p. 62 | The Hand on the Head by Charles S. Robinson

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 8, 1883

The Hand on the Head.

By Charles S. Robinson

THE question is often asked, How much did devout people under the old dispensation know of true evangelical piety? Ought they in any proper sense of the word to be called Christians? It is even thought to be very witty occasionally to test the forms of modern phraseology upon Old Testament cases. Did Rahab ever "experience religion"? Did Solomon have reason to suppose he had "met with a change"? Did Job ever "take a stand for Christ"? Was Abraham successful in seeking "the evidences"? Is it anywhere stated in the history that Naomi really "obtained a hope"?

One thing at least is clear; the believers of the former dispensation were carefully trained under teaching which more openly laid hold of every-day life and character, even if it did have something less to say about mere emotional experience than that which is in vogue in these restless times of ours. The grand doctrines of justification by faith, pardon on the ground of an available and meritorious sacrifice, the imputation of personal guilt to a vicarious victim dying as a substitute,—these were the staple instructions of Old Testament saints and their children. We can find only this in the ritual and the prophecy, in the history, in the proverb, in the psalm. From the earliest day of inspired revelation, when clothing of skins was provided for Adam and Eve; from the morning when Abel's offering was accepted and Cain's was refused, only one theory of human salvation can be discovered. A blood-atonement alone avails for each transgressor's redemption from the law's curse.

Hence it makes no difference how far back in the Bible we begin our study of theology; the gospel in Leviticus is the same as the gospel in the Apocalypse. The ceremonies were in all cases sermons. They were not designed or intended to be specifically local or exclusive in their reach. Moses only pictured what Paul preached.

Now here in the chapter which describes the burnt-offering ordained for Israel, we have what at first sight seems a somewhat repulsive ceremonial: A bullock is slain, and its body torn into pieces, its head, inwards, legs, and fat being distributed in a rough way around the door of the tabernacle, afterwards to be burned upon the altar, while its blood is sprinkled over almost everything in the place; and this is declared to be "a sweet savor unto the Lord."

We have no relish for such exhibitions. In order to relieve the story of repulsiveness we are positively forced to inquire what it means. Explanations are given too plain to be mistaken. The entire scene was imaginative and picturesque. The priest Aaron must be understood as vividly putting a spiritual significance forth into a sensuous ceremonial. Here is a condemned sinner in process of restoration by a bloody sacrifice to divine favor and pardon. It is worth our while to press our way through the multiplied details, and we shall find a New Testament doctrine in the form of object-teaching employed in this familiar Old Testament act.

The first thing to be settled in every case was the guilt of the individual. If he were not a sinner, he would have no need of an atonement. This he must see and confess for himself. Conviction of sin, penitence for sin, longing to be rid of sin, cannot be bestowed or wrought by another man. And just here is the significance of the expression we find in the commandment. Leviticus 1:3. Each person might choose his own gift to bring to the altar, but must offer it "of his own voluntary will." This is just the gospel put into utterance for the first time: "Whosoever will, let him come." The man's act of coming to the priest, with an intention to make a sacrifice, was an open acknowledgment that he was a guilty sinner.

Next in order to this must be the providing of a victim which might take the sinner's place as a substitute. The law had said in unmistakable terms: "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." Death can be inflicted only upon a living being; so the sacrifice must be of a creature which was alive. "It is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul." Lev. 17:11. So the New Testament: "Without shedding of blood is no remission." Hence Cain's offering in the early sacrifice failed, while Abel's succeeded; for Cain brought only vegetable first-fruits, but Abel brought animal; these last had life, the others had not. If a sinner were to be relieved from dying, then something which could die must be put in his place. Here in the chapter we see that a fair and generous margin for choice of substitutes was to be allowed, according to one's poverty or wealth. It might be a bullock, or it might be a turtle-dove; it might be an offering from the herd or the flock, or a young pigeon. The essential thing was that it should be a perfect creature without blemish, and that it should be alive. We all understand now that in these particulars an immediate reference was made in a figure to "the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot."

Look, then, upon our picture: An Israelite stands before the priest with his victim for sacrifice; he knows and confesses he is guilty, and he now seeks relief; this animal is to suffer in his behalf. Of course, the next step in the process must be the identifying of the man with his offering. The grace and profit of the act did not at all reside in the principle of surrender of property to God; the individual was not credited with the merit of becoming the poorer by a lamb, a bullock, or a pigeon. It was the life of an animal in itself sinless and altogether unoffending before God, now taken in the place of the life of a transgressor already forfeited by rebellion and lying under condemnation of the law, which gave the whole transaction its significance and value. So these two living creatures, the man and the victim, must be made publicly to assume some sort of relationship to each other, in order that a transference of judicial condition could be effected between them.

For this there was chosen a slender ceremonial as simple as it was effective. See verse 4. The person who offered the sacrifice must "put his hand upon the head of the burnt-offering; and it shall be accepted for him to make atonement for him." The meaning of an impressive gesture like this was instantly clear; it was as if the man said: "I constitute this animal my representative; whatever is hereafter done to it is done to me. I pass over my penalties under the law to it; I take my sins with my own hands and lay them on its head; it now stands for me, and becomes my substitute in life and in death; it makes my atonement for all the past sins I have done."

Too much, therefore, cannot be made of this part of the ceremonial. Indeed, it can be followed all around through the ritual of the old dispensation. When the priests were consecrated (Ex. 29:10, 15), Aaron and his sons were to "put their hands upon the head of the bullock," and afterwards "put their hands upon the head of the ram." When the peace-offering was ordained, the same ceremonial must be observed. Lev. 3:2, 8, 14. The victim might be a bullock, it might be a lamb, it might be a goat; but whatever it should be, the command was unwavering: "He shall lay his hand upon the head of his offering." So in every case, from the sacrifice for inadvertence up to the awful ceremony of the great day of atonement, when the scapegoat was sent away into the wilderness, the laying on of hands was prescribed as an indispensable thing.

Most of us are familiar with forms of evangelical expression growing out of this custom, and will easily recognize its meaning. One of the choicest of all our hymns has a verse embodying it thus:— "My faith would lay her hand on that dear head of thine, While like a penitent I stand, and there confess my sin." Faith vividly, vigorously conceives of Jesus Christ as the Lamb of God. This victim seems to be at the moment standing before us; he is the authorized victim set apart just for this end: God himself "hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin: that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." When our act of identification is complete by which we lay over our guilt upon him, then whatever is done to him is officially done to us; he is our substitute.

Now comes the next step in the process. Verse 5. The priest immediately slew the bullock before the Lord. He positively put the creature to death. All the lookers-on would understand that this was necessary, the moment the animal became the substitute for the sinner. This was the punishment for transgressions of the divine law. Hence, under the literal formula of covenant redemption, Jesus of Nazareth had to die upon the cross. It was not enough for him just to seem to die. If human sins were imputed to him, then he inevitably would be killed as a victim of sacrifice. So the New Testament writers agree in pronouncing this the very central truth of the whole gospel. 1 Cor. 15:3. When he died for us, then we died.

It does not seem very wise to attempt to follow with any further strictness of analysis this scene of sacrifice. The pieces of the bullock were now laid upon the altar, and with fire burned absolutely to ashes. The man who brought the offering remained standing by; he saw the entire transaction. How clearly he understood its reach we cannot say. . . . But some sort of suggestion must surely have been in his mind concerning the terrible punishment sin deserved. There was a meaning to those people found in the psalm David gave them so long afterwards: "But the wicked shall perish, and the enemies of the Lord shall be as the fat of lambs; they shall consume; into smoke shall they consume away." The lesson is all the more significant just because it is so full of unexplained mystery. We never can know every particular of the suffering we have escaped by the death of our Lord Jesus in our behalf; thank God! we never need to inquire.

The main thing, then, is the hand on the head. We admit our sin, our exposure, and our need. We bring our hearts to Christ in acceptance of his sacrifice. We seem to put out our faith as we instinctively gesture with our hand. Then the Saviour becomes the accepted substitute, and the sinner goes eternally free.—Charles S. Robinson, D. D., in S. S. Times.