The Scapegoat of Leviticus

 

When we come to Leviticus 16, we aren’t just reading instructions—we’re entering danger. This chapter doesn't begin with a rulebook; it begins with a funeral. It opens with death echoing through the priesthood:

“Now the LORD spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron, when they drew near before the LORD and died.”
—Leviticus 16:1

Nadav and Avihu had offered esh zarah—strange fire—before YHWH. They were sons of the High Priest, consecrated, dressed in holy garments, serving in sacred space. But one step outside God's boundaries and they dropped—dead. Not because God was cruel, but because holiness is lethal when touched in impurity. The holy doesn’t tolerate contamination.

So when God speaks to Moses here, it isn’t a casual update—it’s a warning. And verse 2 is the flashing light:

“Tell your brother Aaron not to come at just any time into the Holy Place inside the veil, before the mercy seat which is on the ark, lest he die.”
—Leviticus 16:2

In Hebrew, the command is: “’al-yavo” — “he shall not come.” Not “he might want to think twice.” Not “it’s best to avoid.” No—do not come. It’s a divine boundary. God is not like us. His presence isn’t neutral. The kapporet—the atonement cover, the “mercy seat”—wasn’t just a lid on the ark. It was the location where God said:

“There I will meet with you; and from above the mercy seat… I will speak with you.”
—Exodus 25:22

And that presence wasn’t invisible mist. It was fire, glory, power. When Aaron enters on this day, he doesn’t walk in to offer praise—he walks in to survive.

So YHWH lays out a divine choreography: this is how you enter sacred space and live. Not by coming confidently, but by coming covered.

Aaron is told to bring a bull for a chatat (purification offering) and a ram for an olah (whole burnt offering)—for himself.

“Thus Aaron shall come into the Holy Place: with the blood of a young bull as a sin offering, and of a ram as a burnt offering.”
—Leviticus 16:3

Before he can carry the sins of the nation, he must deal with his own. He removes his usual golden vestments and dresses in simple white linen—the garments of humility:

“He shall put the holy linen tunic and the linen trousers on his body… These are holy garments. Therefore he shall wash his body in water, and put them on.”
—Leviticus 16:4

Even glory has to bow before glory.

Then come the two goats:

“And he shall take from the congregation of the children of Israel two kids of the goats as a sin offering, and one ram as a burnt offering.”
—Leviticus 16:5

These two goats are not random. They are one offering split in two bodies—two halves of a single act of atonement. Aaron presents them before the LORD, then casts goralot—lots—to divide their destinies:

“Then Aaron shall cast lots for the two goats: one lot for the LORD and the other lot for Azazel.”
—Leviticus 16:8

One goat is for YHWH, to be slaughtered—its blood carried behind the veil and sprinkled seven times before the kapporet. Why? Because sin doesn’t just stain people—it stains space. The tabernacle, the altar, the veil—it all had to be cleansed from contact with human guilt.

“He shall make atonement for the Holy Place, because of the uncleanness of the children of Israel, and because of their transgressions, for all their sins.”
—Leviticus 16:16

The Hebrew word for atonement here is kaphar—which means not “excuse” but to cover, to cleanse, to wipe clean. It’s the same word used in Genesis 6:14, when God tells Noah to cover the ark with pitch—to seal it against the flood. That blood was a spiritual sealant, shielding God’s dwelling from pollution.

But then comes the second goat.

The one for Azazel.

This goat is not slaughtered. It remains alive and is presented before the LORD—not as a backup plan, but as essential to the whole act of atonement.

“And Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities (avonot) of the children of Israel, all their transgressions (pesha’im), concerning all their sins (chatta’ot), putting them on the head of the goat.”
—Leviticus 16:21

Three words. All levels of guilt:

• Chatta’ot – sins committed in ignorance or weakness.

• Pesha’im – willful rebellion.

• Avonot – twisted iniquity, the crookedness within.

This isn't symbolic. This is legal transference. Aaron doesn’t just wave his hand—he presses both hands (shtei yadav) on its head and speaks aloud the record of the people’s guilt. The goat becomes a vessel, carrying the nation’s filth on its back.

Then, a man is chosen. He is not named. Only described:

“And shall send it away by the hand of a suitable man (ish itti) into the wilderness.”
—Leviticus 16:21

In Hebrew, ish itti literally means “a man of the appointed time.” This is not a random guy. He’s been designated, sanctified, chosen for this one task: to carry guilt into the void.

He leads the goat to an eretz gezerah—a cut-off land. The word “gezerah” means something severed, isolated, beyond return. A land with no path home. That goat doesn’t just go for a walk. It is exiled—thrown out of the community, away from the tabernacle, into a place where holiness will never reach.

“The goat shall bear on itself all their iniquities to an uninhabited land; and he shall release the goat in the wilderness.”
—Leviticus 16:22

That’s Azazel. It’s not a demon. It’s a compound word: likely from “az” (fierce/strong) and “azel” (to go away). It means “complete removal.” No forgiveness. No sacrifice. No altar. Just removal into exile.

The goat doesn’t just leave—the guilt leaves with it.

And the man who leads it?

“Then he who released the goat shall wash his clothes and bathe his body in water, and afterward he may come into the camp.”
—Leviticus 16:26

He becomes impure—not because he sinned, but because he touched the carrier of sin. That goat was spiritually radioactive. The man’s contact with it—leading it, releasing it—renders him unfit to return until he’s been washed and stripped clean.

Why?

Because in the eyes of Heaven, he didn’t just walk a goat. He handled a loaded, sin-bearing creature that symbolically carried the full defilement of the nation. He was too close to the fire.

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Now, fast forward.

This whole scene is a shadow—a temporary sketch until the substance came.

When the writer of Hebrews addresses Jewish believers wrestling with the loss of the Temple, he doesn’t discard Leviticus—he illuminates it.

“But into the second part the high priest went alone once a year, not without blood, which he offered for himself and for the people’s sins committed in ignorance.”
—Hebrews 9:7

This is Yom Kippur to the letter. But then comes the shift:

“But Christ came as High Priest of the good things to come, with the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands…”
—Hebrews 9:11

Yeshua didn’t walk into the earthly Holy of Holies. He entered Heaven itself.

“Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.”
—Hebrews 9:12

He is the archiereus—the Chief Priest—but He did what no Levitical priest ever did. He didn’t just sprinkle blood—He bled. He didn’t stay behind the veil—He tore it.

“How much more shall the blood of Christ… cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?”
—Hebrews 9:14

But He didn’t just fulfill the goat that was slain. He also fulfilled the goat that was sent.

“For the bodies of those animals, whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest for sin, are burned outside the camp. Therefore Yeshua also, that He might sanctify the people with His own blood, suffered outside the gate.”
—Hebrews 13:11-12

That’s Azazel. Carried outside. Rejected. Exiled.

“He was cut off out of the land of the living; for the transgression of My people He was stricken.”
—Isaiah 53:8

He bore not just our punishment—but our uncleanness.

And unlike the scapegoat… He came back.

No animal ever returned. No High Priest ever entered the veil and walked out of the tomb. But Yeshua, having embodied both goats, having been both slain and exiled, now stands in resurrection—alive, clean, and full of mercy.

So when Hebrews says:

“Let us go to Him outside the camp, bearing His reproach…”
—Hebrews 13:13

It’s not poetry. It’s a call. Go to where He bore your guilt. Go to where sin was exiled. Go to the wilderness where the scapegoat once disappeared—and you’ll find the Lamb of God waiting, alive.

Because now, there is One Priest, One Sacrifice, One Offering, One Resurrection—and not a single sin left unremoved.