and Jehovah said unto him, Go through the midst of the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and that cry for all the abominations that are done in the midst thereof.
God shows Ezekiel a city so corrupt that He calls executioners to it. Yet before a single blow falls, one man goes ahead with an ink-horn to mark a few people — and the mark goes on those who weep, not those who achieve.
(Note: where the older translation used here reads "sigh and cry," the ESV reads "sigh and groan over all the abominations.")
God's glory starts to move away from the temple. The moment that seals the city's doom also begins a search for His own people.
Notice here the wonderful grace coming in alongside divine holiness. The glory takes its first step to withdraw from that temple where God's name was put. His honour cannot stand where He is dishonoured; He will not stay where His glory is given to others. But here is a man clothed in white linen, a picture of the holiness of God, with the ink-horn to make the record about everyone; and He says, before I seal the doom of that accursed place, look for those who are the remnant that love and honour Me.
One writer hears reluctance in that pause:
Yet it is as if God is reluctant to leave, even if there is so much there that dishonours Him. How He longs for His people to be in right relation with Himself and to enjoy fellowship. "How can I give you up? ... my compassion grows warm and tender" (Hosea 11:8).
God's test here is not what these men organised or achieved. It is what broke their hearts.
What would be the best thing for the faithful to do to give them a distinguishing feature? It was not simply that they had avoided what the others did. It was not that they had a plan to counter the evil. It was not even that they had used all their influence against idolatry. It was their sighing and weeping for the abominations that God would own and mark. I am sure that some speak about the failure and the worldliness, the compromise and the inconsistency, but how many will weep over it? There is no room for a fault-finding spirit; if I have any love for Christ and His church, I must pray for it.
But what if the grief can change nothing?
The remnant who lament over the abominations are marked on their foreheads. It pleases God that any should mourn over the evil connected with His name, even though they cannot put it right.
The word for "mark" hides a picture.
The word for "mark" here is the one that names the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the tau, which in the writing of that time was a cross. Who can miss the meaning of this? The judgment comes on behalf of the altar. To put it another way, it comes because the propitiation of the altar is no more. How significant, then, that those whom the judgment spares are just those marked for mercy by the altar itself — by the sign of the cross, as the Christian heart at once interprets it. Here, then, is the sinner's shield at all times, the only hope of escape where all are sinners.
What does the mark actually do?
In Ezekiel 9:4 we see that before the Lord brought in judgment, He secured for Himself those who owned their sin and were humbled because of it. The judgment was terrible, as God's judgment on the unbelieving and the sinner will also be. But verse 6 is explicit: "But touch no one on whom is the mark." Read the "mark" alongside the sealing of the twelve tribes of Israel in Revelation 7, and we see that those who are sealed or marked are immune from the judgment of God; no judgment for them.
One writer connects that sighing with a deeper sorrow in the Gospel:
In an earlier day of apostasy, grief over the waywardness of their people marked out the Lord's faithful servants. They stood out as those "who sigh and groan over all the abominations that are committed in it" (Ezekiel 9:4). Here in the Gospel the veil over the Master's inner feelings lifts for a moment. We catch a glimpse of His loyal zeal for God and His deep longing over the guilty people.
Does this belong only to Ezekiel's day?
Those who sigh and weep make up the remnant who have no sympathy with the abominations. They are marked for preservation. So a remnant was kept then. We may well remember that now, in the professing church, in the middle of the apostasy, there is also a faithful remnant who sigh and cry.
- Cause. God's glory moves toward the door. He will not stay where His glory is given to another. Judgment starts with holiness, not anger.
- Search. The ink-horn goes before the sword. God looks for those who still love Him, and the test is tears, not tactics.
- Mark. The word is the Hebrew letter tau, written back then as a cross. The altar signs this mercy, and it is the sinner's only shield.
- Shelter. The mark binds the executioners. Whoever carries it goes free, as in the sealing of Revelation 7.
- Echo. The grief God marks is grief He shares. It sounds again in the Master's longing over a guilty people, and it still marks a faithful few today.
And to the others he said in my hearing, Go after him through the city, and smite let not your eye spare, neither have pity.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Slay utterly the old man, the young man, and the maiden, and little children, and women; but come not near any man upon whom is the mark; and begin at my sanctuary. Then they began at the elders who were before the house.
Ezekiel sees a vision of judgment on Jerusalem. The killing does not begin in the streets. It begins at the temple, and the first to die are the men closest to God's house. Why does God strike His own sanctuary first? And what is the mark that spares a man?
The order to start at the sanctuary is not a one-off. Commentators read it as a fixed rule, tied to the privilege those people enjoyed:
Judgment must begin at the house of God. It always begins there. The greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility. Being outwardly near to God while the heart is far away only invites judgment all the more.
The reason lies in what God is, not merely in what Israel had done. A comparison drawn from ordinary life makes the point:
God judges everything by His own nature. He wants everything to match that nature. No honest and honourable man would want the wicked near him, always in front of him. God certainly would not. And in what is nearest to Him, He must above all want everything to match His nature and His holiness — all that He is. I would want everything around me clean enough not to disgrace me. But in my own house I must have the cleanness I want for myself. So judgment must begin at the house of God... No grace, no privilege, changes the nature of God.
The verse ends with the killing beginning at the elders in front of the house. Their age and office gave them no shelter:
God always takes light and privilege into account when He judges. The elders who had privilege also carried the deepest responsibility. Their age does not excuse them; it makes their stain darker. The killing began at the elders, because the fullest responsibility rests with the men who should be examples and moral leaders among God's people. The evil had spread from the top downwards, so the judgment would follow the same path.
These were not fringe offenders. The leaders themselves ran the idolatry inside the temple:
Sadly, they were the ones promoting the idolatry and wickedness carried out in the temple of the Lord. They were not there as men whose clothing spoke of the blood that cleanses. Instead they corrupted God's holy standard and defiled Israel, leading the people to abandon God completely. So if judgment is to fall, it must begin with the house of God.
The order sweeps across every age — old men, young men, women, children. One clause holds it back: the killers must not touch anyone who carries the mark. That exception shows what kind of judgment this is:
God's stern justice demands full punishment. The angels must strike without mercy. How this necessary command must have grieved God's heart, since He does not want the death of a sinner. But as the righteous Judge, He will not let the righteous die with the wicked. Judgment always separates one from the other. He makes the godly known, and He will spare them.
The Hebrew word for the mark carries a message of its own:
The word for "mark" here is the name of the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the tau, which in the writing of that day was shaped like a cross... The judgment comes on behalf of the altar. To put it another way, it comes because the propitiation of the altar is no more. How striking, then, that the people the judgment spares are the very ones marked for mercy by the altar itself, that is, by the sign of the cross... Here, then, is the sinner's shield at all times, the only hope of escape where all are sinners.
Nothing impressive singled out the spared. Grief over what dishonoured God marked them out:
But here is a man dressed in white linen, a picture of the holiness of God, carrying a writing case to make a record of everyone. And He says: before I seal the doom of that cursed place, look for the remnant who love and honour Me. But how are they known? By their bright cheerfulness? By something that makes them a remarkable people? While everyone around them turns away from God, He has a people marked out by their sighing and crying over the vile things being done.
One writer carries the same pattern forward to the Christian today:
The men carrying out the judgment stood by "the bronze altar" — the place of sacrifice. God told them to touch no one on whom is the mark. This illustrates what 1 Peter 4 says. The righteous are saved, though only with difficulty, because of the false religious profession all around them. Christ has borne their judgment. At "the brazen altar" — the Cross in type — He once suffered for their sins and brought them to God. Moreover, they have "the mark" — the Spirit of God.
- Nearness. Closeness to God is the greatest privilege and the heaviest responsibility. Being near Him while the heart is far away only brings judgment sooner.
- Nature. God starts at His own house because He judges by what He is, and no privilege alters His nature.
- Leaders. The elders die first because the corruption began at the top, so the judgment follows the same route down.
- Mark. The one thing that stops the sword is a mark whose very letter was a cross — mercy from the altar, the sinner's only shield.
- Mourners. Those marked were known by nothing but their sighing over evil; grief that matches God's grief is what He recognises and spares.