The Sacrifice

by Don “Avraham” Franklin of Emet Ministries

www.emetministries.com

It is my first time I’ve ever come to the temple to offer a sacrifice for my sins before Yahweh. It seems like such a simple concept. All I have to do is pick an unblemished lamb from my flock and bring it to the temple.

All around me the people hurry with their animals. Noise and excitement fills the air of the courtyard. There are many going in with their lambs or birds.

I wait with my lamb for my turn to see the priest. I had carefully chose the best lamb in my flock. I am, after all, going to offer it to Father Yahweh, and I want it to be perfect. The little animal rests its head against my chest as we stand in line. I can smell the sweet fragrance of the meadow grass in its fur.

Finally, I am motioned closer. The priest, dressed in the beautiful ceremonial garb holds in his hand the knife that I am going to kill my lamb with. I am instructed to lay my hand on the head of the lamb and to kill it by slicing its throat. I set the little animal on the ground and take the knife from the priest. I look at the sharp knife. Then I look at the lamb standing next to my legs. The noise and excitement has frightened the little animal and it draws close to me for comfort. The priest nods his head to me to let me know that the time to offer my sacrifice has come. There are many people waiting behind me for their turn. The lamb looks up at me, unafraid.

I bend and rest my hand on the small soft head. I see the tiny tail wag, comforted by my touch. I rest the knife on the underside of its throat. It’s now or never. I can pay the price of my sins myself, or I can let this small innocent sacrifice bear the penalty for me. I draw the knife firmly against the flesh and stand back as blood splashes on my feet. The eyes of the lamb look into mine with the sadness known only by one that has been betrayed.

I close my eyes, desperate to block the sight of the dying animal from my mind. The priest, ready to finish the job, instructs me to place my hands on the head of the dying lamb, so that my sacrifice will be accepted and my sins forgiven.

With all the strength and courage that I can muster, I open my eyes to touch the little head of my lamb one last time…

There standing before me is a man. Beaten and bleeding. His flesh torn to shreds from the whip. A crown of thorns embeds the crown of his head. Blood trickles down his face and falls to the ground. I hear a voice once again urging me to lay my hands on his head. I look into the eyes of the Messiah and he gently lowers his head toward me. I touch his face with my hands, the sweat and blood sticks to my skin. He looks into my eyes one last time and whispers to me, “It is finished, I’ve paid it all for you.”