Our first stop is the grave of Baruch. Now, near Baruch's grave, something truly remarkable happens. Imagine grass, ordinary grass, but its leaves shimmer with gold dust. But here's the thing: this golden sheen isn't easily visible in the bright light of day. So, what do people do? They wait for night. Under the cloak of darkness, they seek out the spot, carefully marking where the golden grass grows. Then, at daybreak, they return to gather this unexpected treasure. It's a beautiful image, isn't it? A secret revealed only to those who seek it under the watchful eyes of the stars.
Now, let's travel a little further, about two thousand ells – an ancient unit of measurement, roughly equivalent to an arm's length – from Baruch's grave. Here lies the tomb of Ezekiel. And this isn't just any tomb. According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, it's overarched by a magnificent mausoleum, built by King Jeconiah after he was freed from captivity by Evil-merodach. Can you picture it? A testament to gratitude and faith.
This mausoleum, it's said, stood for centuries. Its walls bore the names of the thirty-five thousand Jews who helped Jeconiah build it. Imagine the scale of that undertaking! And the mausoleum wasn't just a beautiful structure; it was a place of miracles.
Think about this: when huge crowds journeyed to Ezekiel's tomb, drawn by reverence for the prophet, the entrance – a low, narrow gate – would miraculously expand. It would grow in width and height, just enough to allow everyone who wished to enter to pay their respects. A tight squeeze turned into an open embrace.
And the stories don't end there. There's the tale of the prince who vowed to give a colt to the prophet's grave if his barren mare would bear a foal. When his wish came true, he hesitated to fulfill his promise. But the filly, seemingly guided by divine intervention, ran the equivalent of four days' journey to the tomb! The prince couldn't reclaim her until he paid the colt's value in silver at the gravesite. It’s almost like Ezekiel himself was making sure the promise was kept!
People also used to entrust their valuables to Ezekiel's protection. When embarking on long journeys, they'd bring their treasures to the grave, asking the prophet to ensure that only the rightful heirs could retrieve them. And, according to tradition, Ezekiel always honored their requests. Talk about a safe deposit box!
There's even a story of someone who tried to steal books from the grave. But the would-be thief was immediately struck with sickness and blindness. A powerful reminder, perhaps, of the respect due to sacred objects and spaces.
Finally, we hear of a pillar of fire that once rose above Ezekiel's grave, visible from afar. It was a beacon, a sign of the prophet's presence. But, alas, it disappeared because of the "unseemly conduct" of the pilgrims who visited the site. A poignant reminder that even in the most sacred places, human behavior can affect the divine presence.
These stories, passed down through generations, paint a vivid picture of the reverence and awe that surrounded these figures. They remind us that even in death, these figures continued to inspire faith, hope, and a sense of wonder. They invite us to consider: what traces of the sacred might we find in unexpected places, if only we know where—and how—to look? What responsibilities do we have to uphold the sanctity of these spaces, both physical and spiritual?