Exile or Snake Plissken Sleeps with One Eye Open After the Leningrad Ruse

DANIEL 1:1-12:13, EZEKIEL 1:1-48:35 & LAMENTATIONS

PART ONE

It’s come down to this. The Hebrews have finally pushed God too far. He’s tried to warn them. Repeatedly. God has counted to 10 so many times he’s reached Graham’s number. Finally, he decides to put the Jews in timeout. No cellphones. No Xbox. No car keys. The first chapter of the book of Daniel picks up the story with Nebuchadnezzar II deporting the first wave of Judean exiles to Babylonia (present day Iraq) during the third year of King Jehoiakim’s reign, circa 605 BCE (see 2 Kings 24:1-4). And yeah, Daniel is among them. Being blue-blooded teens with exceptional SAT scores and athletic scholarships, Dan and his friends put the Winklevoss twins on notice and are subsequently selected for a three-year Chaldean 101 class to learn the language and customs (vv. 3-5). Sound familiar? It should. This was predicted by the prophet Isaiah (scene select 2 Kings 20:28 or Isaiah 39:7). And just like an imported kung-fu movie, the Jews are christened with a bad dub name change. Don’t look at their lips, it’s not gonna match. Daniel becomes Belteshazzar and, more famously, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah become Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego (v. 7).

Right out of the gate, Daniel makes a stand by refusing to eat the king’s four-star fare (v. 8). Like Lolly Whitehill, he knows a kosher meal is preferable to anything else in the Litchfield kitchen and convinces Nebuchadnezzar’s top chef to accommodate their diet. It’s a bold move for a captive teen looking down the barrel of the Ludovico Technique. But it works. After ten kosher days, the Hebrews are in better shape than the students eating from the cordon bleu menu (v. 15). The four Jewish friends graduate at the head of their class and impress the hell out of Nebuchadnezzar—and apparently every king that comes after him. According to verse 21, Daniel remains a top advisor in the imperial court for over 60 years.

Things get real in chapter 2 when Nebuchadnezzar starts having dreams that trouble him worse than Curtis LaForche. He brings in the whole population of Hogsmeade to reconstruct and interpret the dream he can’t quite remember, but soon discovers the magicians are actually muggles and reassigns them all to work in the barely fields….as fertilizer. Daniel isn’t in the room when Nebuchadnezzar levies the sentence, but as a court mage is designated to join his coworkers on the royal compost heap. But before the wizarding world of Babylonia faces the Ritual of Obliteration, he’s able to secure an audience with the king. Daniel is careful to never take any credit, but proves to be a more accomplished dream walker than the Sandman, Lord Morpheus himself (vv. 27-28). Without ever being told the dream, he’s privy to its details and relays it to Nebuchadnezzar accordingly. Turns out, the king has been dreaming of the future. Daniel accurately interprets the Green Dream as foretelling the rise and fall of Babylon, Persia, Greece and Rome. I know what you’re thinking. That’s not possible. It’s often been suggested these “predictions” were likely written down after the fact. Makes sense. But then there’s enough evidence floating around to alter this perception a little more every day, including new manuscript dating from last year (2025) that indicates Daniel’s predictions may actually predate some of the events in question. As Natasha Romanov would say, “I get emails from a raccoon. Nothing sounds crazy anymore.” Nebuchadnezzar is so impressed he promotes Daniel on the spot, putting him in charge of the Ministry of Magic (v. 48). Daniel uses his new connections to make sure his friends move up the ladder with him.

Chapter 3 doesn’t feature Daniel as he’s apparently away on official sage business, but it’s far from a throwaway episode. Secondary characters Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego fill in memorably with a fan favorite episode that nearly scores them their own spinoff. While Nebuchadnezzar’s dream predicted Babylon’s eventual collapse, the king has no intention of letting his current power go to waste. He sets up a ten-storey gold-plated statue, hires Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and demands every official in the tri-state area attend and kneel to the statue when they hear Animal’s frenzied drum solo. For anyone with bad knees or otherwise disinclined to kiss the ground, Nebuchadnezzar promises to cook them at 500° in his industrial-sized oven (v. 6). Needless to say, when Animal goes berserk, everyone hits the dirt—everyone except Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego: “They tell us what to do, hell no!” Quick, someone cue up the Beastie Boys.

When news of the trio’s insubordination gets back to the king he’s pissed, but likes them enough to give them a second chance—or maybe just show off his supremacy. Nebuchadnezzar is in full “knee before Zod!” mode: “what god is there who can deliver you out of my hands?” (v. 15). Yep. It’s possible he envisions his authority stretching slightly beyond Mesopotamia. Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego couldn’t care less: “[O]ur God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace … But even if He does not, let it be known to you … we are not going to serve your gods” (vv. 17-18). They’re more defiant in the face of agonizing death than William Wallace. Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t have much experience with the word “no” and goes mental. He has the three Hebrews tied up and insists the oven is programmed to its untested Mustafar setting. It’s so hot, the guy who puts Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego on the baking rack burns up like a gasoline-soaked Franz Sanchez (v. 22). As Hippy Carnes would say, “I give this whole thing a sphincter factor of about 9.5.” But things take an unexpected turn once the three friends are inside. Nebuchadnezzar can see that, not only are they still alive, they’re free from their bindings and strolling around with a fourth “man” he identifies as an angel (v. 25). When he calls to them, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego exit the oven unfazed. No need to check into the burn unit or buy new threads. They don’t even have the smell of smoke in their hair. Not even Daenerys Targary could pull that off. There are several dead bodies sprawled out by the raging oven. All of the compliant worshippers are frozen mid-bow watching the scene play out. Everyone is sweating profusely, except for the three Hebrews. The royal palm leaf wavers are working overtime. God was just in the room, but Nebuchadnezzar still won’t shut up. No longer angry, he now commends Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego for taking a stand and demands everyone respects the God of the Jews….or “be torn limb from limb” (v. 29). Nebuchadnezzar’s “or else” game is no joke.

Interestingly, chapter 4 shifts to a third-person Nebuchadnezzar narrative in which the king speaks of another dream, which he once again calls on Daniel to interpret. Daniel is hesitant to discuss the dream’s meaning this time, because it ends with Nebuchadnezzar going howling mad and being committed to Lambert Asylum like Lawrence Talbot (v. 25). But the king simply attributes the dream to bad meatloaf and dismisses the whole thing. Fast forward one year. While admiring his kingdom from the palace roof, Nebuchadnezzar unwittingly fulfills the dream when he states, “Is this not Babylon the great, which I myself have built … by the might of my power and glory of my majesty?” (v. 30). He’s still stroking his ego when an ethereal voice condemns him for not giving God props. This is immediately followed by Nebuchadnezzar being stripped of his title and removed from office. Losing his power causes him to suffer a mental breakdown. He lives outside, surviving in the wild like Les Stroud (v. 33). No haircuts. No pedicures. No Grubhub deliveries. He lives like a wild animal for seven years before finally acknowledging God and earning Jeff Probst’s respect. He returns to civilization, where he regains his old reputation and is reinstated as king (v. 36). Like William Nix, he’s a man who wanted to become a god, then changed his mind: “I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise, exalt and honor the King of heaven, for all His works are true and all His ways just, and He is able to humble those who walk in pride” (v. 37).

The truth of Nebuchadnezzar’s temporary insanity is impossible to confirm. History indicates Nebuchadnezzar took a leave of absence. Scripture says he went cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Some scholars think the sanity slippage recorded in the Tanach is conflated with Nabonidus, the last king of Babylon. Even so, there are inscriptions from late in Nebuchadnezzar’s reign in which he wrote about being chosen to be king by the gods/God, a sentiment repeatedly attached to him by the prophets and, according to the scriptural text, God himself. Also, it appears his son Evil-merodach (Amel-marduk) was proclaimed king in his absence. Where and how long he was MIA isn’t disclosed in Babylonian records, but Nebuchadnezzar has his kid imprisoned when he regains his title. This is likely when Evil-merodach became pals with Jehoiachin (Judah’s king), which explains why he releases him once he becomes king after his dad dies (check out 2 Kings 25:27-29).

Chapter 5 jumps ahead to the time of King Nabonidus’ reign, when his son Belshazzar is acting as regent in his absence. Like any second in command with the keys to the kingdom, Belshazzar throws an epic party. A thousand people attend. He shows off by breaking out the golden Tervis tumblers plundered from the temple to drink from, but God takes umbrage and sends Thing’s disembodied hand to make a note on the wall right in the middle of the revelry (v. 5). Belshazzar sobers up real quick and brings in Daniel, who interprets the literal writing on the wall as foretelling Belshazzar’s death and confirming Babylon’s defeat to the Medes and Persians. Belshazzar doesn’t make it through the night (v. 30). The moral here is don’t drink from God’s cup. He put his name on it for a reason.

In chapter six, the historically illusive Darius the Mede is introduced. There are no records of him outside Scripture, so speculation is rampant. It’s possible Darius was a regent of Cyrus the Great. But who knows. The story here follows Persia’s conquest of Babylon when Darius appoints Daniel as one of his top advisors over the kingdom’s everyday affairs. Being the smartest smart guy in the room, Daniel’s Nicholas Angel success rate is despised by the other advisors, who want him out of the picture. Since they can’t come up with any dirt on him, they settle on a plan that sees them enact a 30-day policy during which no one can appeal to any god or man other than Darius or else they’ll be thrown into the Rancor pit—and Darius signs off on it (v. 7). But Daniel has been reading Dr. Henry Jones’ grail diary and knows only the penitent man shall pass and continues to knee before God daily. As planned, the Tricky Dick advisors catch him in the act and take him to a much-chagrined Darius who tries to find a loophole to excuse Daniel. But the decree is irrevocable. Even the king is powerless against it, so orders are given to chuck him into the lions’ den (v. 16).

It doesn’t look good for Daniel, especially when he finds out they haven’t fed their pets recently. We can only guess how he spent his evening. Those quixotic images they display in Sunday school showing him snuggling comfortably among the lions seems unlikely. Let’s be real. It’s a pit full of ferocious carnivores. There are human bones on the floor, dried blood on the walls and it probably smells worse than Jack Spade’s childhood bedroom. The thought of snuggling with the mistreated animals is probably the last thing on Daniel’s mind. He may trust God implicitly, but that doesn’t mean he stops using common sense. More likely than not, he stayed up all night with his back to the wall watching the lions roam around the den, defying the natural law of their instinct. Darius doesn’t eat or sleep that night either and is up at dawn to check on his favorite viceroy: “[H]as your God, whom you constantly serve, been able to deliver you from the lions?” (v. 20). A more dramatic writer would’ve let the question hang in the air for a few pulse-pounding seconds before revealing the answer, but we read Daniel responds instantly. Dude definitely isn’t dozing among the lions. According to Daniel, God dispatched his angel Newt Scamander to subdue the king of beasts. One can only imagine the awe in his tone when he replies, “My God … shut the lions’ mouths and they have not harmed me” (v. 22). It’s not recorded in the text, but Daniel probably added, “Now get me the hell out of here!” Darius is psyched. He hauls Daniel out and has the conspirators and their families tossed in. The lions are pissed from staring down a free meal all night and intercept the incoming food before it hits the ground. Talk about your all-time backfires. Meanwhile, Daniel continues to advance his career all the way to the reign of Cyrus the Great.

The second half of the book is 99% foreshadowing with Daniel fielding one vision of the future after another, foretelling the fall and division of the great Macedonian empire and the rise of notable historical figures like Alexander the Great, Ptolemy I and possibly Jesus. Of course, visions inherently come preloaded with a lot of esoteric weirdness. Even as a professional dream weaver Daniel is baffled by what he sees—and when angels like Gabriel and Michael show up to clarify what kaiju represents which world power it leaves him “exhausted and sick for days”—and still confused (8:27). Daniel is more incredulous that 1955 Doc Brown when he’s told Ronald Reagan is POTUS in 1985. The future isn’t for everyone. There’s also new math to contend with: 70 weeks equals 490 years? Wut? As Swinton Sawyer would say, “E=MC Hammer.” And yeah, it all eventually leads up to rumors of the End of Days. Get ready. Chapter 12 says it’s happening in “a time, times, and half a time” (v. 7). Well, that clears things up. Daniel is instructed to keep everything he’s been told on the downlow despite admitting, “I heard but could not understand” (v. 8). He’s not the only one.

PART TWO

Daniel’s been in Babylon eight years when the second wave of Jewish exiles arrive, including King Jehoiachin (Jehoiakim’s kid) and a guy named Ezekiel. Babylonian records date the capture of Jerusalem March 16th, 597 BCE. The book of Ezekiel picks up the narrative five years later. Like Jeremiah, Zeke is a pastor’s kid and teen when he starts his career. He’s basically the first social media influencer of his time. He’s also more obsessed with dates than Julian Gregory Day. The first sentence of his book lets us know the exact moment in time he puts pen to paper.

Chapter 1 fades in with a FIVE YEARS LATER title card and Ezekiel somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert in the middle of a hallucinogenic vision. Brace yourself. Ezekiel has more crazy visions than an LSD-fueled Raoul Duke. This one is part of his recruiting process, with God showing up to lay out the parameters of the position. That’s right. God is still looking to communicate with the Hebrews and needs a middleman. The job requirements get really weird when God tells Zeke to “open your mouth and close your eyes and I will give you a big surprise” (2:8). The surprise turns out to be a scroll filled with more woe than a semester with Wednesday Addams. In chapter 3, Ezekiel eats the scroll with less thought than Link Chomovsky and even comments on its sweet taste (v. 3). Looks like God has the right guy. Together, they establish a Penn and Teller routine, with God doing all of the talking to ensure all eyes are on Zeke when it’s time for a big reveal (vv. 26-27).

Jerusalem has yet to be sacked and the Jewish exiles are still clinging to hope of their rescue and return. But the Jews get no relief with Ezekiel on the premises. Optimism is officially off the table. In chapter 4, God instructs him to publicly build a model of Jerusalem under siege and maintain it for over a year. Subtle. He faces another hallucinogenic vision in chapter 8, which sees God snatch him up by the hair and take him on an unromantic Superman flight to Jerusalem, where God uses x-ray vision to show the prophet the behind-the-scenes sacrilege still going on (vv. 12-13). It’s so bad God’s presence finally exits the temple.

Finding some success with visual aids, God instructs Ezekiel to live like Viktor Navorski in chapter 12, with his suitcase perpetually packed for departure. He explains citizens in Jerusalem should do the same as they’re about to go on permanent vacation. Ezekiel predicts Judah’s impending doom with scary detail, including specifics of King Zedekiah’s capture and survivors retreating to Egypt (vv. 12-15, also 17:12-21). Talk about a little black raincloud. Zeke narrates events like Lemony Snicket. He tells the Jews not only aren’t they going home, everything they know is about to burn and Count Olaf will be overseeing their wellbeing for the foreseeable future.

For anyone who hasn’t been paying attention for the last 300 years, God recaps the series in chapter 16 with another explicit rant against the Hebrews’ serial idolatry adultery. According to God and Billy Loomis, Israel is a slut-bag whole who flashed her shit all over town like she was Sharon Stone or something. God razes the Jews harder than Roz Doyle for their loose behavior: “[Y]ou spread your legs to every passer-by” (v. 25). As David Della Rocco would say, “I can’t buy a pack of smokes without running into nine guys you’ve fucked!” The text reveals that eventually not even Dirk Diggler can satisfy the Jews and they crawl into bed with well-endowed farm animals like Linda Oveur (check out 23:20). Didn’t see that coming. But despite it all, God is willing to look past their indiscretions and vows to return them to the Promised Land after a long commercial break.

God gets visual again in chapter 24 when he instructs Ezekiel to not publicly mourn the sudden passing of his wife. The prophet tells his confused neighbors to take note: when Jerusalem is torched and their relatives are smoked, they too will suck it up without openly grieving. God is basically in League of Shadows mode here: a check against human corruption to restore balance. As Ra’s al Ghul would say, “The city has become a breeding ground for suffering and injustice. It is beyond saving and must be allowed to die.” The seminal event takes place on August 14th, 586 BCE and, according to chapter 33, the grim report reaches the exiles in Babylonia five months later (v. 21). On the same day the Jewish refugees arrive with news that King’s Landing has been destroyed by dragonfire, God and Zeke retire their Penn and Teller routine.

lamentations

The fall of Jerusalem inspires another publication, the book of Lamentations. This post-destruction dirge is attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, but may have actually been penned by his writing partner Bernie Taupin. The brief book lives up to its title with one bummer observation after another. The opening verses see Jeremiah walking through the city like Robert Neville navigating an overgrown and desolate Manhattan in the wake of the Krippin Virus. Wild animals prowl the once busy streets (5:18). Food shortages wreak havoc on the remaining population. Chapter 4 finds children going hungry and the wealthy Dumpster diving for scraps. The circumstances are dire. It comes to the point where exemplary moms like June Cleaver and Marion Cunningham resort to cooking their own kids for dinner (v. 10). As Curtis Everett would say, “You know what I hate about myself? I know what people taste like. I know babies taste the best.” Yep. Time to call in the Law & Order Special Victims Unit. But somehow Jeremiah never villainizes God. In fact, he defends him at one point: “For [God] does not afflict willingly” (3:33). This seems wildly contradictory in light of what’s going down here, but when you consider how many times God asked the Hebrews to turn the car around, it kinda rings true. The bleak book ends with the author pining for a fresh start with no real reason to expect it.

Ezekiel flips the script and becomes a little ray of sunshine in the wake of Jerusalem’s destruction. In chapter 36, he encourages exiles with news of God’s word to one day gather and restore all of the dispersed tribes of Israel (vv. 24-28). But not because they deserve it. Remember when God busted the Hebrews out of Egypt? He didn’t do it because he felt sorry for them or liked them more than other nations or because they exhibited kindly Paddington behavior. By his own admission, he did it to attract national media attention (scene select Exodus 9:16). The same goes here. God emphasizes his main objective is to promote his brand, so “the nations will know that I am [God]” (v. 23). And he makes it abundantly clear the Hebrews suck on ice: “I am not doing this for your sake … let it be known to you. Be ashamed and confounded for your ways” (v. 33).

In chapter 37, God transports Ezekiel to Medieval Europe in another wild vision that finds the prophet air-dropped into the middle of a valley littered with human bones (v. 1). In verse 4, God instructs him to speak the words klaatu barada—and that’s it!—causing the bones to come together and form a Deadite army (vv. 7-8). But, unlike Ash Williams, Ezekiel doesn’t have to fight the undead, because God is there to remind him to say nikto to compete the incantation (vv. 9-10). Before transporting him back to S-Mart, God explains that the vision is an illustration of the full restoration of Israel and Judah and the lost tribes. But don’t get too excited, event details are still listed as TBA.

The time circuits remain set to a distant, unspecified future in chapter 39, where Ezekiel is told about an epic Elseworlds future war which will see Gog go up against the Justice League of Jerusalem in a Kingdom Come showdown that God will directly participate in, curb-stomping the enemy so hard it will take the Jews over seven months to locate and bury all of the bodies (vv. 12-15). Well, there’s something to look forward to. If you’re exhausted by the idea of having to endure a whole new era of will-they-or-won’t-they and think it’s time for God and Israel to go their separate ways, think again. Their relationship is connected by the Red String of Fate. God would go to Chris Nielsen extremes to be with the Hebrews—and he doesn’t end things here without making sure everyone knows he plans on making up with them (again) despite all of their differences (vv. 25-27). And you thought Charley Pearl remarried Vicki Anderson a lot.

Bizarre as some of the text is here at times, the exile provides some undeniably interesting insights. Milage may vary on the far-flung End Times theories that are in play with Babylonian captives having visions of Babylon 5, the dawn of the Third Age of Mankind, ten years after the Earth-Minbari War. It’s a lot to digest and 100% speculative. But when it comes to God, the exilic text delivers on some key character development that Scripture has carefully maintained since the first act. If your image of God is a strict but aloof sky deity who gets his jollies from a steady diet of smoked meat, child sacrifice (the other other white meat) and serial violence, you haven’t been paying attention. Strict? Hardly. Dude is more easygoing than Dill and Rosemary Pendergast and his famous Ten Commandments are mostly shrugged off as common sense suggestions today. Antisocial? God has his own barstool at Cheers, where everybody knows his name. We’re talking about a guy who prefers mingling with people so much he pushed back on building a temple, so everyone wouldn’t be forced to come to his house on game night. Burnt offerings? God dismisses flame-broiling like someone who got food poisoning at Burger King. Child sacrifice? Hard no. This is actually one of the reasons God gives Israel the boot here. Trigger happy? God’s gun is unloaded and locked in a safe in his closet. He uses force with less regularity than Mr. Miyagi, to the point of delaying legitimate justice for hundreds of years.

But don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just reading what’s in black and white. Unless we write off God for using politically incorrect language to call out the Hebrews, there’s nothing here to convict him. In fact, the exile confirms everything we’ve read about God to this point: he’s personal, loyal, sincere and hands out second chances like Skittles. If anything, the problem with God isn’t that he’s too strict, it’s that he’s too lenient. Even while he’s in the process of reeling off Israel’s countless betrayals and evicting them, he’s eagerly preparing to take them back. That’s right. God is hopelessly devoted to Jews. Quick, someone cue up Olivia Newton-John. The story isn’t over yet.

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Scripture taken from the New American Standard Bible (Zondervan), the Lockman Foundation, 1995.

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