1 Then verily the first covenant had also ordinances of divine service, and a worldly sanctuary.
2 For there was a tabernacle made; the first, wherein was the candlestick, and the table, and the shewbread; which is called the sanctuary.
3 And after the second veil, the tabernacle which is called the Holiest of all;
4 Which had the golden censer, and the ark of the covenant overlaid round about with gold, wherein was the golden pot that had manna, and Aaron's rod that budded, and the tables of the covenant;
5 And over it the cherubims of glory shadowing the mercyseat; of which we cannot now speak particularly.
6 Now when these things were thus ordained, the priests went always into the first tabernacle, accomplishing the service of God.
7 But into the second went the high priest alone once every year, not without blood, which he offered for himself, and for the errors of the people:
8 The Holy Ghost this signifying, that the way into the holiest of all was not yet made manifest, while as the first tabernacle was yet standing:
9 Which was a figure for the time then present, in which were offered both gifts and sacrifices, that could not make him that did the service perfect, as pertaining to the conscience;
10 Which stood only in meats and drinks, and divers washings, and carnal ordinances, imposed on them until the time of reformation.
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Describing in some detail the arrangement of the tabernacle, well known to his contemporaries from the text of Exodus, the author of the letter at the same time focuses his readers' attention on the fact that the very form of Yahwist worship implied a certain incompleteness. It hinted at something greater than what it could give a person in terms of purification and sanctification. The author describes the tabernacle as an earthly sanctuary connected with that "first covenant" which joined the people to God at Sinai (vv. 1-5). This sanctuary had its role: it was the place of God's presence, which purified and sanctified the people (vv. 6-7). But the very fact that such a sanctuary existed showed that neither complete purification nor complete sanctification was possible in those times, when many centuries still remained before the coming of the Messiah (vv. 8-10).
Here we face a problem over which Paul had already reflected a great deal: spiritual life is not the sphere where quantity turns into quality by itself. Increasing the number of religious duties a person performs does not bring the performer closer to the ideal spiritual state of a living Torah, even if the number of those duties tends toward infinity.
The new spiritual quality is, in principle, irreducible to the quantity of "spiritual" deeds a person performs. The same is true of sanctification or purification: even increasing the number of purification rituals to infinity will not free the one being purified from the power of sin, just as repeated sanctification over and over again will not fully transform the human nature of the one being sanctified. Here too, quantity does not become quality by itself. A special, purposeful spiritual effort is needed for such a transition to become reality, and for a person truly to have the possibility of sharing in the life of the Kingdom. Before the Messiah's coming, the main task of spiritual life remained the maintenance of at least a relative spiritual balance, one that would allow those seeking a righteous life at least not to sink into sin and not to fall completely under the power of the laws of an untransformed world.
Of course, even this task was far from easy to solve, but it was nevertheless solved, so that the world did not collapse into the abyss before the coming of the Messiah. Only now has it become possible to speak of taking the next step, after which, in the light of the Kingdom that has been revealed, the former efforts and former forms will no longer be needed.