And somewhere between the sacrifices, ceremonies, and laws in Leviticus, I found myself unexpectedly fixated on… pigeons.

Before reading these passages, if you had asked me to picture an animal worthy of being used as a holy sacrifice to God, I probably would have imagined something majestic or symbolic. A spotless lamb, maybe. A dove, sure. Something gentle and graceful. Definitely not a pigeon. I grew up near Toronto, and from my modern perspective, pigeons were basically urban freeloaders. They hung around outside restaurants waiting for dropped fries, strutted around parking lots like they owned the place, and generally came across as kind of derpy. People literally call them “rats with wings,” so imagine my confusion when I came across passages in the Old Testament where pigeons were listed as acceptable sacrifices before God. Not only acceptable, but specifically instructed in certain situations. God says:

“But if they cannot afford a lamb, they are to bring two doves or two young pigeons…”

Leviticus 5:7

And again:

“If she cannot afford a lamb, she is to bring two doves or two young pigeons…”

Leviticus 12:8

Even Mary and Joseph brought birds as their offering after the birth of Jesus Christ in Luke 2:24.

At first, I understood the dove part. Biblically, doves carry symbolism that feels easy to connect with. Peace, purity, innocence, even the imagery of the Holy Spirit descending “like a dove.” That makes sense to me.

But pigeons still felt oddly out of place.

Culturally, we don’t really think of pigeons as beautiful creatures. They’re common. Scrappy. Dirty, depending on who you ask. Easy to overlook. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized maybe that was part of the point.

Under the sacrificial system, not everyone could afford livestock. A lamb or goat was expensive, especially considering how often sacrifices and offerings were required under the Law. God made provision for ordinary people too. Doves and pigeons were accessible to those who could not afford larger animals, and that detail reveals something important about God’s character: access to Him was not reserved for the wealthy.

That realization changed the way I read these passages.

Because the more I read the Old Testament, the more grateful I become for what Jesus Christ did for us. Today, I can pray directly to God. I can ask forgiveness without bringing an offering to a priest. I don’t have to continually sacrifice animals to atone for my sins because Christ became the final sacrifice.

And if I’m honest, I think many of us, myself included, sometimes take that for granted. Grace can feel so accessible without the knowledge of what access to God once cost. Reading Leviticus reminded me that forgiveness is not cheap.

Christ did not offer a pigeon.

He offered His life.

Which somehow makes those little “rats with wings” feel a lot more significant than they ever did before.