Original Meaning

“IT WAS THE best of times, it was the worst of times.” So begins Charles Dickens’ classic A Tale of Two Cities.1 The same could be said of Leviticus 9–10, chronicling the Lord’s spectacular acceptance of the inaugural Aaronic sacrifices by fire, shortly followed by his rejection of two of Aaron’s sons, also by fire. Because of this tragedy, it almost looked as though the founding was about to founder!

Leviticus 10:1–2 cryptically records the ritual mistake of Nadab and Abihu and their destruction by divine fire.2 To the consternation of interpreters, who have imagined a variety of scenarios, the biblical text does not provide details regarding the circumstances or motivation of the two priests. Just enough is said to make clear that their offense was to burn incense to the Lord with unauthorized (“strange”) fire, the use of which he had not commanded for this purpose. This fire must have consisted of live coals from a source other than the authorized sacred fire on the outer altar that God himself had lit (cf. 16:12; Num. 16:46).

Nadab and Abihu may have had what seemed to them to be a good rationale for doing what they did under the circumstances, just as Uzzah later had a good reason to grasp the ark of the covenant in order to steady it when its cart jolted (2 Sam. 6:6–7). In any case, the reasons of these three individuals were not good enough to prevent their sudden death by divine agency. For those who came this close to the “nuclear reactor” of divine Presence, there was no leeway for deviations from protocol.

In response to the death of his nephews, Moses conveyed the Lord’s interpretation of the event to Aaron, their father. This potent divine speech with double-edged meaning is cast in poetic parallelism:

Through those who are near me

I will show myself holy,

and before all the people

I will be glorified. (10:3 NRSV)

By stark contrast with the people’s joyful shouting only a short time before (9:24), Aaron’s response was dead silence (10:3).

“Those who are near [qarob] me” are the priests, who approach (Qal of qrb) the Lord in order to present (Hiphil of qrb) sacrifice (qorban) to him.3 In this kind of context the adjective qarob designates “an official who can have access to (qarab) his sovereign directly, without resorting to an intermediary (Ezek 23:12; Esth 1:14).”4 The Lord will show himself holy “through” (preposition b) the priests, whether by their cooperation with him or, as in the present instance, by punishing them (cf. Num. 20:13; Ezek. 28:22; 38:16).5 Either way, he shows himself to be awesomely and uniquely holy (Niphal of qdš), and he glorifies/honors himself (Niphal of kbd; lit., “be made heavy/weighty”) before all the people. The sanctuary was all about God and his nature. Nothing that blurred the true picture of who he is could be allowed.

The remains of Nadab and Abihu could not be left where they had fallen. So Moses summoned two nonpriestly Levites, who were their first cousins once removed, to approach (Qal of qrb) and carry them from an area in front of (ʾet peney) another area6 called the qodesh (lit., “holiness”) to a location outside the camp (10:4). “Outside the camp” is where sacred ashes from the altar and incinerated remains of sacrifices were disposed of (cf. 4:11–12; 6:11; 9:11).

When the word qodeš refers to an area, it can signify any part of the sacred precincts, including the inner sanctum (16:2, 3, 16, 17, etc.), the outer sanctum (e.g., Ex. 26:33; 28:29; Lev. 6:30), the tabernacle consisting of both sanctums (Ex. 40:9), or the outside/courtyard area of the sacred compound (Lev. 10:18b; cf. vv. 13, 17). However, there is sufficient evidence to narrow down the location of Nadab and Abihu to the courtyard in front of the outer sanctum (qodesh; cf. v. 18a) of the tabernacle, which is where we last saw them (9:18–20). Since they were “before the LORD” (9:1–2), they were in the sacred precincts. But they were outside the tabernacle structure, as shown by the fact that Moses did not command Mishael and Elzaphan to go into the sacred Tent (10:4), which only priests were permitted to enter (Ex. 30:17–21; Num. 18:3–5), in order to retrieve their remains.

Aaronic priests were supposed to approach (Qal of qrb) the Lord to officiate sacrifices that were burned on his altar (cf. 9:8), so it is ironic that here Mishael and Elzaphan had to approach priests who had offered (Hiphil of qrb) unauthorized fire (10:1) and whom the Lord had burned (10:2), in order to grimly carry them out of the holy area.

To prevent further misrepresentation of God and loss of life, the Lord commanded Aaron and his surviving sons, Eleazar and Ithamar, to abstain from mourning in the usual ways of disheveling hair and tearing garments (10:6). By virtue of their consecration, the priests and their vestments belonged to the sacred sphere that was to be dissociated from death and corpse contamination.

Because the divine instructions regarding the Day of Atonement begin with the words “The LORD spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they approached the LORD” (Lev. 16:1), Milgrom argues that “it was the death of Nadab and Abihu within the sanctuary precincts that was responsible for the emergency purgation rites prescribed in chap. 16.”7 However, Schwartz points out that the reference to this event in 16:1 only fixes a relative chronological framework to tell when God gave the Day of Atonement legislation. This does not support the hypothesis that the rituals of chapter 16 originally arose out of the events of chapter 10.8 Nevertheless, establishment of a yearly (rather than emergency) Day of Atonement to purge the accumulated ritual impurities and moral faults of all Israelites out of the sanctuary, as prescribed in the present form of chapter 16, would presumably take care of residual pollution resulting from the demise of Nadab and Abihu.

In spite of the tragedy, Moses sought to ensure that the surviving priests completed the inaugural sacrifices on behalf of the people by eating their meat portions, which functioned as “agents’ commissions” (10:12–18). Life must go on. Even deep personal grief, compounded by horror, must be held in check so that the community can be served.

Even by benefiting from their own portions, the priests are to enact God’s fairness in rewarding them for labor on behalf of others. So this eating is mandatory; the meat is not something that can be foregone or thrown away at will. After the traumatizing deaths of Nadab and Abihu, it is hard to imagine a time when Aaron and his surviving sons would be less interested in eating, but eat they must.

When Moses discovered that instead of properly eating the remainder of the purification offering on behalf of the people (cf. 9:15), the priests had incinerated it like the earlier purification offering on behalf of themselves (10:11), he “hit the roof” (10:16). Undoubtedly he suspected that Eleazar and Ithamar were reckless like their dead brothers. What’s the matter with this generation? Can’t they get anything right?

In the process of upbraiding Aaron’s surviving sons, Moses uttered words with profound implications for the meaning of the purification offering.

“Why did you not eat the purification offering in the sacred precinct? For it is most holy and it was assigned to you

to bear the culpability of the community,

to expiate on their behalf before the LORD.

Because its blood was not brought into the interior of the sacred precinct, you certainly ought to have eaten it in the sacred precinct, as I commanded.” (author’s transl.)9

Verse 18 simply refers to the rules in 6:24–30, but 10:17 adds a vital element to our understanding of purification offerings: Through eating the meat of such a sacrifice, an officiating priest bears the culpability (NIV “guilt”; often rendered “iniquity,” but see below) of the offerer and thereby makes an integral contribution to the process of expiation. No wonder Moses was upset!

Now it was Aaron’s turn to speak (10:19–20):

“See, this day they brought their purification offering and burnt offering before the Lord, and such things have befallen me! Had I eaten the purification offering today, would the LORD have approved?” And when Moses heard this, he approved.10

Reversing the roles in verse 3, it was Moses now who had nothing more to say. Aaron’s abstaining from the meat was not a careless ritual mistake but a choice based on priestly reflection regarding implications of the sin of Nadab and Abihu for the status of Aaron and his surviving sons before the Lord on this occasion. The priests were unworthy to bear the culpability of others on the very day that their family had fallen under divine condemnation.11 Moses’ approval implies that the sacrifice remained valid despite this departure from the norm.12

Bridging Contexts

HUMAN FAILURE AND DIVINE PERSISTENCE. After the death of Nadab and Abihu, the surviving priests were obliged to accept the Lord’s punitive action and thereby show solidarity with his holiness (cf. 10:3) without demonstrating conflict of interest by mourning (10:6–7). Mourning would be construed as sympathy for the sinners. In spite of natural emotions for their flesh and blood, the priests belonged to God. According to the divine legislation of 21:1–2, Eleazar and Ithamar ordinarily would have been permitted to participate in the mourning and burial of their brothers. But in the disastrous aftermath of the inauguration, they were held to the more stringent standard of holiness usually reserved only for the high priest (cf. 21:10–12).

At least partly explaining the higher standard in chapter 10 is the fact that here Eleazar and Ithamar were still engaged in the ritual process of inauguration, with some concluding activities yet to be completed (see 10:12–18). The divine command for the priests to remain in the sacred enclosure throughout the seven days of consecration (8:33, 35) also applied to the inauguration on the eighth day (10:7) because the consecration-inauguration constituted a unit. Until this founding complex was brought to successful conclusion, the newborn ritual system was vulnerable.

Exacerbating the vulnerability of the Aaronic priesthood, Nadab and Abihu died under divine judgment. The gravity of their offense was magnified by the loftiness of their privilege. As Aaron’s oldest sons (cf. Num. 3:2), their position of religious leadership was just behind Moses and Aaron. If anyone had reason for reverential care toward God and his sancta, it was Nadab and Abihu. Not only had they witnessed the divine glory at Mount Sinai, which “looked like a consuming fire on top of the mountain” (Ex. 24:17; cf. Deut. 5:22), but with an elite group of leaders they also shared the awe-inspiring experience of approaching and seeing the God of Israel (Ex. 24:1, 9–11).

S. Karff points out the inadequacy of Moses as comforter to Aaron in Leviticus 10.13 However, the story of this highly exceptional and dangerous situation is not the place to talk about meeting people’s emotional needs in times of sorrow. Would we criticize a police chief for barking orders rather than offering words of comfort as he tries to save people from a burning skyscraper? Moses’ intense reaction in Leviticus 10 reflects the severity of the situation. The sanctuary system, which was essential for the well-being of the nation that was provided by God’s Presence, was threatened when it had barely gotten off the ground.

No sooner had God taken up residence and lit the altar fire (9:23–24), the very next verse reports the violation by Nadab and Abihu (10:1). The failure of two charter members of the Aaronic priesthood just after their ministries had begun fits into a disturbing pattern that runs through Scripture. Adam and Eve sinned (Gen. 3) not long after God had given them a perfect world with an ideal set of relationships. After the great Flood, God graciously established a covenant with Noah (9:1–17). Then the grand old patriarch switched careers from zoology to viticulture, flooded himself with wine, shamed himself, and ended up cursing his grandson (9:20–27). At Mount Sinai, God pledged his pact to the newly freed nation of Abraham’s descendants amid petrifying splendor (Ex. 19–20; 24). But when Moses tarried on the mountain to receive instructions for a tabernacle so that the Lord could bless them with his covenant Presence (chs. 25–31), the people disloyally turned to idolatry (32:1–6).

Unfortunately, the pattern continued. For example, in the New Testament we find Christ’s disciples abandoning him and Peter denying him just after they celebrated the Last Supper, at which he established the “new covenant” service (Matt. 26; Mark 14; Luke 22; John 13–18).

We are not talking about minor events here, but about failure of human parties who participated in the establishment of major covenant phases, which provide the framework of historical salvation that structures the entire Bible, including Old and New Testaments. The message of the Bible is that God persists in pursuing his plan to save human beings in spite of their failures, waiving his indisputably justifiable right to do what appears most logical, namely, to annul his covenant relationship with them. This grace is attributable only to his inherently merciful character, which he proclaimed to Moses on Mount Sinai just after the golden calf episode (Ex. 34:6–7).

While God keeps his covenant going as an ongoing channel of revelation and salvation, individuals may choose to disqualify themselves from enjoying the covenant benefits.14 Thus, although the Lord did not withdraw his Presence from the sanctuary or invalidate the sacrifices for the community that Nadab and Abihu had helped to officiate, when these priests violated their sacred trust, he summarily removed them from office by “firing” them (Lev. 10:2).

Serving with distinctions. In ancient Near Eastern texts, we find alcoholic drinks included with sacrificial meals for gods.15 In Enuma Elish, the Babylonian epic of creation, the great gods assemble for a banquet at which they make a well-lubricated decision to exalt Marduk above other gods:

With sweet liquor they made their gullets run,

They felt good from drinking the beer.

Most carefree, their spirits rose,

To Marduk their champion they ordained destiny.16

There is no counterpart to this scenario with regard to the God of Israel.17 In fact, in 10:9 he strictly prohibits consumption of alcoholic beverages by priests when they enter his tabernacle. The brief account of Nadab and Abihu’s offense in verse 1 does not mention that they were intoxicated, and in any case they were not inside the tabernacle.18 However, this narrative and the ensuing legislation in 10:8–11 are related in that they both have to do with failure to make distinctions between categories, resulting in death. Eschewing inebriation, priests are to keep their minds clear so that they can walk a straight line between crucial categories—holy versus common and impure versus pure—and to teach the Lord’s instructions to the people.

By nipping the potential for priestly intoxication in the bud, God sought to prevent the kinds of staggering problems described by the prophet Isaiah in Isaiah 28:7:

And these also stagger from wine

and reel from beer:

Priests and prophets stagger from beer

and are befuddled with wine;

they reel from beer,

they stagger when seeing visions,

they stumble when rendering decisions.

This kind of religion advertises itself like the menu of one Swiss restaurant: “Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.”

At first glance, the Lord’s “zero tolerance” prohibition against intoxication in the Israelite tabernacle sounds harsh, but his warning seeks to prevent disasters. Dazed officials in the most powerful facility on earth would be like inebriated engineers in a nuclear power plant. The potential for a “meltdown” is real and could affect a lot of people.

A drunk priest in the tabernacle will simply die. His intention is irrelevant. There is no opportunity for a plea of forgetfulness or a rationalized “worthy” motive. Compare Uzzah, whose arguably worthy goal of keeping the ark of the covenant from capsizing did not save him from being instantly zapped when he crossed the line by touching the sacred chest (2 Sam. 6:6–7). There is simply no room for this kind of error that threatens to compromise the Lord’s transcendence by encroaching on his domain.

Stories of Nadab and Abihu and Uzzah are shocking to Christians who have been raised with “gentle Jesus, meek and mild.” But this same Jesus burst into messianic righteous rage and used a whip to drive from the temple those who were profaning it by buying and selling there (John 2:14–17; cf. Matt. 21:12–13; Mark 11:15–17; Luke 19:45–46). Through those who are near him he will show himself holy, and before all the people he will be glorified (Lev. 10:3).

Mediatorial burden bearing. The meaning of Moses’ words to Aaron in 10:17 has been the subject of vigorous debate. To begin with, scholars have been divided over the question of whether priestly consumption of a purification offering contributes to expiation or not. But as Milgrom has come to recognize, if the meat were merely a priestly perquisite serving as an “agent’s commission,” it would be difficult to explain why Moses was so upset with Aaron’s sons in 10:16–18 or the fact that 10:17 singles out utilization of the purification offering, but not of other kinds of sacrifices, as mandatory.19 We could add that it would also be difficult to explain why Aaron and his sons singled out the purification offering for incineration but had no problem eating their portions of the other sacrifices (10:12–15).

Levine accounts for all the evidence when he concludes that the priestly meal of the purification offering meat was an integral part of the ritual and accomplished two things simultaneously: (1) It was priestly enjoyment of compensation for service already rendered, including applying the blood to the altar, and (2) it made some kind of contribution to expiation.20 It is not necessary to argue for one of these to the exclusion of the other.

In what way did the priestly activity of eating the meat serve the goal of expiation? Three pieces of evidence help us with this. (1) Whether a purification offering to remedy moral fault was to be eaten or not made no difference to the overall goal of the ritual: to expiate (kipper) evil from the offerer(s), prerequisite to divine forgiveness (e.g., eaten type: 4:26, 31, 35; incinerated type: 4:20). So what difference did it make whether a priest ate from the sacrifice? He was only permitted to eat a purification offering that he officiated if it was for the benefit of someone else, that is, if he was acting purely in a mediatorial capacity. If he were the offerer or included in a group that constituted a collective offerer, he could not eat it (4:3–12, 13–21; 9:8–11).

(2) As mediator for another Israelite, the priest received part of that person’s purification offering by eating it, just as the Lord received the suet/fat of the same sacrifice on his altar (cf. 4:26, 31, 35). So there is a close parallel between the role of the priest and that of the Lord.

(3) In 10:17 the priests must eat purification offering meat to accomplish the following two goals, which would apply to this kind of sacrifice to remedy moral fault but not physical ritual impurity:21

to bear the culpability of the community

to expiate on their behalf before the Lord

The parallel syntax here indicates that bearing (nśʾ ) the peoples’ culpability (ʿwn) and expiating for them before the Lord mean basically the same thing.22 So by participating with God in receiving purification offerings, the priests expiated for the people as the Lord does: He bears culpability (nśʾ ʿwn) when he frees wrongdoers from the consequences of their sins (Ex. 34:7), which they would otherwise continue to bear (cf. Lev. 5:1).23 Thus the priests intimately participated in the process through which God extended mercy to sinners!

A final question is: What happened to the priests as a result of bearing the culpability of the people? Schwartz shows that elsewhere the expression nśʾ ʿwn metaphorically refers to legal guilt in terms of bearing or carrying sin, with the offense viewed as an object to be hauled around as a burden.24 In contexts of persons bearing their own sin, ʿwn (usually translated “iniquity”) is “culpability,” which means that they deserve and may suffer any consequences.25

In some passages people bear the culpability (ʿwn) of others. A man who nullifies his wife’s vow, except when he first hears about it, bears her culpability, that is, the blame she would otherwise bear for breaking her vow (Num. 30:16). In Leviticus 10:17 priests who perform priestly mediation for laypeople through purification offerings bear their culpability. K. Koch explains: “Part of the task of priests and Levites, however, is to remove ʿāwôn from Israel or from the sanctuary itself, to ‘bear’ that ʿāwôn representatively, and by virtue of their own inherent quality to render it harmless (Ex. 28:38; Lev. 10:17; Nu. 18:1, 23).”26

By “their own inherent quality,” Koch refers to the divine holiness conferred on the priests at their consecration. So the culpability remains on the priests, who are immune to its consequences. Then Koch suggests that on the Day of Atonement the high priest transfers the culpability borne by the priests to Azazel’s goat (Lev. 16:21).27 This makes good sense because the goat bears all the culpabilities (nśʾ + plural of ʿwn) of the Israelites into the desert (16:22).

We have found that through purification offerings, the mediatorial role of the Israelite priesthood involved bearing the burdens of the people that resulted from their sins. However, although the priests carried this culpability (i.e., punishability), they did not actually suffer the punishment.28

The Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53 went the extra, painful step—freeing others by bearing and then dying for their culpability (ʿwn; 53:5, 6, 11). In the New Testament this Servant is Christ: “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24; cf. Matt. 8:16–17; Luke 22:37; Acts 8:32–35).

As evidence for the substitutionary nature of Christ’s atonement, Christians need look no further than the fact that as Priest he bore human sins and as Victim he died for those sins. This fusion of roles, with Priest becoming Victim, explains the superiority of his priestly mediation (Heb. 7:27; 9:12, 26, 28; 10:5–12—quoting Ps. 40). Not only is he divine and therefore fully identified with God (John 10:30; Col. 1:19; 2:9); he has identified with sinners all the way to the bitter end!

Contemporary Significance

VULNERABILITY OF NEW relationships. New relationships are easily damaged. This applies to covenant relationships between husbands and wives, between God and his people (see above), and all kinds of other individual and corporate relationships, ranging from personal friendships to international alliances. Moreover, a new relationship can bring other relationships with it. For example, a person who marries gains a whole new set of relatives. Needless to say, this can affect the success of the marriage. Similarly, a person who makes the decision to accept God joins the family of fellow believers. If this involves worshiping with a particular group, as it usually does, the “baby Christian” is simultaneously learning to positively interact with the Lord and with other human beings.

If the learning curve for a new Christian were merely an intellectual one, it would be plenty steep. But a faith relationship with the Lord that is expressed and exercised within the context of church involves powerful spiritual, social, and emotional dimensions, all of which affect each other within every individual. Faith is trust, and when trust is young and tender it is easily bruised and slow to heal.

Relating to the Lord, a particular minister, and some other wonderful person can be comparatively simple, but all the rest of those faulty members can be hard to take. In a mobile, market-driven, instant gratification culture like ours, it is easy to just move on. No wonder a church can be like a revolving door, with many people going out soon after they come in!

In Leviticus 8 and 10 we have found that the Lord placed extra safeguards around his new relationship with the Israelites and their priesthood: He kept the priests inside the sacred compound (8:33, 35; 10:7), rapidly disciplined Nadab and Abihu before their folly could damage the whole community (10:1–2), and made sure that his surviving priests would represent him properly before the people (10:6). The burden for protecting the new relationship rested primarily on the religious leaders, whose actions and attitudes would shape the people’s perception of God.

Obviously our strategies for safeguarding new Christians must differ from those of Leviticus 8 and 10. However, as in the days of Nadab and Abihu, the principle remains that those who shape perceptions regarding God should be aware of their influence.

The effect of a sacred office thus misused and abused, and thus wrongly occupied is to bring the truth, the Bible, the ministry and the ordinances of God into contempt. It produces hardness of heart, and is bound to beget irreverence. Let the man who handles holy things be a holy man, and a man called of God and not by man.29

In the church, responsibility toward those who are vulnerable falls not only on the shoulders of those in official positions of leadership; all established members play a role. How do we nurture the Peters, Mary Magdalenes, Nicodemuses, Judases, and Thomases in our midst? Once in awhile it doesn’t hurt to reread the Gospels with questions like these in mind, to see how Jesus did it.

Paul admonished: “Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak” (1 Cor. 8:9). Christ agreed, but the strong and vivid way he taught divine accountability for sensitivity toward those who are vulnerable sounds more like Leviticus 10:

And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. (Matt. 18:5–6; cf. Mark 9:42; Luke 17:1–2)

In a wider sense we are all vulnerable. Jesus gave us an example of sensitivity toward human beings in general by fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah 42: “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory” (Matt. 12:20; quoting Isa. 42:3). The world and the church are full of “bruised reeds” and “smoldering wicks.” If he doesn’t break or snuff them out, should we?

Responsibility to preserve clear thinking. By itself intoxication seems to be a rather trivial concern, but because it adversely affects thinking and reactions, it can lead to major damage. This, of course, is why “driving under the influence” is such a grave offense today. Everyone is hurt by the results of intoxication, which include higher insurance premiums, defective products and service, and much worse.

In 1982 a young man who was drunk and high on drugs missed a corner on Highway 580 near San Francisco. His Chevy Nova plowed head-on into a VW coming the other way, which was hurled airborne onto the hood of a Datsun B-210 coming behind in the next lane. The smashed Datsun shuddered to a halt, and my wife and I tried to get out, but the doors were jammed. A semi-truck bearing down on us ran into an embankment and jack-knifed in order to save us. Narrowly missing death a second time, by the grace of God, we walked away with a concussion (my wife), a cracked rib (me), and whiplash injuries (both of us). The VW driver was not so fortunate. She was killed instantly and her two young daughters suffered massive injuries, including mangled faces and a ruptured spleen. All this carnage resulted from one person acting irresponsibly because he chose to intoxicate himself.

Since the human brain is a complex and sensitive organ, there are various ways to compromise its ability to control reasoning, judgment, and physical reactions. Besides chemicals (such as alcohol, narcotics, or some medicines), there can be factors such as sleep deprivation, poor diet, lack of exercise, stress, music, sex addiction, and so on. Some of these are initiated or perpetuated by choice, others are not. Insofar as we affect others by our choices, we should seek to maintain our clarity of mind as a matter of social fairness, if nothing more.

For spiritual leaders, of course, the stakes are higher. Their actions, decisions, attitudes, words, and personal spiritual lives, all of which require use of brains and nervous systems, can even unintentionally affect the eternal destinies of those within their sphere of influence. So optimal service to those under their care calls for implementing positive lifestyle strategies that enhance mental clarity within the context of overall health care.

Carrying one another’s burdens. Since priests are to bear the burdens of those whom they serve (10:17) and Christians are called to be “a royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9), it is not surprising that Paul would say: “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). We do not carry burdens in the ultimate, substitutionary way that Christ did to obtain forgiveness for us. But all of us, whatever our occupations may be, can participate with him in helping others and relieving suffering. In these ways we can fulfill the law of Christ, which is love (John 13:34–35).

We do not literally bear the names of tribes over our hearts as Aaron did when he ministered before the Lord (Ex. 28:15–21, 29), but we can metaphorically bear on our hearts the names of our family members, work associates, fellow church members, neighborhoods, acquaintances in need, and so on. By serving others and by interceding for them in prayer, we have the privilege of assisting Christ in his priestly ministry.

Like Aaron, Eleazar, and Ithamar, we must sometimes carry on for the sake of others in spite of private pain. Don and Helen Thomas of South Africa buried little Margaret, their four-year-old daughter, in the Congo when she died of cerebral malaria, but they kept on working there as missionaries. Like rescue workers trying to evacuate people from burning skyscrapers, they had as their top priority the salvation of others.

Father Damien De Veuster, a Belgian Catholic priest, devoted his ministry to a colony of hopeless, miserable lepers who had been banished to a remote peninsula on the Hawaiian island of Molokai. He was free from leprosy when he became the first resident clergyman and part-time physician for the settlement in 1873. Eventually he succumbed to the disease but stayed on with those to whom he now belonged.30 It is when other people become our own that we most truly “carry each other’s burdens.”