Commentary - Hebrews 9:15-22

Bird's-eye view

The author of Hebrews is driving home a point that is absolutely central to our faith: the New Covenant is not just a slightly improved version of the old one. It is an entirely different order of reality, inaugurated by a superior sacrifice, and securing an eternal inheritance. This passage functions as a tightly reasoned legal and theological argument for why the death of Christ was necessary. He uses the language of covenants and last wills and testaments to explain that Christ's death was not a tragic accident, but rather the very event that put the New Covenant into force. The blood of Christ does something the blood of bulls and goats could never do: it provides true forgiveness and cleanses the conscience, securing for us a promise that cannot be shaken.

The argument moves from the general principle of Christ's mediation to the specific necessity of His death. A covenant, the author argues, is like a will; it only takes effect when the one who made it dies. This is why death and blood are non-negotiable elements in God's dealings with man. The first covenant was sealed with blood, pointing forward to the reality that would be fulfilled in Christ. Every detail of the old system, from the sprinkled book to the cleansed vessels, was a shadow. Christ's death is the substance, the event that makes the promise of an eternal inheritance a present reality for all who are called.

Outline

Context In Hebrews

This section of Hebrews (9:15-22) is the heart of the author's argument comparing the Old and New Covenants. He has just finished describing the earthly tabernacle and its services, highlighting their limitations and their symbolic nature (Heb 9:1-10). He then introduced the superior ministry of Christ, who entered the true, heavenly sanctuary "through His own blood, having obtained eternal redemption" (Heb 9:12). Our current passage builds directly on that point. It explains the legal and theological necessity of Christ's death. It is not enough to say Christ's sacrifice was better; the author wants his readers to understand why it had to happen the way it did to inaugurate a new and better covenant.

This argument is crucial for the original audience, who were Jewish Christians tempted to return to the rituals of the old covenant. The author is showing them that to go back to the temple sacrifices is to abandon the reality for the shadow. The entire system of the first covenant was designed to point to its own fulfillment and termination in the death of the Messiah. Therefore, this passage serves as both a profound theological explanation and a potent pastoral warning.

Verse by Verse Commentary

15 And for this reason He is the mediator of a new covenant, so that, since a death has taken place for the redemption of the trespasses that were committed under the first covenant, those who have been called may receive the promise of the eternal inheritance.

The phrase "for this reason" connects us back to the superior blood of Christ just mentioned (v. 14). Because Christ's blood cleanses our conscience, He is therefore qualified to be the mediator of a new covenant. A mediator is a go-between. In the old system, you had priests and prophets, but here Christ is the ultimate go-between, standing between God and man. This isn't just a renewed covenant, but a new one, qualitatively different. Its purpose is twofold. First, a death had to occur. This death was not just for future sins, but it reached back, providing "redemption of the trespasses that were committed under the first covenant." The animal sacrifices of the Old Testament never finally dealt with sin; they only covered it over in anticipation of the true payment. Christ's death paid the debt for the saints of the Old Testament just as it does for us. Second, the result of this mediation and redemption is that "those who have been called" get the goods. And what are the goods? Not a plot of land in Canaan, but "the eternal inheritance." The promises of God are finally and fully secured and delivered through the death of Christ.

16 For where a covenant is, there must of necessity be the death of the one who made it. 17 For a covenant is valid only when men are dead, for it is never in force while the one who made it lives.

Here the author makes a brilliant wordplay. The Greek word for covenant (diatheke) can also mean a last will and testament. He exploits this dual meaning to make his point stick. Think of it this way: a man writes a will, leaving an inheritance to his children. When do the children get the inheritance? Not while the man is still alive and kicking. The will only comes into force upon his death. The author applies this logic to the covenant. For the inheritance to be distributed, the one who made the will, the testator, must die. This is presented as a matter of "necessity." There is no other way for the terms of the will to be executed. So it is with God's covenant of grace. The inheritance was promised, but the death of the testator, Jesus Christ, was required to enact it. While He lived His earthly life, the promise was there, but the New Covenant was not yet formally in force. His death was the trigger. It was the moment the will was read, and the inheritance released.

18 Therefore not even the first covenant was inaugurated without blood.

Having established the principle that death is necessary to enact a covenant-will, the author now shows that this is not a new idea. This principle was already embedded in the inauguration of the old covenant. The word "therefore" links the principle (vv. 16-17) to the historical example he is about to provide. The first covenant, given through Moses, was not a bloodless affair. It wasn't launched with a keynote address and a round of applause. It was launched with death. Blood signifies a life violently taken. This was a picture, a shadow, pointing to the greater reality. If the copy required blood, how much more the genuine article?

19 For when every commandment had been spoken by Moses to all the people according to the Law, he took the blood of the calves and the goats, with water and scarlet wool and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people, 20 saying, “THIS IS THE BLOOD OF THE COVENANT WHICH GOD COMMANDED YOU.”

The author now recounts the scene from Exodus 24. Notice the solemnity and the detail. Moses doesn't just read the law; he seals it. After the words came the blood. He takes the blood of sacrificial animals, representing the death required for the covenant to be established. He mixes it with water and uses scarlet wool and hyssop, instruments of purification, to sprinkle everything. He sprinkles the book of the Law, signifying that the law itself is consecrated by this blood. Then he sprinkles the people. This is a corporate application. The covenant was made with the entire nation, and they are all brought under the sign of this blood. Moses' words are the capstone: "This is the blood of the covenant." These are the very words Jesus will adapt at the Last Supper (Matt. 26:28). The connection is deliberate and powerful. The first covenant was sealed with the blood of animals. The new covenant is sealed with the blood of God's own Son. The people under Moses agreed to the terms of the covenant, and the blood sealed their obligation and God's promise. It was a transaction ratified by death.

21 And in the same way, both the tabernacle and all the vessels of the ministry he sprinkled with the blood.

The application of blood was not limited to the book and the people. It extended to the entire apparatus of worship. The tabernacle, the place of God's dwelling, and all its furniture, the "vessels of the ministry," were all consecrated with blood. Nothing was fit for sacred use until it had been touched by the sign of death. This underscores the holiness of God and the uncleanness of man and all his works. Even the things made for the worship of God must be purified. This comprehensive sprinkling demonstrates that the entire system of the Old Covenant was founded upon a bloody sacrifice. It was a constant, visible reminder that access to God is only possible through a substitutionary death.

22 And according to the Law, one may almost say, all things are cleansed with blood, and without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.

The author sums up the entire principle of the Mosaic law. He says "one may almost say" because there were some minor exceptions for purification (e.g., with water or fire), but the overwhelming rule, the central principle, was purification through blood. Blood was God's designated cleansing agent for sin. Then he moves from cleansing to the ultimate issue: forgiveness. Here there are no exceptions. "Without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness." This is one of the clearest, most foundational statements in all of Scripture. Forgiveness is not cheap. It is not God simply overlooking sin. It requires a payment, and the payment is life, represented by the blood. Every animal sacrifice in the Old Testament shouted this truth. But they also shouted their own inadequacy, because they had to be repeated endlessly. They were all promissory notes, pointing to the one, final shedding of blood that would actually secure forgiveness forever. That blood was the blood of Jesus Christ, the testator of the New Covenant.

Application

This passage is not just a dusty theological argument; it is the foundation of our assurance. We are "those who have been called." We are the beneficiaries of the will. The inheritance is ours, and it is an "eternal inheritance." How do we know this? Because the Testator has died. The deal is done. The covenant is in force. Christ's death was not just a martyr's death; it was a covenant-inaugurating, will-enacting, inheritance-securing death. Our sins, past, present, and future, are dealt with. The trespasses of the old saints and our own have been redeemed by the same payment.

Furthermore, we must grasp the gravity of blood. Our culture is squeamish and wants a bloodless religion. But the Bible is plain: "without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness." Forgiveness is costly. It cost God His Son. To trivialize sin or to presume upon God's grace is to misunderstand the cross. The blood of Christ is what separates Christianity from every other religion. We do not come to God on the basis of our good works or our clean living. We come sprinkled with the blood of the covenant. That blood is our only plea. It has cleansed the heavenly things themselves, and it is what cleanses our consciences, freeing us to serve the living God without fear.

Therefore, when we come to the Lord's Table, we hear the echo of Moses' words, transformed by Christ: "This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." We are participating in this bloody, costly, glorious covenant. We should come with profound gratitude, with sober minds, and with joyful assurance that because He died, we have received the promise of an eternal inheritance.