THE MAN BROUGHT me back to the entrance of the temple, and I saw water coming out from under the threshold of the temple toward the east (for the temple faced east). The water was coming down from under the south side of the temple, south of the altar. 2He then brought me out through the north gate and led me around the outside to the outer gate facing east, and the water was flowing from the south side.
3As the man went eastward with a measuring line in his hand, he measured off a thousand cubits and then led me through water that was ankle-deep. 4He measured off another thousand cubits and led me through water that was knee-deep. He measured off another thousand and led me through water that was up to the waist. 5He measured off another thousand, but now it was a river that I could not cross, because the water had risen and was deep enough to swim in—a river that no one could cross. 6He asked me, “Son of man, do you see this?”
Then he led me back to the bank of the river. 7When I arrived there, I saw a great number of trees on each side of the river. 8He said to me, “This water flows toward the eastern region and goes down into the Arabah, where it enters the Sea. When it empties into the Sea, the water there becomes fresh. 9Swarms of living creatures will live wherever the river flows. There will be large numbers of fish, because this water flows there and makes the salt water fresh; so where the river flows everything will live. 10Fishermen will stand along the shore; from En Gedi to En Eglaim there will be places for spreading nets. The fish will be of many kinds—like the fish of the Great Sea. 11But the swamps and marshes will not become fresh; they will be left for salt. 12Fruit trees of all kinds will grow on both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear, because the water from the sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing.”
Original Meaning
EZEKIEL’S TOUR OF the temple is now complete. His vision at this point turns outward to the rest of the land and the influence that the thorough restoration of the temple as the place of God’s dwelling will have on it. That influence is nothing short of a total transformation from death to life, a transformation expressed in the visionary form of a life-giving river that flows out from the temple.
The source of the living water is the temple itself, or, more precisely, the south side of the temple, south of the altar (Ezek. 47:1). This was the site of the “Sea” in Solomon’s temple,1 a massive bronze pool whose practical purpose was to provide the water required for cleansing (1 Kings 7:23, 39). Its significance was more than merely practical, however. By calling it “the Sea” (hayyām), a rather grandiose title for an object smaller than most above-ground swimming pools today (fifteen feet in diameter), it also appears to have had a symbolic significance, representing the forces of chaos subjugated in the orderly cosmos of the temple.2 In ancient Near Eastern mythology, the sea (hayyām) was one of the chief enemies of the gods, whose defeat was necessary before the cosmic order could be established.3 This same imagery is present in the Psalms, especially in the enthronement psalms, where the sea’s chaos is subjugated by the Lord (Ps. 46:2–3; 93:3–4; 95:5; 96:11; 98:7).
In Ezekiel’s vision, the static categories of the old symbolism have been transformed into dynamic motion.4 The “Sea” now becomes the source of a life-giving river that flows out from the temple, another idea with extensive roots in the Bible. Thus in Psalm 46, in response to the imagined chaos of the earth giving way and the mountains falling “into the heart of the sea” (!), the psalmist draws strength from the idyllic picture of the river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells (46:2–4). The archetype of this river is the earth-fructifying stream that flows out in four branches from the prototypical sanctuary of Eden (Gen. 2:10–14).5
The river flowing from Ezekiel’s temple follows the sacred route eastward from the inner court, out through the (closed!) east gate of the outer court (Ezek. 47:2). Because Ezekiel cannot follow it through there, he is brought round by the north gate and sees it trickling out of the south side of the gate. In comparison with the abundant streams of the traditional picture, the renewed temple provides at first a minimal flow. Yet the stream that starts out so pitifully small miraculously becomes progressively larger the further he journeys along it. At first, it is a trickle; after a thousand cubits (1,500 feet), it is ankle-deep (47:3); after another thousand cubits, it is knee-deep (47:4), then waist-deep (47:4), and finally an uncrossable torrent (47:5).6 The guiding angel asks him to pause here and ponder its significance: “Son of man, do you see this?” (47:6).
The miraculous growth of this river from small beginnings is not the only lesson to be observed, however. This river is also a transforming force wherever it flows. It brings fertility to the ground surrounding it, indicated by the presence of a great many trees on both sides of the river (47:7). After flowing eastward and then south through the Arabah, which here seems to indicate simply the region of the Jordan Valley, the river transforms the Dead Sea, healing its waters—that is, turning its salty water, which is undrinkable and hostile to life, into drinkable, life-supporting water (47:8). This Edenic river will induce Paradise-like levels of fertility, teeming with all kinds of swarming creatures (47:9), like the waters of Genesis 1:20, and a great many fish “of many kinds” (Ezek. 47:10 cf. Gen. 1:21). To sum up the pictorial message in straightforward speech: “Where the river flows everything will live” (Ezek. 47:9).
Nor is this abundant fertility merely fertility in the abstract. It is explicitly fertility as a blessing to the restored people of Israel. The abundant fish will support an equally abundant number of fishermen, from En Gedi to En Eglaim. These are two locations span the shores of the Dead Sea; thus, “from En Gedi to En Eglaim” encompasses the scope of the whole Dead Sea.7 But even while the waters of the Dead Sea will be healed, its one existing use, as the source of valuable salt deposits, will not be eliminated (47:11).
The numerous trees of Ezek. 47:7 are now more closely defined as “fruit trees” (lit., “food trees,” 47:12). They will not suffer from any lack of moisture; rather, as with the depiction of the righteous person in Psalm 1, “their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail.” Indeed, they will be so full of life that they will bear new fruit every month to feed the population, and their leaves will be for healing (Ezek. 47:12). All of this will be brought about because they are fed from the source of life-giving fruitfulness, the stream that flows from the temple.
Bridging Contexts
DISTINCTIVENESS IN EZEKIEL’S use of the river. The image of a life-giving stream flowing from the sanctuary is ubiquitous in the Scriptures, from the opening chapters of Genesis (Gen. 2:10–14) to the closing chapter of Revelation. Revelation 22 features a river similar in many respects to that of Ezekiel 47, which flows from the throne of God and the Lamb out to nourish the (single) tree of life, whose fruit appears every month and whose leaves are “for the healing of the nations” (Rev. 22:1–2). The motif is also attested in mythological literature from the ancient Near East.8 Yet because of the frequent use of this motif, it would be easy to overlook what is distinctive about Ezekiel’s use.
(1) The most striking aspect of Ezekiel’s river is that, unlike the other rivers of life, it starts out as an insignificant trickle and only ends up as a thunderous torrent after a distance.9 This is something that no upheaval in the topography of Palestine can accomplish literally. What is more, it is precisely this growth from insignificant beginnings that the prophet is instructed to observe. In the language of his later colleague, the lesson is that he should not despise the day of small things (Zech. 4:10). Though the work of God starts out in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways, it will ultimately accomplish God’s goals with unstoppable power. In a similar way the tiny mustard seed, to which Jesus likened the kingdom of God, grows to become a mighty tree (Matt. 13:31).
(2) Another aspect that Ezekiel’s river gives prominence to is the theme of transformation. The other rivers of life are eternal, fertility-inducing streams. They bring life to everything they touch, but there is no reflection on any prior state of the land that they impact. In contrast, Ezekiel’s river brings not merely life but life-from-the-dead. It not only provides fresh, living water, but “heals” the dead, salt-contaminated water of the Dead Sea.
The motif of “healing the water” brings with it echoes of Israel’s earlier history. At Marah, Israel’s first stop in the desert after crossing over the Reed Sea, the water was so bitter that Israel could not drink it. In spite of the people’s grumbling, the Lord graciously gave Moses the answer to their need: a piece of wood that, when thrown into the water, turned it sweet. Then the Lord promised that if they walked in faithfulness to the covenant they would experience him as yahweh rāpā’, “the LORD, who heals you” (Ex. 15:22–26). Similarly, in 2 Kings 2:19, the men of the city of Jericho appealed to Elisha because of the “bad water” of that city. This “bad water” was itself the result of the city’s being under a covenant curse (see 1 Kings 16:34), yet God graciously transformed that curse into a blessing through his prophet (2 Kings 2:21–22).
In both cases, then, in spite of their past unfaithfulness, Israel experienced the Lord as their healer by turning to the prophet (Moses and Elisha respectively) and trusting in God’s Word.10 So too in Ezekiel 47, the message is that God’s transforming power flows out from the temple into the lives of sinners, healing them and restoring them to their place in the covenant community. In this context, the reference to the continued existence of the salt marshes (47:11) is not merely a footnote driven by the pragmatic necessities of life; such concerns are signally lacking in this vision. Rather, it is necessary that salt should be available as an element of covenant consummation.
(3) The third distinctive to be noted about the river of Ezekiel’s vision is the way in which it runs counter to the general trend in this vision to separate off the holy from the profane, to protect the glory of the divine presence from contamination by sinful humankind. The river bridges the gap, demonstrating the fact that the protection of the sphere of the holy is not an end in itself. It is intended to ensure the presence of God in the midst of his people, a presence that will have visible and tangible effects of blessing for the people. Blessing is not a category restricted to those who have access to the inner reaches of the holy space; it flows out as widely as the river of life does. This does not yet mean global transformation and renewal, for the river itself flows only as far as the Dead Sea. But it means renewal for all who are part of God’s covenant people, native-born Israelite and resident alien alike (cf. 47:22).11
The river in the New Testament. In the New Testament, apart from Revelation 22 (see above), the Gospel of John develops this vision of Ezekiel most fully. Jesus tells the Samaritan woman that the water he gives will become a spring of water welling up to eternal life (John 4:14).
More explicitly still, Jesus stands up on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles and calls the thirsty to come and drink from him. He promises that “streams of living water will flow from within him,” and John adds the interpretive note, “By this he meant the Spirit” (John 7:38–39). Against the background of Ezekiel 47, the imagery is transparent. The indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the heart of believers, which was accomplished at Pentecost, turns each believer into a miniature temple. As such, he or she becomes not simply a separated sphere of holiness, a walled garden in the midst of a wasteland. Rather, the believer as a temple is to be a source of blessing to all around him or her, by transmitting to them the life-giving message of the gospel. By its transforming power, the gospel heals the spiritually dead, making them alive in Christ and fruitful in their service for God.
Contemporary Significance
THE WALLS OR THE RIVER? Christianity has always struggled against two pale imitations of itself, each of which seizes on one aspect of the truth and absolutizes it. On the one hand is legalism, which emphasizes the need for separation and distinctive living, for absolute obedience to the law. But legalism lacks the freedom and joy and fullness of life that are key marks of the Christian walk. On the other hand is antinomianism, the attitude that celebrates the freedom of being a Christian. But antinomianism tends to throw off any moral imperatives.
Legalism delights in preaching the walls of Ezekiel 40–46, but speaks only under its breath about the river of life in Ezekiel 47. Antinomianism loudly proclaims the wonderful benefits of the river of life, but does its best to conceal the walls of Ezekiel’s temple by relegating them to a different time period in God’s dealings with humankind.12 Ezekiel’s vision and the New Testament teachings that draw on it for inspiration hold together in creative tension walls and river, law and grace, as an eternal aspect of God’s dealings with humankind.
Now I have never met anyone who admits to being a legalist or an antinomian; it is not a title like Calvinist or Arminian, Lutheran or Reformed, which devotees claim joyfully. Yet if we search our hearts honestly, most of us would probably find in our thinking about ourselves and in our presentation of the gospel a struggle over how to keep those biblical truths in balance. By nature, we are each drawn towards an unhealthy emphasis on either the walls or the river. Only Jesus has maintained the perfect balance between the two. On the one hand, he showed the rich young ruler a wall so high he could not cross it, whose gate was so narrow that he could not carry his wealth through with him (Matt. 19:16–24). On the other hand, he extended the gracious offer of living water without barriers to a despised Samaritan woman, whose marital history and present sexual involvement left much to be desired (John 4).
The example of Jesus shows us that keeping these truths in balance means that there is more than one way to present the gospel faithfully. Traditionally, most evangelistic efforts have presented sin as humanity’s basic problem, forgiveness (freedom from the guilt of sin) as humanity’s basic need, and the gospel as the means by which we reach the solution, peace with God. Historically, this presentation of the gospel has worked well in communities with a strong ethical-moral sense, where people generally feel an obligation to live up to a certain standard or code of morality. It is a way of showing those who believe in the existence of walls, like the rich young ruler, that they themselves are on the outside. This is essentially Paul’s approach in the letter to the Romans: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” “the wages of sin is death,” but “there is . . . no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 3:23; 6:23, 8:1).
Increasingly, however, we are living in a society that is not merely immoral but amoral, unused to thinking in the categories of right and wrong.13 In such a postmodern society, where fewer and fewer people feel any sense of guilt over their lifestyle, it is important that we recognize there is another way of presenting the gospel. In this approach, similar to that which Jesus used with the Samaritan woman, the focus is on bondage or emptiness, not guilt, as humanity’s basic problem. One’s basic need then becomes liberation (freedom from the slavery and futility of sin), and the gospel is the means whereby we enter the freedom to be what we were created to be—God-centered worshipers. This is Paul’s approach to the gospel in Galatians: You were in bondage to a futile, empty lifestyle, but Christ came to set you free.
The gospel as freedom and fullness. Ezekiel 47:1–12 presents the gospel as freedom and fullness. Life in all its fullness is what all God’s people will experience through the renewing presence of God in their land. A temple-centered life, which is nothing less than a God-centered life, is the way to true freedom. The river that flows from that center has the power to take a dead life as well as a dead land and fill it with true health. Abandoning that center means nothing less than abandoning the source of all life.
Ironically, many people abandon the temple-centered life because they are in search of total freedom. They want a life without any rules and restrictions, without the kind of boundaries that Ezekiel 40–46 has so laboriously set up. But all they achieve is trading one center for another, the true God for idols. Sin is not just breaking the rules, it is living a life centered around something other than God. The testimony of Ezekiel 47 is that though such a life may seem to impart a kind of freedom, it really leads to bondage and death.
True freedom, the kind that comes from centering your life on the true and living God, is contagiously life-giving. Even the Dead Sea cannot hold out against its life-giving power. Life and fruitfulness are evident everywhere it flows. So also our lives as believers are to have an infectious attractiveness as people see something unique in us. What people taste as they come in contact with our lives should be honey, not gall. New covenant believers are themselves indwelt by the power of the Holy Spirit, so they become themselves miniature temples, centers from which life-giving water will flow out to the nations (John 7:38). The thirsty world should find in the church the only drink that will slake their thirst. Regrettably, all too often we require sinners to get their act together before they are allowed anywhere near our fountains, for fear that they might contaminate them. Too many churches have hung up the spiritual equivalent of signs that say: “No shoes, no shirt, no service.”
“Fishers of men.” Just as the water is transformed in Jesus’ interpretation from a physical to a spiritual flow, so also is the activity of those who stand beside it. In place of literal fishermen surrounding the Dead Sea, Jesus calls his disciples to be “fishers of men” (Mark 1:17). The mark of Jesus’ resurrection power in John’s Gospel is, not coincidentally, a miraculous catch of a huge number of fish, which closes out the careers of the disciples as ordinary fishermen and inaugurates their ministry as those through whom eternal life will be brought to the nations.
We too are called to be “fishers of men” in God’s service, yet what kind of fishermen are we? What kind of fishermen wait for the fish to come to them and give up at the first refusal? On the contrary, effective fishermen take on themselves the task of pursuing the fish where they are and refusing to take no for an answer, studying diligently how best to increase their catch. One way or another, insofar as it lies in their power, they will land that fish.
Yet, lest in our enthusiasm for the gospel we become too triumphalist, Ezekiel 47 reminds us that God’s work often starts out from small beginnings and progresses slowly. The mighty river of life, which at the end is too deep to cross, begins with the barest trickle. The temptation is for us to be impressed by large numbers and impressive presentation and to look down on the slow, steady work of the Spirit in building his church individual by individual. We seek reenactments of the Day of Pentecost, when three thousand believers were added to the church, and scorn the slow, steady accretion of Christians to the fold.
But the church of Jesus Christ, for all its impressive final form, when multitudes will flock in “from east and west and north and south, and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God” (Luke 13:29), often exists in the present as a trickle, not as a flood. God’s work is often done in slow and steady ways that may never catch the headlines but nonetheless achieve his purposes. Our task, whether seeing the work of God progress like a mighty river or a dripping tap, is to seek to be faithful in centering our lives around Jesus Christ, our temple. We are called to taste the goodness of life in all its fullness in him, even in our present exile, and to point others joyfully to him as the source of our life.