and say, Thus saith the Lord Jehovah A great eagle with great wings, long-pinioned, full of feathers, which was of divers colours, came unto Lebanon, and took the highest branch of the cedar.
God tells Ezekiel to put a riddle to His people: a huge eagle, bright with many colours, swoops on Lebanon and strips the crown from a cedar. Each image stands for a real person and a real event — so who is the eagle, what is the cedar, and why does God speak in pictures?
The riddle does not stay a riddle. Its meaning follows a few verses later, and one writer sees God's method in that:
The parable comes first, and its meaning follows afterwards. It says something about the use of a parable that it comes with its interpretation right beside it — which one might think is the whole point. Pictures like these clearly strike the mind and hold the imagination in a special way, and God is not above using such helps to catch people's attention… So Ezekiel needed no excuse for being what they accused him of being: "a speaker of parables."
Later in the chapter the prophecy names the bird: the king of Babylon. His place at the top was no accident:
The great eagle is none other than the king of Babylon. God in His sovereign wisdom made him head of the Gentile empires, after Israel had proved its moral ruin and its rebellion against Jehovah. Another prophet had already used a similar picture of Nebuchadnezzar (Jer. 48:40; Jer. 49:22). But here it is worked into a complete allegory: the cedar on Lebanon stands for the kingship in Israel, held by the house of David, which for its sins was now in servitude to the head of the Gentiles.
Each feature of the bird says something about the empire, and about how Babylon first treated Judah:
So the great eagle is Nebuchadnezzar. He is a royal bird, and his royalty comes from God Himself. Yet he is a bird of prey. His great wings show how far his rule reached, and perhaps how quickly he gained his power. The feathers of many colours are the mixed crowds of people who followed him. Yet he is clearly under God's control, and his first dealings with Israel are gentleness itself, as far as a king of Babylon could show it.
The word for the eagle's many colours is the same one used for coloured embroidery, as noted in Morrish Bible Dictionary.
The words are God's own, and the picture He chooses is a proud tree losing its top:
This parable, like every true parable, comes from God Himself… Here is clearly a story of humiliation, and yet of mercy mixed with the humiliation… The scene is not set in Egypt or in the wilderness. This is not the beginning of a nation. It is the Cedar of Lebanon, which Israel in fact was, with the sign of its former glory.
In Scripture the cedar is the emblem of height, power and prosperity. So when God judges the great of the earth, it is "the day of Jehovah upon the cedars of Lebanon" (The Bible Treasury).
Commentators differ over which king the broken top stands for: some name Jehoiakim, others Jehoiachin. They agree that the picture itself is exact, not vague:
The parable of the eagles is as definite as if the prediction had been made in plain words. Scripture itself explains the first great eagle as the king of Babylon, and the second as Pharaoh. Breaking off the top twig of the cedar of Lebanon and setting it in a city of trade meant the king of Babylon putting down Jehoiachin and carrying him captive to Babylon.
The eagle's raid is only the opening move. God's own sovereignty has the last word:
It left room for the sovereignty of God, who would bring down the high tree and lift up the low tree, who would dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. His grace would take the little forgotten branch of the house of David and raise it up in Israel on the mountain of His power. There He would make it a fine cedar, bearing fruit, and sheltering all who would seek the protection of its shadow.
- Riddle. God wraps His message in a picture, then gives the meaning Himself. Pictures hold the mind in a way bare statements do not.
- Eagle. The great eagle is Nebuchadnezzar — a bird of prey, yet a royal one. God set him at the head of the Gentile empires after Israel's ruin.
- Feathers. The great wings show the reach and speed of his conquest. The many colours show the mixed peoples who followed him.
- Cedar. Lebanon's cedar is Israel in its former glory. The cropped top is her king carried off to Babylon — humiliation, with mercy mixed in.
- Replanting. The same hand that let the eagle strip the cedar will raise the forgotten branch of David's house into a fine cedar. God brings the high tree down and lifts the low tree up.
He cropped off the top of its young shoots, and carried it into a merchants' land; he set it in a city of traders.
In this chapter Ezekiel tells a riddle: a great eagle crops off the top shoot of a cedar and carries it away. Verse 4 sets that shoot down among traders — a real king of Judah, carried to Babylon, and God allowed it.
Every part of the riddle stands for something real. One writer names the eagle, the cedar, and the broken-off branch.
The great eagle is none other than the king of Babylon. God in His sovereign wisdom made him head of the Gentile empires, after Israel had proved its moral ruin and its rebellion against Jehovah… The cedar on Lebanon stands for royalty in Israel, held by the house of David. That house was now in servitude to the head of the Gentiles, because of its sins. Jehoiakim is the king of Judah described here as the broken-off topmost bough. Nebuchadnezzar took him away with himself to Babylon, the most famous city of the ancient world — famous not only for its grandeur but for its trade.
Commentators differ over which king the cropped twig is. Another writer names Jehoiachin.
The great Babylonian eagle had cropped off Jehoiachin, the top of the young shoots of the cedar of Lebanon, and had carried him away to Babylon.
Babylon was famous for two things at once. A commentator sets them side by side and ends with a question for the reader.
In ancient times Babylon had this double character: commerce and idolatry. First, it was "a land of trade, a city of merchants" — "the marketplace of the world," as a capable writer on these subjects calls it… Next, it was full of idolatry… Let any thoughtful Christian say which is the real, full departure from God: commerce or idolatry.
The word behind "trade" here is the Hebrew word Canaan. One writer traces it through the prophets, quoting Hosea in an older, word-for-word rendering.
The word comes from one that means "to stoop," as most say, or, as Parkhurst puts it, "to lay down," the way a merchant lays out his goods for sale. Scripture clearly attaches the meaning "merchant" to it. Hosea says of Ephraim (12:7), "He is a merchant (Canaan); the balances in his hand are dishonest." And Ezekiel (17:4), "He carried it to a land of trade (Canaan), and he set it in a city of merchants."
The eagle crops the cedar, but it does not burn it. A commentator finds two things in the picture at once.
This is clearly a story of humiliation, and yet mercy mingles with the humiliation… The scene is not Egypt or the wilderness. It does not speak of a nation at its beginning. It speaks of the Cedar of Lebanon — which is what Israel was — still carrying the sign of its former glory.
The cropping was not random cruelty. The same writer looks at how the captives actually fared.
He is clearly under divine control, and his acts toward Israel are at first gentleness itself, as far as a king of Babylon could show this. If he crops off the topmost shoots of the cedar, it is to carry them to a land of merchants, a city of traders. We see in Daniel himself an illustration of this conduct; in the captives of Tel-abib we see how they could find their hope in it. But Israel as a whole was not yet rooted out of the land.
One writer turns the picture on the reader. Two kings, two responses, two endings.
So it is with each of us. We must be broken before we can be blessed. Discipline keeps us for future exaltation, but leaves us low in this world. To the soul it is a "fruitful field." But these are conditions we do not much like. We would rather "bend our roots" toward whatever may help us in the world. That way is our own way, and it ends in shame and ruin, as it did with Zedekiah… Accepting the judgment of God and bowing under His mighty hand ends in blessing and exaltation, as it did with Jehoiachin.
- Eagle — the great eagle is Nebuchadnezzar. God's own sovereign wisdom put him at the head of the Gentile empires after Israel's ruin.
- Cedar — the cedar of Lebanon is the royal house of David. The cropped top twig is the king taken to Babylon; commentators differ on whether that is Jehoiakim or Jehoiachin.
- Merchants — Babylon was a land of trade and a city of merchants. The same word is Canaan, which Hosea uses for a trader with dishonest scales.
- Mercy — the eagle moves the branch, it does not burn it. The humbling carries mercy inside it, and Israel as a whole is not yet rooted out of the land.
- Response — two paths lie open. Zedekiah reached for worldly help and ended in shame and ruin; Jehoiachin submitted and ended in blessing and exaltation.
And he took of the seed of the land, and planted it in a fruitful field; he placed it by great waters, he set it as a willow tree.
God tells Ezekiel to set a riddle before the exiles, and by verse 5 the great eagle has already taken the top of the cedar and now turns gardener. Who is this planter, why is the new plant kept small, and is a lowered life punishment or kindness?
Each figure in the riddle stands for someone definite. The seed of the land is not a foreign ruler brought in, but a man raised up from Judah's own royal line.
The great eagle is none other than the king of Babylon. Israel had proved its moral ruin and rebellion against Jehovah, and God in His sovereign wisdom then made this king head of the Gentile empires... The cedar on Lebanon stands for royalty in Israel, held by the house of David, which was now in servitude to the head of the Gentiles because of its sins... The conqueror set another king over Jerusalem, yet from the seed of the land. He was no foreign lord but from the house of David: Mattaniah, uncle ("brother") of the exiled king, under the new name his Gentile master gave him.
That new name was Zedekiah. One writer notes what it means — "Jehovah's righteousness" — and how his story would prove that righteousness against him.
Does a picture say less exactly than plain words? One writer says no.
The parable of the eagles is as definite as if the prophecy had been given in plain words... Symbolic language, then, is no more vague than any other.
Babylon's king planted this new king in good ground with plenty of water. He also kept him low and turned towards himself, and that was empire policy.
He took some of the seed of the land and planted it in fruitful soil. Nebuchadnezzar placed it beside many waters. He set it as a willow, so that its branches would turn towards himself. This was the policy of the empire everywhere, and it had to be. Its interest was to encourage various powers to grow under it, each independent of the others but all dependent on him... Here we find the beginning of Zedekiah's history.
The same writer finds two things in this scene at once. Even the captives could take hope from it.
This is clearly a story of humiliation, and yet of mercy mixed into the humiliation... If he crops off the topmost shoots of the cedar, it is to carry them to a land of merchants, a city of traders. Daniel himself shows us this treatment; and in the captives at Tel-abib we see how they could find their hope in it. But Israel as a whole was not yet rooted out of the land.
The planting came with terms. Roots under the planter and branches turned towards him meant loyalty to Babylon. Behind Babylon stood God's verdict on His own people.
There Zedekiah might have flourished, if he gave the loyalty he owed to Babylon's king of kings. But God would have given peace and some prosperity on one condition only: submission to the Gentile empire. They had to own that empire as God's discipline on His people, sent because the people and their kings would not be cured of their disobedience. Zedekiah was like a willow, yet planted beside great waters. His safety lay in accepting his place as Nebuchadnezzar's faithful under-king, humbling himself under the mighty hand of God... Thus the vine might have produced not only branches and roots but fruit.
Being kept low is part of the correction, not a sign that it failed. One writer applies this to everyone God corrects.
This cedar had brought the Lord's discipline on itself, and the Lord used the king of Babylon, one of the eagles, as the rod in His hand to correct it. Under that rod He would humble the house of David, but keep it — for correction is meant to purify, not to destroy. Discipline plants us in "a fruitful field," beside "great waters." But there, for now, we grow only as "a willow tree," as "a spreading vine of low stature," as this parable puts it: "lowly," but kept and sheltered.
- Planted, not uprooted. The eagle is Babylon's king; the seed of the land is Zedekiah, a son of David's house left in the land, not carried off.
- Planted low. Fertile soil and abundant waters, but set as a willow — a kingdom kept alive on purpose, and kept small on purpose.
- Planted in mercy. The scene is humiliation with mercy mixed into it; Israel as a whole was not yet torn out of its place.
- Planted on terms. Roots under the planter meant bowing to God's discipline. That submission was the only road to peace, and even to fruit.
- Planted for purifying. Correction aims to cleanse, not to destroy. It shelters the humbled, even while it keeps them low for now.
And it grew, and became a spreading vine of low stature, so that its branches should turn toward him, and the roots thereof be under him; and it became a vine, and brought forth branches, and shot forth sprigs.
Ezekiel's riddle to Israel reaches its turning point here. The seed the great eagle planted does not grow into a cedar. It grows into a low, spreading vine, its branches bent back toward the one who planted it. Why keep the plant small? Whose interest did that serve, and could anything good grow in so humbled a place?
The chapter supplies its own key. Commentators read the planted seed as the puppet king Babylon installed in Jerusalem.
The great Babylonian eagle had cropped off Jehoiachin, the top of the young shoots of the cedar of Lebanon, and had carried him away to Babylon. He had then taken the seed of the land — Zedekiah — and planted it by great waters like a willow tree. It had become a vine, spreading, but not high, because the king of Babylon wanted a humbled royal house in Judah that depended on him.
The cedar itself carries a meaning, and the replacement king was no foreigner. Commentators differ over which exiled king was the cropped-off top branch — some name Jehoiachin, others Jehoiakim.
The cedar on Lebanon stands for royalty in Israel, held by the house of David — a house now in servitude to the head of the Gentiles because of its sins... The conqueror set another king over Jerusalem, but one from the seed of the land. He was no foreign lord. He was from the house of David: Mattaniah, uncle ("brother") of the exiled king, under the new name his Gentile master gave him.
The vine spreads but never rises high. That was the empire's method for holding conquered land.
Nebuchadnezzar placed it beside many waters. He set it as a willow, so that its branches would turn towards himself. This was the policy of the empire everywhere, and it had to be. Its interest was to encourage the growth of various powers under it, independent of one another but dependent on him. So one could be used against another, and these divided interests held the empire up.
Behind Babylon's policy stood a higher hand. Staying low was the one road to peace for Judah.
The only condition on which God would have given peace and a measure of prosperity was submission to the Gentile empire. Judah had to own that empire as God's discipline on His people, because of the incurable disobedience of the people and of their kings... Zedekiah's safety lay in staying a faithful subject of Nebuchadnezzar and humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. In the picture used here, he was to be a spreading vine of low stature, with branches turned towards the one who planted it, and its roots under him. So the vine might have produced not only branches and roots, but fruit.
The soil that holds this humbled plant is good soil, well watered. Correction aims at preserving, not at ruin.
Under this rod God would humble the house of David, but preserve it, for correction is meant to purify, not to destroy. Discipline plants us in "a fruitful field," and beside "great waters." But for now we grow there only as "a willow tree," as "a spreading vine of low stature," as this parable puts it — lowly, but kept and sheltered.
One exiled king took the low place, and his end shows what came of it.
Jehoiachin, who came from this cedar, found this to be so. He humbled himself under this eagle, the king of Babylon, the Lord's rod for correction, and he was preserved, lowly though he was, for a season. For thirty-six years he lay hidden in Babylon. Then he was lifted up, which proved that he had been planted in "a fruitful field," though for so long he was only "a willow tree."
Zedekiah went the other way. That way still tempts us.
We must be broken to be blessed. Discipline keeps us for future exaltation, but leaves us lowly in this world... We would sooner "bend our roots" towards whatever may help us in the world. But that way, our own way, will end, as it did with Zedekiah, in shame and ruin.
The chapter does not end with a shrunken vine. Its last verses point past Zedekiah to another low tree.
He was "a tender twig," a "low tree," a "dry tree." This is the Jesus of Isaiah 53, of whom it is said, "For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him." But in due time God will plant this "tender twig," as this passage says, "on a high and lofty mountain."
- Planted low. The low, spreading vine is Zedekiah's kingdom. Babylon set it up from David's line, then kept it small so Judah would stay dependent.
- Low by design. Empires kept their subject kingdoms small and dependent, so one could be turned against another.
- Low by discipline. Behind that policy stood God, correcting a disobedient people. To submit to Babylon was to submit to Him.
- Low but fruitful. The plant stood in good soil beside great waters — humbled, yet kept and sheltered, and able to bear fruit if it had kept its place.
- Low then lifted. Jehoiachin took the low place and was lifted up at last. Zedekiah went his own way and ended in shame. The chapter closes with a tender twig that God plants on a high and lofty mountain.
And there was another great eagle with great wings and many feathers; and behold, from the beds of her plantation, this vine did bend her roots unto him, and shot forth her branches toward him, that he might water it.
In this chapter's parable, Babylon had planted a vine low but safe, and now a second great eagle appears. The vine bends its roots away from the one who planted it — so may a people under God's discipline look elsewhere for rescue?
The parable is not vague poetry. Each bird stands for a real king.
Take the symbols in Ezekiel 17 as an example. The parable of the eagles is as definite as if the prediction had been stated in plain terms. Scripture itself interprets the first great eagle as the king of Babylon, and the second as Pharaoh... The king of Egypt is pictured as a great eagle with great wings and much plumage. But he is not said to have long wing feathers, or feathers of many colours, like the king of Babylon.
Egypt was the smaller bird, and that smallness was part of the appeal. Babylon had given them no cause to turn away.
Another great eagle appears, with great wings and many feathers. It is the king of Egypt, but he has none of the power of the king of Babylon. For that very reason he was easier to use. He still had enough power, as they hoped, to let them stand by his help against the rising power of Babylon, which they feared far more... They had no grievance to plead, for Nebuchadnezzar had not oppressed them. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to the Lord's will.
The vine did not drift toward the second eagle. A king went looking for help.
But another eagle comes near this cedar. And this cedar is the house of David, in the person of Zedekiah, who ruled after Jehoiachin. The cedar is the one who asks for help: it bends its roots towards him and sends out its branches towards him, so that he might water it.
The vine's low place was not neglect. Beside great waters, it was where fruit could still grow.
Zedekiah was like a willow, yet placed beside great waters. His safety lay in staying a loyal subject of Nebuchadnezzar and humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. In the picture used here, he was a spreading vine of low stature, with its branches turned towards the one who planted it and its roots under him. So the vine might have produced not only branches and roots, but fruit.
Babylon was the rod God had chosen. To throw off the rod was to strike at the hand that held it.
Zedekiah turns to the king of Egypt for horses and many men. He wants to flourish again under Egypt's shadow, refusing to stay a willow tree. But this was rebellion against the Lord's rod, and the Lord treats it as rebellion against Himself. He asks, shall such a cedar prosper? And He answers, he shall not prosper.
Darby points out whose name stood behind the agreement Zedekiah broke:
Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant, and the name of Jehovah was brought in to confirm it. The Gentile king was not the one who broke it... Zedekiah despised and trampled the name of Jehovah more than the Gentile king did.
Turning to Egypt was not a new idea. It was the nation's oldest habit.
The new king, like the people of old, looked to Egypt for help. But the Egyptians were men, not God, and their horses flesh, not spirit. Long ago the people craved the good things of Egypt. Now, high or low, they strove to get free of the yoke of Babylon — and so dishonoured God.
The picture is not left in ancient history. The bending of roots describes something familiar.
It is the same with each of us. We must be broken to be blessed. Discipline will keep us for future exaltation, but leave us low in this world... But these are terms we do not particularly like. We would rather "bend our roots" towards whatever may help us in the world. But that way, which is our own way, will end, as it did with Zedekiah, in shame and ruin.
- Planted — Babylon, the first eagle, set the vine low but beside great waters. Low was the one place it could still bear fruit.
- Preserved — Safety lay in accepting that place and bowing under the hand that gave it.
- Bent — Egypt, the second eagle, was weaker than Babylon and so easier to use. The vine's roots turned that way by the king's own choice.
- Broken — God's own name stood behind the agreement. Throwing off the rod was rebellion against Him.
- Repeated — Looking to Egypt was Israel's oldest habit. Bending our own roots toward worldly help still ends where Zedekiah ended.
It was planted in a good field by many waters, that it might bring forth branches and bear fruit, that it might be a noble vine.
The verse describes the ground the vine stood on: rich soil, plenty of water, everything it needed to thrive. So why would a plant so well placed stretch its roots toward a second eagle?
The parable has a fixed historical meaning. The first eagle took the top of the cedar; then it planted a shoot of the land itself, and that shoot is the vine of verse 8.
The great Babylonian eagle had cut off Jehoiachin, the top of the young shoots of the cedar of Lebanon, and had carried him away to Babylon. He then took a seed of the land — Zedekiah — and planted it by great waters like a willow tree. It became a vine that spread but stayed low, because the king of Babylon wanted a lowered kingship in Judah that depended on him. This vine turned toward another great eagle, the Pharaoh of Egypt, instead of remaining in submission to the first.
Zedekiah was the king Babylon set on the throne in Judah. The vine's low height was not an accident. It was Babylon's deliberate policy.
The soil and the water were genuine. Small and dependent did not mean starved. The place Babylon gave Zedekiah could have carried real fruit.
Zedekiah was as a willow, yet placed beside great waters. His safety lay in accepting his place as a loyal subject of Nebuchadnezzar, humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. In the picture the prophet uses, he was a spreading vine of low height, with its branches turned toward the one who planted it and its roots under him. In that way the vine could have produced not only branches and roots, but fruit.
This is why the verse reads like an accusation. Nothing in the vine's condition justified the reach toward Egypt.
Nothing could be pleaded for this on the ground that Nebuchadnezzar had oppressed them. On the contrary, Israel could still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will. In the prophet's own words, it was still in a good field, by many waters, and had been planted to be a noble vine. God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so rebellion against Babylon was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the correction the Lord had appointed for blessing, if they had received it as such.
The eagle did the planting, but the eagle was not in charge. Behind Babylon's policy stood a decision God had made about His own people.
Ezekiel 17 presents the judgment of Zedekiah for despising the oath that Nebuchadnezzar made him take in the name of Jehovah. Israel had not been able to stand in integrity before God, so Jehovah had handed the kingdom over to the head of the Gentile nations, whom He had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had inclined Nebuchadnezzar's heart to respect the name of Jehovah. Judah could still have remained the centre of religious blessing, and the lamp of David could still have given light there, even though the kingship had been placed under the head of the Gentile nations.
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The shape of the parable holds beyond Zedekiah. Correction lowers a person and keeps them at the same time.
This cedar had brought the Lord's discipline on itself, and the Lord used the king of Babylon, one of the eagles, as the rod in His hand to correct it. Under this rod the house of David would be humbled, but kept — for correction is meant to purify, not to destroy. Discipline plants us in "a fruitful field," and by "great waters." But for now we grow there only as "a willow tree," as "a spreading vine of low stature," as this parable puts it — "lowly," but kept and sheltered.
The test is whether we accept that smallness. Bellett shows where the other way leads.
We must be broken to be blessed. Discipline will keep us for future exaltation, but leave us "lowly" in this world. To the soul it is a "fruitful field." But these are terms we do not much like. We would rather "bend our roots" toward whatever may help us in the world. That way is our own way, and it will end, as it did with Zedekiah, in shame and ruin. Accepting the judgment of God and bowing under His mighty hand will end, as it did with Jehoiachin, in blessing and exaltation.
- Planted. The vine is Zedekiah. Babylon set him on the throne and kept him low on purpose, so the kingdom would stay dependent.
- Provided. The soil was good and the water plentiful; a humbled place was still a supplied place.
- Purposed. The stated aim was branches, fruit, a noble vine — smallness was never meant to mean barrenness.
- Pulled. The roots bent toward Egypt, though Babylon had not oppressed them. God had given Babylon that authority, so resisting it was resisting Him.
- Perished. Refusing correction loses its fruit. Jehoiachin bowed and God raised him; Zedekiah reached for help in the world and ended in ruin.
Say, Thus saith the Lord Jehovah Shall it prosper? Shall he not pull up its roots, and cut off its fruit, that it may wither? All its fresh sprouting leaves shall wither, even without a great arm and many people to pluck it up by its roots.
Ezekiel sets a riddle before Israel: a great eagle plants a seed, and it grows into a low, spreading vine that then leans toward a second eagle. Verse 9 is God's verdict on that turn, put as a question His people must answer for themselves.
The riddle is not vague. Its parts are named, and Scripture supplies the key.
The parable of the eagles is as exact as if the prediction had been stated in plain words. Scripture itself tells us who the eagles are. The first great eagle is the king of Babylon, the second is Pharaoh. Breaking off the topmost twig of the cedar of Lebanon and placing it in a city of trade meant the king of Babylon putting down Jehoiachin and carrying him captive to Babylon. Taking a seed of the land to become a vine of low stature means his setting Zedekiah up as a king under his own authority in the land.
The vine's small size was not an accident of politics. It was God's discipline, and there was life in it.
Zedekiah could have flourished there, as long as he stayed loyal to the Babylonian king of kings. But God would have secured peace and some prosperity on one condition only: submission to the Gentile empire. They were to recognise it as God's discipline of His people for their incurable disobedience, and that of their kings... His safety lay in loyal service to Nebuchadnezzar, humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. In the picture used here, he was to be a spreading vine of low stature, with its branches turned towards the one who planted it and its roots under him. In this way the vine might have produced not only branches and roots but fruit.
Babylon was the rod in God's hand. So when the vine leaned toward the other eagle, the quarrel was no longer with Babylon.
Zedekiah seeks the king of Egypt, "that they might give him horses and a large army," so that he might flourish again under Egypt's shadow. He refuses to be a willow tree any longer. But this was rebellion against the Lord's rod, and the Lord treats it as rebellion against Himself. He asks: shall such a cedar prosper? And He answers: he shall not prosper. Zedekiah shall know not merely the discipline but the judgment of the Lord.
God asks whether the vine will thrive. The question already carries its answer, and the verse adds that it will take no great army to tear the vine up.
They could not plead any oppression by Nebuchadnezzar as an excuse for this. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so that rebellion against it was rebellion against Him. They were resisting the discipline the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had received it that way. But this resistance forfeited it all. The question, then, allows only one answer... What was the power of Egypt, that it should stand against Him? "Shall it not utterly wither," the Lord asks, "when the east wind touches it?" — merely touches it! and of course it did.
The writer's point rests on the older wording "touches it"; the ESV of verse 10 reads "strikes it."
The same choice comes to us. Two men went opposite ways, and their endings were opposite too.
It is the same with us individually. We must be broken to be blessed. Discipline will keep us for future exaltation, but it leaves us low in this world. But these are terms we do not particularly like. We would rather bend our roots towards whatever may help us in the world. But that way is our own way, and it will end in shame and ruin, as it did with Zedekiah. Accepting the judgment of God and submitting under His mighty hand will end in blessing and exaltation, as it did with Jehoiachin.
The chapter's closing words widen the lesson from this one vine to every tree.
"And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the LORD; I bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I am the LORD; I have spoken, and I will do it."
- Low by design. The vine of low stature was God's own arrangement — a humbled kingdom kept alive, able to bear fruit where it stood.
- Low refused. Bending the roots toward Egypt was a bid to grow tall again, and it struck at the hand that set the limit.
- Low enforced. The question "will it thrive?" answers itself. It takes no great army, only an east wind that touches it.
- Low as choice. Jehoiachin accepted the discipline and came to blessing; Zedekiah resisted it and came to ruin. The same soil grew both endings.
- Low then lifted. The One who dries the green tree also makes the dry tree flourish. He brings down the high and lifts the low — and He has said He will do it.
And behold, being planted, shall it prosper? shall it not utterly wither when the east wind toucheth it? It shall wither in the beds where it grew.
Babylon planted Zedekiah's kingdom as a low vine. Then the vine turned its roots toward a second great eagle, Egypt, hoping for water from a richer source. This verse is God's closing question about that move. The question allows only one answer.
The parable itself names the second eagle. One commentator sets the move inside an old habit of the people:
The new king, like the people of old, looked to Egypt for help. He looked to Egyptians who were men, not God, and to horses that were flesh, not spirit. Once they craved the good things of Egypt. Now, to get free of Babylon's yoke, high and low alike worked to God's dishonour. That is what the prophet teaches here... The second great eagle is the king of Egypt, who wanted world empire and fought Nebuchadnezzar for it. But God rules, and He gave it to the king of Babylon.
The same pull runs through Israel's whole story, and one writer turns it on the reader:
Going down to Egypt for help was the constant snare of God's people. God had delivered them from that land, and in their own deliverance they had seen His judgment on it. Yet they could turn back to it again and again. Sadly, it is an inconsistency that none of us who knows himself can claim to be free from... The lesson is as plain as it is basic. It is the lesson, "Stop regarding man in whose nostrils is breath, for of what account is he?"
The verse asks whether a vine so planted can prosper. One writer shows the vine had nothing to complain of. Its soil and water were good, and Babylon's yoke was God's own appointment:
There was nothing to plead for this on the grounds of any oppression by Nebuchadnezzar. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon. So rebellion against Babylon was rebellion against Him. They were resisting the chastening the Lord had appointed for their blessing, if only they had received it that way. But this resistance forfeited everything. The question, then, can have only one answer.
The picture turns on a single word. Where the ESV says the east wind "strikes" the vine, older translations say it "touches" it. No army needs to uproot the vine — one touch is enough:
What was the power of Egypt, that it should be set against Him? "Shall it not utterly wither," the Lord asks, "when the east wind touches it?" — but "touches" it! And of course it did.
The wind itself carries a settled meaning across Scripture:
The east wind was distressing and destructive to plant life. It was dangerous to ships at sea. It is a symbol of the withering power of God's judgments.
The verse names the place of the withering — the bed where the vine sprouted. One commentator reads that wind as a blast from Babylon, costing Babylon no great effort:
To turn to Pharaoh in this way was a rejection of the Lord, not just of Nebuchadnezzar. It would bring their own destruction, and their Babylonian master would need no great effort to do it. A blast of that "east wind" would be enough to wither the fruitless vine. That blast would dry it up completely in the beds or terraces where it grew.
Babylon's yoke was God's discipline. Shaking it off struck at the hand that laid it on:
Zedekiah seeks the king of Egypt, "that he might give him horses and much people." He hopes to flourish again under Egypt's shadow, refusing to remain a willow tree any longer. But this was rebellion against the Lord's rod, and the Lord punishes it as rebellion against Himself. He asks, shall such a cedar prosper? And He answers, he shall not prosper. Zedekiah would know not merely the Lord's discipline but His judgment. What a picture this is! What a moral may be read in it!
They could have escaped the withering. One place of blessing stood open, and it was not Egypt:
Happy is it when the soul bows to the hand of God, accepting the punishment of our sins. It is the place of blessing. Israel's blessing began there... They had failed in the kingdom, as they had failed in the wilderness. And so their blessing lay in Babylon, just as before it had lain outside the camp. They had to accept the punishment of their sins and go there.
- Planted. The vine stood in good soil by many waters. Babylon planted it there by God's appointment, and it lacked nothing it needed to live.
- Leaned. It bent its roots toward the second eagle, Egypt. Commentators call this the old habit of looking to men who were flesh, not spirit.
- Rebelled. God Himself gave the empire to Babylon. So refusing that yoke meant refusing the chastening He had appointed for blessing.
- Touched. Judgment needed no great army. One touch of the east wind — Scripture's picture of God's withering power — and the vine dried up in the very bed where it grew.
- Bowed. The way out was never Egypt. Blessing lay in accepting God's hand, even when that meant Babylon.
And the word of Jehovah came unto me, saying,
God has just told a riddle: two great eagles, a twig cut from a cedar, and a low vine. Now the word of the Lord comes again — this time to explain it. The picture stops, and the plain charge against the king and his people begins.
God does not leave the riddle hanging as a puzzle for clever listeners:
The people are not left to interpret this parable for themselves. So that they may be without excuse, God Himself will give them the interpretation. He will tell them plainly what comes of breaking a covenant made solemnly in the name of the Lord with Nebuchadnezzar. That breach could only make the discipline already fallen on them heavier, and arm both God and man against them. So the royal power in Israel, which should have delivered the people, would now drag them completely into its own doom.
Scripture explains its own pictures, and each one stands for one person and no other:
The parable of the eagles is as definite as a plain, literal prediction would be. Scripture itself interprets the first great eagle as the king of Babylon, and the second as Pharaoh. Breaking off the topmost twig of the cedar of Lebanon and setting it in a city of trade means this: the king of Babylon put down Jehoiachin and carried him captive to Babylon. Taking the seed of the land to grow into a low vine means this: he made Zedekiah his vassal king in the land. (The conqueror renamed Mattaniah Zedekiah.)
This was more than a broken political deal. Zedekiah had sworn his oath to Nebuchadnezzar in God's own name:
Israel could not stand in integrity before God, so the Lord handed the kingdom to the head of the Gentiles. Yet He had inclined Nebuchadnezzar's heart to respect the name of Jehovah. Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant on that ground, and they brought in the name of Jehovah to confirm it. It was not the Gentile who broke the covenant. Zedekiah added to his other sins this one: he made it impossible for a people and a kingdom belonging to God to go on existing. The name of Jehovah was more despised and trampled under foot by him than by the Gentile king. He intrigues with Egypt to escape from the dominion of Nebuchadnezzar, whom God Himself, in judgment, had set up as supreme. This filled up the measure of iniquity, and brought on the final judgment.
The interpretation sets the two kings side by side:
Judah then turned to Egypt for help against Babylon:
They could not plead that Nebuchadnezzar had oppressed them. On the contrary, Israel could still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will… God had declared His purpose about Babylon. So rebellion against Babylon was rebellion against Him. They were resisting the discipline that the Lord had appointed for their blessing, if only they had received it as such. This resistance forfeited everything.
The title God gives the hearers here is one He has used before in this book, and a writer traces how far back the trait goes:
For they were rebellious, yes, the rebellious house. Moses had reproached them in his song as a perverse and crooked and very stubborn generation, children in whom was no faith… If Ezekiel hears and has to repeat the divine sentence to the same effect, it is no new thing, but rather the showing, when judgment was in course of execution, that the old evil was rampant, which neither the fresh strength of youth had rooted out, nor their national prime and power.
The two kings show two ways of meeting God's hand:
We must be broken in order to be blessed. Discipline will keep us for future exaltation, but leave us "base" in this world. It is a "fruitful field" to the soul. But we do not much like these terms. We would rather "bend our roots" towards whatever may help us in the world. But that way is our own way, and it will end, as with Zedekiah, in shame and ruin. Accepting God's judgment and bowing under His mighty hand will end, as with Jehoiachin, in blessing and exaltation.
- Explained — God does not leave the riddle unsolved. He explains it Himself, so no hearer has an excuse.
- Identified — the two eagles are the kings of Babylon and Egypt. The cut twig is Jehoiachin. The low vine is Zedekiah.
- Sworn — the covenant with Babylon carried God's own name. Breaking it trampled that name lower than the foreign king ever did.
- Resisted — Babylon's yoke was God's discipline, sent for their blessing. Shaking it off was rebellion against God, and it cost them everything.
- Broken — the low place under God's hand is a fruitful field. Reaching for worldly help ends in ruin, as it did for Zedekiah. Bowing ends, like Jehoiachin, in blessing.
Say now to the rebellious house, Know ye not what these things are? Say, Behold, the king of Babylon came to Jerusalem, and took its king and its princes, and led them with him to Babylon.
Ezekiel has just told a riddle about two eagles, a cedar, and a low-growing vine. Now God turns from picture to plain speech. God asks the exiles if they understand the story. They had lived through the events it describes, so the answer mattered.
The question in the verse is not a test of cleverness. God answers it Himself, and His answer ends with a broken covenant.
The people are not left to interpret this parable for themselves. That they may be without excuse, God Himself will give them the interpretation. He will tell them plainly how this broken covenant ends. It was a covenant solemnly made in the name of the Lord with Nebuchadnezzar. Breaking it could only make the punishment that had already fallen heavier, and turn both God and man fully against them.
Once explained, the parable becomes a charge against the king:
Here the case stands out in the light. The puzzle is solved, and the Spirit attaches the interpretation to the parable. The Lord charges the son of David then on the throne with treachery against Himself as well as against Nebuchadnezzar.
God's name for His people here was not new. Others had used it of them long before the exile.
Sadly, they were rebellious — yes, the rebellious house. Moses had rebuked them in his song as a perverse and crooked and very stubborn generation, children in whom was no faith. David, in the ascension psalm (Ps. 68), had described them as "the rebellious." Ezekiel now hears the same sentence from God and has to repeat it. That is nothing new. It is proof that the old evil was still active while God was carrying out judgment.
Every figure in the riddle stands for something real, down to the city the branch was carried to.
Here the figure is worked into a complete allegory. The cedar on Lebanon stands for royalty in Israel, held by the house of David. Because of its sins, that house was now in servitude to the head of the Gentiles. Jehoiakim is the king of Judah described here as the broken-off topmost bough. Nebuchadnezzar took him away with him to Babylon, then the most famous city of the ancient world, both for its grandeur and for its trade. That was not all. The conqueror set another king over Jerusalem, one from the seed of the land — not a foreign lord, but from the house of David.
Babylon's rise was not an accident of politics. It followed Israel's failure, and it did not have to be the end of Judah's place with God.
Israel not having been able to stand in integrity before God, the Lord had committed the kingdom to the head of the Gentiles, whom He had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had inclined the heart of Nebuchadnezzar to respect the name of the Lord. Judah might still have remained the centre of religious blessing. The lamp of David might still have given light there, even though the royalty was now subject to the head of the Gentiles.
Being carried off looked like the end. In the parable it was a drop from cedar to willow, and that drop had a purpose.
This cedar had brought the Lord's discipline on itself. The Lord used the king of Babylon, one of the eagles, as the rod in His hand, for correction. Under this rod God would humble the house of David, but preserve it — for correction is for purifying, not for destruction. Discipline plants us in "a fruitful field," and by "great waters." But for now we grow there only as "a willow tree," as "a spreading vine of low stature," as this parable puts it — "low," but kept and sheltered.
- Told. God does not leave the riddle hanging. He gives the meaning Himself, so no one can plead ignorance.
- Named. "The rebellious house" is not a fresh insult. It is an old verdict. Moses and David had used it long before Ezekiel.
- Taken. The eagle is Nebuchadnezzar. The cedar is David's royal house. The broken-off top branch is the king carried away to Babylon.
- Lowered. God put the royal house under the Gentile king. Even so, Judah could still have remained the centre of blessing.
- Kept. The rod in God's hand was for purifying, not destroying. God humbled the house of David to a willow, but He kept it.
And he took of the king's seed, and made a covenant with him, and brought him under an oath, and he took away the mighty of the land;
Ezekiel here explains his own parable: Nebuchadnezzar imposes the oath, and Zedekiah, David's heir in Jerusalem, takes it. Why was a king of Judah bound by oath to a foreign conqueror, and what did breaking it cost him?
This covenant was more than a political deal. The oath behind it used God's own name, so breaking it was a sin against God.
"Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon" (2 Kings 24:20). In the Lord's eyes this was an infamous and sacrilegious act, and here is why: Nebuchadnezzar "had made him swear by God" (2 Chr. 36:13). And Ezekiel tells us that he "made a covenant with him, putting him under oath" (Ezek. 17:13). So to all his other sins this king added the breaking of an oath made in the name of the Lord. He did this in front of the idol-worshipping nations. He showed them that he had no regard for the God he pretended to belong to.
God had handed world rule to Babylon. That did not have to mean the end of Judah.
Israel had not been able to stand in integrity before God. So the Lord handed the kingdom over to the head of the Gentiles, the ruler He Himself had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had also inclined Nebuchadnezzar's heart to respect the name of the Lord. Judah might still have remained the centre of religious blessing. The lamp of David might still have given light there, even though the kingship now stood under the head of the Gentiles... Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant on this ground, and they brought in the name of the Lord to confirm it. It was not the Gentile who broke the covenant.
The oath put two kings side by side. The comparison shames the king of Judah.
The Lord charges the son of David, then on the throne, with treachery against Himself as well as against Nebuchadnezzar. He had broken his covenant with the Chaldeans, and that covenant was sealed with the name of the Lord. Had it come to this — that the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar had more respect for the Lord's oath than David's son, the king of Judah, did?... If sin is always sin, it is least excusable where God's word is known and His name is held up before people.
Another writer puts the same offence in terms of what it advertised about Israel's God.
He despised the covenant and oath so solemnly taken, and so presented the name of the Holy One of Israel to the heathen king as nothing. This brought things to a climax: there was "no remedy."
God does not leave the people to puzzle over the parable. He explains it Himself, and that leaves them no defence.
The people are not left to interpret this parable for themselves. So that they will have no excuse, God Himself gives them the meaning. They are told plainly what came of breaking this covenant. It had been made with Nebuchadnezzar in the solemn name of the Lord. Breaking it could only make the chastisement they had already suffered heavier, and it armed both God and man against them.
The verse also notes the leading men Nebuchadnezzar carried off. Those captives faced the same test as their king: bow to God's chastening, or fight it.
Without a clear word from God, they would always have been plotting in Babylon how to end this miserable captivity. But when God sends a chastening, the part of faith is to bow to it, not to fight against it. Suppose the Lord acts because of a wrong on our part. Faith in Him does not make light of the wrong, and it does not make light of the chastening. Faith accepts the chastening with meekness and confesses the wrong.
Zedekiah is not the only person who failed a promise made to God. Only one man never did.
None had ever fulfilled their obligations and promises to God. Therefore our Lord warned them against taking oaths which they could not keep (Matt. 5:33-37). But He could say, "Your vows are upon Me, O God" (Ps. 56:12)... What vows they were! He would glorify God about sin. He would seek and save the lost. He would lay the eternal foundations of redemption deep, firm and broad. He would bring many to glory.
- Oath — Zedekiah swore this covenant in God's name. Breaking it was treachery against God, not just against Babylon.
- Mercy — God Himself set up Babylon's rule. Under it, David's lamp could still have given light in Jerusalem.
- Shame — the pagan king honoured God's name more than David's own son did. Sin is least excusable where God's name is known.
- Consequence — God explains the parable Himself, so no one has an excuse. The broken covenant only made the chastening heavier.
- Contrast — faith bows to God's chastening instead of plotting against it. Only Christ carried His vows to God through to the end.
that the kingdom might be abased, that it might not lift itself up, that it might keep his covenant in order to stand.
Nebuchadnezzar left Judah a throne, but he kept it small: a kingdom too low to rise, held together by the treaty it had sworn. Why would God leave His own people that low, and what happened when they refused to stay there?
The arrangement described here was calculated. One writer traces how the parable of the eagles pictures the political thinking behind it:
The great Babylonian eagle had cut off Jehoiachin, the top of the young shoots of the cedar of Lebanon, and had carried him away to Babylon. He had then taken the seed of the land — Zedekiah — and planted it by great waters like a willow tree. It grew into a vine that spread but did not rise high, because the king of Babylon wanted a lowly royal house in Judah that depended on him.
The verse ends with the kingdom still standing. One writer names the single condition that would have kept it there:
But God would have secured peace and a measure of prosperity on one condition only: that they submit to the Gentile empire and recognize it as God's discipline on His people, because they and their kings were incurably disobedient. Zedekiah was like a willow, yet planted beside great waters. His safety lay in accepting faithful service to Nebuchadnezzar and humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. In the picture the prophet uses, he was a low, spreading vine, its branches turned toward the one who planted it, and its roots under him. So the vine might have produced not only branches and roots, but fruit.
The word translated "base" or "humble" is not only a description of weakness. One writer reads the whole picture as correction with mercy folded inside it:
This cedar had brought the Lord's discipline on itself. The Lord used the king of Babylon, one of the eagles, as the rod in His hand, for correction. Under this rod, God would humble the house of David, but keep it — for correction is meant to purify, not to destroy. Discipline plants us in "a fruitful field," and by "great waters." But for now we grow there only as "a willow tree," as "a spreading vine of low stature," as this parable puts it — "base," but kept and sheltered.
The rod was in God's hand. So pulling out from under it was not just a political mistake:
They could plead no oppression by Nebuchadnezzar to excuse this. On the contrary, Israel could still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so rebelling against Babylon was rebelling against Him. It resisted the chastening that the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had received it as such. That resistance forfeited everything.
The covenant in this verse carried God's own name:
Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant, and the name of Jehovah was brought in to confirm it. It was not the Gentile who broke the covenant. Zedekiah added one more sin to his others: he made it impossible for a people and a kingdom that belonged to God to exist. He despised and trampled the name of Jehovah more than the Gentile king did. He plotted with Egypt to escape the rule of Nebuchadnezzar, whom God Himself, in judgment, had set up as supreme.
Zedekiah would not stay the low vine. Jehoiachin, taken to Babylon earlier, proved what correction can do:
Jehoiachin, who was of this cedar, found this to be so. He humbled himself under this eagle, the king of Babylon, the Lord's rod for correction, and God kept him, though "base," for a season. For thirty-six years he was hidden in Babylon. Then he was lifted up. That proved he had been planted in "a fruitful field," though for so long he was only "a willow tree."
Judah's failure did not end God's purpose:
But it left room for the sovereignty of God. He would bring down the high tree and lift up the low tree. He would dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. In grace He would take the little forgotten branch of the house of David and raise it up in Israel on the mountain of His power.
- Lowered. Babylon planted Judah's throne to spread but never rise — a low royal house that depended on Babylon.
- Lowly. Staying low was not the punishment. It was the safety — bowed under God's hand, the vine could still have borne fruit.
- Loyal. The treaty carried God's own name. Keeping it was what let the kingdom stand. Zedekiah broke it, and so trampled that name more than the foreign king did.
- Lofty. Reaching for Egypt to escape the yoke resisted the very chastening God had appointed for blessing. It forfeited everything.
- Lifted. God brings down the high tree and raises the low one. He kept Jehoiachin hidden, then lifted him up. His purpose still runs through the forgotten branch of David's house.
But he rebelled against him in sending his ambassadors into Egypt, that they might give him horses and much people. Shall he prosper? shall he escape that doeth such things? shall he break the covenant, and yet escape?
Nebuchadnezzar had put Zedekiah on Judah's throne and bound him by a treaty sealed with an oath. Here Zedekiah turns to Egypt instead, and the three questions that end the verse expect just one answer.
The treaty was more than a deal between two rulers. Commentators note that the foreign king respected God's name, and Judah's own king did not:
Israel had failed to stand in integrity before God. So the Lord handed the kingdom to the head of the nations, whom He had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had moved Nebuchadnezzar's heart to respect the name of Jehovah... Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant on this ground, and they brought in the name of Jehovah to confirm it. It was not the Gentile king who broke the covenant.
Judah's low place was not cruelty. It was the one arrangement under which the nation could have kept living in the land:
God would have secured peace and a measure of prosperity on one condition only: submission to the Gentile empire. Judah had to recognise that empire as God's discipline on His people, because their disobedience and their kings' disobedience could not be cured. Zedekiah was like a willow, yet placed beside great waters. His safety lay in staying a loyal subject of Nebuchadnezzar, humbling himself under the mighty hand of God. To use the picture used here, he was to be a low, spreading vine, with its branches turned towards the one who planted it and its roots under him. In that way the vine might have produced not only branches and roots but fruit.
God Himself had handed world rule to Babylon. So shaking off that yoke was not politics; it was defiance of God:
Zedekiah could not plead that Nebuchadnezzar had oppressed him. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so that rebellion against it was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the chastening which the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had received it as such. But this resistance forfeited everything. The question, then, has only one possible answer.
The help he asked for — horses and troops — shows what he was leaning on. It was an old national habit:
The new king looked to Egypt for help, just as the people of old had. But the Egyptians were men, not God, and their horses flesh, not spirit. Once the people craved the good things of Egypt. Now, high and low alike kept striving to get free of Babylon's yoke, and so dishonoured God.
The broken oath was public. Foreign powers had heard Zedekiah swear by the God of Israel, and then watched him treat that name as worth nothing:
This was an infamous and sacrilegious act in the eyes of the Lord, and here is why: Nebuchadnezzar had made him swear by God. So to all his other transgressions this king added the breaking of an oath made in the name of the Lord. He did this in front of the idol-worshipping nations. So he showed them that he had no regard for the God he claimed to belong to.
Judgment fell, and Judah lost the kingdom. But the chapter looks past that ruin to a coming King:
This is the Messiah in His kingdom. He is not suffering on earth, and He is not coming from heaven, but reigning as the rightful king of Israel. That is why He is later called David, the true Beloved. Under His rule the whole people will be united again — never again divided by folly, never again falling through idolatrous sin or anything else.
- Oath — Zedekiah swore the treaty with Babylon in God's name, so breaking it offended God, not just a foreign king.
- Yoke — Submission to Babylon was God's own discipline. The low place was the safe place, and resisting it meant resisting Him.
- Egypt — Horses and troops were flesh, not spirit; Judah's old craving for Egypt only dishonoured God.
- Witness — Watching nations saw a king of Judah despise the God he claimed as his own.
- King — Judah lost the kingdom, yet a King from David's line still comes, and His kingdom will never split or fall.
[As] I live, saith the Lord Jehovah, verily in the place of the king that made him king, whose oath he despised, and whose covenant he broke, even with him, in the midst of Babylon, shall he die.
Zedekiah, the last king in Jerusalem, swore loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar in God's name, then broke his word and turned to Egypt. Here God answers with an oath of His own: Zedekiah will die in Babylon, under the king who put him on the throne.
Rebelling against Babylon looks like patriotism. Commentators see it differently, because God Himself had handed the kingdom to Babylon.
Israel had not been able to stand in integrity before God, so the Lord had committed the kingdom to the head of the Gentiles, whom He had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had moved the heart of Nebuchadnezzar to respect the name of Jehovah, and Judah might still have remained the centre of religious blessing... He plots with Egypt to escape the rule of Nebuchadnezzar, whom God Himself, in judgment, had set up as supreme. This filled up the measure of iniquity, and brought on the final judgment.
The verse speaks of an oath he despised and a covenant he broke. Both were made with Nebuchadnezzar. God calls them His own.
He made a covenant with the king of Babylon. He took an oath in the name of Jehovah to obey Nebuchadnezzar — so binding that Jehovah called it "My oath," and "My covenant." Afterwards he rebelled against the king that Jehovah had set over him, and sent to Egypt for horses and men. He despised the covenant and oath he had so solemnly taken. He made the name of the Holy One of Israel look like nothing to the pagan king. This brought things to a climax: there was "no remedy."
A pagan king kept an oath sworn in God's name better than Israel's own king did. That reversal makes the judgment heavier.
And had it come to this, that the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar had more respect for the oath of Jehovah than David's son, the king of Judah? Such conduct on Zedekiah's part made it impossible, in every way, for God to shield the guilty king and people any longer. Still less could He shield them, because they bore His name. "You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities." Judgment must begin at the house of God... sin is always sin, but it is least excusable where His word is known and His name is held up before men. So Zedekiah was justly caught in the net of God's retribution. He died with no help from Pharaoh and his great army, though he had trusted in it in his hour of greatest need. He was a prisoner in Babylon, held by the very king whose covenant he had broken.
Zedekiah looked to Egypt instead. Commentators point out that Nebuchadnezzar had given him no grievance to justify it.
Nothing could be said for this on the ground of any oppression by Nebuchadnezzar... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so rebellion against it was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the discipline that the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had taken it that way... What was the power of Egypt, to stand against Him?
Two prophecies about Zedekiah seem to clash. What happened to his eyes settled both.
Two prophecies about him are remarkable. One says he will speak with the king of Babylon and "see him eye to eye" (Jeremiah 32:4). The other says he will be brought to Babylon, yet will not see it, though he will die there (Ezekiel 12:13). And so it happened. He was carried before Nebuchadnezzar at Riblah. There his sons were killed in front of him, his eyes were put out, and he was taken on to Babylon.
The death of a king in a foreign capital reads like the end of David's line. Commentators point out that God had already written this failure into His promise.
Such, then, for many centuries, was the end of the throne of David. Yet God had guaranteed that throne with a promise that no failure of man could set aside. In fact, when He gave that promise, God had allowed for the failure. He declared what He would do: "I will establish his offspring forever and his throne as the days of the heavens. If his children forsake my law... then I will punish their transgression with the rod... but I will not remove from him my steadfast love."
- The oath — Zedekiah swore loyalty to Babylon in God's name. So God called it "My oath, My covenant," and took the broken promise as an insult to Himself.
- The authority — God gave Nebuchadnezzar his rule, in judgment on a failed nation. So rebelling against Babylon was rebelling against God.
- The aggravation — a pagan king honoured that name more than David's son did. Sin is least excusable where God's word is known.
- The escape route — Egypt's horses and army could not help. Turning there resisted the discipline God meant for blessing.
- The outcome — he died in Babylon as foretold, blinded before he arrived. Yet the promise to David's throne outlived the king who wrecked it.
Neither shall Pharaoh with a mighty army and a great assemblage do anything for him in the war, when they cast up mounds and build forts to cut off many persons.
Ezekiel 17 tells a riddle about two great eagles and a vine, and verse 17 explains it. Zedekiah, the last king of Judah, swore loyalty to Babylon and then asked Egypt for help — and God says Pharaoh's huge army will count for nothing once the siege begins.
Pharaoh did move. One writer traces Judah's last days. Egypt's army came, and the Babylonians pulled back:
At one point Pharaoh comes with his army to help Jerusalem (Ezek. 17:17; Jer. 37:5). When the Chaldeans hear the news, they pull back from Jerusalem. Jeremiah shows the people their mistake. Pharaoh's army, he says, will go back to the land of Egypt, and the Chaldeans will come again.
So the prophecy was not that no help would come. It was that the help would not help.
Egypt was the weaker of the two eagles, and that is what made it useful to Judah. But the plan ignored who had put Babylon in power:
Another great eagle is seen: it is the king of Egypt, but in no way with the power of the king of Babylon; yet for that very reason easier to make use of... Nothing could be said for this on the ground of any oppression by Nebuchadnezzar. On the contrary, Israel could still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so rebellion against Babylon was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the discipline the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had received it as such... What was the power of Egypt, that it should be set against Him?
Babylon's rule was humbling, but it did not end Judah's usefulness. Something real was still possible, and Zedekiah threw it away:
Israel had not been able to stand in integrity before God, so Jehovah handed the kingdom over to the head of the Gentiles, whom He had raised up. This was His settled purpose. But He had inclined Nebuchadnezzar's heart to respect the name of Jehovah, and Judah could still have remained the centre of religious blessing, and the lamp of David could still have given light there... Zedekiah added one more sin to the rest: he made it impossible for a people and a kingdom that belonged to God to exist. He despised the name of Jehovah and trampled it underfoot more than the Gentile king did.
Zedekiah's promise to Babylon had been sealed with the name of the Lord. That makes his betrayal more than politics, and it shapes the punishment:
Jehovah puts the son of David, then on the throne, on trial for treachery against Himself as well as against Nebuchadnezzar. He had broken his covenant with the Chaldeans, and broken it when it had been sealed with the name of Jehovah. Had it come to this, that the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar had more respect for the oath of Jehovah than David's son, the king of Judah?... It was right, then, that Zedekiah should be caught in the net of God's retribution, and should die disappointed in the help he had trusted to get from Pharaoh and his great army in his hour of greatest need.
This was not a one-off miscalculation. Egypt had a long record, and the record was part of why God finally broke it as a support:
Egypt has been a staff that breaks under Israel; a staff of reed, which offered much but never kept its promises, and brought only ruin to all who trusted it. Going down to Egypt for help was the constant snare of the people of God, even though God had rescued them from that land, and they had seen His judgment on it in their own rescue. Yet again and again they could turn back to it. Sadly, it is an inconsistency that none of us who knows himself can claim to be free from!
- Oath. Zedekiah's promise to Babylon was sealed with the name of the Lord. Breaking it wronged God, not just Nebuchadnezzar — and a pagan king respected that name more than David's own son did.
- Alliance. God had handed the kingdom over to Babylon. So rebelling against Babylon was rebelling against Him, and it resisted a discipline meant for blessing.
- Army. Pharaoh's forces did march, and the siege did lift — then Egypt went home and the Chaldeans came back. Help that arrives and still fails is exactly what God announced here.
- Net. Zedekiah died disappointed in the help he had counted on, at the moment he needed it most. Egypt is the reed staff that promises much and ruins everyone who leans on it.
- Mirror. Running to Egypt for help was Israel's constant snare, even after God had rescued them from that land. It is an inconsistency none of us who knows himself can claim to be free from.
He despised the oath, and broke the covenant; and behold, he had given his hand, yet hath he done all these things he shall not escape.
Ezekiel 17 tells a riddle about two eagles and a vine, and here God explains it. Zedekiah, the last king in Jerusalem, had sworn loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar, then broke his word and turned to Egypt for help — so why does God treat that broken treaty as an offence against Himself?
Two kings made the agreement, but Zedekiah sealed it with God's name. That changed who the injured party was.
He made a covenant with the king of Babylon. He took an oath in the name of Jehovah to obey Nebuchadnezzar. Jehovah even called it "my oath" and "my covenant." Afterwards he rebelled against the king that Jehovah had set over him, and sent to Egypt for horses and men. He despised the covenant and oath he had taken so solemnly. In doing so he showed the name of the Holy One of Israel to the pagan king as worth nothing. This brought things to a climax: there was "no remedy."
The shame of the act lay in the comparison it forced. The king who carried God's name treated it as worth less than a pagan king did.
Jehovah charges the son of David, then on the throne, with treachery against Himself as well as against Nebuchadnezzar. He had broken his covenant with the Chaldeans, and he had sealed that covenant with the name of Jehovah. Had it come to this — that the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar had more respect for Jehovah's oath than David's son, the king of Judah? … "You only have I known of all the families of the earth: therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities." Judgment must begin at the house of God. Sin is always sin, but it is least excusable among people who know His word and carry His name before the world.
Babylon's rule over Judah was not an accident of politics. God had said it would be so. The treaty Zedekiah tore up was God's discipline, meant to do him good.
There was no excuse for this in any oppression by Nebuchadnezzar. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will. … God had declared His purpose about Babylon. So rebellion against Babylon was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the discipline the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had received it as such. But this resistance forfeited everything.
"He shall not escape" is not a threat of bad luck. God describes Himself as the hunter, and the charge He will try in Babylon is betrayal of Himself.
"As I live," says the Lord, of Zedekiah, "truly in the place of the king that made him king, whose oath he despised and whose covenant he broke, even with him in the middle of Babylon he shall die. I will spread my net over him, and he shall be caught in my snare. I will bring him to Babylon and put him on trial there for the unfaithfulness he has shown to Me." Plainly, the whole character of Israel as the people of the Lord was gone.
The escape he counted on collapsed with him. William Kelly notes that Pharaoh's great army failed Zedekiah at his moment of greatest need. He died in Babylon, a prisoner of the king whose covenant he had broken.
One man's contempt for his word brought down the throne of David. Yet the sentence passed on that throne has a time limit written into it.
The last king, Zedekiah, brought on the ruin by his treachery. Nebuchadnezzar "made him swear by God" (2 Chron. 36:13), but "he despised the oath in breaking the covenant" (Ezek. 17:17-18). Nothing was sacred in his eyes. … "Remove the diadem, and take off the crown… I will overturn, overturn, overturn it: and it shall be no more, until He comes whose right it is, and I will give it to Him." Ever since that day David's throne has lain in the dust.
The words from Ezekiel 21 here follow an older translation.
- Sworn — Zedekiah made his pledge to Babylon in God's name, so God calls it "my oath" and "my covenant."
- Despised — Breaking it told a pagan king that the name of the Holy One of Israel counted for nothing.
- Compared — Nebuchadnezzar respected an oath sworn by God more than David's own son did. Sin is least excusable where God's name is known.
- Resisted — Babylon's rule was God's discipline, meant for blessing. Rebelling against it was rebelling against Him, and it cost Zedekiah everything.
- Recompensed — "He shall not escape." God spreads the net Himself. The charge tried in Babylon is unfaithfulness to Him, and David's throne lies in the dust until the One comes whose right it is.
Therefore thus saith the Lord Jehovah [As] I live, verily, mine oath which he hath despised, and my covenant which he hath broken, even it will I recompense upon his head.
Zedekiah was the last king of Judah. He swore loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, then asked Egypt for help to break free. Here God treats that broken treaty as His own. The oath Zedekiah despised is My oath, and the penalty falls back on the man who broke it.
Two kings made the agreement. But Zedekiah swore it in the name of the Lord, and that changes the whole case:
He made a covenant with the king of Babylon. He took an oath in the name of Jehovah to obey Nebuchadnezzar, so much so that Jehovah called it "My oath" and "My covenant." Afterwards he rebelled against the king that Jehovah had set over him, and sent to Egypt for horses and men. He despised the covenant and the oath he had sworn so solemnly. So he showed the pagan king that the name of the Holy One of Israel counted for nothing.
Zedekiah could have argued that he was only shaking off a foreign ruler. But God had already given world power to Babylon. The yoke was His discipline, not just Nebuchadnezzar's ambition:
No one could excuse this by claiming that Nebuchadnezzar had oppressed them. On the contrary, Israel might still have prospered by bowing to Jehovah's will... God had declared His purpose about Babylon, so rebellion against it was rebellion against Him. It was resistance to the discipline the Lord had appointed for blessing, if only they had taken it that way.
Had he submitted, something of the old order could have survived:
Judah might still have remained the centre of religious blessing. The lamp of David might still have given light there, even though the royal house was now under the Gentile ruler... The Gentile ruler was not the one who broke the covenant.
The comparison is what stings. Notice who kept the oath and who broke it:
Jehovah charges the son of David then on the throne with treachery against Himself as well as against Nebuchadnezzar. He had broken his covenant with the Babylonians, and he had sealed it with the name of Jehovah. Had it really come to this — that the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar had more respect for the oath of Jehovah than David's son, the king of Judah? So Zedekiah's conduct made it impossible, in every way, for God to shield the guilty king and people any longer. He could shield them even less because they bore His name.
That principle reaches past Zedekiah. Kelly draws a wider rule from the case:
God will be sanctified in all who come near Him. Sin is always sin, but it is least excusable where people know His word and hold up His name before others.
The broken treaty grew out of unbelief:
"Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon." He had no real faith in Jehovah, Israel's covenant-keeping God. So he felt no hesitation about breaking his covenant with Nebuchadnezzar. But how high a price he paid for breaking his oath!
God carries out the sentence Himself. The net is His, the snare is His, and He judges Zedekiah in the very city whose king he had betrayed:
The Lord says of Zedekiah: "I will spread My net over him, and My snare will catch him. I will bring him to Babylon, and I will enter into judgment with him there for the unfaithfulness he has shown to Me." Plainly, the whole character of Israel as the people of the Lord was gone.
The chapter that condemns one branch of David's house ends by planting another:
But it left room for the sovereignty of God. He would bring down the high tree and lift up the low tree. He would dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. His grace would take the little forgotten branch of the house of David and raise it up in Israel on the mountain of His power.
- Named — Swear a promise in God's name and it becomes His own. God calls Zedekiah's treaty with a foreign king "My oath" and "My covenant."
- Despised — Breaking it told a foreign court that the name of the Holy One of Israel counted for nothing.
- Compared — The pagan king honoured that oath more than David's heir did. Privilege made the sin worse, not lighter.
- Recompensed — God Himself spread the net and brought him to Babylon for judgment. The broken oath came back on his own head.
- Replanted — The throne fell, but God's rule did not. He raised a forgotten branch of David's house and made the dry tree flourish.
And I will spread my net upon him, and he shall be taken in my snare; and I will bring him to Babylon, and will enter into judgment with him there for his unfaithfulness in which he hath been unfaithful against me.
Zedekiah broke his oath, and God does not leave the answer to Babylon's army. God Himself spreads the net. God Himself brings the king to Babylon and opens the case against him. The last words carry the weight: the treachery is "against me," though the man Zedekiah wronged was a foreign king.
Zedekiah had sworn loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar, and the oath had God's name attached to it. That is why the guilt runs past Babylon and lands on God.
Nebuchadnezzar and Zedekiah made their covenant, and they brought in the name of Jehovah to confirm it. It was not the Gentile who broke the covenant. Zedekiah added one more sin to the rest: he made it impossible for a people and a kingdom belonging to God to exist. He despised the name of Jehovah and trampled it underfoot more than the Gentile king did.
God does not call the treaty Babylon's. He calls it His own — and a foreign king watched what Zedekiah did with it.
He made a covenant with the king of Babylon. He took an oath in the name of Jehovah to obey Nebuchadnezzar — so fully that Jehovah called it "My oath" and "My covenant." Afterwards he rebelled against the king that Jehovah had set over him, and sent to Egypt for horses and men. He despised the covenant and the oath he had sworn, and so showed the heathen king that the name of the Holy One of Israel counted for nothing. This brought things to a climax: there was "no remedy."
This is not bad luck. It is God's own retribution, and it falls heaviest on the man who carried His name.
So Zedekiah's conduct made it impossible, from every point of view, for God to shield the guilty king and people any longer. It was the less possible because they bore His name… Sin is always sin, but it is least excusable where people know His word and see His name held up before them. So God would justly take Zedekiah in the net of divine retribution. He would die disappointed in the help he had trusted to get from Pharaoh and his great army, at the hour of his greatest need.
The throne existed to protect the people. Once the king's covenant-breaking armed God against him, the nation went down with him.
God tells them plainly what this broken covenant will bring. It was a covenant made in the name of the Lord with Nebuchadnezzar. Breaking it could only make heavier the punishment that had already come, and it armed God as well as man against them. The royal power in Israel was meant to deliver the people. Now it would drag them into its own doom… Plainly, the whole character of Israel as the people of the Lord was gone. Nothing remained for them but to be scattered completely.
Two prophecies about this king seemed to contradict each other. What happened to him fulfilled both, down to the detail.
Two prophecies about him are remarkable. One said he would speak with the king of Babylon and see him eye to eye (Jer. 32:4). The other said he would be brought to Babylon, yet never see it, though he would die there (Ezek. 12:13). And so it happened. He was carried before Nebuchadnezzar at Riblah. There his sons were killed in front of him, his eyes were put out, and he was taken to Babylon.
Judgment on Zedekiah is not the last word here. William Kelly points ahead to a very different king.
It is Messiah in His kingdom. He is not suffering on earth, and not coming from heaven, but reigning as the rightful king of Israel. That is why He is later called David, the true Beloved. Under His rule the whole people will be one again. They will never again be divided by folly, and never again fall by idolatrous sin or any other sin.
- The name — the oath bore God's name, so breaking it was treachery against Him; God calls it "My oath" and "My covenant."
- The nations — he broke the oath in front of a foreign king. The watching world saw that the Holy One of Israel counted for nothing.
- The net — the trap is God's own, not Babylon's. Sin is least excusable where people know God's word and carry His name.
- The nation — the throne that should have saved the people dragged them down with it. What was left was scattering, and "no remedy."
- The new branch — after the net comes a rightful King, and His kingdom will never be divided again.