise higher than his feet.
But even this low view of God is startling: “Under his feet was something like a pavement made of sapphire, clear as the sky itself.” Even this vision of God’s feet and the ground under his feet is too much for words. The best the writer can do is to say it is “something like a pavement.” This pavement is described as sapphire, the gem also known as lapis lazuli. This is a striking gem of opaque blue, which was used for a variety of decorative purposes in the ancient Near East. It is no doubt because of its beauty and blue color that it is used to describe not only the clear-as-sky pavement in 24:10 but also the throne of God in Ezekiel 1:26 and 10:1. God resides in the heavens, so that which is under and around him is blue.
In response to this sight, the company on the mountain eat and drink (v. 11). This meal is probably not a common intake of food, nor is it merely a descriptive way of indicating that they survive the ordeal.5 It is, rather, a “covenant” meal. In the world of the Old Testament, a meal often served to solemnize and ratify an agreement between two parties (cf. 18:12, when Jethro meets Moses and the Israelites in the desert). In fact, a meal is already in view in the fellowship offering mentioned in 24:5. The burnt offerings are “consumed” by God (figuratively speaking, of course!), but the fellowship offering is one in which the people participate. According to 29:32, eating is also something priests do in God’s presence. Their eating in God’s presence in chapter 24 is, therefore, another hint of what is to come. Whether Moses and the others on the mountain celebrated the fellowship offering in verse 5 is not stated (it refers to the people as a whole), but they certainly eat and drink on the mountain.
After the meal it is time for Moses to leave the others behind and proceed up the mountain (vv. 12–18). The purpose for the ascent is twofold: to receive the stone tablets and to receive the instructions for the building of the tabernacle. These two things represent what is central to the theology of Exodus and the Old Testament as a whole: law and worship. These things are important enough to warrant a private meeting between God and his chosen redeemer.
Apparently, Joshua is allowed to come part of the way, although just how far is not mentioned. His sudden appearance and surprisingly intimate access to God’s presence are nevertheless consistent in light of what we know from his role in leading Israel after the death of Moses. The last time Joshua was mentioned—also somewhat abruptly—is 17:9, and in both Hur is also mentioned. This makes the connection between chapters 17 and 24, which we have observed above with respect to the altar, more explicit.
The mention of Joshua and Hur in chapter 24 has a similar function to that of chapter 17. They both preview things to come. Joshua will later be instrumental in the Conquest, of which the battle with the Amalekites in chapter 17 is itself a preview. Hur is apparently an older man and therefore likely the object of some respect. His old age is clearly implied in light of 31:2, where it is said that he is the grandfather of Bezalel, who, along with Oholiab, is one of the main builders of the tabernacle. Perhaps one of the purposes for mentioning Hur in this context is to provide another connection to the tabernacle section that follows.
While Moses is meeting with God on Sinai, Aaron and Hur are in charge of settling disputes. This is in striking contrast to what we see later in chapter 32. Although Hur is not mentioned there, we see Aaron not only not settling disputes but actually adding to controversy by his role in making an idol. As Moses ascends the mountain, he has left things in what he no doubt thinks are trustworthy hands: his older brother Aaron, whom God appointed as his partner, and Hur, a respected member of the community. The anger he shows later is an appropriate response (32:19–20).
As Moses goes further up the mountain (vv. 15–18), he sees the cloud covering it for six days until God calls to him on the seventh day. At this point he enters the cloud and continues his journey upward. He stays on the mountain forty days and nights and does not come down until the instructions for the tabernacle have been given (32:7, 15).
God’s presence on the mountain is represented as cloud and fire, both of which we have seen on several occasions already. The cloud and fire were present at Israel’s journey out of Egypt. In 16:10, the Israelites caught another glimpse of God in the cloud. It was also in a cloud that the Israelites first met God on Mount Sinai (19:9, 16). Fire represented God’s presence not only in Exodus 14 but as far back as Moses’ initial encounter with God on Mount Sinai (ch. 3).
The significance of the cloud in chapter 24 is not simply another indication of God’s presence with Moses, although it is certainly that as well. It is rather another element in the narrative that sets the stage for what is to come. As we have noted before (ch. 19), there is a clear connection between Mount Sinai and the tabernacle. Both are where God’s glory resides in the form of a cloud. According to 24:16, the glory of Yahweh “settles” on the mountain. The Hebrew verb is šakan, which is the verbal form of the noun miškan, which means “tabernacle” (see 25:9). The cloud’s settling on the mountain thus anticipates the settling of the cloud over the tabernacle (see esp. 40:34–38).
Sinai is not a reflection of the tabernacle but the other way around. God meets with his people at Mount Sinai, and the tabernacle is a way of making that presence “portable.” God’s glory rests on the tabernacle as it does on Mount Sinai. This is why the tabernacle is to be built according to the divine pattern, according to what is given Moses on the mountain (25:9, 40).
Regarding Moses’ forty days and forty nights on the mountain (24:18), it is not clear whether the author intends us to take this number literally. Sarna points out the frequent symbolic use of the number forty,6 but this does not necessarily imply that all uses of this number are symbolic. The reiteration of the forty-day stay in 34:28 may suggest that the number is to be taken literally. The symbolic use of forty is more likely in the case of years, as can be seen, for example, in the recurring reference to forty years of peace in Judges (Judg. 3:11; 5:31; 8:28). During his stay on Mount Sinai Moses receives the instructions for building the tabernacle, and it is to this important section of the book that we will turn in the next unit of this commentary.
Bridging Contexts
IN THIS SECTION we will focus on two important theological themes: the confirmation of the covenant through eating and the shedding of blood, and the matter of seeing God.
Confirming the covenant. The eating of a meal together in order to solidify an agreement of some sort is a known custom in the ancient Near East. For example, the treaty that Abimelech, king of the Philistines, proposed to Isaac was sealed with a meal, thus signifying there would be peace between them (Gen. 26:26–31). Jacob and Laban observed the same custom and departed in peace although there had been revenge and death on Laban’s mind just the day before (Gen. 31, esp. v. 54).
Both Exodus 18:12 and 24:11 differ somewhat from these other examples, however, for the meals mentioned there are held in God’s presence. The meal in 24:11, in other words, signifies a contractual agreement between the two parties in question. I do not mean to imply that they are two equal parties who approach the relationship on equal footing. After all, the covenant is entirely by God’s initiation. Nevertheless, it is the confirmation of this covenantal relationship between these two parties—Israel and her God—that is the topic of this narrative.
The prophet Isaiah looks forward to a time when the God of Israel will hold another meal, this time inviting the people of the nations to enjoy his presence (see Isa. 25:6–8):
On this mountain the LORD Almighty will prepare
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
the best of meats and the finest of wines.
On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears
from all faces;
he will remove the disgrace of his people
from all the earth.
The LORD has spoken.
This, as is typical of much of the Old Testament, is heightened, symbolic language, meant to describe a truly wonderful state of affairs. But whether or not the prophet’s description of a meal on a mountain (Mount Zion, i.e., Jerusalem) is literal or figurative, the point is still the same: God intends to extend his relationship with his chosen people, Israel, to include those outside of Israel, that is, all peoples and all nations. The fact that the people of the world will partake in a great feast in God’s presence, on his holy mountain, is reminiscent of what we see in Exodus 24:11. We can even say that the pattern we see in Exodus is expanded in Isaiah to bring the full scope of God’s redemptive work into clearer focus.
The reflexes of this theme in the New Testament are apparent. In Matthew 8:11, for example, Jesus alludes to an “eschatological” feast such as what we see in Isaiah 25:6–8: “I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.” This is clearly a feast in which the peoples of the world will partake, even at the expense of the faithless “subjects of the kingdom,” who will be excluded. This is also the proper theological perspective from which to view the feeding of the five thousand in John 6:2–4. The fact that Jesus went up a mountain to hold a feast, and while looking up sees a great crowd coming toward him is a clear echo of the language used by Isaiah to describe the eschatological meal.7
This line of reasoning brings us to the final reference to the eschatological meal in the Bible (Rev. 19:9)—the “wedding supper of the Lamb” (cf. also v. 7), an image that combines the theme of eating with that of marriage. This, in other words, is a truly covenantal meal, and the intensity of the covenant between God (i.e., Christ, the Lamb) and his people is amply communicated by employing the wedding image. Partaking of a meal in God’s presence is an intimate and friendly image used in Scripture to describe the bond between God and his people.
It is fruitful in this context to revisit the connection between the Passover and the Lord’s Supper (see the Bridging Contexts section of 11:1–13:16). Although these are central and pivotal events in their own right, they are also striking examples of a covenant meal such as what we see in 24:11. Both meals occur at the brink of a climactic redemptive event, the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt and the death and resurrection of Christ. They also occur in intimate settings, with the people of God grouped together apart from the world in preparation for what is about to transpire.
We have already seen the explicit connection Luke makes between the Passover and the Lord’s Supper—the latter being the climactic expression of the former (Luke 22:15). In addition, for Luke the Lord’s Supper has a decidedly eschatological significance. It is the last meal shared between Christ and his people “until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God” (22:16; cf. v. 18). The coming eschatological meal will be the ultimate confirmation of the covenant between God and his people. The Lord’s Supper is thus both a continuation of this Old Testament theme (seen most graphically in the Passover) and the first installment of the final meal at Christ’s return.
An element essential to both the Passover and the Lord’s Supper, and one that is also prominent in Exodus 24, is the shedding of blood. In the Passover, the lamb is to be slaughtered and the blood put on the top and sides of the doorframes (12:22). The Lord’s Supper, of course, is followed by the sacrifice of the Lamb of God, whose blood (represented by the wine) also “covered” the sins of the people. The sprinkling of the blood in Exodus 24 should be seen in light of both these ceremonies as an integral element in a covenant celebration.
The sprinkling of blood is repeated numerous times in the Old Testament. Leviticus, for example, speaks often of the sprinkling of the altar with the blood of the sacrifice (see Lev. 1:5). It is not entirely clear just what this practice is supposed to do, but it certainly has something to do with atonement for sin. I would suggest that, since the blood is sprinkled after the sacrifice, the practice represents the atonement that has just occurred.8 Whatever its precise meaning may be, the imagery is used again and expanded in Isaiah 52:13–15:
See, my servant will act wisely;
he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.
Just as there were many who were appalled at him—
his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man
and his form marred beyond human likeness—
so will he sprinkle many nations,
and kings will shut their mouths because of him.
For what they were not told, they will see,
and what they have not heard, they will understand. (italics added)
This passage is studded with a number of interpretive difficulties. The identity of the servant in Isaiah 41–53, for one, is a matter that continues to be debated. At times it seems to refer to the nation of Israel, more specifically the remnant that will return from Babylon, and at other times perhaps an individual.
Without venturing too far into this morass, the original context of Isaiah supports the former option. The remnant Israel is God’s servant through whom he will not only restore the fortunes of Israel itself but be a light for the Gentiles. Note Isaiah 49:6:
It is too small a thing for you to be my servant
to restore the tribes of Jacob
and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles,
that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.
This reference to the servant’s being a “light for the Gentiles” is parallel to 52:15, where the servant will “sprinkle many nations.”9 So what does it mean to sprinkle the nations? Again, this is not clear. It may refer to the process of cleansing with water, such as we see in Numbers 8:7; 19:13, 18, 19. Or it may refer to the people being sprinkled with blood. The latter is relatively infrequent in the Old Testament. Leviticus 8:30 records the sprinkling of blood on Aaron and his sons as a means of consecrating them for their priestly duties. Leviticus 14:7 gives similar instructions for the cleansing of someone who has an infectious disease.
In any event, Isaiah 52:15 tells us that the end result of servant Israel’s being “raised and lifted up” (v. 13)—that is, his exaltation after his humiliation in the exile—is that the nations will be sprinkled. Whatever the full significance of these words, it suggests that the nations will in some way be drawn into the orbit of God’s redemptive work. The universal dimension of God’s redemptive plan, announced as far back as Genesis 12:3, is now coming to light. The means through which he will redeem the world is the humiliated and exalted servant, Israel.
It is not difficult to see why the author of Hebrews develops this idea within the context of the death and resurrection of Christ. He appeals directly to the ceremony in Exodus 24 and, as he does throughout the book, guides his readers to see how Christ both fulfilled the Old Testament pattern and went beyond it (Heb. 9:19–22):
When Moses had proclaimed every commandment of the law to all the people, he took the blood of calves, together with water, scarlet wool and branches of hyssop, and sprinkled the scroll and all the people. He said, “This is the blood of the covenant, which God has commanded you to keep.” In the same way, he sprinkled with the blood both the tabernacle and everything used in its ceremonies. In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.
The writer then draws out the clear analogy between the cleansing power of the blood of animals and the blood of Christ, who “was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people” (9:28). For the writer of Hebrews, the covenantal function of the shedding and sprinkling of blood in Exodus 24 foreshadows the work of Christ. The former is temporary and incomplete; the latter is permanent and complete.
The same point seems to be made in Hebrews 10:22, where the author speaks of “having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience.” He is likely referring to the sprinkling of Christ’s blood, thus continuing the thought he began to develop in 9:19, rather than the sprinkling of water (as in Num. 8:7), especially since he leaves the next clause to pick up on the theme of water cleansing (“having our bodies washed with pure water”). In Hebrews 12:24 as well this book speaks of the “sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” First Peter 1:2 also refers to believers being sprinkled by Christ’s blood.
The point of all this is that the ceremony in Exodus 24, by which the covenant between Israel and God is confirmed, involves both eating and the sprinkling of blood. The New Testament picks up on both these elements in describing the final covenant confirmation, the death and resurrection of Christ. The church participates in this covenant confirmation both spiritually, by having our hearts sprinkled, and physically, by partaking of the Lord’s Supper.
To see God and live. Seeing God is a serious matter in the Old Testament. Typically God’s presence is mediated by the angel of the Lord, and even in these cases it is assumed to be of grave consequence. This is because those who saw the angel understood the sight as being tantamount to seeing God himself. We see this in Genesis 16:11–14, where the angel of the Lord appears to Hagar and speaks to her (v. 11), yet she says (v. 13) that it is the Lord who spoke to her. This equation between the Lord and the angel who mediates his presence leads Hagar to say she has “seen” God (v. 13).10
Samson’s parents likewise see the angel of the Lord and equate that meeting with seeing God (Judg. 13:20–22). They fear for their life, since they understand that no one can see God and live. Jacob’s wrestling match with “a man” (perhaps also the angel of the Lord) likewise turns out to be an encounter with God, and Jacob expresses the same surprised reaction as the others at having survived such an encounter. “So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, ‘It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared’” (Gen. 32:30).
We have already mentioned Exodus 33:20–23 in the context of 24:11, where God himself says what the recipients of the theophanies have always assumed to be the case: “No one may see me and live.” A mood of fear, even of death, surrounds a divine encounter with humanity.
This being the case, instances in which God does appear and people do not die are worthy of some reflection. This is particularly the case with passages such as Exodus 24:11, for there is no overt mediation of God’s presence. Thus, this meeting between God and his people seems to be of far greater gravity because it is much more immediate.
Moses is the central Old Testament figure who has such “direct” visions of God. Twice he is described as one with whom God speaks “face to face” (Ex. 33:11; Num. 12:8). The former is particularly striking in that it occurs in the same context that proclaims no one may see God and live. It is no accident that both passages are found in contexts in which Moses’ authority as God’s messenger is being challenged—the golden calf episode and the opposition of Miriam and Aaron. We can conclude, therefore, that the manner in which God’s intimacy with Moses is described is in part intended to buttress his authority. This helps us understand the vision of God in 24:11: The appearance of God to Israel’s leaders is meant to confirm their status.
Moses is unique in the Old Testament. The manner in which he sees and speaks with God is described as being qualitatively different, at least with respect to his contemporaries. Moreover, the author of Deuteronomy says that Moses was unique not only in his day but at least until the time in which he wrote the following words. “Since then, no prophet has risen in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face” (Deut. 34:10).
Isaiah’s vision of God on his throne is also striking (Isa. 6:1–5). He sees God seated on his throne in a memorable scene because of its uniqueness in the Old Testament. Still, this vision does not achieve the level of immediacy as we see with Moses. For one thing, Isaiah 6 does not describe a face-to-face encounter, but a vision that drives the prophet to his knees (v. 5). Moreover, the vision is at least partially mediated by the seraphs, not only as they hovered over God’s throne but also as they touched Isaiah’s mouth with a coal from the altar to atone for his sin (v. 7).
Leaving aside the matter of the intimacy of the visions, it is important to keep in mind that these visions occur at certain junctures that have particular significance in God’s redemptive plan for Israel. The appearances of God to Moses, of course, are in the context of the Exodus, the central salvific event in the Old Testament. Isaiah’s vision inaugurates his prophetic ministry, which will include God’s bringing the Israelites out of another foreign nation, Babylon. The theophanies of Gideon and Samson, although occurring at less crucial points in Israel’s history, are also in a context of the deliverance of God’s people from their enemies.
In light of this, I suggest that each appearance of God in the Old Testament signals that an important salvific event is about to transpire, a subsequent stage in God’s developing plan of salvation. The fact that the most personal and immediate theophanies involve Moses attests to the central importance both of the Exodus as the paradigmatic salvific event in creating Israel as a nation and of Moses as the quintessential paradigm for all subsequent mediators of this salvation (see again Deut. 34:10).
Many parallels between Moses and Christ have been noted in various places throughout this commentary. Another parallel concerns the matter of seeing God. The degree of immediacy with which Moses beheld God and conversed with him points us to the greater immediacy enjoyed by Christ, the Son of God. John even seems to have a passage such as Exodus 33:20 in mind when he writes the following words: “No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father’s side, has made him known” (John 1:18). This by all counts is an explicit ascription of divinity to Christ, referring to him as “God the One and Only, who is at the Father’s side.” It is he alone who has seen God and then made him known to his people.
Jesus himself reiterates the point a few chapters later: “No one has seen the Father except the one who is from God; only he has seen the Father” (John 6:46). This is more than speaking with God face to face as Moses did. It is God himself (Christ) abiding at the Father’s side. As the Old Testament stresses, even Moses was limited in what he was permitted to see. In Exodus 24:10–11 it was God’s feet; in 33:23 it was his back. As privileged as Moses was, his view of God was a mere shadow of what the true mediator of the covenant, God in Christ, was able to see. It is to be expected that at this climactic stage of God’s plan of salvation the final mediator would have such a clear gaze at God’s glory.
By being the one who could see God so clearly, Christ’s authority as God’s chosen mediator is also supported. This is why Christ appeals to his intimacy with the Father when his authority is challenged, which is precisely what we have seen in the Old Testament. John 6:46, cited above, is not simply a bit of good theology. It is found in the midst of a debate Jesus is having with Jews who were challenging his authority (see 6:41, 43, 52). It is he who has truly seen God, so all opposition should cease.
Because Christ is the one who truly sees the Father, he and he alone is properly equipped to mediate that image to the people (see again John 1:18). Christ’s role is not simply to see God better than anyone else, but to see God and mediate that vision to those “born of God” (1:13). Because he has gazed fully into the face of the Father, Christ was able to come to earth and to allow us to gaze on “the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” (v. 14). In other words, Christ’s uniquely intimate view of God has equipped him to turn to God’s creation and pass that gaze along. The intimacy Adam and Eve enjoyed before the Fall is beginning to be restored in Christ, the second Adam.
Contemporary Significance
OUR HEARTS HAVE been sprinkled. The contemporary significance of the covenant meal has already been suggested in the context of the Passover (see comments on Ex. 12). The most meaningful and significant present-day application of the covenant meal is the fact that the covenant has already been confirmed in the death and resurrection of Christ. The application of this aspect of Exodus 24, therefore, should not be sought so much on the private level but on the communal and theological level. We do not continually confirm our covenant with God; this was done once for all in Christ. What the church does do, however, is celebrate the Lord’s Supper as a continual reminder both of what God has done in Christ and of the final eschatological meal to be shared by the universal church in the presence of God at the end of the present world order.
But the confirmation of the covenant in Exodus 24 has a second element, as we noted above: the shedding and sprinkling of blood. This too points us to the great reality of what God has done in Christ, and little more needs to be added. But there are two New Testament passages that apply this theme to the life of the believer: Hebrews 10:22 and 1 Peter 1:2. Our hearts have been “sprinkled” by Christ’s blood.
We should not lose sight of the fact that the New Testament, by speaking this way, clearly intends the readers to see their own status as Christians in light of what is outlined in Exodus 24 and the other passages mentioned above. The writers do not merely wish to make a certain point more poignant or graphic by using a particular Old Testament theme as an illustration. Rather, they are saying that the Old Testament theme itself should be understood as achieving its full significance by what God has done in Christ. That final, climactic revelation of God is then passed on to his people, who are in union with Christ. What the practice of sprinkling achieved in the Old Testament is taken to a new level in the lives of believers.
What, then, does this sprinkling achieve in the lives of believers today? Hebrews 10:22 puts it this way: “Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience” (italics added). The use of the perfect participle rherantismenoi (from rhantizo, to cleanse or sprinkle) is important. The perfect tense is typically used in the New Testament to convey “the notion of a state of affairs resultant upon the action.”11 In other words, the past action has a continued result in the present. A way to convey this meaning perhaps better is to translate the phrase “having had our hearts sprinkled,” thus implying that the sprinkling was a one-time, past event that has recurring present implication.
The context of this passage clearly supports this interpretation. The writer of Hebrews is encouraging his readers to have confidence to draw near to God now. On what basis do they have this confidence? Their hearts have been sprinkled, thus cleansing them from a guilty conscience. This sprinkling is a once-for-all act. It is Christ’s death and the shedding of his blood that is continually at work in us.
The significance of this for Christians today is to realize that they are finally, truly, “OK” with God. The writer does not mean by the phrase “guilty conscience” that feeling we all get, indeed should get, when we as Christians do something wrong. His view is more foundational. He is looking at the big picture rather than our own private struggling with daily temptations: Our hearts have been cleansed from a guilty conscience. In fact, it is precisely despite what we might feel to be the case that the author of Hebrews admonishes his readers to draw near to God. To be able to say with the author of Hebrews and with Peter (1 Peter 1:2) that we have been sprinkled by Christ’s blood is a bold and liberating affirmation of the blessings bestowed on God’s people.
Try as we might, we just don’t catch on. The gospel is the message of grace from beginning to end, but that thought does not always penetrate our hearts and minds to the point that it begins affecting our actions. When God commanded Moses to sprinkle the people with blood in Exodus 24, he was making a definitive and unequivocal statement: Israel is his. Likewise, to be sprinkled by Christ’s blood is no less a definitive and unequivocal statement—if anything, it is more so. Being a Christian means being fully liberated from any sense of guilt before God, not because we are somehow good enough, but because of Christ’s blood. And this is a once-for-all act, a favorite theme in the book of Hebrews (Heb. 7:27; 9:26; 10:10). It is the real, present, and recurring benefit of what was acted out on the cross.
Our guiltlessness is a fact that should dictate our perceptions and self-image. Something, however, sometimes gets lost in the translation from doctrine to practice. We all fall short of fully appropriating God’s great gift in our day-to-day lives. It is true, of course, that our society makes far too little of guilt, as if it is a remnant of an unsophisticated, religious age. On the other hand, it is possible to make too much of it, to dwell on it. Guilt can cause neurotic behaviors and tendencies, which is understandable if there is no true sense of where this feeling comes from, why we have it, and how to get rid of it.
Christians are not perfect. One’s problems do not magically go away after an altar call. We struggle with many of the same things everyone else struggles with. A persistent, nagging, guilty conscience, however, should not be one of them. Freedom from guilt before God is foundational to the Christian experience—foundational in the sense that it is the beginning point. It is the gift God gives us that starts us down the path of an ever-deepening relationship with him. It is therefore unthinkable to go back and question that foundation at every bad turn.
We are God’s people, called to be in union with Christ; God is working in us greater and greater depths of Christian experience. Along this journey, we do indeed sin. But when this happens, our hearts do not become “unsprinkled.” We do not need another dose of the blood of Christ in order to be OK with God. That has already been irrevocably taken care of. In fact, it is because our guilt has truly been taken care of that the guilt we feel when we sin can be properly handled. Again, this is the point of Hebrews 10:19–22. The author’s main concern is to alert his readers how they can have confidence to approach God. We, too, when we sin, can approach God with repentance imbued with confidence, not with fear of backlash.
Seeing God. If only we could see God, actually see him, then we would know he is really there and all our speculation would be over—so our thinking goes. But why does he remain hidden? Why doesn’t he just show himself to us?
To see God—to gaze on him with our physical eyes—has been a fascination and longing for people since the dawn of history. Every ancient culture—Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and so forth—has ventured to satisfy this longing by making some physical representation of the gods they worship. The God of Israel, however, was not as accommodating. First, he commanded Israel not to make any image of him (Ex. 20:4–6), not to attempt to “capture” God by modeling him after something God had created. Moreover, he kept himself hidden from his people, appearing to them in fire and smoke, not face to face. The few exceptions—that is, Moses’ glimpses of God—prove the rule. One does not “see God.” For whatever reason, he has not designed things this way.
In the New Testament, things change, yet they stay the same. Looking at John 1:18 again, we see that, although no one has seen God, Christ has—and he makes God known to us. There is a clear tension in John 1. We cannot see God, yet Christ makes him known. Moreover, Christ is the Word who was both with God and was God from the beginning (v. 1). He is also the one in whom we see “glory” (v. 14), a clear reference to the many passages in the Old Testament that speak of God’s revealing his glory. So, the tension remains. In Christ we see the glory of God himself, yet we cannot say that we see God.
This paradox has practical implications. Seeing God is a matter of knowing Christ. If anything, this is a forceful argument for his deity. God cannot be known or seen apart from Jesus of Nazareth, which is either an egocentric and ridiculous claim or one that must be seriously reckoned with. We cannot “jump” to seeing God if we bypass the only means by which he has made this possible. There is no unmediated gaze of God apart from the Word, who is the glory of God and who makes God known to us. To put it another way, Christ is the standard by which we come to see and understand God. When we look at Christ, we can say, “This is what God is like.” As Jesus said to Philip, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).
As straightforward as this sounds, we often labor under the opposite impression. Do we not often hold an idea in our minds of what God is like, one formed perhaps from childhood images (as a child I used to equate God with beams of sunlight), hearsay, or some other vague notions we have conjured up? The question is not what we think God is like, but how God has chosen to reveal what he is like. This, according to John’s Gospel, is through Christ.
The gaze of God that he gives us in Christ is a more powerful image than the glimpses Moses had. Christ is the culmination of God’s self-revelation. In light of this, John’s words elsewhere are all the more striking: “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us” (1 John 4:12). We should allow the wonder of this passage to sink in. As in his Gospel, John affirms that no one has seen God. You cannot simply peel back the curtain, so to speak, and catch a peek. But in his first letter John follows up this thought not as he did in the Gospel, by pronouncing Jesus as the One who makes God known. Rather, he brings the “unseeableness” of God down to our everyday lives. While no one has seen God, if we love one another, we see God in each other.
In other words, it is by loving each other, meaning the church’s love for its members and not a general “all you need is love” idea, that somehow that chasm between seeing God and not seeing God is crossed. How is God seen? First and foremost in Christ, but also, in a practical, day-to-day sense, by the conduct of God’s people toward one another.
We can all perhaps think back how love and thoughtfulness from God’s people was like a cool drink on a hot day, a spiritual shot in the arm when we were really down. It is, for example, common among God’s people to struggle with spiritual issues. It is hard to imagine anyone who has been a Christian for even a brief time not to admit that they don’t always “feel” God’s presence with them. Well, how do we get this feeling back? First John 4:12 tells us: love. A timely phone call by a trusted and respected friend from church does wonders to remind us that God is real. Musing privately about the metaphysical reality of God and asking abstract theological questions usually does not get us very far. God has set things up so that we see him through the love of others, his church, those whom he has re-created to bear his image.
Moreover, it is not only in receiving love from others that we see God. It is also by loving others. Do you feel distant from God? Don’t just wait for someone else to reach out to you. You reach out to someone else. This seems to be the clear thrust of John’s words. By taking the step of loving our brothers and sisters “God lives in us.” We, too, can see God—regularly. We do not need to climb a mountain or look up, expecting the heavens to part with bright flashes of light in order to see God. The coming of Christ has already put the exclamation point on that. But now that he has come, his Spirit lives in his people, and it is through the love that God’s people show each other that God is seen. This thought should be a great motivator for us to live lives overflowing with love. It should spur us on not to brood but to act, whether we feel like it or not.