Hebrews 5:1–10

Original Meaning

Universal Principles of High Priesthood (5:1–4)

THE AUTHOR OUTLINES four main principles related to the office of high priest as described in the Old Testament:

1. The high priest originates from among people (v. 1).

2. The role of the high priest is to represent people in matters related to God, especially through offering gifts and sacrifices (vv. 1–2).

3. The high priest’s weakness enables him to deal gently with people, and he is required to offer sacrifices for himself as well as for the people (vv. 2–3).

4. God is the One who confers the office of high priest by appointment (vv. 1, 4).

When the author states “every high priest” (v. 1), he begins to lay the groundwork for an argument that spans all the way to 10:18 (with the exception of 5:11–6:20), arguing for the superiority of Christ’s high priesthood on the basis of commonly understood truths from the Old Testament concerning the office of high priest. Thus he points out that the role, the duty, and especially the appointment of the high priest are all governed by divine standards. In essence he asserts: “This is how the office of high priest works according to the Scriptures.”

(1) The high priest has a solidarity with people because he is taken “from among” them. This statement perhaps alludes to Exodus 28:1: “Have Aaron your brother brought to you from among the Israelites.” The Old Testament principle has to do with both the identity of the high priest with the people (the emphasis here) and the distinction made between the priests and the people—the priests have a special role to fill and, therefore, are called out to be distinct. Both the identity and the distinctiveness are important to that role.

With 5:1 the author, therefore, continues a theme treated extensively in 2:10–18: The Son came down “among humanity” to accomplish something on our behalf. Hebrews 2 ends with a statement of Christ’s identity with people as their high priest (2:17–18). In 4:14–16 the author rejoins this motif with his treatment of Christ’s sympathy for those being tempted. He now expounds on the topic, beginning with the universality of the principle: Priests come from among humanity.

(2) The high priest represents people “in matters related to God,” especially in the offering of “gifts and sacrifices.” According to the Old Testament, the high priest shares in the general responsibilities performed by all the priests, including leading in worship by participation in various offerings (Ex. 29:1–46; Lev. 1–6). However, the high priest alone offers the sacrifices on the Day of Atonement (Lev. 16:1–25), when he takes two goats and a ram from among the Israelites (16:5). After casting lots for the goats, the high priest slaughters one of the goats as a sin offering “for the people” (16:15), and the other goat is brought forth alive from the tent. The high priest lays his hands on the head of the “scapegoat,” confessing all the sins of the people before the Lord, then sends the goat away into the desert (16:20–22). By carrying out this part of God’s instructions for the Day of Atonement, the high priest acts before God as a representative on behalf of the people, making atonement for their sins.

(3) The next principle relates to another important aspect of the Day of Atonement: The high priest must offer a special sacrifice for himself and his household before he can offer the goat sacrifices on behalf of the people. In this regard the Old Testament reads: “Aaron shall bring the bull for his own sin offering to make atonement for himself and his household, and he is to slaughter the bull for his own sin offering” (Lev. 16:11). This necessity stems from the priest’s being “subject to weakness” (Heb. 5:2). The word translated “subject to” (perikeimai) means “to be surrounded” by something. For example, in Mark 9:42 and Luke 17:2 the word speaks of a millstone being “tied around” the scandal-maker’s neck, and later in Hebrews the author crafts an effective word picture, using perikeimai to describe the great cloud of witnesses that “surrounds” the Christian community (Heb. 12:1). So here the priest finds himself closed in by his own weakness, obligated to offer sacrifices for his own sins.

This malady, however, has redemptive value in that it enables him “to deal gently with those who are ignorant and going astray” (v. 2). Those who deal with sinners can err in one of several extremes: bearing a Stoic indifference to the sin, manifesting a mushy sentimentality that plays down its significance, or expressing anger born of exasperation. What is needed is the highly valuable quality of forbearance, which deals with sin seriously and the sinner patiently.2 This quality encourages openness on the part of the people toward their high priest.

F. F. Bruce suggests the phrase “those who are ignorant and going astray” should be taken as a hendiadys, meaning “those who go astray through ignorance.” It was for just this type of person—the person who, because of human moral weakness, has unintentionally wandered off the path of right living—that God designed the old covenant sin offerings. The defiant sinner, however, blasphemes God and thus finds no such provision (Num. 15:29–30).3

(4) The author of Hebrews next proclaims that the office of high priest is not one for which a person can enlist; God himself confers the honor by appointment (e.g., Ex. 28:1; Lev. 8:1; Num. 16:5). In other words, the position of high priest derives from divine rather than human authority. God initiated the role of high priest, and any high priest thereafter must be called by God to be considered the authentic and authoritative representative for the people before God.

Bridging Contexts

WHEN THE STUDENT of Hebrews sits down to interpret 5:1–10 for the modern church, the unique position and the importance of the passage in the book must be kept in mind. The author situated this passage to accomplish a specific task, and if one passes it over quickly, the intended impact might be lost. These ten strategic verses, sandwiched as they are between broad sweeps of exhortation, demand quick changes in the reader’s orientation from the author’s challenge to his listeners (3:1–4:16) to his exposition on the person of Christ (5:1–10) and back again to direct challenge (5:11–6:20).

The dynamic of reading through this portion of Hebrews resembles driving through a city and being forced to follow a map closely in order to make turn after quick turn to arrive at the desired destination. In keeping on track with those quick turns one tends to miss the scenery. Therefore, the process of interpretation demands that we slow down long enough to reflect on the “why” and the “how” underlying this text, and this deliberate deceleration must be accomplished on at least two levels. (1) We must begin by considering the dynamics related to the whole, specifically the structure and the purpose of the passage. (2) We must then turn to analyze the proclamations and interpretive pitfalls of each of the unit’s three distinct parts.

Structure and purpose. The passage before us forms a well-organized whole that starts with universal principles concerning the old covenant office of high priest (5:1–4) and moves to a specific manifestation of those principles in the new high priest, Christ (5:5–10). The structure of the author’s exposition may be depicted as follows:16

A The old office of high priest (v. 1)

B The sacrifice offered by the high priest (v. 1)

C The weakness of the high priest (vv. 2–3)

D The appointment of the high priest (v. 4)

D′ The appointment of Christ, the new priest (vv. 5–6)

C′ The suffering of the new priest (vv. 7–8)

B′ The sacrificial provision of the new priest (v. 9)

A′ The new office of high priest (v. 10)

This type of structure is called a chiasmus and was used by the ancients for both rhetorical effect and mnemonic purposes.

Rhetorically the passage flows smoothly from the general statements on high priesthood in verse 1, to the pinnacle statements on appointment in verses 4–6, to the general statement on Christ’s priesthood in verse 10. This orderly presentation pleases the ear as the discourse moves logically from step to step. As a memory device the original hearers would have been able to grasp the section’s main points since the author’s teachings on the old covenant priesthood and his teachings on the priesthood of Christ mirror one another, the correspondences knitting the passage together around the theme of appointment. Thus, rather than forming a fragmented collection of random thoughts, Hebrews 5:1–10 offers a carefully crafted reflection on the nature of Jesus’ call by God the Father.

The introduction in verse 1, the conclusion in verse 10, and pinnacle of the chiasmus (vv. 4–6) all focus the passage on the theme of appointment. As such the passage admirably accomplishes its role as an introduction to Christ’s Melchizedekan appointment. The author does not intend this section, as an introduction, to raise all the pertinent issues related to the high priesthood of the Son; he carries out that task in the following chapters. Rather, the unit serves to provide the broad sweep of his priestly ministry, grounding his high-priestly Christology in the Old Testament. Furthermore, the writer rivets the hearers’ attention on a new and vital subject in his sermon, capturing their attention with his well-crafted parallels and gripping word pictures.

This introduction, in other words, shifts attention to the new topic of high priesthood, anchors the topic as applied to Christ in divine decree, and reflects on it eloquently in light of both Psalms material and Gospel narrative—quite an accomplishment in only ten verses!

Reading the Old Testament with the author of Hebrews. Each of the passage’s three movements confront the interpreter with both hermeneutical pitfalls and possibilities for further understanding of Hebrews. The first movement (5:1–4), which deals with the old covenant office of high priest, may seem fairly straightforward at first glance. Yet these verses once again raise the issue of how the author reads his Scriptures. A danger lies in making the assumption that the way he reads the Old Testament corresponds exactly with the way we read the Old Testament. Our paradigms of Old Testament interpretation, therefore, must be considered in light of the author’s own intention at this point in Hebrews.

For example, I have seen some preachers or teachers take Old Testament material and identify allegorical parallels between the minutia of the law and new covenant realities. Each small detail of the tabernacle, for instance, is understood as an allusion to greater Christian realities. The various items of the high priest’s clothing represent various aspects of Christian character. A preacher reading Hebrews 5:1–4 might be tempted to import information from the Old Testament passages behind this text in ways that would be inappropriate hermeneutically and distract from the author’s real purpose.

We must keep in mind a basic principle held by the original preacher of this passage: There exist both continuities and discontinuities between the old and the new covenants. The older realities are vitally important, being both authoritative and informative. As this passage clearly points out, however, there are dynamics in which the new does not continue the pattern of the old. Jesus has not sinned and does not need to offer sacrifice for his own sins (cf. 5:3).

What, then, does the author intend to communicate in verses 1–4? He proclaims that an authoritative and authentic high priest must both identify with and be distinct from those to whom he ministers. His identity lies in his humanity. In the case of the old covenant priest, that humanity manifested itself in his being cornered by sin. Sin for this priest was inevitable and, therefore, had to be atoned for. This solidarity with other human beings, however, enabled him to understand and show sympathy for the plight of God’s people.

As important as such solidarity was for the high priest’s role, his distinction from God’s people was equally important. The high priest had been appointed by God to represent the people through the offering of gifts and sacrifices. No one else in the community could carry out that task on the Day of Atonement. There were no “pinch hitters.” That God himself appointed a special person to the duty bears witness to the gravity of this responsibility. Therefore, the writer to the Hebrews uses 5:1–4 to prepare the way for a discussion of both Christ’s identity with human sufferers and the distinct honor of his divine appointment.

Power moves. When we come to the quotations of Psalm 2:7 and 110:4, the critical interpretive step is to ask why the two are juxtaposed here—that is, to move below the surface statements of these Old Testament passages to their underlying intention. After reading these quotations one might be tempted to respond, “OK, Jesus is a son and Jesus is a high priest.” Yet, there is much more here than basic information. The author ties the two texts together through verbal analogy17 to build what might be called an authority base, that is, a basis for why the readers should respond to Jesus. The first two chapters of Hebrews turn at critical points on the issue of authority. For example, the effectiveness of the “argument from lesser to greater” in Hebrews 2:1–4 depends on the authority of the Son established in 1:5–14.18

As he introduces the book’s great central section on Jesus’ superior priesthood and offering (5:1–10:18), the author must begin by establishing the authority of Christ in a different vein, redirecting the argument toward the concept of Jesus’ position and sacrifice as means of true relationship to God. To do that, he builds on the authority established in chapters 1–2 by again quoting Psalm 2:7. His new topic of high priesthood, therefore, is infused with “authority” from the beginning. All that he will say about the high priesthood of Christ in the coming chapters flows from divine mandate. This is not just wrangling about obscure theological concepts. Rather, what the author wishes to say about Christ’s appointment to the position of high priest derives from the heart of God, a fact witnessed to by the authority of God’s decree.

Thus the author has a great deal vested in this part of Hebrews, and his quotation of two Old Testament passages goes far beyond mere religious instruction. Underlying the presentation of these two messianic psalms is the author’s goal of motivating his hearers to perseverance with nothing less than the authority of God himself. It is time for them and for us to sit up and take notice, to take this sermon seriously.

Was Jesus not already perfect? In my class on Hebrews, Exam 1 has this question (I am sure I at least have my students’ attention at this point in the commentary!):

A junior-high student in your midweek Bible study comes to you and pleads, “Hebrews 5:9 says that Jesus ‘learned obedience’ and ‘became perfect.’ Does that mean that Jesus was not perfect before that? Does it mean that Jesus had not been obedient to God before that?” You notice a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. But you have had this class and exclaim, “Don’t cry, little girl! That’s not what this passage means. It means:.…”

The hypothetical girl’s question poses significant interpretive issues for us. The passage can be taken out of context and hijacked to support the position that Jesus’ identity with us extends to his having actually shared our moral imperfection, a state, some reason, necessary for Christ’s ministry to humanity.19 This perspective fits the old saw, “You cannot really speak to people about the moral problem of overdrinking unless you yourself have been a drunk.” Yet the early Christians witnessed extensively to the sinlessness of Christ.20

We must grasp the significance of the terms perfect and obedience in this passage and see how they fit with the broader biblical concept of the “righteous sufferer.” Rather than conveying the idea of overcoming a moral deficiency, the aorist passive participle teleiotheis (translated as “once made perfect” by the NIV ) communicates the concept of “finishing” or “completing.” By making it all the way to the end of his Passion, Jesus was made “complete” in the sense of being able to fulfill his role as our high priest. He finished the course. He drank the full measure of the experience that was needed in order to come before the throne with a sacrifice with which our sins would be addressed. Moreover, that he “learned obedience” means that the Son said “yes” to the Father’s will in an extreme situation that he had not yet encountered.

There are at least three levels on which the action of Jesus portrayed in verses 7–8 offers us help. (1) Jesus’ perseverance has made him a fit high priest, for which I owe him praise and obedience (vv. 8–9). His appointment and consequent role of high priest make him distinct from me in relation to God and the rest of humanity. (2) As a “righteous sufferer” Jesus can identify with me in my suffering for the kingdom of God. He has felt pain; he has known the anguish of a gut-wrenching temptation to break and run at real danger (4:15). (3) Because of his perseverance through extreme suffering, Jesus offers a fitting example for us of what it means to relinquish control of our lives, deferring to the will of God.

Contemporary Significance

WHAT MOTIVATES ME in my pursuit of God? The area of human behavioral science, that is, investigation into why humans do what they do, makes for fascinating study. Are we molded by social context or physiology? Do extrinsic or intrinsic dynamics pull the levers that drive our lives? In other words, what makes us tick? What makes us take one course of action and not another?

The world of advertising has a great deal at stake in being able to read human behavior—about $100,000,000,000 worth per year in the United States; that’s more than the rest of the world combined. I think a good portion of that comes to my home in the form of junk mail! One phone company has been sending me checks, trying to get me to switch from another. I am told I need a new shampoo, a different make of car, the latest brand of jeans, and a strange-name cologne (does anyone understand those commercials?); evidently most banks in the United States have a card with a better interest rate than the one I now carry. What feels good, looks sharp, or works well motivates us.

In this social context of glitz and video clips, divine decree seems terribly out of place. It would be beastly hard to sell the concept on the open market (e.g., in a book), unless, of course we were making decrees about the divine. In his little essay “God in the Dock,” C. S. Lewis wrote:

The ancient man approached God (or even the gods) as the accused person approaches his judge. For the modern man the roles are reversed. He is the judge: God is in the dock. He is quite a kindly judge: if God should have a reasonable defense for being the god who permits war, poverty and disease, he is ready to listen to it. The trial may even end in God’s acquittal. But the important thing is that Man is on the Bench and God in the dock.21

This does not represent the worldview of Hebrews. According to our author, divine decree should mean something to us; it should constitute the motive for action in our lives. We must sit up and take notice of what God has said and its implications for our lives. Specifically, we should recognize that Jesus’ role as a representative on behalf of people has been made distinct by divine decree. Just as the high priest of the old covenant was appointed as a special representative before God on behalf of people, so Jesus plays a unique role in our relationship with God. He is both Authority and Answer to our deepest need—the need for a healthy relationship with God.

As an appropriate application of Hebrews 5:1–10, therefore, we might begin by reflecting on our current motivations for engaging in Christ-following. Why are you doing what you are doing? Why am I? Is the fact that God has appointed Jesus to a position of honor in which we are called to “obey” him significant for us as motivation for continuing in our commitment? Or are we more moved (as is evident by our actions and decisions) by the call of our world’s system of values (even in our pursuit of Christianity)? Danger lies in embracing the world’s value system, for she is a mother who often eats her young.

Jesus’ prayer of relinquishment and ours. My wife and I currently are in the throes of parenting a preschooler, an exciting (we love parenting), frustrating (some moments we do not like parenting), and awe-filled responsibility. The “struggle of the will” certainly comprises a prominent theme at this stage of the parent-child relationship. The attempt to strike the balance between authoritarian parenting (forcefully denying the healthy growth of the child’s will by completely subsuming it under the will of the parent) and permissive parenting (subjugating healthy processes and relationships in the family to the will of an immature child) is a full-time job. Teaching the child that one does not always get what one desires proves vital for healthy family life. The child must learn to surrender willfulness as a normal part of maturation in relation to others. Thus relinquishment may not be “natural”—any of us falls prey to our own self-centeredness when left to natural pulls and processes—but it is vital to a fulfilling and joyful life. I am happy to say that our daughter is learning the art and gives us great joy.

Just as a child must learn to relinquish willfulness if the natural processes of maturation are to take place, so we as spiritual children of God must learn to submit our wills to the will of the Father as we move on in the faith. Richard Foster, in his book Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home, begins the chapter on “The Prayer of Relinquishment” with an analogy between human and spiritual development:

As we are learning to pray we discover an interesting progression. In the beginning our will is in struggle with God’s will. We beg. We pout. We demand. We expect God to perform like a magician or shower us with blessings like Father Christmas. We major in instant solutions and manipulative prayers.

As difficult as this time of struggle is, we must never despise it or try to avoid it. It is an essential part of our growing and deepening in things spiritual. To be sure, it is an inferior stage, but only in the sense that a child is at an inferior stage to that of an adult. The adult can reason better and carry heavier loads because both brain and brawn are more fully developed, but the child is doing exactly what we would expect at that age. So it is in the life of the spirit.

In time, however, we begin to enter into a grace-filled releasing of our will and a flowing into the will of the Father. It is the Prayer of Relinquishment that moves us from the struggling to the releasing.22

Thankfully, we have the supreme example of relinquishment in the person of Jesus. The picture of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane I remember most from my childhood has the Lord kneeling serenely beside a great boulder, hands folded and body bathed in the warmth of the Father’s light. That is not the picture I get as I read the Gospels, nor is it the scene described in Hebrews 5:7–8. Agony. Turmoil. Struggle. All emotions with which we can identify. There in Gethsemane we see Jesus’ inner fight to bow before the Father all the way to the end of the path on which his feet had been placed. The Son was not feeling peaceful and warm emotions as he contemplated the gruesome fate of a Roman cross. His reflections were pain-racked.

Only to a certain extent can we empathize with Jesus. He alone could bear that particular moment, that responsibility. Yet we must empathize with him as much as we can. We too know how difficult surrender comes. Realizing the pressure of our will vis-à-vis God’s will, we should stop and praise Jesus for his surrender and praise God for such a high priest, who can in turn empathize with those who are suffering for the sake of righteousness.

Furthermore, we should follow Jesus’ example of completely relinquishing our wills to the will of the Father. What is the problem with that spiritual-sounding directive? We want to walk with God in the Garden of Eden (“God bless my life! Let me know you.”), never having entered the Garden of Gethsemane. Yet the two gardens are a package tour with a specific itinerary. In reality the tour lasts a lifetime as we move from the one to the other. Andrew Murray writes:

The Spirit teaches me to yield my will entirely to the will of the Father. He opens my ear to wait in great gentleness and teachableness of soul for what the Father has day by day to speak and to teach. He discovers to me how union with God’s will is union with God Himself; how entire surrender to God’s will is the Father’s claim, the Son’s example, and the true blessedness of the soul.23

This daily process of learning to relinquish my will to the will of God demands a maturation that moves me beyond the limitations of emotions. I must be able to say “yes” to the heavenly Father and his ways in the face of emotion-twisting pulls and poundings by the world. H. A. Hodges writes, “By our steady adherence to God when the affections [i.e., emotions] are dried up, and nothing is left but the naked will clinging blindly to him, the soul is purged of self-regard and trained in pure love.”24 May we be so trained.

O Lord, how do I let go when I’m so unsure of things? I’m unsure of your will, and I’m unsure of myself.… That really isn’t the problem at all, is it? The truth of the matter is I hate the very idea of letting go. I really want to be in control. No, I need to be in control. That’s it, isn’t it? I’m afraid to give up control, afraid of what might happen. Heal my fear, Lord.

How good of you to reveal my blind spots even in the midst of my stumbling attempts to pray. Thank you!

But now what do I do? How do I give up control? Jesus, please, teach me your way of relinquishment.25

Original Meaning

The Appointment of Christ as High Priest (5:5–6)

THE WRITER OF Hebrews now turns from the universal principles related to the old covenant high priesthood to their specific manifestation in Christ. Just as Aaron was called by God (Heb. 5:4), so Christ himself did not “take upon himself the glory” but was appointed to the position. The author of Hebrews uses the verb “give glory” (doxazo) only here. Elsewhere in the book, however, he employs the cognate noun doxa (“glory”) to speak of the Son being the “radiance of God’s glory” (1:3),4 “crowned … with glory” (2:7, 9), “worthy of greater honor [glory] than Moses” (3:3), and the one to whom should be ascribed “glory for ever and ever” (13:21). In each instance the glory comes to Christ from another party or parties; he never garners glory for himself. In 5:5–6 the author focuses on the glory bestowed by God the Father on the occasion of the Son’s appointment to high priesthood, finding evidence for this honor in Psalm 110:4.

Once again the author draws on the rabbinic technique of “verbal analogy” to set up his argument, coupling Psalm 2:7 and 110:4 by virtue of their common elements.5 Both psalms contain a pronouncement by God in the second person (“You are …”). Consequently, the ancient exegete finds in these two passages a declaration made by God to Jesus. Yet, if Hebrews 5:5–6 deals with Christ’s appointment to the office of high priest, why does the author feel compelled to return to Psalm 2:7, a text quoted four chapters earlier at Hebrews 1:5? By reiterating Psalm 2:7 here the author shows that the exalted and incarnate Son (the twin themes of Hebrews 1–2) is the same one who has been appointed by God to a new and unique high priesthood. The writer, therefore, links the concepts of sonship and priesthood in his Christology.6