The Grammar of Holiness: Eating with God Text: Leviticus 11:1-8
Introduction: A Table Set for War
We come now to the book of Leviticus, and many a modern Christian, accustomed to the soaring theology of Romans, finds himself bogged down in a swamp of bloody sacrifices, skin diseases, and bizarre dietary regulations. What are we to make of all this? Is it a relic of a primitive tribal religion, a set of arbitrary rules for hygiene in the Bronze Age, or is it, as with all Scripture, the very Word of God, profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteousness?
The answer, of course, is the latter. But to understand Leviticus, you must first understand that it is a book about worship, which means it is a book about drawing near to a holy God. And a holy God is a consuming fire. You do not approach Him casually. You do not saunter into His presence on your own terms. He sets the terms. Leviticus is the divine protocol for communion with the Creator of heaven and earth.
And here in chapter 11, God gets down to the menu. This is not, first and foremost, a health code, though there are certainly health benefits to God's law. This is not a series of arbitrary hoops for God to make Israel jump through. These dietary laws are a foundational lesson in worldview. They are a daily, tangible, edible object lesson in the nature of holiness. Holiness, at its root, means to be set apart, to be distinct. God is holy because He is utterly distinct from His creation. And He called Israel to be holy, to be distinct from the pagan nations surrounding them. Every meal was to be a declaration of that distinction. Every bite was a reminder: we are not like them. We belong to Yahweh.
The world has always hated this idea of distinction. Our modern world despises it with a peculiar passion. It wants to blur every line, erase every category, and tear down every boundary God has established. The rebellion against God is a rebellion against distinctions, between man and woman, between good and evil, between the sacred and the profane. The dietary laws of Leviticus are a direct assault on this rebellious impulse. They teach us that God is a God of order, and order requires separation. He creates by separating light from darkness, and land from sea. And He sanctifies His people by teaching them to separate the clean from the unclean.
The Text
Yahweh spoke again to Moses and to Aaron, saying to them, "Speak to the sons of Israel, saying, 'These are the creatures which you may eat from all the animals that are on the earth. Whatever divides a hoof, thus making split hoofs, and chews the cud, among the animals, that you may eat. Nevertheless, you shall not eat of these, among those which chew thecud or among those which divide the hoof: the camel, for though it chews cud, it does not divide the hoof; it is unclean to you. Likewise, the shaphan, for though it chews cud, it does not divide the hoof; it is unclean to you; the rabbit also, for though it chews cud, it does not divide the hoof; it is unclean to you; and the pig, for though it divides the hoof, thus making a split hoof, it does not chew cud; it is unclean to you. You shall not eat of their flesh, and you shall not touch their carcasses; they are unclean to you.'"
(Leviticus 11:1-8 LSB)
God's Authority Extends to the Kitchen (v. 1-2)
The instruction begins with the ultimate authority.
"Yahweh spoke again to Moses and to Aaron, saying to them, 'Speak to the sons of Israel, saying, 'These are the creatures which you may eat from all the animals that are on the earth.'" (Leviticus 11:1-2)
Notice who is speaking. This is Yahweh, the covenant Lord. This is not a suggestion from a lifestyle guru. This is a command from the Creator. And His authority is total. It extends to every realm of life, from the sanctuary to the supper table. The modern secularist wants to confine God to a small, private box labeled "religion," to be visited for an hour on Sundays. But the God of the Bible is not so easily contained. He claims authority over your politics, your business, your bedroom, and yes, your diet. There is no square inch of the universe over which Christ does not cry, "Mine!"
The command is given to Moses and Aaron, the civil and priestly leaders, to be delivered to all the sons of Israel. This is a corporate matter. It is a law that will define them as a people. Their identity as the people of God is to be woven into the very fabric of their daily lives, right down to what they pack for lunch. This is how covenant works. It is not just a statement of faith; it is a way of life.
The Grammar of Cleanliness (v. 3)
Verse 3 lays out the basic rule for land animals.
"Whatever divides a hoof, thus making split hoofs, and chews the cud, among the animals, that you may eat." (Leviticus 11:3 LSB)
Here we have the two criteria for a clean land animal: a completely divided hoof and chewing the cud. Why these two things? Commentators have offered many theories, some hygienic, some allegorical. But the most compelling explanation is that these characteristics reflect the order of God's creation. The clean animals are those that fit neatly into the categories God established at the beginning.
The split hoof speaks of a firm walk, a clear distinction in how the animal contacts the earth. It is a picture of discernment, of separating truth from error in our walk through the world. Chewing the cud, or rumination, is the picture of meditation. The animal takes in its food, and then brings it back up to chew on it, to extract all the nourishment. This is a perfect image of how we are to approach God's Word. We are not to just swallow it whole, but to meditate on it, to ruminate on it day and night, so that it becomes a part of us.
So, a clean animal is one that pictures a godly walk and a meditative life. It is an animal that conforms to the symbolic order of holiness. The Israelite was to eat animals that metaphorically represented the kind of life he himself was called to live: a life of discernment and meditation on the law of God.
The Abomination of the Ambiguous (v. 4-7)
God then provides examples of animals that fail the test, and in so doing, He highlights the importance of clear categories.
"Nevertheless, you shall not eat of these... the camel... the shaphan... the rabbit... and the pig..." (Leviticus 11:4-7 LSB)
These animals are unclean because they are ambiguous. They blur the lines. The camel, the shaphan (or rock badger), and the rabbit all chew the cud, but they do not have a divided hoof. They appear to be meditative, but their walk is compromised. They represent a kind of piety that is not grounded in a firm, discerning walk in the world. It is a faith that is all internal reflection with no external distinction.
The pig, on the other hand, has the opposite problem. It has a divided hoof, but it does not chew the cud. It has the outward appearance of a discerning walk, but it will eat anything. It is a picture of external conformity without internal transformation. It is the hypocrite, the Pharisee, who has all the outward signs of religion but whose heart is full of filth. The pig is the perfect symbol of indiscriminate consumption. It does not meditate on what it consumes; it just swallows whatever garbage is in front of it.
This is a profound lesson. God hates the mixture. He hates the compromise. He hates the creature that tries to live in two worlds at once. The unclean animals are unclean because they are walking, grunting, pictures of theological and moral compromise. They don't fit the pattern. They are out of order.
Separation Unto God (v. 8)
The chapter concludes this section with a stark command.
"You shall not eat of their flesh, and you shall not touch their carcasses; they are unclean to you." (Leviticus 11:8 LSB)
The separation was to be total. Not only were they not to eat these animals, they were not even to touch their dead bodies. Contact with the unclean rendered an Israelite unclean. This was a constant, physical reminder of the need for spiritual separation. You cannot flirt with the world's ways, you cannot dabble in its philosophies, you cannot touch its dead idols, without being defiled by them.
The world sees this as narrow-minded and bigoted. But God sees it as the path to life. He was protecting His people. He was building a holy nation, a peculiar people, a kingdom of priests. And to do that, He had to teach them, in the most basic and visceral way, the grammar of holiness, which is the grammar of separation.
From Pork Chops to the Prince of Peace
So what does a twenty-first-century Christian, living under the New Covenant, do with these laws? Do we sell our pigs and start checking hooves? No. To do so would be to miss the entire point and to insult the finished work of Jesus Christ.
These laws were, as the author of Hebrews would say, a shadow of the good things to come. They were object lessons, training wheels for a people who were spiritual toddlers. They were designed to teach Israel about holiness, separation, and the coming Messiah. And when the substance came, the shadows fled away.
Jesus declared all foods clean (Mark 7:19). He did this not by lowering the standard of holiness, but by fulfilling it perfectly. The entire ceremonial law, with its sacrifices and its dietary codes, pointed to Him. He is the ultimate clean animal, the Lamb of God without blemish or spot. He walked a perfect, discerning life (the split hoof) and He meditated on His Father's will constantly (chewing the cud). He is the fulfillment of the law's demands.
The great turning point is seen in Peter's vision in Acts 10. God lowers a sheet full of all kinds of unclean animals and tells Peter to kill and eat. Peter, the good Levitical Jew, is horrified. But God rebukes him: "What God has made clean, do not call common." The direct application was that the gospel was now to go to the Gentiles, those who were considered unclean by the Jews. The wall of separation, symbolized by these dietary laws, was torn down in the flesh of Jesus Christ (Ephesians 2:14-15).
Therefore, we are no longer bound by the letter of these dietary laws. Our holiness is not found in what we eat or don't eat, but in our union with Christ. However, the principle behind the law, the moral grammar, remains. We are still called to be a holy people, separate from the world. We are still called to walk with discernment and to meditate on the Word of God. We are still forbidden from spiritual compromise, from being like the camel or the pig.
The lesson of Leviticus 11 is not that pork is inherently evil, but that compromise is. It teaches us that God cares about the details, that He demands we live lives of careful distinction, and that true holiness is not a matter of external performance but of a heart and life brought into conformity with the created order of our God. And now, in Christ, we are freed from the shadow of the menu, so that we might feast on the substance of the Son.