All of us want to fit in and belong. And there are certain groups that appear to be influential that we’d particularly find it meaningful to be a part of. It’s personally satisfying to be invited to have a seat at the table … to be considered significant enough to where we’re given a voice and respected to the level to where our words will be factored into any decision the group makes.
But in some groups, there’s a significant price to be paid for becoming part of the inner circle. There are unwritten expectations that come with the territory—expectations of fealty and loyalty that can come at the expense of our character and integrity. For instance, if you’re a member of a fraternity and saw something go down at a frat party—someone was assaulted or taken advantage of—you may find yourself pressured to lie about what you observed in hopes of keeping the matter under wraps. If you’re a part of a military unit and you witnessed a fellow soldier torturing a prisoner of war, you could very easily be pressured to downplay what you saw out of a sense of loyalty. We’ve seen this recently in the Trump White House—a number of inner circle people are owning up to some things they observed during their time there that were questionable … things they previously chose to keep quiet about out of devotion to the group and loyalty to the president. There are situations where being a part of the inner circle comes at great personal cost—you can be cut off, derided, and ostracized.
It appears something like this prompted the writing of Hebrews as it’s a letter written to Christians from a Jewish background—people who’d professed their faith in Jesus but were experiencing hardship and beginning to re-evaluate their decision. They had stepped away from the circle of institutional Judaism but were being cold-shouldered. They were being shunned socially and professionally. They were at risk of losing their property and homes. Some of them were thrown in prison and felt their very lives were at risk. And many were beginning to think, “You know, being inside that circle was a pretty comfortable place, and things are really uncomfortable out here. If we were to retrace our steps and reconnect with that circle, this hardship would start to fade and life would become so much easier.” So what the writer of Hebrews is in essence saying is, “Yes! If you do that, the persecution will indeed diminish. But the impact of turning your back on Jesus will be considerable—not because he’ll banish you, but because what He has to offer—and what you’re able to experience living life in relationship with Him—is far superior to anything Judaism has to offer. You’d be walking away from something that is head and shoulders above what you’ll find inside the circle.”
And his challenge to his audience climaxes in Hebrews 13:13 where he says, “Let us, then, go to him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace he bore.” In so doing, he alludes to the Jewish sacrificial system and, in particular, a ceremony with which the audience would have been very familiar—the Day of Atonement. This was perhaps the most hallowed and holy day in the Jewish belief system—the day when the High Priest performed a solemn ceremony on behalf of the entire nation of Israel that symbolized the forgiveness of sin—a day when adherents were asked to think introspectively and give themselves to confession of sin and remorse for their wrongdoing.
It began with the High Priest bathing and donning special garments. Then he’d sacrifice a bull as a sin offering for himself before sprinkling its blood on the ark of the covenant. This symbolized the need for the forgiveness of the priest’s own sins, for he couldn’t function in this capacity unless he was personally right with God. By going into the Holy of Holies and offering incense and sprinkling the blood from the sacrifice on the ark, he’d become qualified to spend time in the Lord’s presence as well as perform the attendant duties on the people’s behalf.
Next, there were two goats and they’d cast lots to determine what would happen to each of them. The first goat—the one that “lost”—would be slaughtered and his blood would be brought back into the tabernacle to purify everything before his remains would be taken outside the camp and burned. The second one—the one that “won”—the High Priest would place his hands upon its head as a symbol of identification, and then confess all the wickedness, sin, and rebellion of the people. Then someone previously chosen for the task would lead this goat out into the surrounding wilderness—“outside the camp”—and release it, symbolizing that the sins of the people had been removed. This animal was symbolically imbued with the sins of the people and sent out alive into the wilderness to live out its life in the perilous and threatening habitat of everything that went on outside the camp.
The wilderness was a place of risk and great danger! It was the haunt of demons. It was where those that were deemed unclean—the Gentiles … lepers … society’s throwaways—lived. Hazards lurked around every corner. Being outside the camp meant you had some sort of unholy contagion. It was the place of curse and calamity as opposed to being inside the circle, which was the place of good fortune and blessing as God’s chosen people. People didn’t go outside the camp and into the wilderness because they wanted to get away from the commotion of everyday life and experience a sense of adventure. People went outside the camp and into the wilderness because there was something flawed and defective about them. Being outside the camp was a place to which one was banished or exiled. It was the place were bad stuff happened. No one aspired to find him/herself there.
The writer’s charge to join Jesus “outside the camp” is one that would make marketing firms say, “No! No! No! Typically, if we’re trying to convince people to do something, we tout the benefits—not the difficulties or hardships connected to it. But I’m reminded of what Dietrich Bonhoeffer in “The Cost of Discipleship” said about cheap grace and the penchant of many churches to try and peddle a gospel void of cost. When we soft sell the ramifications of a commitment to Jesus, we are setting people up for failure. For the gospel is the pearl of great price buried in a field which the prospective landowner sells everything he has so he can buy that plot of land. We’re talking about that which Jesus challenged his first listeners to pluck out their eye or cut off a limb if it caused them to stumble. We’re talking about something which compelled his first followers to drop their nets and walk away from their livelihood so they could embrace it fully. Bottom line: this free gift is costly. And to fully embrace it, it’s going to take us outside the camp.
But we must remember it was outside the camp where sin was decisively dealt with. On the Day of Atonement, the blood of the slaughtered goat was sprinkled on the ark, but his remains were taken outside the camp and burned. It was also outside the camp where the scapegoat was banished—sentenced to a solitary life of isolation at the whim of whatever evil forces he might encounter. Calvary, at the time Jesus died, was located outside the city gates of Jerusalem. The journey to Pilate’s palace to that hill where He died took him outside the camp—a fact that was incredibly important to those who’d been raised in Judaism. They understood the connotations and meaning of the symbolism. His death took him to the realm where affliction and torment were common … the place where misery and hardship were to be expected … the domain where, typically, nothing good ever happened. It took him to the realm of tumult and chaos that was reserved for the worst of the worst.
But it is outside the camp, and only outside the camp, where grace can be experienced. It is outside the camp where the curse of sin has been decisively dealt with. It is outside the camp where the burden of our wrongdoing has been addressed. Jesus suffered outside the camp! He went where nobody in their right mind wanted to go and experienced what nobody in their right mind wanted to experience so we can know that which everyone who’s ever lived thirsts for and craves—that which the High Priest could only allude to and communicate through symbols—the forgiveness of sin … the absolution of our guilt and shame … the remission of all that which has the potential to separate us from God. And while there’s some anxiety and strife that comes with the territory of being outside the camp, there’s also a sense of nourishment and resourcing that those who are part of institutional Judaism will never know. When he says in v. 10 that “We have an altar from which those who minister at the tabernacle have no right to eat”, what he’s saying is we’ve been provided with a resource those on the inside can never comprehend or appreciate. And when he says in v. 14 that “We do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come,” what he’s getting as it that, for those of us that experience the negative fallout and periodic reproach that comes from following Jesus outside the camp, right now is the worst it will ever get. Things are only going to get better from here! For on the horizon is a city that is glorious and beautiful beyond compare, and we will someday assume permanent residence within its bounds.
Our response to this? “Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name. And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.” ( Heb. 13:15-16). Let us not just feel adoring emotions or think reverential thoughts but let us continually offer up expressions of praise to God. But let us validate and substantiate those expressions of praise by how we live. For the fact of the matter is our public and vocal expressions of praise are not a source of delight unless they are substantiated by the example of our life. In fact, when our words and actions don’t align, He finds them empty, hollow, and meaningless. He calls us to, as Matt. 5:16 says, “Let our light shine before others, that they may see our good deeds and glorify our Father in heaven.” That is the essence of holiness—Christlikeness … our words and actions aligning. And that’s the writer’s purpose in challenging his audience to venture outside the camp. “Jesus … suffered outside the camp to make the people holy through his own blood” (Heb. 13:12).