PERHAPS A CONFESSION is an appropriate way to begin a commentary on Leviticus and Numbers. Before 1980, the idea of turning to these books for inspiration was foreign to me. I am embarrassed to admit that as an undergraduate theology student, I did not even bother to enroll in an excellent course on the biblical sanctuary and its services, taught by my father, simply because I was completely uninterested in the topic.
My initial interest in pursuing study of the Hebrew Bible arose from fascination with prophecy and Psalms. Having studied music composition, I aimed to set Psalms to music for congregational singing and realized that a study of Hebrew poetry and its rhythm would facilitate creation of simple melodies to complement the biblical texts. So after an intensive summer course in modern Hebrew at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, I enrolled in undergraduate and then graduate study of biblical Hebrew at the University of California, Berkeley.
The professor of biblical Hebrew at that university was Jacob Milgrom, whose preoccupation with Leviticus and Numbers plunged me into what I had regarded as a deserted realm of blood and guts, far from the aesthetics of Psalms. Over a number of years, our progress through the Hebrew text of Leviticus and Numbers and their many interpretations was slow and thorough, generally covering only a chapter or two per semester. As an extreme example, we spent an entire session of two and a half hours on one Hebrew letter: a preposition b in Leviticus 17:11.
As Milgrom guided his students in unfolding the text, I progressively came to grasp his main point: The dynamic worship system of ancient Israel encapsulates profound theological meaning. Furthermore, although relationships with the New Testament were not under discussion, a new world of understanding opened up to vastly enrich and nuance my Christian understanding of God’s character and the way he interacts with and restores faulty human beings like me. So driving home late at night from Milgrom’s seminar along Highway 80 in my ancient 1962 Ford Falcon, I found myself pounding on the steering wheel and yelling with excitement.
To Jacob Milgrom, whose unparalleled contributions to modern research on Leviticus and Numbers are referenced throughout the present commentary, I owe my love of these towering Torah books and my ability to comprehend them. I am also grateful to my parents, Erwin and Winsome Gane, for passing on their love of God and his Word and giving me an initial foundation for Bible study.
Encouragement, stimulating ideas, and helpful reactions have come from many other sources, including Baruch Schwartz (Hebrew University of Jerusalem) and John Walton (Wheaton College); my Old Testament Department colleagues at Andrews University—Richard Davidson, Jacques Doukhan, Constance Gane (my wife), Jiri Moskala, and Randy Younker; my students, especially Moise Isaac, and Paul Lippi. Several have contributed by collecting secondary source materials, including illustrations: Kathy Ekkens (my secretary) and a succession of graduate student research assistants over several years—Jan Sigvartsen, Oleg Zhigankov, Wann Fanwar, Afolarin Ojewole, Gregory Arutyunyan, Alexander Carpenter, Schuan Carpenter, and James Wibberding. Kathy Ekkens and Jan Sigvartgen compiled the author and ancient literature indexes.
My wife and daughter—Constance and Sarah Gane—have tarried during my long stay at Mount Sinai and in the wilderness without undue grumbling or partying. Their support has been warm and constant even as they have looked forward to completion of the journey. Ultimate support has come from God, whose Torah is the reason for this study and who provides hope of a Promised Land as our final destination.