Leviticus: Redemption as Return, Redemption as Ascent

Leviticus affirms the sanctity of life, presenting a divine order where existence is inherently good and structured. God instructs the Israelites to build the Tabernacle with precision (Exodus 25:8–9), and their enthusiastic donations of labor and materials reflect their commitment (Exodus 35:21–29). Leviticus establishes a ritual order distinguishing the ordinary from the holy (Leviticus 10:10), with priests, drawn from the people, leading these sacred rites (Leviticus 8:1–5). This social and spiritual structure underscores that everything has its proper place, laying the foundation for both restoration and progress.

When the Israelites stray, Leviticus offers restoration through sacrifices, symbolizing the surrender of something dear (Leviticus 5:14–16; 19:20–22). These acts renew the Tabernacle’s sanctity and the people’s covenant with God. In the Holy Land, land ownership reflects divine stewardship (Leviticus 25:23), as the people tend it to sustain themselves, support the vulnerable, and maintain the priesthood. As proclaimed in this week’s Torah reading, the double parasha of Behar-Bechukotai (Leviticus 25:1–27:34), the Jubilee year, every fifty years, resets land allocations to their original order (Leviticus 25:8–13), embodying divine renewal and foreshadowing the redemptive ascent promised in God’s covenant of blessings and return. Similarly, the Sabbatical year mandates rest for the land (Leviticus 25:2–7), allowing natural renewal. As a patient once told a wise friend, “When you’re doing nothing, you’re really doing something.” By pausing, the Israelites align with God’s rhythm of renewal, countering nature’s entropy.

Leviticus also describes a cycle of exile and return. If the Israelites stray, foreign conquest may follow (Leviticus 26:33–35), but repentance brings return to the Holy Land, a promise echoed in Deuteronomy 30:1–5 and Jeremiah 29:10–14. These cycles of renewal—sacrificial, agricultural, and national—reflect Leviticus’ emphasis on restoring order while fostering spiritual growth.

Yet, Judaism is not only about cycles returning to their starting point; it emphasizes historical progress. The exile in Egypt, the escape from captivity, and the revelations at Sinai were defining, irrevocable experiences in the Israelites’ enlightenment. Their suffering in Egypt taught empathy and righteousness (Exodus 22:21), shaping a people committed to justice. Since the Exodus, the Jewish people have survived catastrophes through adaptation and innovation. After the Temple’s destruction, homes became sanctuaries, synagogues modeled the Temple, and prayer replaced sacrifice. Hillel’s Prosbul, an economic adaptation, preserved the Jubilee’s spirit while meeting new needs (Mishnah, Gittin 4:3). As historian Thomas Cahill argues in The Gifts of the Jews, one of the Jewish people’s supreme contributions to humanity is the idea that history can progress, not merely repeat.

This tension between restoration and progress raises a profound question: Is the Jewish conception of the Messiah about returning to a sanctified starting point or elevating to a higher order, where history’s lessons yield a harmonious, holy conclusion to our sufferings and triumphs? Jewish thought offers varied visions. Some, like Ezekiel, see restoration through a rebuilt Temple (Ezekiel 40–43). Others, citing Isaiah 11:1–9, imagine Israel dwelling securely, free from oppression. Yet, many envision a wholly new era. Zechariah 14:9 foresees all nations recognizing God’s sovereignty, suggesting universal harmony. Maimonides, in his Mishneh Torah (Laws of Kings 12:5), describes a world of peace and wisdom, transcending ancient practices.

We can imagine a version of the Messianic era that blends restoration with ascent. Sovereign in the Holy Land, we could achieve wisdom in our relationships, connecting with God through prayer, kindness, and new rituals—like global acts of tzedakah (charity) inspired by Leviticus’ care for the vulnerable—that honor tradition while reflecting historical lessons. This era would not merely restore Eden’s innocence but instead embody a profound harmony that is based on distilling the best of our spiritual legacy and historical experience. In the time of the Messiah, all of our revelations received through prophets, study, prayer, and good deeds, and through the bitter and sweet of our lived trials and survivals, would be finally understood and fully embraced.