Commentary - Deuteronomy 5:22-27

Bird's-eye view

In this crucial passage, Moses recounts the immediate aftermath of God speaking the Ten Commandments directly to the people of Israel at Mount Sinai. The experience of this direct, unmediated encounter with the raw holiness of God is utterly terrifying. The people, rightly understanding that sinful creatures cannot long endure in the presence of a consuming fire, approach their leadership, who in turn approach Moses. Their response is not one of rebellion, but of a sane and appropriate terror. They confess God's greatness, acknowledge the miracle of their survival, and then beg for a mediator. They ask Moses to be their go-between, to hear from God on their behalf and relay His words to them, to which they promise obedience. This event is foundational for understanding the entire structure of the Old Covenant; it establishes the absolute necessity of mediation. Man cannot approach God on his own terms. This divinely-induced terror at the foot of the mountain was intended to teach Israel, and us, that the only way to God is through the mediator He provides.

Their request is not a sign of weakness but of a dawning wisdom. They understood something that much of the modern church has forgotten: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. This passage is a graphic illustration of why the Levitical priesthood, the sacrificial system, and the prophetic office were all necessary. They were all temporary mediators, standing in the gap between a holy God and a sinful people. And all of it was a grand object lesson pointing to the one, final Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.

Outline

Context In Deuteronomy

This section is part of Moses' great sermon to the new generation of Israelites poised to enter the Promised Land. He is recounting their history, not for nostalgia's sake, but to ground them in their covenant identity. Chapter 5 is a restatement of the Decalogue, the foundational law of their covenant with Yahweh. The verses that follow our passage (vv. 28-29) show God's approval of their request for a mediator, while also lamenting their future inability to maintain the obedience they so readily promise. This entire event at Horeb (Sinai) serves as the basis for Moses' authority as lawgiver and the authority of the covenant he is now calling this new generation to reaffirm. It explains why the law was given through him, and not directly to the people on an ongoing basis. The terror of the theophany at Sinai is the backdrop for the entire book of Deuteronomy.

Key Issues

The Consuming Fire

We live in an age that has tried to domesticate God. We want a God who is a cosmic teddy bear, a celestial buddy, an affirming presence who would never do anything to make us uncomfortable. The Bible will have none of it. The consistent testimony of Scripture is that when sinful man comes into direct contact with the unveiled holiness of God, the result is not warm fuzzies, but sheer, abject terror. Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up and cried, "Woe is me! For I am lost" (Isa 6:5). When the resurrected Christ appeared to the apostle John, a man who had leaned on Jesus' breast at the Last Supper, he "fell at his feet as though dead" (Rev 1:17).

The experience of Israel at Sinai is the archetype of this reality. God descended on the mountain in a theophany, a visible manifestation of His presence, characterized by fire, cloud, dense gloom, and a voice that shook the very foundations of the earth. The people's reaction was not a failure of nerve; it was a success of perception. They understood that the God they were dealing with was a consuming fire (Deut 4:24; Heb 12:29). Their subsequent request for a mediator was not an attempt to escape God, but rather an attempt to approach Him without being incinerated. This is the beginning of all true religion. Until we understand the terror of God's holiness, we will never understand the wonder of His grace in Christ, our Mediator.

Verse by Verse Commentary

22 “These words Yahweh spoke to all your assembly at the mountain from the midst of the fire, of the cloud and of the dense gloom, with a great voice, and He added no more. He wrote them on two tablets of stone and gave them to me.

Moses emphasizes three things about the Ten Commandments. First, they were spoken to all your assembly. This was not a private revelation to Moses; the entire nation heard the voice of God. There were no excuses. Second, the setting was one of terrifying power: fire, cloud, and deep darkness. This was not an inviting scene; it was a dreadful one, meant to impress upon them the absolute holiness and otherness of God. Third, after speaking these ten words, "He added no more." This points to the foundational, summary nature of the Decalogue. This is the constitution of the covenant, the unchangeable moral law of God in summary form. Everything else in the law is an expansion or application of these ten principles. And finally, God Himself inscribed them on stone, signifying their permanence and divine origin.

23 Now it happened that when you heard the voice from the midst of the darkness, while the mountain was burning with fire, you came near to me, all the heads of your tribes and your elders.

The response to this divine utterance was immediate and organized. It was not a chaotic stampede. The people's fear was channeled through their covenantal leadership structure. The heads of the tribes and the elders, the recognized representatives of the people, formally approached Moses. This was a corporate response. The entire nation, through its leaders, recognized that the situation was untenable. They had heard the voice of God and survived, but they knew it was not a sustainable relationship. The combination of the audible voice coming out of the visual chaos of fire and darkness was too much for them to bear.

24 And you said, ‘Behold, Yahweh our God has shown us His glory and His greatness, and we have heard His voice from the midst of the fire; we have seen today that God speaks with man, yet he lives.’

Their statement to Moses is a remarkable confession of faith. They are not complaining or accusing God of being unfair. They are drawing the correct theological conclusions from their experience. They rightly identify what they have seen as God's glory and His greatness. They acknowledge the central miracle of the event: they heard the voice of the living God and were not destroyed. They understood that this was an exception, a moment of grace. The normal result of such an encounter would be death, and they knew it. This is not the presumption of modern man who thinks he can waltz into God's presence; this is the humility of those who know their own creaturely and sinful frailty.

25 So now then why should we die? For this great fire will consume us; if we hear the voice of Yahweh our God any longer, then we will die.

Here is the logic of their fear. It is a simple and sound syllogism. Premise one: The presence of God is a great, consuming fire. Premise two: We are flammable. Conclusion: If we remain in His presence, we will be consumed. Their question, "why should we die?" is not a complaint. It is a plea for a different arrangement. They are saying, "We have received the foundation of the covenant. We believe. But we cannot continue in this mode of direct reception. We will not survive it." This is the proper effect of the law. It brings a knowledge of sin and a sentence of death (Rom 3:20; 2 Cor 3:7). It drives the sinner to seek refuge outside of himself.

26 For who is there of all flesh who has heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire, as we have, and lived?

They recognized the uniqueness of their experience. They understood that what had just happened was contrary to the normal course of reality. Who in all of human history has had such an encounter and survived? The answer is, nobody. They are the great exception, and they know they cannot press their luck. This is not a lack of faith, but a profound understanding of the chasm that separates "all flesh" from the "living God." Their terror was a sign that they were taking God seriously. A God who does not frighten a sinner is not the God of the Bible.

27 As for you, go near and hear all that Yahweh our God says; then speak to us all that Yahweh our God speaks to you, and we will hear and do it.’

This is the climax of the passage. Out of their theological terror comes the formal request for a mediator. They appoint Moses as their federal representative. "You go near for us." This establishes the principle of mediation for the entire Old Covenant. Moses, and after him the priests and the prophets, would stand in this gap. The people's promise is telling: "we will hear and do it." In this moment, they are sincere. But the rest of the Old Testament is the sad story of their failure to keep this promise. Their request for a mediator was right, but they needed more than a human mediator. They needed a divine mediator who could not only speak God's words to them, but also give them a new heart to obey those words. They needed Jesus.

Application

The modern Christian, particularly in the West, is in grave danger of forgetting the fire on the mountain. We have emphasized the approachability of God in Christ so much that we have forgotten whom we are approaching. We sing "I am a friend of God," but we forget that this friendship was purchased at an infinite cost by a Mediator who absorbed the consuming fire of God's wrath on our behalf. The author of Hebrews reminds us that while we have not come to the terrifying mountain of Sinai, we have come to Mount Zion. But he immediately follows this by saying, "Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire" (Heb 12:28-29).

The lesson of Sinai is that we dare not approach God without a mediator. Our mediator is not Moses, but Jesus, who is infinitely greater. Our access to God is not based on our goodness, but on His blood. This should produce in us two things. First, a profound sense of gratitude and security. We do not have to fear being consumed, because Christ was consumed for us. Second, it should produce in us a deep and abiding reverence. We should never treat the presence of God casually. The Israelites' fear was a right and holy thing. We should pray that God would restore a measure of that same holy fear to His church today, so that we might worship Him acceptably, with reverence and awe.