The Terrible Mercy of a Holy God Text: Leviticus 10:4-7
Introduction: When Worship Kills
We live in a soft age. Our God is a sentimental grandfather, our worship is a casual affair of personal expression, and our sins are unfortunate mistakes. We have domesticated the lion of Judah and turned him into a housecat that purrs when we scratch it behind the ears. We believe that sincerity is the sum total of true religion. If you mean well, then all is well. But the terror of Leviticus 10 is a bucket of ice water thrown into the face of our sleepy, sentimental religiosity. Here, at the very inauguration of the priesthood, on the first day of the new job, two of Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, decided to innovate. They offered "strange fire" before the Lord, fire "which He had not commanded them." And the result was not a gentle rebuke. It was not a memo from the celestial HR department. Fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed them. They died, right there, in the courtyard of the tabernacle.
This is a hard word. It is meant to be. This event is a foundational lesson for the people of God in every generation. It teaches us that God is holy, that He is a consuming fire, and that He will be treated as holy by those who draw near to Him. Worship is not a realm for human creativity and self-expression. It is a realm of divine revelation and strict obedience. God is the one who sets the terms, and for us to disregard those terms, no matter how sincere our intentions, is to play with fire. It is to treat the holy as profane, and the result is always death.
The passage before us this morning deals with the immediate, grisly aftermath. The bodies are still there. The smell of burnt flesh hangs in the air. A father has just watched two of his sons incinerated by the wrath of God. And in this moment of raw crisis, God, through Moses, issues a series of commands that seem almost cruel to our modern sensibilities. But they are not cruel; they are merciful. They are a terrible mercy, designed to drive the lesson home with unforgettable force. God is teaching His priests, and through them, all of us, that His holiness takes precedence over our highest human affections and our deepest personal grief. The service of God does not stop for funerals, especially when the funeral is the direct result of dishonoring Him.
The Text
Then Moses called to Mishael and Elzaphan, the sons of Aaron’s uncle Uzziel, and said to them, “Come near, carry your relatives away from the front of the sanctuary to the outside of the camp.” So they came near and carried them still in their tunics to the outside of the camp, as Moses had said. Then Moses said to Aaron and to his sons Eleazar and Ithamar, “Do not uncover your heads nor tear your clothes, so that you will not die and that He will not become wrathful against all the congregation. But your relatives, the whole house of Israel, shall weep over the burning which Yahweh has brought about. You shall not even go out from the doorway of the tent of meeting, lest you die; for the anointing oil of Yahweh is upon you.” So they did according to the word of Moses.
(Leviticus 10:4-7 LSB)
The Necessary Cleansing (v. 4-5)
The first order of business is a practical one, but it is dripping with theological significance.
"Then Moses called to Mishael and Elzaphan, the sons of Aaron’s uncle Uzziel, and said to them, “Come near, carry your relatives away from the front of the sanctuary to the outside of the camp.” So they came near and carried them still in their tunics to the outside of the camp, as Moses had said." (Leviticus 10:4-5)
Notice who is called to do this grim work. It is not Aaron, and it is not his remaining sons, Eleazar and Ithamar. It is their cousins. Why? Because the priests on duty cannot be defiled by contact with the dead. The presence of God must be kept holy. The sin of Nadab and Abihu had introduced a profound pollution into the sacred space, and now that pollution, embodied in their corpses, must be removed. The holy must be separated from the profane. Death, the ultimate consequence of sin, has no place in the immediate presence of the living God.
Moses is the one giving the orders. He is God's mouthpiece, the mediator of the covenant. His authority is absolute here because he is speaking for God. This is not a suggestion; it is a divine command. The bodies must be taken "away from the front of the sanctuary." The place of worship must be cleansed. And they must be taken "to the outside of the camp." This is the pattern for dealing with all that is unclean. That which is defiled is put outside the camp, away from the dwelling place of God. This is a physical picture of excommunication. Sin and its consequences cannot be allowed to remain in the midst of God's people.
They are carried out "still in their tunics." These were the priestly garments, the uniform of their sacred office. This is a detail of terrible irony. They are cast out in the very clothes that marked them for holy service. It is a stark reminder that the office itself does not protect the man who holds it if he is disobedient. The uniform of a priest is no shield against the wrath of God. In fact, it makes the sin all the more heinous. To whom much is given, much is required. Their sin was a high-handed sin, committed in the very garments of their consecration, and so they are judged in them.
The Prohibition of Grief (v. 6)
Next, Moses turns to the grieving family, and the command he gives is staggering.
"Then Moses said to Aaron and to his sons Eleazar and Ithamar, “Do not uncover your heads nor tear your clothes, so that you will not die and that He will not become wrathful against all the congregation. But your relatives, the whole house of Israel, shall weep over the burning which Yahweh has brought about." (Leviticus 10:6)
Uncovering the head and tearing the clothes were the standard, culturally understood signs of deep mourning and grief. Aaron, the father, and Eleazar and Ithamar, the brothers, are forbidden from doing this. Think about that. Their sons and brothers are lying dead, smitten by God, and they are commanded to show no sign of personal grief. Why? Because their grief, in this moment, would be ambiguous. It could be interpreted as a protest against God's judgment. It could be seen as siding with the dead sinners against the holy God. Their primary loyalty was not to their family, but to the God they served. As priests, they were to represent God's mind to the people. And God's mind in this moment was not grief, but holy indignation. For them to mourn would be to misrepresent God. It would be to say, "God has done a terrible thing." But God had done a righteous thing.
The stakes could not be higher: "so that you will not die." Disobedience to this command would have been seen as complicity with the sin of Nadab and Abihu, and would have resulted in the same fiery judgment. But it goes further: "and that He will not become wrathful against all the congregation." The sin of the priests endangers the entire nation. This is the principle of corporate solidarity. When the leadership sins, the whole body is at risk. Their obedience in this difficult thing was a protection for all of Israel.
But this does not mean the sin should be ignored. There is a proper grief, a proper horror at what has happened. "But your relatives, the whole house of Israel, shall weep over the burning which Yahweh has brought about." The congregation is commanded to mourn. Their weeping is not primarily for Nadab and Abihu, but for the "burning which Yahweh has brought about." They are to weep at the terrifying display of God's holiness and wrath against sin. Theirs is a godly sorrow, a fear-of-the-Lord sorrow. They are to see this judgment and tremble. The priests must maintain the divine perspective, but the people must learn the terrible lesson. The whole nation is to be catechized by this event.
The Consecration of the Anointing (v. 7)
The final command seals the deal, locking the priests into their sacred duty.
"You shall not even go out from the doorway of the tent of meeting, lest you die; for the anointing oil of Yahweh is upon you.” So they did according to the word of Moses." (Leviticus 10:7)
They are not even to leave their post. They cannot follow the bodies. They cannot join the weeping congregation. They are to remain at the doorway of the tent of meeting, the place of service. Their duty to God supersedes everything else. It supersedes family ties, personal grief, and public ceremony. Why? What is the reason given? "For the anointing oil of Yahweh is upon you."
This is the heart of the matter. The anointing oil was the sign of their consecration, their being set apart for God's exclusive use. They were no longer their own. They belonged to God in a unique and total way. That oil symbolized the Holy Spirit, equipping and commissioning them for their work. To have the anointing oil upon you meant that you lived on God's time, according to God's priorities. Your life was not your own. You were holy property. For them to abandon their post would be to profane that anointing. It would be to say that something else, even something as profound as family grief, was more important than the holy calling of God.
And the verse concludes with the simple, potent statement: "So they did according to the word of Moses." In the face of shocking judgment, in the grip of what must have been unspeakable personal agony, Aaron and his sons obeyed. This is the beginning of true and acceptable worship. It is not born from our feelings, our traditions, or our innovations. It is born from simple, stark, costly obedience to the Word of God.
Conclusion: The Anointed High Priest
This entire scene is a terrifying but necessary lesson in the holiness of God. But like everything in Leviticus, it points us forward to the Lord Jesus Christ. Aaron and his sons were anointed with oil, set apart for a holy task they could only imperfectly fulfill. Their obedience was crucial, but it was the obedience of fallen men.
But we have a great High Priest, Jesus Christ, who was anointed not with oil, but with the Holy Spirit without measure (John 3:34). He is the one who perfectly honored the Father's holiness. And He too faced a moment when His duty to God collided with the deepest human grief and agony. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He sweat drops of blood, pleading, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me." This was a grief far deeper than Aaron's. But His ultimate loyalty was to the Father's will: "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will" (Matthew 26:39).
On the cross, Jesus became the ultimate object of God's wrath against strange fire, against all our disobedient, self-willed worship. He was carried outside the camp, bearing our reproach (Hebrews 13:12-13). He was consumed by the fire of God's judgment so that we would not have to be. Because of His perfect, obedient sacrifice, we who are in Him are now a holy priesthood. We too have been anointed by His Spirit (1 John 2:20). And because of that anointing, we are called to the same principle of radical loyalty. We are called to put God's holiness, God's glory, and God's commands above our own feelings, our own families, and our own lives. We are called to learn the lesson of Leviticus 10: that God is a consuming fire, and blessed are all those who take refuge in Him, worshiping Him in reverence and awe, according to His Word.