If you’re a preacher looking for good commentaries on Ezra, you’ll struggle. Certainly to find ones that wrestle in good detail with the text. And certainly ones that don’t cost you an arm and a leg. There’s a good bit more for Nehemiah, which is odd, as the two are one book; but maybe that’s because Nehemiah has proven a favourite for energising ambitious church construction projects. Or maybe because it gets used to justify talk of big, beautiful walls.
In the relative absence of good resources for Ezra then, I offer below some independent (though, I’m comfortable, valid) reflections on Ezra 7.
Ezra, despite giving his name to the book, arrives fairly late in the story at Chapter 7 (which, if you follow a traditional dating for the book, is around sixty years after Chapter 6). This is an unusual quirk – so unusual in fact that, when preaching the passage, I couldn’t find a film to use as a similar example for illustration. The reader, then, wonders what they should make of the title character as he arrives.
Well, I think that the subtleties of the narrative push us to view Ezra as an Aaronic rest-giver.
Ezra and Rest
Let’s take the last thing first. Many details in Ezra 7, and the preceding chapters, tell the alert reader of Scripture that, in this story, God is giving Israel rest.
First, rest is preached to us on a “macro” level in the whole shape of the story. Previously, in Ezra 1-6, events have replayed the pattern of the exodus. As Ezra begins, God’s people are in captivity in a foreign land – Persia, in this case, just as they had been in Egypt in Exodus. God took control of the heart of the king to deliver his people (Ez. 1:1; Ex.4:14 etc.), so that they could leave the land, and build a house in which to worship him (Ez. 1:2-4; Ex. 3:18). As with Egypt, they left with great riches in their hands to get this done (Ez. 1:4-11; Ex. 12:36). This is all capped off with a Passover celebration (Ez. 6; Ex. 12).
The grand story of the exodus is one of God giving rest to his people in the land – rest from their slavery, from their subsequent wilderness wandering, from the chaos of the days when the judges ruled. But mere entry into the land under Joshua doesn’t achieve this rest; it’s only accomplished by settling in the land when Solomon builds the temple. And so, when the temple is finished, Solomon declares: “Blessed be the LORD who has given rest to his people” (1 Ki. 8:56). The temple is the sign that the exodus is complete. Entering the land was like Israel coming home from a long journey, but building God’s house was like putting their feet up.
Given all this, the theme of rest should be at the forefront of our minds as we enter Ezra 7. Rest is the goal of exodus.
Aside from this “macro” level, Ezra 7 preaches rest to us on a “micro” level, in the small details of the text. One such example is the repetition of the number seven. Biblically, seven symbolises rest, since God rested on the seventh day and made it holy (Gen. 2:3) and commanded Israel likewise to rest on this day (Ex. 20:8-11). As well as a holy seventh day, Israel had a holy seventh month, in which they celebrated the Festival of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Festival of Tabernacles (Lev. 23:23-44).
The last of these, the Feast of Tabernacles, specifically commemorates Israel’s wilderness wanderings, “so that [Israel] will know that [God] made the Israelites live in temporary shelters when [he] brought them out of Egypt” (Lev. 23:43), before giving them a more permanent rest in the land. And, with impeccable timing in Ezra 3, Israel arrived back in the land during this seventh month of festive rest, and celebrated the Festival of Tabernacles to commemorate their new exodus and new rest.
Chapter 7 mirrors Chapter 3 in a number of ways, not least of all with more sevens. Rather than a seventh month, we have a seventh year: we’re twice told that Ezra arrives in the seventh year of King Artaxerxes (7:7-8). The seventh year was important in the Levitical calendar too – it was a sabbath year of rest for the land itself, when Israel were not to sow their fields or prune their vineyards (Lev. 25:1-7). Israel’s food in this year was to come not from their own hands, but whatever the land yielded up. They, and the land, were meant to rest. The seventh year of Artaxerxes in Ezra 7 is not necessarily the same as the seventh year of the Levitical calendar, but the presence of other details pointing clearly to God’s gift of rest should cause us our ears to pick up, because alert readers of Scripture know that a seventh year is a rest year. Yet we shouldn’t use the peculiarity of this coming from Artaxerxes. At this strange point in covenant history, God is giving rest not through the rhythms of the Levitical system, but through a pagan king. Yet it is still God giving the rest.
This combination of the macro and micro, of an exodus-echoing narrative and Leviticus-littered narration, cry out to the alert reader of Scripture that, as Ezra arrives, God is giving his people rest.
Yet Ezra himself adds further, surprising depths to this rest.
Aaron and Rest
Ezra is a priest, from the tribe of Levi. We’re given his family tree in 7:1-6, and told he’s more specifically a descendant of Aaron, the first high-priest. Ezra is a pedigree, eligible for the top jobs in the priesthood. He is called a “teacher, well versed in the Law of Moses” (7:6), so his role is apparently one of teaching the law to the people, rather than ministering at the altar.
Ezra himself is a sign of God’s gift of rest. We’ve seen that numbers are important in these first verses, but so are dates.
In 7:8-9 we’re told: “Ezra arrived in Jerusalem in the fifth month of the seventh year of the king. He had begun his journey from Babylon on the first day of the first month, and he arrived in Jerusalem on the first day of the fifth month, for the gracious hand of his God was on him” (7:8-9). So Ezra arrives in Jerusalem on the first day of the fifth month in the Jewish calendar – roughly August, for us. Dates are in the Bible partly just for the sake of reference, but they also carry meaning. If two events occur on the same date, the Bible wants us to connect them. And the only other thing in the OT which happens on the first of the fifth is the death of Aaron, Ezra’s ancestor (Num. 33:38).
Aaron, despite being the Great High Priest, was part of the rebellious wilderness generation after the exodus. He sinned with the Golden Calf (Ex. 34), and grumbled with Miriam against Moses (Num. 12), so was not allowed to enter the land. He never gained rest, nor played a role in giving rest to others. Just imagine if Israel’s first temple had not been delayed until the days of Solomon, but had seen Aaron himself leading the people in worship and declaring “blessed be the LORD who has given rest to his people.” Of course, it wasn’t to be. Along with Moses and Miriam, Aaron died on the far side of the Jordan.
But on the very day of Aaron’s death, God brings a new Aaron, who does enter the land. Ezra achieves a rest which his forefather never did. This hints that God is doing something new, something better at this point in history, something not possible in the days of Moses and Aaron.
This connection prompts us to probe the relationship between priests and rest more deeply. We might more readily associate Old Testament rest with Joshua, as the one who leads Israel across the Jordan. Yet we know from Hebrews that Joshua does not give ultimate rest (Heb. 4:8). As we’ve said earlier, God’s Old Testament gift of rest is seen in the security of Solomon’s reign allowing the temple to be built, not in the mere entry to the land under Joshua. Rest is inseparable from temple. With the temple built, the intercessory work of the priests secures this rest in atoning for the people’s sin. What’s more, the wider work of the priests in leading Israel’s worship enables them to enjoy this rest as they participate in fellowship with God.
Christians have long seen Moses and Joshua as types of the Old and New Covenants, of the Law and the Gospel. Just as Moses could never lead Israel into the land, so the law can never bring salvation. Moses had to give way to one greater than he, Joshua; the law had to give way to something greater than it, the Gospel. Ezra 7 pushes us to see the same pattern in Aaron and Ezra. Just as Aaron could never enjoy or bring rest, neither can the law which Aaron represents. He must give way to one greater than he, Ezra, who enjoys and gives rest. The splendour of Aaron was of one kind, and the splendour of Ezra is another. On the day that Aaron was sown in dishonour, Ezra was raised in glory.
Of course, though more perfect than Aaron, Ezra remains imperfect. His restoration ministry is, ultimately, unsuccessful. It is still ultimately a ministry of the same law which ruled Aaron. Yet it is a step beyond Aaron’s ministry. Despite the lesser glory of the second temple compared to the first, Ezra’s ministry is a move from glory to glory. I began this piece by mentioning the relative dearth of teaching resources on Ezra. This is perhaps reflective of a relative dearth of reflection on what is going on during the restoration period as a distinct phase of redemption history. The restoration era of Nehemiah, Ezra, Zecheriah, Haggai, and Malachi finds us on the outskirts of the Old Covenant, but it also finds us in the foothills of the new. It is both epilogue and prologue. The great promises of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel mostly have their eye on Christ and the church, but they are fulfilled in glimmers and snippets in Ezra’s day. Ezra’s superiority to Aaron is one such glimmer, which will grow into a blazing light at the advent of Christ.
This returns us again to Hebrews. The writer there establishes that “there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God” to enter into (3:9). Yet neither Moses (3:16) nor Joshua (4:8) could lead God’s people into this rest. Who then does secure entry to this rest? It is, of course, “a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God” (4:14).
When considering the final attainment of our rest, the writer to the Hebrews doesn’t consider Jesus through the lens of Moses (as he does earlier in Chapter 3). He considers him through the lens of Aaron, and therefore Ezra. In Jesus, greater than either Aaron or Ezra, we have the Great High Priest who has himself entered the rest, and secures it for us, so that we might follow and enjoy it forever.
Rhys Laverty (BA, GDip) works part-time for The Davenant Institute, alongside studying Davenant’s MLitt degree. He writes a weekly blog for Ad Fontes and co-hosts the Ad Fontes Podcast. He also podcasts about film and TV on For Now We See. He lives in Chessington, UK, with his wife and two children.