CHAPTER 11
The Third Book of Moses: Leviticus
In this chapter, I am writing down the main passages from the Third Book of Moses – Leviticus.
This is not an attempt to retell the entire book. I am recording only those passages that, for some reason, my grandmother consciously marked for us. And for me, it is not only the words she marked that matter. Their order matters too. It is as if she divided the path of understanding and left it for us step by step – chapter by chapter.
So I do not want to change this sequence. I will follow it exactly as she left it: from one marked passage to the next, trying to understand not only what each one means on its own, but also what they say when they are brought together.
First. Sacrifice – Purification and Transformation. At the beginning of Leviticus, my grandmother marked passages connected with sacrifice, washing with water, and purification. I do not know why these particular lines were important to her. But if we look at them symbolically, sacrifice does not have to mean only the literal offering of something. For me, it can also be an image of letting go of an old life. Cleansing ourselves of pain. Passing through loss. Transformation through fire. Sometimes we have to leave something behind in order to continue our journey. Not because the past never existed, but because we can no longer carry it with us. And perhaps purification also means this:
Do not carry someone else’s dirt, evil, or cruelty inside you.
Cleanse yourself of what others have passed on to you, so that one day you do not pass it on again. So that someone else’s pain, which was once passed on to you, is not passed on again. Let the chain and with you.
Second. The Salt of the Covenant. “Season all your offerings with salt.”
In ancient texts, salt can symbolize preservation – memory, covenant, something that must endure through time and be protected from decay. And this is how I understand the words my grandmother marked. Preserve what is personal, but do not lose the essence of your lineage. Preserving your lineage does not mean repeating everything that came before you. Not everything old should be passed on simply because it is old. Memory must be preserved. But destruction must be stopped. Do not repeat what once destroyed your family. Do not give away your children. Protect your children at any cost. Let them know where they came from. Let them know the stories of those who came before them. But they are not required to inherit their pain. Perhaps this is what the salt of the Covenant means to me:
Preserve what must not disappear, and do not allow what once destroyed to be preserved.
Third. Do Not Keep What Has Already Ended. Do not keep the sacrifice until the third day. For me, these words sound like another symbolic reminder: do not hold on too long to a dead past. Do not continue carrying what has already ended. Do not try to preserve what it is time lo let go. The past should be remembered, but we should not continue living inside it. And here, an important distinction appears for me. Letting go of the past does not mean abandoning your roots. Remember who you are. You are not orphans of history. You have roots. You have a lineage. You have a soure. Preserve the memory of where you came from, but do not allow the past to keep you in a place where you no longer belong. Take with you what gives you strength. And leave behind what has already died.
Fourth. Separate the Clean from the Unclean. Chapter Eleven of Leviticus.
My grandmother made especially many markings here. This chapter speaks about the laws of food – about what is considered clean and unclean. For me, another step of understanding appears here: learn to separate the clean from the unclean. After purification, preserving memory, and releasing the past, a person must learn to discern. What can be allowed to become part of you, and what should remain outside.
Fifth. After Birth – A period of Purification. Chapter Twelve. Birth. And after birth – a period of purification. I leave this image exactly as it appears in the sequence of the text, because the sequence itself seems important to me. After separating the clean from the unclean comes the birth of something new. And even after something new is born, purification is not yet complete.
Sixth. Diseases of the Skin. Leprosy. And here another image appears that I cannot ignore. The skin is the boundary between the inner and the outer word. It separates what is inside us from what is outside us. And so, after all the previous themes – purification, memory, releasing the past, discerning between clean and unclean, the birth of something new – the theme of boundaries appears. The boundary between inner and outer. Between what belongs to you and what comes from outside.
Seventh. Healing After a Wound. After a severe wound, purification and a return to life are possible. If the afflicted person heals, they can return. For me, the possibility of returning is deeply important. A wound does not have to become the end of the journey. Even after severe affliction, healing can come. After a period of separation, there can be a return. After pain – life again. A person can be wounded without having to remain their wound forever. Healing is possible. Return is possible. Life after a wound is possible.
Eighth. The Body Remembers Pain. And for me, the subject of the body goes much deeper than it may first appear. Our bodies are also a continuation of those who lived before us. We carry the DNA of our ancestors. In the physical existence of each of us, the story of countless generations that came before continues. That is why I believe we should listen to our bodies. Sometimes the mind says: it is over. But the body continues to remember. It responds with fear, tension, pain, or some unexplained inner signal. And for me, the body can sometimes become another language through which we can hear not only ourselves, but also echoes of the history of our lineage. I am not saying that the memories of our ancestors are literally stored in our DNA as memories. I mean something else.
Our bodies carry the continuation of our lineage. And that is why I do not want to treat the body’s signals as something insignificant. Sometimes it is worth stopping and asking: Why is my body speaking to me now? What is it trying to protect? What does it remember? What of this truly belongs to me – and what seems to have reached me from a story that began long before I was born? Listen to your body. Perhaps sometimes it knows more about your story that your mind has yet understood. But the body passes through suffering – and this is not the end of the soul. In Leviticus, the thought appears again: “And he shall be unclean until evening.” Not forever. This condition has a boundary. It has an end. Even if the body carries a trace of what it has experienced, that trace does not have to become a sentence. You can hear it. You can try to understand it. You can heal what can be healed and refuse to pass on what should not continue into the next generation. The body may remember. But memory is not a sentence. A wound can heal. And the soul continues its journey.
Ninth. Carry the Sin into the Wilderness. Chapter sixteen. Here we find the image of the goat carrying the iniquities away – into the wilderness. For me, this image says that not all evil has to remain within the lineage. Not everything that was done before us has to continue living within us. Not all the pain carried by previous generations has to be passed on to those who come next.
“And the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities…”. I read this image and think about generational pain. About what sometimes needs to be carried beyond the boundaries of the family and left there. Do not pass on the evil that was once passed on to you. Do not make your children carry what belongs to the past. There are things that one day must be carried into the wilderness and never brought back.
Tenth. Blood as Life. Chapter seventeen. Here I want to pause and speak about blood separately. Leviticus says: “The life of the flesh is in the blood.” Blood here is not simply part of the body. Blood is life. And perhaps this is precisely why such a strict boundary surronds it. If life is sacred, then what carries life cannot become an instrument of power, strenght, or possession. You cannot turn another person’s life into a source of your own power. Another person’s soul does not belong to you. There are boundaries that a human being must not cross. Especially when children are involved.
Do not touch what does not belong to you. Do not seek power where another person’s life is concerned. Do not take what was never given to you. Blood carries life. And life is sacred. Those who need to understand more will understand.
Eleventh. The Boundaries of the lineage. Chapter Eighteen. Here the theme of boundaries appears aggain-but now they are boundaries within the lineage itselfe.
The lineage must be preserved in purity. For me, this continues everything that has passed through the previous chapter: purification, discernment, boundaries, pain, healing, and what we pass on to the generations that follow us. “Keep my statutes.” Do not destroy yourself of your leneage by repeating pain. Do not turn what once caused suffering into an inheritance for the generations that come next. There are buondaries that should protect a lineage, not destroy it.
Twelfth. Do not follow the Darkness. Chapter Nineteen. “Do not turn to those who consult the dead..” For me, it is important to draw a boundary here. Remember your ancestors. Remember their stories. Preserve the love, the memory, and the good they left behind. But do not remain living in the world of the dead. Remembering your ancestors and living among the dead are not the same thing. We can remember those who have gone and continue to love them. But our path is here. Remember yes. Remain there no. Do not allow darkness to become your home. Return to life.
Thirteenth. The price of sacrifice. Chapter Twenty. Some decisions carry a spiritual price. Not every choice ends at the moment it is made. Sometimes its consequences travel beyond the person who made it – into their life, relationchips, family, and the generations that follow. That is why choices matter. What you allow into your life matters. What you give yourself to matters. Some decisions have a price. And before paying, you need to understand what you are choising.
Fourteenth. Choose life. Chapter Twenty-One. The sanctity of life. Once again, a boundary appears between the living and the dead: do not touch the dead. For me, a thought that has already appeared earlier continues to sound here: remember the dead, but choose life. You can preserve memory. You can love those who are no longer beside you. You can remember your roots and know the history of your lineage. But you cannot allow death to take your own life together with those who have gone. You remain here. And while you are here-choose life.
Fifteenth. Do not bring God what in damaged. This chapter says that a blind, injured, of defective animal should not be brought to the Lord as an offering. I read these words symbolically. Do not give God what is broken inside you without first becoming aware of that brokenness. Do not hide your wounds behind faith. Do not call holy what continues to destroy you from within. First, see your wound. Acknowledge it. Understand what has been damaged. And even if life has wounded you, try to preserve within yourself what life should never be allowed to take away.
Your dignity. Being wounded does not mean being destroyet. Having scars does not mean losing your worth. Even after passing through pain, a person can preserve something pure within themselves – something they can one day bring to God not out of fear or brokenness, but consciously. Even when wounded, strive to preserve your inner dignity.
Sixteenth. A time for rest and sacred cycles. A time for rest. Sacred days. Times for work and times for stillness. And here I hear a very simple reminder: Life is not only struggle. Do not live only in suffering. Even if much of your journey has been a struggle, it does not mean that struggle must become the only state you know how to recognize. Pain must have an ending. Work must have rest. Every season must have its own time. Allow yourself to stop. Allow yourself to live withhout struggle.
Seventeenth. Joy after leaving slavery. After everything that has been endured, another thouht appears: after exile, there must come a celebration of life. After slavery – freedom. After pain – life. After a long journey – the possibility of joy again. Rejoice before the Lord. Do not make suffering your permanemt identity simply because you once had to pass through it. If you have outlived it – life. If you have become free – do not return inwardly to your slavery. If you have survived pain-do not give it all the time you have left. Life after pain must continue. And perhaps learning to feel again is also part of healing.
After pain, choose life. After slavery, choose freedom. After darkness, do not be afraid of celebration.
Eighteenth. Freedom, land, and returning home. Chapter Twenty-Five. “Proclaim liberty throughout the land.” “Return every one of you to your pessession.” Do not wrong one another. The redemption of slaves. Again and again, freedom appears in this chapter. And for me, its meaning reaches far beyond literal slavery. A human being should not remain in slavery ferever. Not literally. Not emotionally. Not generationally. You can be born into a story that began long nefore you. Along with it, you may inherit fear, pain, the habit of enduring, remaining silent, obeying, or living as though you have no choice. But that does not mean you are required to pass all of it on. Our lineage has lived through a lack of freedom. And perhaps our task is not to continue carrying it, but one day to bring it to an end.
Proclaim freedom. Return to yourself. Return to your land-whether outer or inner. Return to the place where your life belongs to you again. Do not become slaves to someone else’s pain. Do not enslave those who come after you. Let what has continued for generations finally stop.
Our lineage has lived through a lack of freedom. Our task is to bring it to an and. And then perhaps returning home is not only a return to a place. Sometimes returning home means returning to your own freedom.
Nineteenth. The note about Zion.
To be continued…
