Original Meaning

MESS AND “MARTYRS.” The incineration of the 250 chieftains (Num. 16:35), “who sinned at the cost of their lives” (16:38), created a problem. While the men were perishable, their censers were not. These objects were consecrated by the same divine fire that consumed those who wielded them. Therefore they had to stay at the sanctuary, but what could be done with them?

God’s solution is to have Eleazar, son of Aaron, retrieve the censers from the charred human remains and have them hammered out as a supplementary plating to overlay the outer altar. This plating will serve as a warning to any inclined to freelance priestly activities (16:36–40). Eleazar is in charge of the Levites responsible for guarding the sanctuary (3:32). The Lord has done the dirty work of executing encroachers for him (cf. 3:10, 38), but Eleazar still has to clean up the mess afterward.

When the Israelites deliberately attribute the work of God to the powers of darkness, as if Moses and Aaron have killed the rebels (16:41) by some sort of black magic, there is nothing more he can do to shape their attitudes through further works of mercy or discipline. They have cut off his avenue of appeal (cf. Matt. 12:24–32; Heb. 10:26–27). So this time the fuse to divine nuclear fusion is exceedingly short.

Moses and Aaron fall on their faces (16:45b). They have been doing that a lot lately (see 14:5; 16:4, 22). But now there is no time even for a short prayer of intercession. Moses perceives that the Lord’s cup of retributive justice has already overflowed, even though he and Aaron have not gotten out of the way. Only Aaron’s rapidly mobile mediation with incense saves the community from extermination (16:46–48).

The precise nature of the divine “plague” is not stated, but the aftermath shows a high body count. In the short time it takes for Aaron to grab a censer, put coals of fire and incense on it, and hurry to the people, 14,700 people perish (16:49).

Chief of staffs. By a process of elimination (including termination) and affirmation, it is now crystal clear that Aaron is the man whom God has chosen to approach him as priest and therefore ritual intercessor for the Israelites (cf. 16:5). To put the final nail in the coffin of opposition to his divine election, the Lord sets up one final test, this time a peaceful one. Moses is to place the official (not freshly cut) wooden staff belonging to the chief of each of the twelve tribes, along with Aaron’s staff for the tribe of Levi, in the tabernacle in front of the “Testimony,” that is, the law tablets in the ark (cf. Ex. 25:16, 21; 34:29; 40:20). Here at the place of divine communication (cf. 25:22), the staff of the man whom the Lord has chosen as priest will miraculously sprout (Qal of prḥ; Num. 17:1–5). This test is appropriate partly because the word for staff (maṭṭeh) can also be used for “tribe” (e.g., 1:4, 21, 23, 25, 27, etc.).

As can be expected, it is Aaron’s staff that sprouts. There is no doubt that it is Aaron’s because his name is written on it (17:3). The extent to which the Lord abundantly emphasizes his choice is startling: Aaron’s staff has also blossomed and produced ripe almonds, all overnight (17:8)! Although live almond trees can blossom overnight, this dead stick goes far beyond the call of duty.1 Like manna, of which Moses also deposited a sample in front of the “Testimony” (Ex. 16:34), this must be the work of the holy Creator-in-Residence. It shows that he has bestowed his holiness, which is integrally linked to life and fruitfulness, on whom he wishes. “The message was clear: just as God could make an apparently dead rod miraculously bear fruit, so he could elect a line of descendants like any other and enable it to render priestly service fruitfully.”2

Aaron’s staff has produced a ṣiṣ (“blossom”; 17:8). This happens to be the same word that describes the golden diadem worn by Aaron on the front of his high priestly turban, on which are inscribed the words, “HOLINESS TO THE LORD” (Ex. 28:36; 39:30; Lev. 8:9; NKJV). The miracle appropriately designates the man of the ṣiṣ.

Why almonds? The cups of the golden lampstand in the tabernacle were “shaped like almond flowers with buds and blossoms” (Ex. 25:33–34; 37:19–20). The Hebrew word for “almond” is derived from šqd, and the verb šqd means “watch/be awake.” The connection is that the almond tree blossoms in the spring before other trees. Watchfulness is the point of the sanctuary lamps burning all night (Ex. 27:21; Lev. 24:3). The Lord is constantly awake and vigilant (cf. Ps. 121:4). Jeremiah’s first vision and its interpretation make an explicit connection between “almond(-tree)” and the Lord’s “watching”: “The word of the LORD came to me: ‘What do you see, Jeremiah?’ ‘I see the branch of an almond tree (šaqed),’ I replied. The LORD said to me, ‘You have seen correctly, for I am watching [Qal of šqd] to see that my word is fulfilled’” (Jer. 1:11–12).3

After Moses convenes a “staff meeting” to show the results, he returns Aaron’s staff to its location in front of the “Testimony” as a “safekeeping” (mišhmeret; cf. Ex. 16:23, 32–34; Num. 19:9).4 It will remain available as a “sign” from the vigilant Lord to warn those inclined to rebellion so that they will not die (Num. 17:9–11).

Bridging Contexts

INCENSE AND INTERCESSION. Burning incense (qeṭoret) sweetened the atmosphere inside God’s earthly residence at the times when he received his regular burnt offerings, which constituted his token gifts of food (Num. 28:1–8) and were made to smoke (Hiphil of qṭr; Lev. 1:13) on his outer altar as a “pleasing aroma” to him (Num. 28:2, 6, 8). The role of incense in providing a pleasant domestic odor, especially at mealtime, was analogous to the nonritual use of other kinds of incense in ancient Israel.5

Numbers 16:46–48 indicates that ritual incense could also have an expiatory function. Aaron carried incense in a censer outside the tabernacle to expiate for (kipper ʿal) the Israelites so that a lethal outbreak of divine wrath would halt. This case suggests the possibility that regularly sweetening the atmosphere inside the tabernacle may also have had some kind of expiatory function, mitigating the invasive “stench” of Israel’s pollution to the Lord, who dwelt with his people “in the midst of their uncleanness” (Lev. 16:16).

Unlike the incense of the 250 chieftains, which they intended for their own self-enhancement, Aaron’s incense served to make intercession on behalf of others. An acceptable offering of incense or intercessory prayer to God is outgoing, not simply to perfume the one who offers it.

The beginning of Numbers 16:48 is chilling: Aaron literally “stood between the living and the dead.” Where the fragrant incense went, it stopped death dead in its tracks and people stayed alive. It was not simply a “pocket full of posies” to cover up the stench of death. Where the incense did not reach, however, people perished. Aaron’s incense was a life-and-death matter. The mutinous but mortal Israelites desperately needed the priestly intercession of the very one whom they had accused of murder and implicitly condemned to death (16:41).

Today we do not use ritual incense for priestly mediation as Aaron did. However, a vital role of Christians as part of God’s “royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9) is to make intercession for others through prayer (Matt. 5:44; 2 Thess. 1:11; James 5:16).

Just as Aaron stood between the living and the dead, our intercession can have life-and-death consequences. “Our prayers may be awkward. Our attempts may be feeble. But since the power of prayer is in the one who hears it and not the one who says it, our prayers do make a difference.”6 “It’s not the words that matter or the length of the prayer or the tone of your voice or whether you stand or kneel or sit. What matters is that you really mean what you pray.”7

Christ’s priestly intercession. In the Apocalypse of John, incense in the heavenly temple represents the prayers of God’s holy people (Rev. 5:8). Alternatively, or perhaps more precisely explaining the relationship between incense and prayer, an angel offers up “much incense” with their prayers on the golden altar before God’s throne (8:3–4). As in the days of Aaron, and as in Second Temple times when the people prayed outside the temple when a priest burned incense inside (Luke 1:9–10), God’s faulty people need and receive the incense of abundant intercession to accompany their prayers even when they are loyal to him. Without such intercession and the “pleasing aroma” of Christ’s sacrifice, our prayers would be repulsive to God, and he would have no reason to acknowledge them.

In the New Testament, Christ is high priest in God’s heavenly temple. He was not simply threatened, as Aaron was; he actually suffered death. In spite of this terrible wrong, he is now permanently alive and constantly makes intercession for human beings, whose sins against God contributed to his death (Heb. 7:25; cf. 2 Cor. 5:21).

The concept that in his mediatorial role Christ serves as an advocate or defense attorney (1 John 2:1), who appears in God’s presence on their behalf (Heb. 9:24), is puzzling at first glance. Is his Father so ancient of days (cf. Dan. 7:9) that he is forgetful and must be reminded of Christ’s sacrifice every time we need forgiveness? Or does he become so enraged at our sins that he needs Christ to calm him down? Is his attitude toward us so antagonistic to Christ’s desire to save us?

No, Christ does not need to change his Father’s mind. The Father has loved us all along, to the extent that he gave his only Son to save us (John 3:16). However, he must maintain justice when he grants mercy or he will violate his own moral character of love (1 John 4:8). Christ’s sacrifice makes it possible for God to be both “just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom. 3:26; NASB).

Christ’s advocacy does not involve pleading in the sense of begging or nagging. Rather, he pleads in the sense that a defense attorney pleads in a court of law: by making a case through presentation of evidence. That which continually proves God’s right to justly reconcile and restore us to himself is the cross event (cf. Rom. 5:1–2; 8:1–4), the crucial evidence for which Christ carries with him in his person (Rev. 5:6). So his very presence before the Father constitutes advocacy on our behalf.

An essential function of an advocate is to enter the plea of a defendant. Christ said, “Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven” (Matt. 10:32). To acknowledge Christ is to submit a plea of “guilty as charged and richly deserving the maximum penalty of the law, but accepting Christ as Lord and his sacrifice on my behalf as my only hope for mercy.”

In Revelation 3:5, Christ promises concerning one who overcomes: “I will never blot out his name from the book of life, but will acknowledge his name before my Father and his angels.” His name will not be blotted out because Christ has put his own life on the line, just as Moses did when he interceded for his people before God: “But now, please forgive their sin—but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written” (Ex. 32:32). Selfless advocacy of this magnitude goes way beyond an ordinary defense attorney’s call of duty!

Contemporary Significance

A DAMAGED WORLDVIEW. Any ministers who preach, teach, visit, mentor, and nurture their hearts out only to be rejected and attacked by the very ones they are trying to help can find encouragement in the fact that they are not alone. Moses, Aaron, and the Lord himself lost an entire generation of Israelites in spite of lavishing love, attention, and wise discipline on them. By the time we get to the end of Numbers 16, there is no doubt whatsoever that this generation is unsalvageable. No amount of positive or negative reinforcement can shake their firmly entrenched, narrow, faithless, and defeatist worldview.

How can a whole generation be so incorrigible? We know that individuals belonging to certain generations tend to think and react similarly because they have been shaped by shared historical circumstances. Margaret Mead has pointed out that major gaps between generations influenced by radically different experiences, especially the gap between people whose formative years were before World War II versus those who grew up after it, are not merely products of conflicts between youth and age as a result of adolescent rebellion. Such groups never get over their differences in perspective as long as they live. Those between whom the gaps appear simply become progressively older.8

Like modern “baby boomers,” whose worldview has been shaped by events such as the Vietnam War and Watergate, the Israelites of the Exodus generation had difficulty trusting authority. They were damaged far more severely than we have been. Under Moses’ leadership they did have some brief, shining moments, such as when they generously contributed abundant materials to construct the tabernacle (Ex. 35:21–29; 36:3–7). However, the brutal experience of bondage in Egypt made it difficult for them to rise above their preoccupation with basic physical survival or to place enough confidence in their leaders to carry them through crises.

The Lord worked wonders for the Israelites and provided them with physical liberty, but they were chronically unwilling to use it constructively. He gave them magnificent options so that they could break out into the open air of mental and spiritual freedom, but ultimately they clung to their melancholic, twisted perspective and treated his gifts as punishments.

I had trouble believing that such a defeatist worldview could exist until I met Derek. He was homeless and walking on the beach at Ormond Beach, Florida, where my wife and I and our ten-year-old daughter were vacationing. My wife invited him in for breakfast, and we ended up entertaining him for the whole day. He seemed fairly normal at first and talked about looking for a college to pursue further education. We fed him, let him have a shower and a long nap, tried to help him find a job, prayed with him, and tried to encourage him in all kinds of ways. I gave him an entire set of clothes, including shoes and underwear, as well as some money.

As the long day progressed, Derek’s deep psychological scars began coming to the surface. Aside from being finicky and fussy, which we thought was surprising for someone with so few options, he was paranoid about people in general. He always looked on the negative side of everything, was unable to make constructive decisions, and occasionally flew into unpredictable outbursts of anger. Like the children of Israel, he had been abused when he was younger.

When we dropped Derek off at a hospital that night, where he would seek treatment for a hand that had been injured some time before, we felt only sickening frustration. Having done our utmost to help him and give him hope, we left him apparently more unhappy than ever. This was only one day! What must it have been like for God, Moses, and Aaron to have this experience with their own people for decades? Given their refusal to accept divine transformation, the Lord could only wait for the next generation, whose outlook was not permanently damaged.

When my father served as a pastor in Trenton, New Jersey in the 1980s, he visited a man in hospital. The patient looked up and informed him, “Pastor, it’s my apostate gland.” That’s what the Israelites seem to have had: an apostate gland. Refusing divine therapy that was their only hope, they chose to remain sick people.

With all his omnipotence and omniscience, God failed to satisfy the adult Israelites whom he so gloriously redeemed from bondage. His example teaches: Love people consistently and persistently with everything you have, but if they ultimately choose to reject you, let them go because you can’t force them to be grateful or to love you in return. Like Moses, Aaron, and the later Hebrew prophets, we are accountable for the quality of the service we give, not the responses we get. If success is defined as doing what God wants us to do for others, whatever their choice may be, nobody can take it from us. Paul Tillich wrote:

The question cannot be: How do we communicate the Gospel so that others will accept it? For this there is no method. To communicate the Gospel means putting it before the people so that they are able to decide for or against it. The Christian Gospel is a matter of decision. It is to be accepted or rejected. All that we who communicate this Gospel can do is to make possible a genuine decision. Such a decision is one based on understanding and on partial participation.9