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.
And the people said unto me, Wilt thou not tell us what these things are to us, which thou doest?
Ezekiel buried his wife and shed no tear. The people watching asked him what it meant for them, and his answer named what God was about to take.
Public grief in Israel was loud and organised. A man who buried his wife in silence was doing something no one could ignore.
Loud mourning was the custom in such cases — they even hired mourners. Against that, this silent conduct calls for explanation.
God had used Ezekiel's actions this way before. The strangeness itself was meant to make people ask.
All this, of course, was not a vision but real. It was meant to raise questions in those who saw these puzzling actions and would ask what they meant.
Ezekiel's answer was not about his wife at all. It told the people what God Himself was about to do to them.
The prophet's fresh act is explained. God would teach the people about a trouble like no other. It would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The destruction now beginning was so sweeping that nothing would remain for them but wasting away in their sins and groaning to one another. The Lord Himself was profaning the sanctuary by judgment, as they had profaned it by their sins. What a picture of despair, when sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt forces people to give up hope!
God did not forbid Ezekiel to grieve. He forbade him to show it. What was coming on Jerusalem would silence mourning altogether.
Jerusalem is gone in judgment — the city gone, and the sanctuary with it. The nation as a whole needed that sanctuary, for it was the only place where the blood of sacrifice could be offered to God. So the destruction of the sanctuary was the end of all relationship. What could remain between a holy God and a people for whose sins no atonement could be made? For the people, this disaster was so overwhelming that every other loss might well seem small. The voice of lamentation itself was hushed in this silence of despair… It is not that grief is forbidden, but the expression of it.
The people asked what the sign meant for them. Even the answer did not bring out its full meaning.
Yet, after all, they cannot feel these things as God accounts them. The disaster might overwhelm them, but they were to waste away in sins still unrepented of. This is why, it seems, the full meaning of what Ezekiel is called to do does not come out. The loss of their sons and daughters, hard as it is, cannot match the breaking of the marriage bond that Ezekiel suffers under. For that, we have to think of the sanctuary itself gone. The sanctuary was the pledge and seal of that bond. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them and gave the people access to Himself. When that bond breaks, that loss might well swallow up all the rest.
This sign was not the first. God had asked Ezekiel for costly, public obedience again and again.
God commanded this great prophet to do certain things in front of the people. They were living in deception after listening to the false prophets… he had to shave his head and beard (5:1); to carry a captive's baggage (12:3-7); when his wife died, he was not to mourn (24:15-20); and again he lost his speech (24:27). Chapter 24:24 is the key to all this.
Behind the sign stands a husband who loved his wife and felt her loss.
He had all the human sympathies and affections. The beautiful touch of tenderness that opens the account makes that clear. But he puts himself entirely under the will of the Lord, and sinks the interests of his own life in the work of his prophetic office.
- Question. Ezekiel's tearless silence broke every custom of public mourning. It was meant to make people ask what it meant for them.
- Answer. God was about to profane His own sanctuary and take their sons and daughters. The blow would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning.
- Loss. The sanctuary gone meant the place of sacrifice gone. With it went the whole relationship between a holy God and a people whose sins no atonement could cover.
- Depth. Losing children was severe. The broken marriage bond points deeper still: to the bond with God that the sanctuary sealed.
- Sign. Ezekiel's whole life of strange obedience finds its key here. The man himself became the message, feeling the loss yet holding his sorrow under God's will.
And I said to them, The word of Jehovah came unto me, saying,
The people have watched Ezekiel bury his wife without a single tear, and they ask him what it means for them (v. 19). His reply gives them nothing of his own — a message came to him, and the rest of the chapter is that message.
Ezekiel's silence was not ordinary restraint. It clashed with the funeral customs of the day.
Compared with the loud mourning usual at such times, for which they even hired mourners, this behaviour calls for explanation. It is the mourning for their sons and daughters that is to stop, in view of a mourning that can find no adequate expression.
The answer he passes on is not his own reading of his wife's death.
Now the fresh act from God is explained. The people learn that God would teach them about a trouble with no parallel, one that would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The LORD Himself was profaning the sanctuary by judgment, just as they had profaned it by their transgressions and abominations. The destruction was so sweeping that nothing remained for them but wasting away in their sins and groaning to one another. What a picture of despair, when the sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt drives people to give up hope!
The message names the sanctuary — the temple — before it names their children. Commentators see the weight of the sign resting there.
The city is gone, and the sanctuary with it. The whole nation needed that sanctuary. It was the only place where anyone could offer the blood of sacrifice to God. So the destruction of the sanctuary was the end of all relationship. What could remain between a holy God and a people for whose sins no atonement could be made? This is the overwhelming disaster which, for the people, might well make every other loss seem small. Even the sound of mourning fell silent in this despair.
The sign is a wife's death, not a child's, and one writer explains what that stands for.
The loss of their sons and daughters, with all its severity, cannot answer to 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 that tie. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them, and gave the people access to Himself. The breaking of that tie might well swallow up every other loss.
The blow in this chapter lands on the prophet, not on his audience.
It is worth noticing that the stroke falls not on the people but on the prophet himself. Nor is it inflicted on him as a judgment. There is no divorce from God for him because of it. On the contrary, at this very moment he stands before the people fully as the representative of God Himself, speaking and acting in His name… This hints, plainly enough, 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 hardened as these. He who has inflicted the blow is the One who feels what He has inflicted.
Ezekiel could carry this word because he had handed his whole life over to it — even his deepest loss.
One very striking feature of Ezekiel's history stands out. He gave his whole life and feelings as a man over to the great prophetic work God called him to. He neither speaks nor acts like an ordinary man, but thinks and feels as a prophet. The death of his wife is a striking example of this.
One writer sets Ezekiel beside Aaron, Israel's first priest, who lost his sons and still showed no sign of grief.
Someone will say that all this was "a sign" to Israel. True. But it proves this: in prophetic testimony, as in priestly worship, we must rise above all the claims and influences of nature and of earth. Aaron's sons and Ezekiel's wife were cut down with a stroke, and yet neither the priest nor the prophet was to uncover his head or shed a tear.
- Question. The prophet's tearless funeral was nothing like the loud mourning of the day, so the people had to ask what it meant.
- Word. His answer opens with a report, not an opinion: a message came to him, and that message is the whole reply.
- Loss. The heaviest loss is the sanctuary — the one place of sacrifice — and its fall ended the relationship with God.
- Sorrow. The blow fell on the prophet, not the people, and one writer reads his silent grief as God's own grief over a broken tie.
- Cost. Ezekiel could carry such a word because he had given his whole life to his calling.
Say unto the house of Israel, Thus saith the Lord Jehovah Behold, I will profane my sanctuary, the pride of your strength, the desire of your eyes, and your soul's longing; and your sons and your daughters whom ye have left behind shall fall by the sword.
Ezekiel's wife has just died, and God has told him not to weep. When the exiles ask what this silence means, He answers by pointing to the temple in Jerusalem — their pride and their delight — and says that He Himself will profane it.
The shock of the verse is who does the profaning. The people had profaned the temple by their own sins; now God says He will profane it Himself.
God lets the people know that He would teach them about a trouble so great that it would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The destruction begun was so sweeping — Jehovah Himself profaning the sanctuary by judgment, just as they had profaned it by their transgressions and abominations. Nothing would be left for them but wasting away in their sins and groaning to one another. What a picture of despair, when the sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt forces people to give up hope!
The verse ends with sons and daughters falling by the sword, yet that is not the heaviest blow.
The city is gone, and the sanctuary with it — the sanctuary so necessary for the nation as a whole, where alone the blood of sacrifice could be offered to God. So the destruction of the sanctuary was the end of all relationship. What could remain between a holy God and a people whose sins could not be atoned for? For the people, this overwhelming disaster might well make every other loss seem small. The voice of lamentation itself was hushed in this silence of despair.
Ezekiel lost a wife; the nation would lose children. The two losses do not match.
Yet after all, it is not they who can feel these things as God accounts them. They might be overwhelmed by the disaster, but they were to waste away in sins still unrepented of. This, it seems, is why the full meaning of what Ezekiel is called to do does not come out. The loss of their sons and daughters, severe as it is, cannot match the breaking of a marriage bond which Ezekiel suffers. For that, we have to think of the sanctuary itself gone. It was the pledge and seal of the bond. It spoke of the Lord's presence with them and gave the people access to Himself.
Notice where the blow lands. God strikes the prophet, not the people — and a prophet stands in God's place before them.
Notice that the stroke falls not on the people but on the prophet himself... We have to take the prophet here as really representing the One he stands for. So it is plainly implied that the prophet's sorrow is the sorrow of God Himself. The affliction is on His side, not on man's. Yet it is an affliction that can find no expression among a people as hardened as these... He who has inflicted it is the One who feels what He has inflicted. It is the tearing apart of His own relationship with a people He had taken up to show His love to them.
There is a history behind this sentence. God had already worked to cleanse the city.
God pronounces definitive judgment against Jerusalem, who was not even ashamed of her sins... Jerusalem would be set as a cauldron on the fire, to melt and consume the whole. God had purged her, but she was not purged; and now He causes His fury to rest on her.
The danger was trusting the building instead of God. Israel had made the same mistake before, with the ark.
It is very sad when God's people put their trust in the symbols of God's presence rather than in God Himself... Here the people thought that because the ark was in the camp they were perfectly safe. Later they thought that because they had the temple in Jerusalem the enemy could not overthrow them. The prophet gave them the message of Jehovah: "Amend your ways and your deeds, and I will let you dwell in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: 'This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD'" (Jeremiah 7:3-4). The presence of the ark did not save Israel any more than the presence of the temple, and this because their ways did not please the God they claimed to serve.
- Bond — The sanctuary was the pledge and seal of the bond between God and His people. It was where His presence was, and where they had access to Him.
- Break — They defiled that bond by their own sins. God had worked to cleanse them, and they stayed unclean, so now He profanes the sanctuary Himself in judgment.
- Bereavement — Ezekiel's dead wife is the sign, but the stroke falls on the prophet, not the people. The sorrow he acts out is God's own.
- Beyond tears — The loss is too great for ordinary mourning. They can only waste away in sins they have not repented of.
- Beware — Loving the symbol is not trusting the One it points to; the ark did not save Israel, and neither did the temple.
And ye shall do as I have done ye shall not cover the beard, neither eat the bread of men;
The siege of Jerusalem began, and that same day the prophet's wife died — yet God forbade him to weep or keep any custom of mourning. When the exiles asked what this strange behaviour meant, God told them they would soon do the same: a whole nation with grief too deep for any funeral.
This verse sits inside God's answer to them, and the answer runs past the funeral to the temple.
God would teach them about their unmatched trouble. It would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The destruction begun was so sweeping — the Lord Himself profaning the sanctuary in judgment, as they had by their sins and abominations — that nothing would remain for them but pining away in their iniquities and groaning to one another. What a picture of despair! The sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt forces men to abandon hope.
Look at what God's orders cover: the turban stays on, the sandals stay on, the lip stays uncovered, the bread neighbours bring to a grieving family goes untouched. Every one of them is a public act.
God does not forbid the grief, but the showing of it. In this expressionless grief he is to be a sign to the people: "Sigh in silence. Make no mourning for the dead. Bind your turban on your head, and put your sandals on your feet. Do not cover your lips, and do not eat the bread of men."
The exiles would lose the sons and daughters they left behind in the city. Ezekiel's own loss was of another kind — a marriage ended.
Their sons and daughters were a severe loss. Even so, it cannot match the breaking of the marriage tie that Ezekiel suffers under. 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.
Ask who is struck in this sign.
Notice that the stroke falls not on the people, but on the prophet himself. As far as he is concerned, it is not inflicted as a judgment... The prophet's sorrow is plainly the sorrow of God Himself. The affliction is on His part, not on man's side. Yet it is an affliction that can find no expression among a people as stubborn as these. It is their sin that has brought their disaster. It is their sin that they still pine away in. They feel certain effects of it, no doubt, but not the iniquity itself. He who has inflicted it is the One who feels what He has inflicted.
Read that way, the prophet's dry eyes are no proof that God had stopped loving.
He has broken off His own relationship with a people He had taken up to show them His love and to bring them near to Himself. He has been compelled to give them up. The tie is broken. We are not speaking of purposes still to be fulfilled at the end, but of present relationship, and that has ended for the nation as such. Nothing can divorce His heart from the objects of His love. He may have to act in a way that looks like the opposite. Even then, faith can see through the disguise and know that the love is unchanged all the way through.
The silence laid on Ezekiel had a time limit, tied to the fall of the city.
Under the figure of his wife's death, God tells him to hold back his heart before the judgment of the Lord. Once that judgment was done, the Lord would open the prophet's mouth. He would then speak His word openly to the remnant, so that they should know Him.
- Sign — Ezekiel's tearless loss was a message the exiles could watch. Soon they would do what he did, with no tears of their own.
- Silence — the ban fell on showing grief, not on grief itself. God withdrew the public customs and left the feeling.
- Sanctuary — the loss beneath the loss was the temple. It was the pledge of God's presence and access, and its fall broke the tie and swallowed up every lesser sorrow.
- Sorrow — the blow fell on the prophet, not on the guilty. His unspoken grief pictured God's own feeling about what He had to do.
- Speech — the silence ended when judgment had run its course. God opened the mouth that could not mourn, and spoke again to the remnant.
and your turbans shall be upon your heads, and your sandals upon your feet ye shall not mourn nor weep; but ye shall waste away in your iniquities and moan one toward another.
Ezekiel's wife has died, and God has forbidden him the ordinary signs of grief — and now God tells the exiles to do the same when Jerusalem falls. Verse 23 turns a private sorrow into a national one. Turbans stay on, shoes stay on, and no one weeps — there is only a wasting away under guilt and a groaning to one another.
The command not to mourn has a reason. Just before it, God announced what He would do to His sanctuary and to the sons and daughters the exiles had left behind.
God would teach them about their unmatched trouble, and it would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. So sweeping a destruction had begun that nothing would remain for them but pining away in their iniquities and groaning to one another. The Lord Himself was profaning the sanctuary by judgment, just as they had profaned it by their transgressions and abominations.
So what did God take from the prophet, and what did He leave him?
It is not that grief is forbidden, but the expression of it. In this grief that has no outward expression he is to be a sign to the people: "Sigh in silence, make no mourning for the dead, bind your turban on you, and put your sandals on your feet…"
Why drop the funeral customs at all? Because the coming loss is too big for them.
In such cases people normally wailed aloud, and they even hired mourners. So this conduct calls for explanation… The mourning for these sons and daughters is to cease, in view of the mourning that can have no adequate expression.
The phrase is not new. God had used it long before, in Leviticus 26:39, warning a disobedient people: "Those of you who are left shall rot away in your enemies' lands because of their iniquity." Ezekiel keeps reaching back to the wording of the first five books of the Bible:
The whole book of Ezekiel is soaked in the language of the Pentateuch… So the phrase "pine away in their iniquity" — Ezekiel 4:17, Ezekiel 24:23, Ezekiel 33:10 — occurs only here and in Leviticus 26:39.
The wasting is real, but it is not repentance:
It is their sin which has caused their calamity. It is their sin in which they still pine away — feeling, no doubt, certain effects of it, but not feeling the iniquity itself.
Commentators read this silence in more than one way. Kelly calls it "a picture of despair, when the sorrow lies too deep for tears." Others look past the people to God Himself.
Look at who takes the blow:
Notice that the stroke falls not on the people, but on the prophet himself… He stands before the people fully as the representative of God Himself, speaking and acting in His name… So it is plainly hinted that the prophet's sorrow is the sorrow of God Himself. The affliction is on His part, not on man's side.
The chapter does not stop at the ruin. A verse later God states the purpose of the whole sign:
"Thus shall Ezekiel be to you a sign; according to all that he has done you shall do. When this comes, then you will know that I am the Lord God"… "On that day your mouth will be opened… and you shall speak and be no longer mute. So you will be a sign to them, and they will know that I am the Lord."
One writer draws out what all this shows about God's own heart:
God will not let it all end in judgment only. If we have heart for it, He brings us to His side in this matter and shows us that His heart remains unchanged… Nothing can divorce His heart from those He loves. He may have to act in a way that seems to contradict this, yet faith can still see through the disguise and grasp the unchanging love running through it all.
- Cause — their own sin brought the ruin; the Lord Himself profaned the sanctuary in judgment, as they had profaned it by their sins.
- Sign — Ezekiel's tearless grief acted out the message; hired mourners could never match a loss this size, so the usual rites had to go.
- Silence — God never forbade grief, only its outward show; the sorrow had no adequate expression.
- Sin — to "pine away in your iniquities" is to feel the effects of sin without ever feeling the sin; the wasting is real, the repentance is not.
- Love — the sign ends in "you will know that I am the Lord," and nothing can divorce God's heart from those He loves.
Thus Ezekiel shall be unto you a sign; according to all that he hath done shall ye do when it cometh, then ye shall know that I [am] the Lord Jehovah.
Ezekiel's wife has died, and God has told him not to mourn. That silent grief is a rehearsal of what is coming on Jerusalem, and when it lands the people will know who has been speaking to them.
The sign lies in what Ezekiel withheld.
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 timing sharpened the message.
The day Nebuchadnezzar lays siege to Jerusalem, the prophet's wife dies. She was the one he loved most, yet Ezekiel was not to mourn. Through the figure of his wife's death, God tells him to hold back his heart before the judgment of Jehovah.
"According to all that he has done you shall do." Their turn was coming. The blow would be too heavy for the usual rituals of grief.
The people learn that God would teach them about a trouble like no other. It would leave no room for tears or ordinary mourning. The destruction begun was so sweeping that nothing would remain for them but pining away in their iniquities and groaning to one another. Jehovah Himself was profaning the sanctuary by judgment, as they had profaned it by their transgressions and abominations. What a picture of despair, when the sorrow lies too deep for tears, and an overwhelming sense of guilt makes men abandon hope!
There is more in the sign than a warning to the people.
Notice that the stroke falls not on the people, but on the prophet. And for him it is not a judgment... So the passage hints plainly enough that 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 stubborn as these are.
Read that way, the chapter does not close on bare judgment.
God will not let it all end in judgment only. If we have heart for it, He brings us to His side in this matter and shows us how unchanged His heart remains... Nothing can divorce His heart from those He loves. If He has to act in a way that looks like the opposite, faith can still see through the disguise and recognise the love that never changes.
The verse ends with knowing the Lord. That knowledge reaches Israel and the nations by different routes.
It will be through judgment that all the nations shall know that Jehovah is God... We may see the two means of making Jehovah known in the case of Israel (Ezek. 24:24-27; 28:26; 34:27; 36:11). In the other cases it is by judgment.
Israel gets something the other nations do not.
God carries these judgments out to make them all know Jehovah. In Israel's case there is something more: the understanding and the special verification of prophecy.
Ezekiel's silence would not last forever, but the wait was long.
The last act of the judgment now about to fall must wait for the message that announces its full completion. The siege lasted nearly a year and a half, and then came the message that the city had fallen. In that day, when at last all was over and no one could keep up a false hope any longer, God would open the prophet's mouth... not in judgment once more, but announcing blessing to come.
That silence had limits.
This silence does not mean he said nothing at all, for he prophesied what we read in chapters 25-32. He was to be silent about Israel.
What God asked of Ezekiel reaches beyond his own case.
Someone will say that all this was "a sign" to Israel. True; but it proves that in prophetic testimony, and in worship as a priest too, we must rise above all the claims and influences of nature and of earth.
- Stroke — the blow falls on the messenger first, not as a judgment on him; God puts it there for the people to read.
- Silence — grief is not forbidden, only its expression; the sermon is what Ezekiel does not do.
- Sign — the people must do as he has done: their loss will be too deep for tears, leaving only pining away in their iniquities.
- Sorrow — behind the sign stands God's own affliction at a broken tie, and a heart nothing can divorce from those He loves.
- Speech — when news of the fall arrives, the silence ends; the prophet speaks again, no longer in judgment but in blessing to come.