And the word of Jehovah came unto me, saying,
God warns Ezekiel in advance that He Himself will take his wife. The chapter opens on the day Nebuchadnezzar's army closed in on Jerusalem, so why does God choose the prophet's own home to make His point?
Here the sign moves from what Ezekiel does to what he loses.
The prophet himself is next called to fear a stroke from God of the most intimate kind. The hope was that this would force the captives at the Chebar to feel the seriousness of the crisis and of that rebellious denial of the true God which had brought judgment on the Jews.
The Chebar was a canal in Babylon where the exiles lived. Words had not moved them; a prophet burying his wife without a tear was harder to ignore.
The people ask what the strange behaviour means. God answers by naming the temple as the desire of their eyes, and says He will profane it Himself.
"Speak to the house of Israel … I will profane my sanctuary, the pride of your strength, the desire of your eyes, and the thing your soul pities; and your sons and your daughters whom you have left behind shall fall by the sword." … God would teach the people about a trouble with no equal. It would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning.
The quotation above follows an older translation. What the wife was to Ezekiel, the sanctuary was to Israel: the loss would be as personal as a death in the family.
Ezekiel is not told to feel nothing. God bans only the outward signs of mourning.
It is not grief that is forbidden, but the expression of it. In this expressionless grief he is to be a sign to the people.
The plain meaning comes first: a bond broken by death cannot be repaired.
While he faithfully delivered the message in the morning, even his wife was taken from his side. Death dissolved the marriage union and took the beloved wife from the prophet. In the same way, the tie between Jehovah and Jerusalem was now to be cut off completely.
Commentators also look deeper. The sanctuary carried a weight that no family loss could match.
The loss of their sons and daughters, severe as it is, is not the equal of this breaking of a marriage-tie under which Ezekiel suffers. For that, we have to think of the sanctuary itself gone. The sanctuary was the pledge and seal of the tie. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them, and gave the people access to Himself. Once that tie was broken, it might well swallow up all others.
The account of the command carries a note of tenderness. Ezekiel's obedience cost him something real.
The wife of the prophet died on the day that Nebuchadnezzar began the siege. She was the one he loved most tenderly, yet he was not to mourn, and he did not. The beautiful touch of tenderness at the start of the account shows that he had the sympathies and affections of any human being. But he puts himself completely under the will of Jehovah, and sinks the interests of his own life in the work of his prophetic office.
God had once made the same demand of Aaron the priest, when his sons were struck down. Writers set the two scenes side by side.
Someone will say that all this was "a sign" to Israel. True. But it proves that in prophetic testimony, as well as in priestly worship, we must rise above all the claims and influences of nature and of earth. A single stroke cut down Aaron's sons and Ezekiel's wife. Yet neither the priest nor the prophet was to uncover his head or shed a tear.
- Stroke. God takes Ezekiel's wife with a single blow — the most intimate loss He could ask a servant to bear.
- Sign. The wife is not the message; the silent grief is. God allows the sorrow but forbids every outward sign of it, until the people ask what it means.
- Sanctuary. God calls His own temple the desire of their eyes, and says He will profane it Himself.
- Severed. Death dissolved the marriage bond, and in the same way the tie between the Lord and Jerusalem would end — with the sanctuary gone, every lesser grief was swallowed up.
- Surrender. Ezekiel felt the loss and still obeyed, sinking his own life into his calling, as Aaron had to do before him.
Son of man, behold, I take away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke; yet thou shalt not mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down.
The day Babylon's army closes in on Jerusalem, God takes the prophet's wife in a single stroke and forbids him to shed a tear. Why would God turn one man's private grief into a public message?
Two blows fall on the same day: an army at the city, and a death in the prophet's house.
In Ezekiel 24 God pronounces final judgment on Jerusalem, who was not even ashamed of her sins. The day Nebuchadnezzar lays siege to the city, the prophet's wife dies. She was the dearest object of his affections, yet Ezekiel was not to mourn. Under the figure of his wife's death God tells him to hold his heart back before the judgment of the Lord.
The blow falls on Ezekiel, but God aims it at the captives watching him.
The prophet is next called to feel a stroke from God of the most intimate kind, if by any means the captives at the Chebar could be forced to feel the seriousness of the crisis and of that rebellious denial of the true God which had brought judgment on the Jews.
Many read the command as an order to feel nothing at all. Commentators draw a finer line.
It is not that grief is forbidden, but the expression of it. He is to be in this expressionless grief a sign to the people.
The exiles watched a man refuse to mourn his own wife. God explained to them what it meant.
God informs the people that He would teach them of a trouble like no other, one that would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The destruction now beginning was so sweeping that nothing would remain for them but pining away in their iniquities and groaning to one another. The Lord Himself profaned the sanctuary by judgment, as they had by their transgressions and abominations. What a picture of despair! The sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt drives men to give up hope.
What loss in the nation could match the tearing of a marriage bond?
The loss of their sons and daughters, however severe, cannot match this breaking of a marriage bond that Ezekiel suffers. For that, we have to think of the sanctuary itself gone. The sanctuary was the pledge and seal of the tie. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them, and gave the people access to Himself. Once that tie was broken, it might well swallow up all others.
One writer looks past the prophet to God Himself.
The hint is plain: the prophet's sorrow is the sorrow of God Himself. The affliction is on His part, not on man's side. Yet it is an affliction which can find no expression among a people as hard as these are... He who has inflicted it is He who feels what He has inflicted. It is the tearing apart of His own relationship with a people whom He had taken up to show His love to them.
Ezekiel's calling reached all the way into his private life.
He neither speaks nor acts like an ordinary man, but thinks and feels as a prophet... He puts himself completely under the will of the Lord, and sinks the interests of his own life into the work of his prophetic office.
Does God then ask His people to feel nothing? One writer answers with a question about Aaron and his sons.
Someone may ask: are we to be stoics? I ask, were Aaron and his sons stoics? No; they were priests. Did they not feel as men? Yes; but they worshipped as priests.
- Timing. Ezekiel's wife dies on the day the siege of Jerusalem begins. God ties the private loss to the national one.
- Restraint. God forbids the signs of grief, not the grief itself. The silent prophet becomes a walking message.
- Meaning. The delight of Ezekiel's eyes stands for Israel's — the sanctuary, the pledge of God's presence, whose loss swallows every other sorrow.
- Depth. The coming trouble is too great for tears. Guilt-stricken people pine away instead of weeping.
- Reach. One reading sees the prophet's silent sorrow as God's own, felt by the very One who sent the blow.
Sigh in silence, make no mourning for the dead; bind thy turban upon thee, and put thy sandals upon thy feet, and cover not the beard, and eat not the bread of men.
God tells Ezekiel that his wife will die. In the same breath He forbids every normal sign of grief — no tears, no bared head, no bare feet, no covered lip, no funeral meal from neighbours. The strangeness is the point: his silence is a message to the exiles about what is coming on Jerusalem.
Start with the head covering. "Turban" (older translations say "tire") renders a Hebrew word used elsewhere for other fine head coverings.
An ornamental head-dress. Ezekiel 24:17, 23. The same Hebrew word, peër, is translated 'bonnet' in Isaiah 3:20; Ezekiel 44:18; and 'ornament' in Isaiah 61:10.
Every item on the list broke with the funeral customs of the day.
People normally wailed loudly at a death, and even hired mourners. So Ezekiel's conduct called for an explanation: "The people said to me, 'Will you not tell us what these things mean for us, that you are doing this?'"
The order was never that Ezekiel should feel nothing.
It is not that grief is forbidden, but the expression of it. He is to be in this expressionless grief a sign to the people.
The record is short, but it lets us see both the depth of his love and the completeness of his obedience.
The day Nebuchadnezzar began the siege, the prophet's wife died. She was the one he loved most tenderly, yet he was not to mourn — and he did not. That he had the sympathies and affections of a man is clear from the beautiful touch of tenderness at the start of the story. But he puts himself completely under the will of Jehovah, and gives up the interests of his own life for the work of his prophetic office.
Commentators read the demand in two ways. Some stress the prophet's work. Others set it beside Aaron the priest, who was also forbidden to show grief when his sons died.
Someone will say that all this was only "a sign" to Israel. True. But it proves that in prophetic testimony, as well as in priestly worship, we must rise above every claim and influence of nature and of earth. Aaron's sons and Ezekiel's wife were struck down in a moment. Yet neither the priest nor the prophet was to uncover his head or shed a tear.
The sign turned on a broken bond.
While he faithfully delivered the message in the morning, even his wife was taken from his side. Death had dissolved the marriage union and taken from the prophet the beloved wife. In the same way, the tie between Jehovah and Jerusalem was now to be cut completely.
The judgment would reach the temple itself, and the God they had offended would be the one bringing it.
The destruction that had begun was so complete that nothing would be left for them but wasting away in their sins and groaning to one another. Jehovah Himself was profaning the sanctuary by judgment, as they had profaned it by their wrongdoing and their detestable practices. What a picture of despair, when sorrow lies too deep for tears and a crushing sense of guilt drives people to give up hope!
There is one more layer. The sign shows whose grief this really is.
Ezekiel here, as elsewhere, is the representative of God to the people, as the prophet always was. Notice that the blow falls not on the people, but on the prophet himself. And as far as he is concerned, it is not sent as a judgment… So it is clearly hinted that the prophet's sorrow is the sorrow of God Himself. The grief is on His side, not on man's. Yet it is a grief that can find no expression among a people as stubborn as these.
One writer turns the command about not eating "the bread of men" into a question for the reader.
Oh, my reader, how far have you and I come in this deep lesson? No doubt both reader and writer have to make the same humbling confession. Too often we "walk as men" and "eat the bread of men." Too often the workings of nature and the influences of earth rob us of our high priestly privileges.
- The sign — Ezekiel keeps his turban and sandals on and skips the mourner's meal. That broke with the loud wailing everyone expected, so the exiles had to ask what it meant.
- The silence — God never forbade the grief, only the showing of it.
- The meaning — death ended the prophet's marriage. In the same way, the bond between the Lord and Jerusalem was about to end, and the sanctuary itself would be profaned.
- The despair — the loss ran past tears. The people would waste away in their guilt and groan to one another.
- The sorrow — the blow fell on God's representative, not on the people. The grief in the picture is God's own, over a tie He had to break.
-- And I spoke unto the people in the morning; and at even my wife died. And I did in the morning as I was commanded.
Ezekiel preached in the morning, lost his wife that evening, and next morning obeyed God to the letter. Two questions sit behind that obedience: why forbid a grieving husband to weep, and what were the people meant to see in his silence?
Ezekiel's wife died on the exact day Babylon's army closed in on Jerusalem. His private loss ran alongside the nation's public ruin.
In Ezekiel 24 God pronounces final judgment on Jerusalem, who was not even ashamed of her sins. On the day Nebuchadnezzar lays siege to the city, the prophet's wife dies. She was the dearest object of his affections, yet Ezekiel was not to mourn. Her death is a picture: he is told to hold his heart in check before the judgment of Jehovah. Once that judgment had been carried out, the prophet's mouth would be opened, and the word of Jehovah would go out openly to the remnant, so that they would know Jehovah.
after_note: DELETE-nothing
The record is short, almost cold. Yet one writer finds real tenderness in how the account opens, and full obedience in how it ends.
He clearly had the sympathies and affections of a human heart. You can see it in the beautiful touch of tenderness at the opening of the story. But he puts himself completely under the will of Jehovah. He sinks the interests of his own life into the work of his prophetic office.
God did not tell Ezekiel to stop feeling. He told him to stop showing it.
It is not that grief is forbidden, but the expression of it. In this grief that he may not show, he is to be a sign to the people. He must sigh in silence, make no mourning for the dead, keep his turban on his head and his sandals on his feet, not cover his beard, and not eat the bread of men.
Leaving out those customs made Ezekiel stand out.
At a death like this people normally wailed loudly, and even hired mourners to do it. Ezekiel's behaviour was so different that it called for an explanation.
Death cut one bond. Judgment was about to cut another.
Death had dissolved the marriage union and taken the beloved wife from the prophet. In the same way, the bond between Jehovah and Jerusalem was now to be cut off completely.
The people would also lose sons and daughters. Even that was not the real parallel to what Ezekiel suffered.
The loss of their sons and daughters, hard as it was, cannot match this breaking of a marriage tie that Ezekiel suffers. For that we have to think of the sanctuary itself gone. The sanctuary was the pledge and seal of the tie. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them, and gave the people access to Himself. Once that tie was broken, it might well swallow up all the others.
One writer sets Ezekiel's silence beside Aaron's. Aaron the priest lost his sons in a moment and received the same order: do not uncover your head. Both cases teach the same hard lesson.
Someone will say that all this was only "a sign" to Israel. True. But it proves that in prophetic testimony, and in priestly worship too, we must rise above every claim and influence of nature and of earth. Aaron's sons and Ezekiel's wife were struck down in a moment. Yet neither the priest nor the prophet was to uncover his head or shed a tear.
This is not a call to be unfeeling. The same writer raises that objection himself.
Someone may ask, are we to be stoics? I ask, were Aaron and his sons stoics? No; they were priests. Did they not feel as men? Yes; but they worshipped as priests… Nearness to God as priests gives the soul such insight into all His ways, and such a sense of the rightness of all His dealings, that one is able to worship in His presence. That holds even when the stroke of His hand has taken from us someone we tenderly loved.
- Stroke. Babylon laid siege to Jerusalem on the very day God took Ezekiel's wife. She was the dearest object of his affections, and God told him not to mourn.
- Silence. God banned the outward signs, not the sorrow. Ezekiel could grieve; he could not show it.
- Sign. Loud wailing and hired mourners were what everyone expected. Ezekiel's silence made the people ask what it meant.
- Sanctuary. The broken marriage bond pictured the loss of the sanctuary, not just of the children. With it went the pledge of the Lord's presence and the people's access to Him.
- Submission. Ezekiel sank his own life into his calling and obeyed the next morning. The same nearness to God lets a priest worship under the stroke of His hand.