Wail, shepherds! Cry out for help! Grovel in the dirt, you masters of flocks! Time’s up—you’re slated for the slaughterhouse, like a choice ram with its throat cut. There’s no way out for the rulers, no escape for those shepherds. Hear that? Rulers crying for help, shepherds of the flock wailing! God is about to ravage their fine pastures. The peaceful sheepfolds will be silent with death, silenced by God’s deadly anger. God will come out into the open like a lion leaping from its cover, And the country will be torn to pieces, ripped and ravaged by his anger.
Ezekiel 21:12The Message“Yell out and wail, son of man. The sword is against my people! The princes of Israel and my people—abandoned to the sword! Wring your hands! Tear out your hair! See the chapter |
17 Cross References
“So, prophesy, son of man! Clap your hands. Get their attention. Tell them that the sword’s coming down once, twice, three times. It’s a sword to kill, a sword for a massacre, A sword relentless, a sword inescapable— People collapsing right and left, going down like dominoes. I’ve stationed a murderous sword at every gate in the city, Flashing like lightning, brandished murderously. Cut to the right, thrust to the left, murderous, sharp-edged sword! Then I’ll clap my hands, a signal that my anger is spent. I, God, have spoken.” * * *
“‘O Zedekiah, blasphemous and evil prince of Israel: Time’s up. It’s “punishment payday.” God says, Take your royal crown off your head. No more “business as usual.” The underdog will be promoted and the top dog will be demoted. Ruins, ruins, ruins! I’ll turn the whole place into ruins. And ruins it will remain until the one comes who has a right to it. Then I’ll give it to him.’
“‘Your leaders, the princes of Israel among you, compete in crime. You’re a community that’s insolent to parents, abusive to outsiders, oppressive against orphans and widows. You treat my holy things with contempt and desecrate my Sabbaths. You have people spreading lies and spilling blood, flocking to the hills to the sex shrines and fornicating unrestrained. Incest is common. Men force themselves on women regardless of whether they’re ready or willing. Sex is now anarchy. Anyone is fair game: neighbor, daughter-in-law, sister. Murder is for hire, usury is rampant, extortion is commonplace. “‘And you’ve forgotten me. Decree of God, the Master.
“‘This is what God, the Master, says: Clap your hands, stamp your feet, yell out, “No, no, no!” because of all the evil obscenities rife in Israel. They’re going to be killed, dying of hunger, dying of disease—death everywhere you look, people dropping like flies, people far away dying, people nearby dying, and whoever’s left in the city starving to death. Why? Because I’m angry, furiously angry. They’ll realize that I am God when they see their people’s corpses strewn over and around all their ruined sex-and-religion shrines on the bare hills and in the lush fertility groves, in all the places where they indulged their sensual rites. I’ll bring my hand down hard on them, demolish the country wherever they live, turn it into wasteland from one end to the other, from the wilderness to Riblah. Then they’ll know that I am God!’”
And also you priests, put on your robes and join the outcry. You who lead people in worship, lead them in lament. Spend the night dressed in gunnysacks, you servants of my God. Nothing’s going on in the place of worship, no offerings, no prayers—nothing. Declare a holy fast, call a special meeting, get the leaders together, Round up everyone in the country. Get them into God’s Sanctuary for serious prayer to God.
Blow the ram’s horn trumpet in Zion! Trumpet the alarm on my holy mountain! Shake the country up! God’s Judgment’s on its way—the Day’s almost here! A black day! A Doomsday! Clouds with no silver lining! Like dawn light moving over the mountains, a huge army is coming. There’s never been anything like it and never will be again. Wildfire burns everything before this army and fire licks up everything in its wake. Before it arrives, the country is like the Garden of Eden. When it leaves, it is Death Valley. Nothing escapes unscathed.
This is why I lament and mourn. This is why I go around in rags and barefoot. This is why I howl like a pack of coyotes, and moan like a mournful owl in the night. God has inflicted punishing wounds; Judah has been wounded with no healing in sight. Judgment has marched through the city gates. Jerusalem must face the charges. * * *
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