ABSTRACT: Ezekiel’s temple vision, difficult as it is to understand, fits within the large message the prophet spoke to God’s exiled people: Their shameful sin had led to shameful loss; nevertheless, God would restore them for his name’s sake and dwell with them again. Ezekiel’s temple communicates in symbolic form God’s purpose to make a new covenant with his people, return them to a new land, and dwell with them forever.
For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, we asked Iain Duguid (PhD, University of Cambridge), professor of Old Testament at Westminster Theological Seminary, to explain the theological significance of Ezekiel’s temple vision.
There are many passages of the Bible that are hard to understand — the genealogies that fill the first nine chapters of 1 Chronicles, for instance, or the entire book of Leviticus, with its sacrifices and rituals. Some of these difficult passages may tempt us to wonder if Paul really intended to include them in the “all Scripture” that is profitable for teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16). Ezekiel 40–48 would certainly fall within that group. These nine chapters include a detailed description of a visionary temple, an assortment of obscure rules for leaders, priests, and people, a description of a miraculous river that flows from the temple, and a redistribution of the land of Israel into parallel strips of equal width for the twelve tribes.
What, if anything, does this passage have to do with the larger storyline of the Old Testament or, more practically, with you and me?
A Message for Ezekiel’s Contemporaries
To answer that question, we need to survey other parts of the prophet’s message, thus providing the context in which to read Ezekiel 40–48. Situating the temple vision allows us to understand why God gave it to Ezekiel in the first place and how to apply it today.
Ruined Temple, Restored Hearts
First, we need to understand what had happened to the Jerusalem temple of Ezekiel’s own day, a story depicted in visionary form in Ezekiel 8–11. In Ezekiel 8, the prophet sees representations of the false worship of his contemporaries summed up in four consecutive scenes of ever-increasing idolatry, each closer than the last to the heart of the Jerusalem temple, culminating in a group of elders offering worship to the sun in the inner court of the temple itself (Ezekiel 8:16). These abominations form the reason why the Lord abandons the Jerusalem temple, handing it over to the Babylonians to be destroyed (Ezekiel 9–10). Before his temple is destroyed, the Lord goes with his people into exile to be for them a sanctuary (11:16). He also promises to eventually bring his people back from exile and transform them, giving them a new heart to obey him and restoring their relationship with him (11:17–20).
In Ezekiel 34–37, after the news of Jerusalem’s destruction reaches the exiles (33:21), the Lord promises to bring his people back to the land of Canaan and to give them that promised new heart of obedience (Ezekiel 36:24–31) — not for their own sake, but to demonstrate the holiness of his name (36:22–23, 32). The result of this restoration ought to be shame on the part of Israel, as they recall their past misdeeds (36:32). The Lord also promises to put his sanctuary once again in the midst of his people (37:26). This time, it will endure forever (37:28), unlike the previous temple, which was destroyed for the people’s sins (Ezekiel 8–10). This will be a perpetual testimony to the Lord’s holiness and his grace to his people, whom he will finally cleanse from their sinful backsliding and make into a holy people (37:23, 28).
In Ezekiel 38–39, the prophet depicts a final battle, in which a representative global alliance of seven nations from all four points of the compass is brought against the returned people by the Lord, no longer to punish his people for their sins but to demonstrate his own power and holiness by comprehensively defeating their enemies. This is a battle in which ancient wooden weaponry (clubs, spears, bows and arrows, and so on) survives fire from heaven (Ezekiel 38:22) in order to serve as firewood for Israel (39:9). Israel’s only part in the conflict is to collect the discarded weapons and bury the dead bodies (39:12–15).
Clearly, we are operating in the realm of symbolism, not realistic description. The point of this prophecy is made explicit in Ezekiel 39:21–29: Having renewed his people, the Lord promises to no longer subject them to destruction for their sins, as he did earlier. Rather, just as he once demonstrated his holiness by exiling his sinful people from the land, so in the future he will demonstrate his holiness by protecting them from all dangers. Israel’s past sins separated them from God and took them into exile (39:22–24). Now the shame they rightly felt will be removed (39:26).
True Repentance, Secure Hope
A common feature runs through Ezekiel’s prophecy. Israel sinned greatly, and their sin led to the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem and their exile to Babylon. Acknowledging their failure should lead to an appropriate sense of shame among the exiles, while vindicating the Lord’s judgment.
But judgment is not the final word. Some of Ezekiel’s contemporaries were tempted to think that the Lord was either unable to protect his people against the might of the Babylonians or that his actions had been unfair (see Ezekiel 18:2). On the other hand, if they acknowledged that the Lord’s actions were just, they were tempted to despair over the possibility of any future relationship with him: They felt like dry bones, cut off from their God (37:11). In response, the prophet paints a portrait of a future relationship between God and his people, established solely by his might and grace, in which he would once again dwell in their midst (37:27). This time, the bond would not be broken by the people’s unfaithfulness (37:24) or by the assaults of enemies, no matter how fearsome (chapters 38–39). The Lord’s sanctuary would be among them again, undefiled and undefilable (37:28).
This background prepares us to recognize the message Ezekiel’s temple vision was designed to communicate to his original hearers in exile in Babylon.
As for you, son of man, describe to the house of Israel the temple, that they may be ashamed of their iniquities; and they shall measure the plan. And if they are ashamed of all that they have done, make known to them the design of the temple, its arrangement, its exits and its entrances, that is, its whole design; and make known to them as well all its statutes and its whole design and all its laws, and write it down in their sight, so that they may observe all its laws and all its statutes and carry them out. This is the law of the temple: the whole territory on the top of the mountain all around shall be most holy. Behold, this is the law of the temple. (Ezekiel 43:10–12)
We should notice at once the similarity of this purpose to the previous oracles. If Ezekiel’s contemporaries understood the significance of the temple vision properly, it ought to have prompted in them a proper shame over their past behavior and a renewed commitment to protecting the temple’s holiness, but it should also have given them great hope that their God was committed not only to returning them to their land but also to dwelling among them once again.
Theology as Architecture, Legislation, and Geography
We noted earlier that the battle in Ezekiel 38–39 operates in the realm of visionary symbolism rather than straightforward reality: The Lord uses the imagery of an apocalyptic battle to communicate a theological message (see 39:21–29). So, too, Ezekiel 40–48 is not intended to give a blueprint for a future temple and its operations. On the contrary, the utopian vision critiques the past sins of Israel and affirms a different future for God’s people, as a result of their radical transformation described in chapters 34–37.1
The new people, in a new-covenant relationship with their God, would return to a radically new land, in which their God would dwell with them forever. To express those transformative changes that the Lord is bringing about in his people, Ezekiel uses the forms of architecture, legislation, and geography.
The Message of Ezekiel’s Temple
What central theological concerns drive the design of Ezekiel’s temple? To begin with, access into the presence of God is restricted. The outside walls are higher, the gates stronger, and the divisions clearer than they were in the tabernacle or in Solomon’s temple. Past failures to keep the Jerusalem temple pure, such as those depicted in Ezekiel 8, must be avoided going forward. The Zadokite priests, whose faithfulness is commended in chapter 44, alone have access to the altar, where the crucial sacrificial offerings to purify land and people will be made. They also bear the ultimate responsibility for guarding the entrances and exits of the temple (see 44:11).
Sacrifices of purification also take center stage in Ezekiel’s temple — quite literally in the form of the massive altar of burnt offering, the architectural center of Ezekiel’s temple (Ezekiel 43:13–27). Purificatory offerings form the dominant theme in the revised two annual festivals (45:18–25), underlining the need for the holiness of the land and its people if the Lord is going to dwell in their midst.
These themes are in some ways maintained and in other ways transformed with the coming of Christ, as may be seen by comparing Ezekiel’s visionary temple with John’s visionary new Jerusalem in Revelation 21–22. The contrasts are clear — a temple-dominated land in Ezekiel 40–48 versus a city with no temple in Revelation (see Revelation 21:22). Yet the similarities are equally clear, starting with John being carried away by the Spirit to a very high mountain to receive his vision (compare Revelation 21:10 with Ezekiel 40:2).
The key to both the similarities and the differences is found in the ministry of Christ. For example, the central importance of sacrifice in Ezekiel’s temple is maintained but now finds its focus in the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ on behalf of his people (see Matthew 20:28). Since that sacrifice has been offered, there is no more need for Ezekiel’s enormous altar of burnt offering, nor for the atoning sacrifices that he envisages being offered there (Ezekiel 45:15, 17). On the other hand, the tight restrictions on access into God’s presence remain in the new Jerusalem: The outer wall is heightened, and the gates are even stronger than in Ezekiel’s temple (Revelation 21:12–17). These restrictions are only for unbelievers, however: All those in Christ have been given access to the very throne of God and the Lamb (Revelation 21:22–25).
The Message of the Rules of Access
The metaphor of legislation becomes dominant in Ezekiel 44–46. The laws that Ezekiel outlines recast in significant ways not only the temple practices under the monarchy but also the original Mosaic ordering of the tabernacle and its priesthood. In some ways, what the prophet describes is a restoration of the past to the way it should have been; in others, it is a vision of a radically different future.
Like the temple, this legislation is not intended as a blueprint for a fundamental reordering of the temple practices on the return from exile (or at some unspecified time in the future). Rather, like the description of the visionary temple, it was intended as a message to Ezekiel’s immediate audience, the rebellious house of Israel (Ezekiel 43:10; 44:6). The goal of the prophet’s teaching was to convict his hearers of their former sins and bring them to repentance, instilling a proper shame over the past and a corresponding resolve to pursue a new and different future (43:11). Ezekiel’s vision also embodied a profound message of hope as well: The Lord who had abandoned his temple in Jerusalem because of his people’s idolatry (chapters 8–11) planned a new future, in which he would consummate his promise to dwell in their midst forever.
This message of hope is reinforced by the fact that those who have been faithful in the past, such as the Zadokite priests (Ezekiel 44:15), are rewarded in Ezekiel’s vision, while those who have been unfaithful are pushed to the margins of the land. The reward in view is closer access to the presence of Israel’s all-holy God (44:16). Along with such privileges come greater responsibilities: Those who are priests must observe strict rules in terms of ritual and personal holiness if they are to serve in the presence of God (44:16–27).
The New Testament holds out a vision of a heavenly (utopian) future that is both like and unlike Ezekiel’s vision. It is like it, both because Ezekiel’s vision was a key inspiration of the book of Revelation and because the God whom Christians serve is the same all-holy God of Ezekiel. The New Testament’s heavenly vision is unlike Ezekiel’s, however, because with the coming of Christ, anticipation has become reality, and believers who are united to Christ receive from him the gift of his perfect holiness. In place of a Holy of Holies to which no one — not even Ezekiel himself (see Ezekiel 41:3–4) — has access, the new Jerusalem is a gigantic Holy of Holies, cubic in shape and covered with pure gold, to which every believer has continual access (Revelation 21:16–25)!
Meanwhile, the New Testament teaching on heavenly rewards emphasizes two distinct but complementary themes. First, there are many passages that explore, as Ezekiel does, the theme of rewards for obedience. Faithfulness here on earth matters, as the parable of the minas clearly teaches (Luke 19:12–26). As in Ezekiel, the prime reward offered in the Gospels to faithful disciples is access into the master’s presence and favor (Luke 19:17). Yet the New Testament has many parables and teachings that stress the fact that heavenly rewards — and access to heaven itself — are a matter of grace and not works.2 All those who enter heaven will be astonished at the wonders stored up for unprofitable servants like us, amazed that we even find a place there at all.
The Message of the River
Throughout Ezekiel 40–46, the vision focuses narrowly on the temple. The remainder of Ezekiel’s vision, however, lifts his eyes to a survey of the land, especially the river (Ezekiel 47:1–12), the one feature of the temple that transcends limits and boundaries, bringing the blessing of life outward from the sacred space at the heart of the community to the rest of the land.
From Eden onward, the connection between rivers and sanctuaries is common throughout the Bible (Genesis 2:10; cf. Psalm 46:4; Revelation 22:1). Yet Ezekiel’s river is unique in two ways: First, it starts from very small beginnings — barely more than a dripping faucet (Ezekiel 47:2) — yet grows to become the mightiest of all of the rivers, uncrossable in its torrent (47:5). Second, the river brings not only life but life from the dead — transforming the Dead Sea into a thriving fishery (47:8). The rapid growth of the river from tiny beginnings is clearly supernatural, reminding the prophet and his hearers not to despise “the day of small things” (Zechariah 4:10). To use Jesus’s analogy, the tiny mustard seed (the kingdom of God) grows up to become a mighty tree (Matthew 13:31).
The Lord, by his Spirit, takes people who are spiritually dead and makes them alive in Christ, giving them new birth from above (John 3:3–8). That regenerating work may begin in small ways, but God will bring it to completion in his own time. Indeed, those who believe in Christ also become miniature sanctuaries from which this blessing flows to those around them (John 7:38). In the gospel, salvation and blessing have arrived for the healing of not just Israel but the nations as well (Ezekiel 47:12; see Revelation 22:2).
The Message of the Redistributed Land
The vision concludes with a redistribution of the promised land (Ezekiel 47:13–48:35). The distribution of the land by lot in the days of Joshua (Joshua 13–21) completed the blessing of land and people that God had promised Abraham (Genesis 12:1–3). In the same way, Ezekiel 47:13–48:35 forms a logical (and theological) conclusion to the utopian vision of the future expressed in Ezekiel 40–48.
As with the previous parts of Ezekiel 40–48, the visionary future is quite different from the historical past, and these differences reinforce through geographical imagery what the prophet had described earlier in the form of architecture and legislation. Notably, the borders of the land are (broadly speaking) restricted to the area given to Moses in Numbers 34:1–12, a portion that is larger to the north and south than anything ever occupied during the period of the monarchy but which omits the entire Transjordan area, the historic home of Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh. In addition, the individual tribal portions are now aligned as equal east-west strips rather than the patchwork distribution of land that took place under Joshua. These changes emphasize the land as the Lord’s gift to his people; they also show the orientation of every aspect of their existence around the temple. The vision ends with the city of Jerusalem, which had once been filled with abominations, now replaced by a holy city that is renamed “The Lord Is There” (Ezekiel 48:35).
Ezekiel 47–48 affirms that God’s promises to Abraham, centered around a multitude of descendants and a land for them to dwell in, still stand. Of course, those promises were always typological, representative of the promise of a heavenly home (Hebrews 11:13–16) and spiritual descendants (including Gentiles), heirs of his own faith (Hebrews 3:16). In Christ, the fulfillment transcends Ezekiel’s vision, now including not just a new city and land but a new heavens and new earth. Furthermore, the heart of Ezekiel’s vision remains relevant for us: in spite of our long history of sin and rebellion, which once separated us from God, the end of our story is a place where God dwells in the midst of his people in a radically new way: “the Lord Is There” (Ezekiel 48:35).
The Impact of the Vision
What effect was this vision intended to have on Ezekiel’s fellow exiles — and on us? First, it was intended to guide the exiles into self-examination so they might acknowledge the shame and guilt of their own failure to keep the Lord’s holy law. They were rightfully condemned as sinners; the Babylonian exile was the just judgment of God upon a nation of covenant breakers. So, too, contemporary readers are invited to our own self-examination. In what ways have we mimicked the idolatry of ancient Israel, serving false gods that promise security and significance, and abandoning our obligations to the God who created us for himself? We have much to be ashamed over, many things for which we should feel appropriately guilty.
Yet the goal of Ezekiel’s prophecy is not simply to make people feel bad. Even his most searing oracles of judgment often turn in the direction of hope (see Ezekiel 16:53–63). The structure of the book as a whole lifts our eyes away from personal and societal sin to the salvation promised by our God. The exiles were intensely aware of feeling cut off from God and their homeland by their sins (37:11), but Ezekiel assured them that there was a future for God’s people beyond that climactic judgment of 586 BC. This future involved a return to their land and a fulfillment of the Abrahamic promises in an equitable and just society centered on a renewed temple, in which God would once again dwell. That was not accomplished in the post-exilic setting, leaving them looking forward to a salvation that was yet to come, which would be accomplished in Christ.
As Christians, we can still take comfort as well as challenge from the words of the ancient prophet. For us, the decisive event in redemptive history is not the fall of Jerusalem, paying for its own sins, but the death of the Son of God on the cross, paying for all the sins of his people. After Christ’s subsequent resurrection, everything has changed: New creation has arrived on earth (2 Corinthians 5:17). To be sure, life in the “now” continues to be hard, sometimes excruciatingly so. We continue to experience the painful fruits of living in a cursed world, where our own sins and the sins of others against us have serious consequences. Yet if we are in Christ, then God’s wrath is no longer against us. It has been poured out upon Christ. United to him, we are welcomed into God’s presence as his beloved children. His favor rests upon us, and we can know his presence in our midst whenever we gather to worship him.
But even for us, as for Ezekiel’s original hearers, the best is stored up in the “not yet.” There is a glorious future prepared for us in the heavenly new Jerusalem, in which all the blessings symbolically depicted in Ezekiel’s temple vision become ours in reality, only in far greater ways. Best of all, “The Lord Is There” (Ezekiel 48:35)! We shall see him face to face and be comforted for all our present tears and pains (Revelation 21:4; 22:4). Our brokenness and exile will be gone forever, and we shall be home at last, together with all of God’s Old Testament saints.
The first readers of Ezekiel’s vision understood this and so made no effort to implement the vision when they returned to Judah after the exile. Of course, constructing the building that Ezekiel described would have been challenging given the lack of critical details, such as any height measurements (apart from the outside wall) and any description of materials, both of which were key elements in the descriptions of the tabernacle (see Exodus 25–40) and of Solomon’s temple (1 Kings 6). Moreover, Ezekiel’s temple is far too big to fit on the temple mount in Jerusalem and, indeed, if the land distribution of Ezekiel 47–48 is taken seriously, it would be located around sixty miles north of Jerusalem. However, Ezekiel’s rearrangement of the Mosaic festivals into two annual feasts of atonement would have been straightforward enough to implement, had it been understood that these laws were intended to be followed literally (45:18–25). ↩
See, for example, the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1–16). ↩
Desiring God