17:1–2 This oracle is a “riddle” (Hb. khidah) as well as a “parable” (mashal). Parables in Hebrew include short pithy maxims, such as the sayings in the book of Proverbs, but can also be extended stories or (as in this case) metaphors that express a point. Riddles, on the other hand, are sayings or stories in which the underlying meaning is not immediately obvious.125 It takes wisdom (and sometimes help from the riddler) to discern the true import of the saying. It is striking that in Numbers 12:6–8 the Lord contrasts his “plain” way of speaking to his people through Moses with his revelation by the prophets, which typically comes wrapped in the obscurity of dreams, visions, and riddles (khidot). Readers often must consult the interpretation given by the prophet to discern the exact meaning of a vision, sign-act, or enigmatic saying. Conversely, when an explanation of a vision or riddle is given by the prophet, any interpretation that comes to a different conclusion as to the meaning of the episode is likely to be misguided.

17:3–6 The first character to be introduced is a great eagle, outstanding in glory with mighty wings and beautiful plumage.126 It comes to Lebanon and takes a sprig from a lofty cedar tree, transplanting it to a new home, which is simply described as “a land of trade [ʾerets kenaʿan] and . . . a city of merchants.” The eagle replaces the transplanted sprig with some of the local seed of the land, for which it provides a good home, with fertile soil and abundant water. The eagle sets the sprig out carefully, as one would a cutting from a willow tree, yet, instead of growing into another lofty cedar tree, the sprig becomes a low-spreading vine. It thrives in its new setting, however, sending out its branches toward the eagle that has cared for it.

17:7–8 At this point another eagle enters the picture. It also has great wings and plumage, though it does not seem to be quite as impressive as the first eagle. Certainly, it has done nothing for the vine, unlike the first eagle, which has done everything for it. Yet for no apparent reason the vine abandons the first eagle and turns toward the second one, shooting its branches toward it and seeking to be watered by it. It forgets everything the first eagle has done for it, including its purpose in transplanting the sprig to such a favorable location so that it could become a noble and fruitful vine.

17:9–10 The outcome of such choices is obvious, at least at the level of the vine in the fable. This is no way for the vine to prosper. The first eagle is likely to take a dim view of such unfaithfulness and to uproot it, a task made all the easier by the weakening effects of a root structure that has turned toward the second eagle rather than going downward and outward in all directions. The vine will wither when it is struck by the hot and dry east wind off the desert, which often symbolizes God’s judgment (Hos. 13:15; Jonah 4:7–8). The plant will be both pulled up by its roots and withered where it stands—a double judgment matching the doubling theme pervading this chapter.127

17:11–21 Although Ezekiel is instructed to ask his fellow exiles (“the rebellious house”) “Do you not know what these things mean?” (a form of question that suggests that they should know), it is likely that at this point many of them are confused. If pressed, especially in the context of the previous oracle in chapter 16, they would probably identify the first eagle, who took such good care of the plant, as the Lord (cf. Ex. 19:4). He transplanted his people to the land of Canaan (Hb. kenaʿan; the same Hebrew word as “trade” in Ezek. 17:4), a well-watered place (cf. Ps. 80:8–11), removing the previous inhabitants ahead of them. The vine potentially represents his people (as in Ezekiel 15), who turned away from him to their idols (the second eagle), inevitably resulting in a fitting judgment.

But of course, in a riddle like this what one sees at first glance is not necessarily the correct understanding. Ezekiel shockingly turns the listeners’ expectations on their heads by affirming that the first eagle is actually Nebuchadnezzar, who took King Jehoiachin and his princes from Lebanon128 to Babylon, the “city of merchants” (cf. 16:29), where he treated him kindly. Many of Ezekiel’s fellow exiles had made that same trip. Nebuchadnezzar then took another of the royal seed (zeraʿ; cf. 17:5), Mattaniah (Jehoiachin’s uncle), and renamed him Zedekiah, making a covenant with him that involved his swearing an oath of loyalty. Having planted him in an advantageous position, Nebuchadnezzar obviously expected faithfulness from Zedekiah in return.

Zedekiah responded, however, by turning to the second eagle, Egypt, in search of horses and a large army. Contacts appear to have begun already when Psamtik II (r. 595–589 BC) came to the throne of Egypt and then continued on into the reign of his successor, Apries (= Hophra, Jer. 44:30; r. 589–570), though little actual help seems ever to have materialized, just as Ezekiel predicted. Looking to Egypt for horses was specifically forbidden for Israelite kings in Deuteronomy 17:16, underlining the fact that Zedekiah’s rebellion was not only against Nebuchadnezzar but against the Lord. More specifically, Zedekiah’s oath of loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar was “my oath,” and the covenant he broke was “my covenant” (Ezek. 17:19; cf. 16:59). Presumably, this means that when Zedekiah entered into his covenant with Nebuchadnezzar, he made it with a vow in the name of his own God, a vow he then despised. Even more profoundly, his covenant breaking with Nebuchadnezzar mirrored his own covenant breaking with the Lord; he was a doubly fitting leader for the “rebellious house” (17:12).

The answer to the earlier questions (“Will he thrive? Can [he] escape?”; 17:15) is now crystal clear. There was little chance on a human level of Zedekiah’s surviving an assault from the Babylonians if the Egyptians abandoned him to his fate. Nor did he deserve to do so. But, far more profoundly, if the Lord is against him and has determined to bring his treachery back on his own head (v. 19), there is no hope at all. The Lord will track down Zedekiah like a hunter pursues his prey, trapping him in a net and carrying him to Babylon to face his judgment. In another dizzying twist the first reading of the parable and the second thus merge: Nebuchadnezzar’s acts for and against Zedekiah are the Lord’s actions, and rebellion against him is rebellion against the Lord. The curses Zedekiah invoked upon himself when he swore loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar in the Lord’s name will come back to haunt him,129 but his breach of this oath is merely symbolic of Zedekiah’s greater rebellion against God. The implication for Ezekiel’s hearers is clear: anyone who puts his trust in Zedekiah and hopes that his anti-Babylonian and pro-Egyptian policy would rescue Israel from her exile was himself in rebellion against the Lord. All should repent and recognize the Lord’s sovereignty and justice at work in Zedekiah’s forthcoming downfall.

17:22–24 But, in yet another surprising twist, the prophet revisits the parable to affirm that the Lord is not finished with his chosen royal line, despite Zedekiah’s unfaithfulness. Although the existing plant has proved worthless, a new beginning for the royal tree is still possible. The Lord will reenact the parable, taking another tender sapling from the topmost sprigs of a cedar and setting it out in a favorable location. Here it is clear that the Lord is fulfilling the role of the first eagle, so the sapling must represent a new king. This time it will be transplanted not to the land of merchants (cf. v. 4) but rather to a high and lofty mountain in Israel, a location suitable for divine habitation in the form of a temple (cf. 40:2). This is therefore presumably a reference to a renewed and cleansed Mount Zion.130 This will be accomplished not by the Lord’s bringing back Jehoiachin from Babylon but by a new beginning from the same root—a “shoot from the stump of Jesse,” as Isaiah puts it (Isa. 11:1).

Fulfilling the unfulfilled promise of the original cedar sprig, which was removed and replaced by a disappointing, low-spreading vine, this newly transplanted shoot will grow properly into a mighty cedar, the tallest of trees (Ezek. 17:23). It will produce fruit for food and shelter for birds of every kind, putting all the other trees of the field—the nations of the world—in their proper place (cf. Isa. 11:1–10).131 By bringing this humble sprig to its prominent position and humbling the mighty trees of the forest, the Lord will demonstrate his sovereignty to raise up kings and set them down according to his own purposes and timetable (cf. Dan. 4:14–17). He uproots the well-watered vine when it rebels, but he can also water a dry tree, bringing it back to life and health. There is therefore hope for a new beginning for the Lord’s people on the far side of the certainty of Zedekiah’s downfall and Jerusalem’s demise. The Lord is not finished with the line of David. However, the new beginning will not simply be a continuation of present realities: it will take a new redemptive act of the Lord to accomplish it.