Study Desk

Jeremiah had written down in a little booklet all the bad things that would come down on Babylon. He told Seraiah, "When you get to Babylon, read this out in public. Read, ‘You, O God , said that you would destroy this place so that nothing could live here, neither human nor animal—a wasteland to top all wastelands, an eternal nothing.'

By the fourth month of Zedekiah's eleventh year, on the ninth day of the month, the famine was so bad that there wasn't so much as a crumb of bread for anyone. Then the Babylonians broke through the city walls. Under cover of the night darkness, the entire Judean army fled through an opening in the wall (it was the gate between the two walls above the King's Garden). They slipped through the lines of the Babylonians who surrounded the city and headed for the Jordan into the Arabah Valley, but the Babylonians were in full pursuit. They caught up with them in the Plains of Jericho. But by then Zedekiah's army had deserted and was scattered.

All the people groaned, so desperate for food, so desperate to stay alive that they bartered their favorite things for a bit of breakfast: "O God , look at me! Worthless, cheap, abject!

"He struck me with lightning, skewered me from head to foot, then he set traps all around so I could hardly move. He left me with nothing—left me sick, and sick of living.

Your prophets courted you with sweet talk. They didn't face you with your sin so that you could repent. Their sermons were all wishful thinking, deceptive illusions.

"You invited, like friends to a party, men to swoop down in attack so that on the big day of God 's wrath no one would get away. The children I loved and reared—gone, gone, gone."

He shuts me in so I'll never get out, manacles my hands, shackles my feet. Even when I cry out and plead for help, he locks up my prayers and throws away the key. He sets up blockades with quarried limestone. He's got me cornered.

"You lost your temper with us, holding nothing back. You chased us and cut us down without mercy. You wrapped yourself in thick blankets of clouds so no prayers could get through. You treated us like dirty dishwater, threw us out in the backyard of the nations.

Babies have nothing to drink. Their tongues stick to the roofs of their mouths. Little children ask for bread but no one gives them so much as a crust.

"Remember, God , all we've been through. Study our plight, the black mark we've made in history. Our precious land has been given to outsiders, our homes to strangers. Orphans we are, not a father in sight, and our mothers no better than widows. We have to pay to drink our own water. Even our firewood comes at a price. We're nothing but slaves, bullied and bowed, worn out and without any rest. We sold ourselves to Assyria and Egypt just to get something to eat. Our parents sinned and are no more, and now we're paying for the wrongs they did. Slaves rule over us; there's no escape from their grip. We risk our lives to gather food in the bandit-infested desert. Our skin has turned black as an oven, dried out like old leather from the famine. Our wives were raped in the streets in Zion, and our virgins in the cities of Judah. They hanged our princes by their hands, dishonored our elders. Strapping young men were put to women's work, mere boys forced to do men's work. The city gate is empty of wise elders. Music from the young is heard no more. All the joy is gone from our hearts. Our dances have turned into dirges. The crown of glory has toppled from our head. Woe! Woe! Would that we'd never sinned! Because of all this we're heartsick; we can't see through the tears. On Mount Zion, wrecked and ruined, jackals pace and prowl. And yet, God , you're sovereign still, your throne intact and eternal. So why do you keep forgetting us? Why dump us and leave us like this? Bring us back to you, God —we're ready to come back. Give us a fresh start. As it is, you've cruelly disowned us. You've been so very angry with us."

Their faces looked like this: In front a human face, on the right side the face of a lion, on the left the face of an ox, and in back the face of an eagle. So much for the faces. The wings were spread out with the tips of one pair touching the creature on either side; the other pair of wings covered its body. Each creature went straight ahead. Wherever the spirit went, they went. They didn't turn as they went.

As I opened my mouth, he gave me the scroll to eat, saying, "Son of man, eat this book that I am giving you. Make a full meal of it!" So I ate it. It tasted so good—just like honey.

So I got up and went out on the plain. I couldn't believe my eyes: the Glory of God ! Right there! It was like the Glory I had seen at the Kebar River. I fell to the ground, prostrate.

Then the Spirit entered me and put me on my feet. He said, "Go home and shut the door behind you." And then something odd: "Son of man: They'll tie you hand and foot with ropes so you can't leave the house. I'll make your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth so you won't be able to talk and tell the people what they're doing wrong, even though they are a bunch of rebels.

"I will tie you up with ropes, tie you so you can't move or turn over until you have finished the days of the siege.

"‘They throw their money into the gutters. Their hard-earned cash stinks like garbage. They find that it won't buy a thing they either want or need on Judgment Day. They tripped on money and fell into sin. Proud and pretentious with their jewels, they deck out their vile and vulgar no-gods in finery. I'll make those god-obscenities a stench in their nostrils. I'll give away their religious junk— strangers will pick it up for free, the godless spit on it and make jokes. I'll turn my face so I won't have to look as my treasured place and people are violated, As violent strangers walk in and desecrate place and people— A bloody massacre, as crime and violence fill the city. I'll bring in the dregs of humanity to move into their houses. I'll put a stop to the boasting and strutting of the high-and-mighty, And see to it that there'll be nothing holy left in their holy places. Catastrophe descends. They look for peace, but there's no peace to be found— Disaster on the heels of disaster, one rumor after another. They clamor for the prophet to tell them what's up, but nobody knows anything. Priests don't have a clue; the elders don't know what to say. The king holds his head in despair; the prince is devastated. The common people are paralyzed. Gripped by fear, they can't move. I'll deal with them where they are, judge them on their terms. They'll know that I am God .'"

In the sixth year, in the sixth month and the fifth day, while I was sitting at home meeting with the leaders of Judah, it happened that the hand of my Master, God , gripped me. When I looked, I was astonished. What I saw looked like a man—from the waist down like fire and from the waist up like highly burnished bronze. He reached out what looked like a hand and grabbed me by the hair. The Spirit swept me high in the air and carried me in visions of God to Jerusalem, to the entrance of the north gate of the Temple's inside court where the image of the sex goddess that makes God so angry had been set up. Right before me was the Glory of the God of Israel, exactly like the vision I had seen out on the plain.

He said to me, "Son of man, look north." I looked north and saw it: Just north of the entrance loomed the altar of the sex goddess, Asherah, that makes God so angry.

He told the executioners, "Desecrate the Temple. Fill it with corpses. Then go out and continue the killing." So they went out and struck the city. While the massacre went forward, I was left alone. I fell on my face in prayer: "Oh, oh, God , my Master! Are you going to kill everyone left in Israel in this pouring out of your anger on Jerusalem?"

God 's Message came to me: "Son of man, you're living with a bunch of rebellious people. They have eyes but don't see a thing, they have ears but don't hear a thing. They're rebels all. So, son of man, pack up your exile duffel bags. Leave in broad daylight with everyone watching and go off, as if into exile. Maybe then they'll understand what's going on, rebels though they are. You'll take up your baggage while they watch, a bundle of the bare necessities of someone going into exile, and toward evening leave, just like a person going off into exile. As they watch, dig through the wall of the house and carry your bundle through it. In full sight of the people, put the bundle on your shoulder and walk out into the night. Cover your face so you won't have to look at what you'll never see again. I'm using you as a sign for the family of Israel."