by David Plotz
CHAPTER 65
In the glorious, post-redemption Jerusalem, someone who dies at age 100 will be “considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.” Sort of like Denmark.
CHAPTER 66
This final chapter nicely encapsulates the rest of the book. It includes marvelous verses about God’s greatness and the super-fabulous post–Judgment Day future. But, of course, it also revels in carnage. After an ecstatic description of the coming of God’s kingdom, the lucky survivors will go outside—to look upon “the dead bodies of the people who have rebelled against [God].” That’s Isaiah: God, glory, and guts.
FOURTEEN
The Book of Jeremiah
The Prophet and the Lustful She-Camel
In which the prophet Jeremiah repeatedly predicts the destruction of Judah, and is shunned by his people; Babylon sacks Jerusalem and exiles most of the population; a few surviving Jews emigrate to Egypt.
Like Isaiah, Jeremiah is not a kittens, rainbows, and unicorns kind of guy. These two let-it-bleed prophets share a style (emphatic, metaphoric poetry) and a sensibility (gloom). But they’re not identical twins—they’re more like first cousins. Isaiah is bipolar, prone to wild mood swings, joyful when pleased, and a holy terror when angry. You might not always like Isaiah, but he’d often be entertaining company, especially if you could get him ragging on the Babylonians.
Jeremiah, on the other hand, is not the prophet you want to share a beach house with. He’s entirely morbid. (They don’t call them jeremiads for nothing.)
CHAPTERS 1-3
A century or so after Isaiah, around 600 BC, God summons Jeremiah to serve Him. Jeremiah aims to hector, nag, badger, noodge, and otherwise harass the increasingly unfaithful people of Judah to return to God before it’s too late. Jeremiah is living during the darkest of times—the final few years before Babylon conquers Jerusalem and exiles the Jews—and he ultimately fails.
Jeremiah’s endless rage may be explained by the hopelessness of his cause. He’s warning the Judeans that the end is nigh, and they’re still drinking date wine and worshipping idols. It infuriates him that the Judean people don’t share his sense of urgency. As a result, Jeremiah suffers from the flaws that plague all whistle-blowers. Almost without exception, whistle-blowers are self-righteous and resentful. When they turn out to be right—and boy, does Jeremiah turn out to be right—everyone regrets not having listened to them. But there’s a reason no one listens. Who wants to pay attention to a cantankerous rageaholic shouting doom in the bazaar?
In Jeremiah’s first speech, he unloads on the wild, heedless idolatry of the Israelites, describing them as: “a lustful she-camel, restlessly running about.” Now I personally have never seen a lustful she-camel or he-camel, but that is one vivid metaphor.
It’s not just lusty camels that preoccupy Jeremiah. He has sex on the brain. A few verses before the she-camel, for example, he spews out that Israel “recline[s] as a whore.” Chapter 3 begins with him frothing about Israel’s “whoring and debauchery. He inveighs against the Israelites, “You had the brazenness of a street woman,” and in Chapter 5 declares them “lusty stallions.” (Are they camels? Are they stallions?) A few chapters later, they’re harlots again. Then a few chapters after that:
I behold your adulteries,
Your lustful neighing
Your unbridled depravity, your vile acts.
His combination of scorn and sex is very Church Lady—at once prudish and obsessed.
CHAPTER 4
God is disappointed with us not just because we’re unfaithful, but also because we’re idiots. “My people are stupid…. They are foolish children. They are not intelligent.” This may be Jeremiah’s cruelest cut of all, since we know how much the Lord values intelligence. God always rewards brainy people, even when they’re wicked. His disillusionment about IQ is somehow more disturbing than His dismay over idolatry. He expects infidelity. But stupidity?
CHAPTERS 8-9
Jeremiah laments the suffering of his countrymen. He’s miserable on their behalf and asks: “Is there no balm in Gilead?” He promises he would “weep day and night” for his people, moans at how heartbroken he is at their agony. Yet Jeremiah’s histrionic mourning for the Jews becomes suspect once you notice how much delight he takes in enumerating their sins and threatening them. He’s thrilled to be the bearer of bad tidings to Judah. He’s like the gossipy classmate who, with a long face and a big hug, tells you that she saw your boyfriend making out with your best friend. You can be very sure that her glee outweighs her sympathy.
CHAPTER 13
A curious episode in which God orders Jeremiah to buy a loincloth, wear it for a while, and then hide it in a rock by the Euphrates River. Jeremiah is instructed to return to the loincloth some days later, at which point he discovers it is ruined. This loincloth, God tells us, is Judah. Judah was supposed to cling to God, the way the cloth clings to the loins—no boxer shorts back in the day, I guess—but because it has been ruined by sin, it’s now just a worthless rag.
Jeremiah says the Judahites can’t save themselves from their terrible fate because they have become evil to their core. The book asks, “Can the Cushite change his skin or the leopard his spots?” This is another example of a famous biblical phrase that isn’t quite what I remember it to be. “Cushite” is a biblical term for Ethiopians or Nubians, and it complicates the passage for modern readers. Referring to the Cushites’ skin does not mean the verse is racist—it’s descriptive of skin color rather than derogatory. But it does muddy the cliché. I’m not surprised we’ve kept only the leopard. Can you imagine saying in conversation “Can the Ethiopian change his skin color?” That would be awkward.
CHAPTERS 18-20
Jeremiah is genuinely hurt that no one likes him. As soon as he curses a priest for arresting him, he chants a self-pitying lament, ruing the day he was born. He moans that he has become a laughingstock. (“Everyone mocks me.”) He complains that whenever he’s around, he hears people whispering, “Let us denounce him!”
Come on, Jeremiah! You must be kidding! You show up at the capital city, tell people that they’re going to be disemboweled corpses in couple of years and that there’s nothing they can do to prevent it. And then you’re surprised that they don’t like you?
CHAPTERS 26-28
The Lord instructs Jeremiah to wear a yoke and visit the kings of Moab, Tyre, Edom, and Judah. Jeremiah tells them that they must submit to the Babylonians, or else be annihilated. Let’s linger here for a minute, because this is the passage where I finally recognize why Jeremiah bothers me so much. He’s a Quisling, a Tokyo Rose. Jeremiah feels no loyalty to his land or his people. He’s prodding his own countrymen to surrender to their mortal enemy.
In hindsight, Jeremiah picks the winners. The Babylonians do sack and slaughter, and the Jews are marched off into exile. But that almost makes Jeremiah’s naysaying worse. He is rewarded by Babylon while his people suffer: King Nebuchadnezzar orders that Jeremiah is to be treated like a VIP, further evidence that he was an enemy of his own people. Perhaps Jeremiah was just a prophet, guided by God, who predicted Judah’s fall. But maybe Jeremiah’s predictions functioned as propaganda, weakening Jewish morale and hastening the Babylonian victory.
The Bible discovers a principled lesson in Jeremiah’s betrayal of country, which is that all our quotidian bonds—to family, nation, and tribe—are nothing compared with our connection with God. Jeremiah believes Judah deserves to fall for failing God. But this doesn’t solace me. I’m not strong enough in my faith to set aside family and country for God. And I wouldn’t want to be. Jeremiah is a righteous prophet, but I can’t help feeling that he’s also a terrible traitor.
Random question: why was Jeremiah a bullfrog?
CHAPTER 29
From Babylon to Brooklyn, Jews have always found a way to prosper. It’s pretty remarkable: No matter where we’ve been, and no matter what dreadful conditions we’ve lived under, Jews have th
rived as traders, shopkeepers, bankers, and doctors—without losing our distinct identity as Jews. Why is our religion so mobile? Let me offer three theories. First, necessity: when you’re being exiled and pogrommed you learn to adapt fast. Second, culture: because Judaism is a religion founded on writing and argument, Jews have always had high literacy rates and well-developed analytical skills, which have served them in business. And, third—this is right here in Jeremiah 29—our flexibility: it’s built into the religion. Read this extraordinary passage from Jeremiah’s letter to Judeans exiled in Babylon.
Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters…. Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.
Modern victimology theory teaches that you can’t move forward until you avenge a past wrong. But Jeremiah is saying, essentially, get over it, and find a new way to live for God. The passage anticipates the next 2,500 years of Jewish history. Jews have always found ways to be at home away from home, to be at once Jewish and American—waiting for Zion, but planting a garden in Babylon today.
CHAPTER 32
Just before the Babylonian conquest, one of his countrymen asks Jeremiah if he should sign a contract to purchase land—a chancy proposition given that Nebuchadnezzar is about to ransack Judah. But the Lord tells Jeremiah that the land sale should proceed. Jeremiah is understandably befuddled. He lavishly and sycophantically praises God for His wisdom and greatness—a sucking-up that goes on forever—and then at the end of it, asks: What the heck are you talking about? Why should the Jews do land deals when they’re about to get obliterated? The Lord, sounding a bit like James Brown, first replies, “Behold I am the Lord…. Is anything too wondrous for me?”
Then He goes on to tell the prophet that, yes, Jerusalem is about to be obliterated, but this will be only a brief interruption of the Jews’ time in Israel. This land purchase should go through, because after God has revenged himself on Babylon, the Jews will return to Zion, and all their old contracts and land arrangements will apply.
If you’re seeking scriptural support for Jews’ divine right to the land of Israel, it doesn’t get any stronger than this passage. Even more than God’s original grant of land to Abraham or the conquest of the Promised Land after Exodus, this passage guarantees permanent, divinely authorized inhabitation in Zion. No interruption—whether Babylonian or, presumably, Arab, whether 70 years or 700 years—cancels Jewish ownership.
CHAPTER 36
At God’s command, Jeremiah writes a scroll of all his prophecies, then has his sidekick Baruch recite it at the Temple. The king of Judah’s advisers seize the scroll, and the king orders that it be read to him. As each page is finished, the king tears it out and tosses it into the fire. Nice try, king! Jeremiah simply rewrites the scroll. This is a profound notion: no matter what kings may do, the book will survive. God’s word endures, stronger than fire.
CHAPTERS 40-43
A historical interlude. When the Babylonians conquer and sack Jerusalem, they leave a Jewish regent, Gedaliah, to run the place. He promises the few Judeans who haven’t been exiled that they will keep farming and thrive.
Gedaliah turns out to be a fool, laughing off reports that Ishmael (another bad Ishmael) plans to assassinate him. Ishmael promptly murders him, plunging Judea into a brutal civil war. Ishmael slaughters Temple pilgrims and tosses their bodies into a cistern. Finally, the noble Johanan rallies the army and overthrows Ishmael. I love this story because I have a beloved uncle-in-law named Johanan, who would also rally an army against tyranny, given half a chance.
Johanan asks Jeremiah whether the surviving Jews should remain in Zion under Babylonian rule or flee. Jeremiah prays for ten days, at the end of which God tells him that the Jews must stay in the Promised Land. If they remain, He promises to “rebuild” them and make them a great people once again. If they run away, He threatens, they will be afflicted by famine, war, and pestilence.
But Johanan doesn’t believe Jeremiah. “You are lying,” he tells the prophet. Johanan suspects that Jeremiah is setting him up, that as soon as Johanan tries to remain in Judea, the Babylonians will slay him and his small band of followers. So, Johanan and his remnant move to Egypt, leaving the Holy Land empty of Israelites. God vows to exterminate the emigrants for their disobedience.
We have to ask ourselves: Why would Johanan dismiss Jeremiah as a liar and assume the prophet was actually laying a Babylonian trap? The answer, I again suspect, is the troublesome personality of Jeremiah. The superficial lesson of this episode is that Johanan doubted God’s prophet, and that his doubt caused him to disobey God’s will. But the more profound lesson is about Jeremiah’s tragic character. He’s a terribly ineffective prophet, not because he’s wrong, but because he fails to sell his message. He doesn’t know how to win friends and influence people. He has been so negative and so unpleasant with the Judeans that he has squandered all his social capital. He has no buddies, no allies, no supporters. Is it any surprise the Judeans view him with suspicion? So what if he’s always right? He’s rotten to deal with. Moreover, he has a long history of siding with the Babylonians, so it’s understandable that Johanan suspects him of being a double agent. The book of Jeremiah is supposed to be about our failure. Really, it’s about his.
FIFTEEN
The Book of Ezekiel
God’s Whole-Grain Hippie Prophet
In which Ezekiel has groovy, psychedelic dreams, then lies on his side for a year to symbolize the coming conquest of Jerusalem; Ezekiel tells stories about God’s rage at His people; Ezekiel’s wife dies; God leads Ezekiel to a valley of dry bones; and the dead are brought back to life.
CHAPTERS 1-3
Ezekiel—who has clearly been sprinkling something special on his matzo and brisket—has a vision of winged cherubim with four faces: one human, one lion, one ox, and one eagle. They’re riding on gigantic beryl wheels, and inside each wheel is a “tall and awesome” rim that moves independently from the wheel. (Why do I linger on this detail, you ask? Because these self-propelled rims are a milestone in automobile and hip-hop history: They are the world’s first spinners.)
The Lord instructs Ezekiel to go preach to the “impudent and stubborn” Israelites. God gives him a scroll containing His words and tells the prophet to eat it. “I ate it, and it tasted sweet as honey to me.” Has there ever been a finer tribute to the glory of the holy book? The word of God tastes sweet as honey.
CHAPTERS 4-5
Ezekiel is God’s grooviest, trippiest prophet. For Isaiah and Jeremiah, prophecy was speech—haranguing, arguing, badgering, indicting. For Ezekiel, prophecy is performance art. God has him build a model of Jerusalem out of brick and make a metal plate that represents the Babylonian siege works. Ezekiel then lies on his left side with the brick-and-metal plate resting on him. He stays in this position for 390 days, representing the 390 years of Israel’s punishment. Then he lies on his right side for forty days, representing the forty years of Judah’s punishment.
During this period of self-mortification, Ezekiel consumes the first macrobiotic diet, eating only bread made from wheat, barley, millet, and spelt, and drinking only water. I tried the prophet’s meal plan, buying a box of “Ezekiel 4:9” cereal, a nourishing breakfast treat based on Ezekiel’s whole-grain regimen. The cereal looks like gravel and tastes only slightly better. Imagine Grape-Nuts, but even less fun. My daughter, Noa, ate a few bites and grudgingly pronounced it “OK.” When I asked her how she’d like to eat it every day for a year, she exclaimed, “Uck, no!” (The maker of Ezekiel 4:9, a scripture-minded company called Food for Life, produces a variety of Ezekiel-inspired products, such as pasta and English muffins, as well as a Genesis 1:29 bread. Personally, I prefer my Bible food with a little more sugar—whatever happened to the land of milk and honey?)
When he finishes his 430-day tableau of Jerusalem, Ezekiel shaves off his hair and beard�
��God, again, loves the baldy—and divides the clippings in three parts. He incinerates one third inside Jerusalem, strikes the second third with a sword outside the city walls, and scatters the last third to the wind. What does this represent? Anyone? Anyone? Yes: one-third of Judeans will die in the city, one-third will be killed in battle, and one-third will be scattered throughout the world.
I don’t know about you, but I’m very moved by Ezekiel’s performance prophecy. In journalism, we are always reminded, “Show, don’t tell.” Ezekiel understands this, recognizing that his actions speak louder than other prophets’ words. What’s more, Ezekiel has profound humility. Jeremiah and Isaiah are smug with angry certainty. Ezekiel isn’t like that. He puts his body where his mouth is, truly making himself suffer for his people.
CHAPTERS 8-9
Ezekiel has a vision of abominations in the Temple (idols, loathsome animals, sun worship, etc.). In the vision, an angel walks through Jerusalem and marks the heads of all “who moan and groan” at the Temple abominations. Then the Lord orders his executioners to strike down every man, woman, and child who does not bear the mark. This slaughter, of course, reminds us of the final plague in Egypt, when the Israelites marked the doors of their houses with blood, so the angel of death would pass over them and kill only Egyptian children.
More important, it’s another example of how the prophetic books are theologically more sophisticated than the earlier ones. In Egypt, survival was based on nothing more than genes. Being an Israelite protected you from the angel of death. But now God demands more. The fact that you were born a Jew is not enough. You must love God so much that you sorrow at the contamination of His Temple. In short, these two mass killings demonstrate a profound shift between the Judaism of Exodus and the Judaism of Ezekiel: the transition of Judaism from an immutable ethnic identity to a freely chosen religion, from blood to belief.