I finished yesterday listening my way through the book of Ezekiel. It is very repetitious and boring. But I’ve learned over the years that whenever I encounter something or someone that is boring, the problem lies within me. I need to listen and look more carefully, think more creatively, love more purely. So, I tried to apply some of these attitudes and actions to the Book of Ezekiel.
Ezekiel’s time was a violently, tragically dislocated time. He was exiled from his homeland as part of the second of three waves of Judean exile to Babylon. The waves became more devastating as they occurred.
When Ezekiel was already in Babylon, the folks from back home rebelled against their Babylonian overlords—again. During the siege of Jerusalem, and even more when the siege was successful for the Babylonians, many people died in the land of Judah. The devastation was especially prevalent in Jerusalem, the capital. The economy had ground to a halt because of the quarantine that was enforced by the armies surrounding Jerusalem. Some Judeans were killed by Babylonian soldiers. Others died of plague and likely of malnutrition. Finally, when all food and hope had been exhausted, the Babylonians breached the gates, and put much of the city to the sword and to the torch. The king of Judah was deposed, his eyes were gouged out, and he was taken to Babylon in chains. Many of the leaders of Judah were executed. The temple was destroyed. Only the poorest of the poor were allowed to stay in the land.
Meanwhile, Ezekiel (who was already in Babylon), was prophesying to his fellow captives. He was fighting a battle on several fronts. On the one hand, he was trying to help his fellow Judeans to not lose all hope. On the other hand, he was fighting against the tendency toward the false hopes of many of his compatriots. Many thought that their exile would be brief, and that they would soon be returning to their homeland. “No!” said Ezekiel. “You will not!”
Now, you might think that, in the midst of all this drama and trauma, the Book of Ezekiel would be very dramatic. There are indeed racy bits. But most of it is mind-numbingly repetitious. Ezekiel was both a prophet and a priest. The prophets could be rather theatrical about both God’s judgment and God’s grace. Priests, however, tended to plod along. Ezekiel often comes across as more of a priest than a prophet. How could Ezekiel plod along with long, repetitious, boring descriptions of God’s judgment of Judah and equally long, repetitious, boring descriptions of God’s eventual restoration of Judah?
Yet, perhaps it is precisely during dramatic, traumatic times that we need some regularity, some repetition. A lot of us who may have craved a change of pace two months ago would give anything to go back to our boring lives.
I think that it is safe to say that we are living in a time of drama and trauma right now. What should we do at times like these, when everything seems to be—and maybe is—falling apart? I don’t know what the particular contours of your life are like right now. I am neither a prophet nor a priest. Perhaps you need to be your own Ezekiel, with your own visions of regularity. But I will tell you what some of my regular, (boring??) stuff is that helps me to stay more or less sane.
Sound boring to you? Sometimes it does to me as well. But especially during this time of pandemic, boring is a reassuringly stabilizing reality.
Long live Boring!
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