Jerome

Your mother is like a vine planted over the water, your blood. Its fruits and branches grew abundantly from many waters. And solid rods became scepters of rulers for it, and its stature was elevated in its branches. And it saw its height in the multitude of its palm trees. And in anger, it was uprooted and thrown to the ground, and a scorching wind dried up its fruit. Its strong rods withered and dried up, and fire consumed it. And now she has been transplanted into a desert in an impassable land and thirsty. …

Commentary on Ezekiel ↗