Commentary - Ezekiel 16:1-14

Bird's-eye view

Ezekiel 16 is one of the most graphic and startling chapters in the entire Bible. It is a covenant lawsuit, delivered by God through the prophet, in the form of an extended and shocking allegory. God portrays Israel, personified as the city of Jerusalem, as a foundling, an abandoned infant girl left to die in a field. In an act of stunning, unmerited grace, God rescues her, raises her, enters into a marriage covenant with her, and lavishes upon her the riches and beauty of a queen. This initial section, verses 1 through 14, establishes the bedrock of God's sovereign, electing grace. It details Jerusalem's utterly depraved origin and helpless state, followed by God's unilateral, life-giving intervention and covenantal love. The purpose of this beautiful beginning is to set up the horrific contrast with the rest of the chapter, which details Jerusalem's grotesque spiritual harlotry. Before God can lay out the charges for her infidelity, He must first establish the sheer magnitude of the grace she has received. Her later sin is rendered all the more heinous because it is a betrayal of a love so pure, so unconstrained, and so undeserved.

This is the gospel in its raw, Old Testament form. It is the story of every believer: found dead in trespasses and sins, rescued by a sovereign word, washed, clothed, and brought into an unbreakable covenant with God through Jesus Christ. The foundation of our relationship with God is not our inherent worth, but His inexplicable and gracious choice.

Outline

Context In Ezekiel

Ezekiel is prophesying to the exiles already in Babylon, while the city of Jerusalem still stands, though not for long. A significant portion of his early ministry is dedicated to dismantling any false hope the exiles might have about a quick return or the invincibility of Jerusalem. He must show them that the coming final destruction of the city and temple is not a sign of God's weakness, but rather the necessary outworking of His covenant justice. Chapter 16 serves this purpose powerfully. It is a historical retrospective that demonstrates Jerusalem's long-standing pattern of rebellion. By beginning with God's foundational grace, Ezekiel shows that the fault for the exile lies entirely with the people and their leaders, not with God. This chapter follows prophecies of judgment and precedes further oracles of doom, acting as the central, unanswerable moral argument for why that doom is so thoroughly deserved.

Key Issues

Grace from the Gutter

Before God brings the hammer of His judgment down, He first lays the foundation of His grace. He does this so that when the charges are read, no one can say that He was unfair, or that His standards were too high, or that the people were somehow short-changed. The story of Jerusalem is the story of a gutter princess. It is the story of a God who does not find beautiful things to love, but who makes the things He loves beautiful. This is not a romance between equals. This is the story of a King who finds a bloody, discarded infant in a field, and by His sheer sovereign will, makes her His queen. If we do not grasp the depth of the depravity in the beginning of this story, we will never appreciate the height of the grace that follows, nor the wickedness of the betrayal that is to come.

Verse by Verse Commentary

1-2 Then the word of Yahweh came to me, saying, “Son of man, make known to Jerusalem her abominations...

The prophet's task is set from the outset. This is not a message of comfort; it is a confrontation. God commands Ezekiel to act as a prosecuting attorney. The charge is "abominations," a strong word that refers to things that are detestable and loathsome to God, often used in the context of idolatry and gross immorality. The truth must be spoken plainly, without flinching.

3 and say, ‘Thus says Lord Yahweh to Jerusalem, “Your origin and your birth are from the land of the Canaanite; your father was an Amorite and your mother a Hittite.

God begins the indictment by demolishing any pretense of innate superiority. Israel was proud of their lineage, tracing it back to Abraham. But God pushes further back. Spiritually and ethnically, their origins are rooted in the pagan mire of Canaan. The Amorites and Hittites were two of the most prominent pagan nations that God commanded Israel to dispossess. He is saying, "You are not naturally special. By blood and by disposition, you come from the same stock as the idolaters you were supposed to replace. Your very DNA is pagan." This is a radical statement of original sin.

4-5 As for your birth, on the day you were born your navel cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water for cleansing; you were not rubbed with salt or even wrapped in cloths. No eye had pity on you to do any of these things for you, to have compassion on you. Rather you were thrown out into the open field, for your soul was abhorred on the day you were born.

The allegory becomes intensely graphic. This is a picture of utter and complete helplessness and rejection. Every basic act of care for a newborn is absent. The uncut cord means a lingering connection to a defiled source and certain infection. No washing means she is left in the filth of her own birth. No salt, a practice for cleaning and strengthening the skin, means she is left vulnerable. No swaddling cloths means no comfort, no security. She is not just neglected; she is actively despised. "No eye had pity." She is thrown into a field to die of exposure, a meal for wild animals. Her very soul was "abhorred." This is the Bible's doctrine of total depravity. In our natural state, we are not just sick or wounded; we are spiritually dead, unclean, without hope, and repulsive to holiness.

6 “Then I passed by you and saw you squirming in your blood. So I said to you while you were in your blood, ‘Live!’ Indeed I said to you while you were in your blood, ‘Live!’

Here, grace crashes into the scene. The initiative is entirely God's. "Then I passed by." He was not obligated to do so. He saw her in her most wretched state, "squirming in your blood," a picture of both defilement and the last throes of life. And what does He do? He does not offer a deal. He does not say, "Clean yourself up and then I will help you." No, while she is still covered in her filth, He speaks a sovereign command: "Live!" This is a creative word, like "Let there be light." It is monergistic regeneration. God alone speaks life into the dead. He says it twice for emphasis. This is justification by faith alone, pictured here as a divine fiat spoken over a sinner who can contribute nothing but her own pollution.

7 I made you numerous like plants of the field. Then you grew up, became tall, and came into the age for fine ornaments; your breasts were formed, and your hair had grown. Yet you were naked and bare.

God's life-giving word is effective. The infant does not remain an infant. God causes her to grow and flourish, becoming numerous, like the promise to Abraham. She matures into a young woman, reaching the point of marriageable beauty. But notice the final clause: "Yet you were naked and bare." Despite this growth and maturation, she is still in a state of shame and vulnerability. She has life, but she does not yet have covenantal covering or honor.

8 “Then I passed by you and saw you, and behold, you were at the time for love; so I spread My skirt over you and covered your nakedness. I also swore to you and entered into a covenant with you so that you became Mine,” declares Lord Yahweh.

This is the second divine "passing by." The first was for salvation from death; this one is for covenant union. Seeing her maturity, God determines it is the "time for love," the time for covenant commitment. "I spread My skirt over you" is a beautiful Hebrew idiom for marriage proposal and protection (see Ruth 3:9). He covers her shame. Then He formalizes it: He swears an oath and enters into a covenant. This is the Mosaic covenant at Sinai. The result is definitive: "you became Mine." She is no longer an orphan; she is a bride. She belongs to God in a unique and exclusive relationship.

9-13 “Then I washed you with water, rinsed your blood off from you, and anointed you with oil. I also clothed you with embroidered cloth... put sandals... wrapped you with fine linen... covered you with silk... adorned you with ornaments... bracelets... a necklace... a ring... earrings... and a splendid crown on your head... you were adorned with gold and silver... You ate fine flour, honey, and oil; so you were exceedingly beautiful and advanced to royalty.

After the covenant is established ("you became Mine"), the blessings of that covenant flow in abundance. This is sanctification. First comes the cleansing. The blood and filth she was saved in (v. 6) is now washed away. She is anointed with oil, a symbol of the Holy Spirit and being set apart. Then comes the adornment, and it is extravagant. This is not a minimalist wedding. God clothes her in the finest, most luxurious materials, things reserved for royalty. He heaps jewelry upon her, culminating in a "splendid crown." She is not just a bride; she is a queen. Her diet is the food of kings. All of this represents the lavish gifts God gave to Israel: the tabernacle and temple, the priesthood, the sacrificial system, the wisdom of the law, the kingdom of David, and a land flowing with milk and honey. He made her a royal nation.

14 Then your name went forth among the nations on account of your beauty, for it was perfect because of My majesty which I set on you,” declares Lord Yahweh.

The result of God's work is glory. Jerusalem becomes famous. But the reason for her fame is crucial. Her beauty was "perfect," but not inherently so. It was perfect "because of My majesty which I set on you." Her glory was a borrowed glory. Her beauty was a reflected beauty. She was a mirror, and when the nations looked at her, they were supposed to see a reflection of the God who had saved and glorified her. This is the ultimate purpose of our salvation: not our own fame, but that the world would see the majesty of God displayed in the grace He has shown to unworthy sinners.

Application

This is our story. Every Christian was that baby in the field. We were not born neutral, or good, or even just a little bit sick. We were born spiritually dead, covered in the filth of our own sin, abhorred, and abandoned with no hope in the world. There was nothing in us that commended us to God. "No eye had pity."

But God, in His rich mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, passed by. While we were still dead in our sins, He spoke His sovereign word over us: "Live!" He did not wait for us to clean ourselves up. He saved us in our blood. Through the covenant made in the blood of His Son, He spread His skirt over us and said, "You are Mine."

And now, He is in the business of washing us, anointing us with His Spirit, and clothing us with the righteousness of Christ. He is making us into a royal priesthood. Any beauty, any righteousness, any glory that we might display to the world is not our own. It is His majesty, which He has set upon us. The central application, therefore, is humility and gratitude. We must never forget the open field from which we were taken. And having been shown such grace, we must be profoundly careful not to follow Jerusalem into the harlotry described in the rest of this chapter, cheapening this great salvation by chasing after worthless idols.