Some traditions are little more than Hallmark inventions. Others have truly entered the heart, where we cherish them almost on the level of human rights.
Like birthdays. Birthdays are especially sacred to youngsters. My own family practiced them by letting the special kid be King for a day–favorite meal honors, gifts, cake, preferential treatment, and no chores. Fun.
At the other end of our heart-level traditions lie funerals.
These are so delicate, we hardly know how to attend them. I’ve never been to a funeral and felt completely comfortable with knowing what to wear, what to do or not to do, or whether laughing or even smiling was considered in bad taste. Every culture has a way of seeing their loved ones off, but tears are a common ingredient, and mourning.
Even Jesus wept at the funeral of Lazarus, knowing full well that He was about to raise the man from the dead.
Suspension of communal sorrows seems inhuman, which makes the case of the prophet Ezekiel seem odd, indeed.
God disclosed that his wife would die, and then gave the man some peculiar instructions:
“The word of the Lord came to me: ‘Son of man, behold, I am about to take the delight of your eyes away from you at a stroke; yet you shall not mourn or weep, nor shall your tears run down'” (Eze. 24:15-16).
This is not to mean Yahweh forbade the prophet from personally grieving for his spouse. It simply meant to forego the customary, traditional mourning of a Jewish funeral–“Sigh, but not aloud; make no mourning for the dead” (v. 17).
And so, “At evening my wife died. And on the next morning I did as I was commanded” (v. 18).
The people were puzzled at this behavior, or lack thereof, and asked Ezekiel what it meant. They knew he was a prophet, and correctly assumed that not only the things he said, but the things he did were symbolic in nature.
“Then I said to them, ‘The word of the Lord came to me: Say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord God: Behold, I will profane my sanctuary, the pride of your power, the delight of your eyes, and the yearning of your soul, and your sons and your daughters whom you left behind shall fall by the sword. And you shall do as I have done; you shall not cover your lips, nor eat the bread of men. Your turbans shall be on your heads and your shoes on your feet; you shall not mourn or weep, but you shall rot away in your iniquities and groan to one another'” (24:20-23).
Thus Ezekiel explained to them that his own experience was to prefigure what they were about to undergo. For they were about to go into captivity, and in the land of their captivity (Babylon), they would not have the luxury of practicing the sacred observances to honor their dead. Burials would come fast and cheap.
God had told the prophet, “you will be a sign to them” (v. 27). This, in itself, demonstrates the high price the prophets often paid in their ministry. They were not only to speak predictions, visions, and words of metaphorical glory, but were to enter the felt experience of those words, sometimes in the most personal of ways. For instance, Jeremiah was told not to marry or have children, because Israel would not be in their own land for long before their exile. Hosea was told to marry a prostitute, illustrating the adultery of Israel with other gods. And now Ezekiel is told not to ceremonially mourn his wife’s passing.
These cases (and more) illustrate the prophets’ deep personal commitment to God’s word, even if it meant setting aside their own precious rights and privileges. The prophetic signs God appointed for them were unique to their ministries, but you can also find similar commitments in the New Testament apostolic ministry. There, for instance, Paul refused to indulge in any of his own personal rights (c.f. 1 Cor. 4:11-13, 9:15) for the sake of the Word. In fact, he considered himself “a prisoner of Christ Jesus” (Eph. 3:1, 4:1).
Because of their willingness to descend into the depths of God’s purpose, the particular group called “apostles and prophets” (c.f., Lk. 11:49, Eph. 2:20, 3:5, Rev. 18:20) became the exemplar of all faithful servants of God. They provide for us not only our foundation of truth, but an enduring principle of Word entered and lived out.
The price of this kind of faithfulness is high. You’ll often feel it, but don’t worry, you’ll be in good company.
