The Targum's version of (Numbers 28) transforms a dry sacrificial calendar into a theology of continuous atonement. Where the Torah simply lists the daily offerings, the Targum explains their spiritual mechanics. The morning lamb was offered "to make atonement for the sins of the night." The evening lamb was offered "to atone for the sins of the day." Every twelve hours, Israel's slate was wiped clean. Sin accumulated by the hour, and sacrifice answered on the same schedule.
God's opening instruction contains a phrase the Torah does not include: "The priests may eat of My oblation the bread of the order of My table; but that which you offer upon My altar may no man eat. Is there not a fire that will consume it?" The Targum distinguishes between the portions priests could consume and the portions that belonged exclusively to the altar's flame. God's table had two tiers—human and divine.
The wine libation comes with a startling specification. It must be poured "from the vessels of the house of the sanctuary" and must be old wine. "But if old wine may not be found, bring wine of forty days to pour out before the Lord." Forty days was the minimum aging period for wine acceptable to God. Fresh wine was unfit for the altar.
The perpetual burnt offering is traced to its origin: "such as was ordained to be offered at Mount Sinai." Every daily sacrifice in the Tabernacle and later the Temple was understood as a continuation of what began at Sinai—not a new institution but an unbroken chain reaching back to revelation itself.
The New Moon offering adds an astronomical detail. The goat for a sin offering is brought "at the disappearing of the moon"—the Targum connects the sacrifice to the precise moment of lunar failure, when the moon vanishes before its renewal. Even the cosmos required atonement at its points of transition. The Passover and Shavuot (the Festival of Weeks) offerings follow, each with their precise flour measurements and oil mixtures, each described as being "received with favour before the Lord"—a phrase the Targum repeats like a refrain, emphasizing that these sacrifices were not obligations grudgingly accepted but gifts eagerly welcomed.