The Best Part of the Liver

I had the bright idea, or maybe call it inspiration, to read the Bible from cover to cover … aloud … to my elementary school-aged kids.

Including the Old Testament. Geez. What a noble goal.

Genesis and Exodus weren’t bad; they have a lot happening that grabs a kid's attention—creation of the world and stuff. I kept things interesting with hugely animated voices. Occasionally I threw in obviously ridiculous fiction just so the kids would wake up and say, “Does the Bible really say that?” I’d respond, “Nope, just seeing if you were listening.” Ah, but now and then I’d read an adventuresome passage; the kids would respond, “It doesn’t really say that!” But it did, and we’d be amazed at God and his people.

Then came Leviticus. Have you read Leviticus? Beautiful, dutiful Leviticus. Moses wrote it as a set of instructions—extremely detailed ones—for social and religious life back then. Leviticus reminds me of those guys on some talk radio programs—the ones who repeat a point over and over as though all the listeners are thick as a brick. “OK! I get it! I heard you the first three times!” Leviticus is also in the same vein as the IRS tax code or EPA regulations—laborious.

Leviticus repeats instructions for, and accounts of, sacrifices: offerings for fellowship, sin, guilt, and ordinations; what may be eaten and what’s forbidden; what to burn on the altar and what to burn outside the camp; where to put or sprinkle blood.

The standout phrase in the version we read was “the best part of the liver.” Moses gave instructions for, say, a fellowship offering of a lamb. Then he gave similar directions for, say, a fellowship offering of a goat. He wrote of loins and livers and blood and fat and kidneys. These mandates included the phrase, “…and the best part of the liver…” so often, that when I got to that part of the passage, I'd pause, simply say, “aaaaaaand,” and the kids would finish the phrase in cheering unison, “the best part of the liver!”

One day my daughter asked, “Mama, what IS the best part of the liver?”

“Honey, it’s either the ketchup or the onions!”

Shortly after our Leviticus quest, we sat around a campfire with several other kids and adults at a youth group camp-out. One youth was chattering at length. Upon realizing no one was listening to her, she exclaimed, “What am I? Chopped liver?” Zing! Ring! Bing! The lights flashed; the bells and whistles went off. My kids had just heard that magical trigger word: Liver. They immediately stopped what they were doing and, unrehearsed, declared together, “No! You’re the BEST PART OF THE LIVER!” leaving a remarkably bewildered look on that young lady’s face.

Not a lovely compliment - bleh! raw liver! - but a loving compliment, something special to God. Scholars debate if the best part of the liver was, among other things, the covering of the liver, a lobe of the liver, or the fat joining the liver and the kidneys. They agree, though, that whatever the item, it was special; God had dibs on it. When offered to him, it pleased him. So, truly, that young lady and the best part of the liver have plenty in common. Each is distinct to, and desired by, God. And so are we.

Geeb Deering laps up life with her husband in the land of really good air and people: Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. She’s a fall freak and adores flowers for what they are—God’s extravagance. She has a fondness for pulling weeds and for editing documents (just another type of weeding!). “The Best Part of the Liver!” is a joyful and important memory built with her two children, and is Geeb’s writing debut.