Can These Bones Live?
The Valley of Dry Bones, 2017, and the Advent Candle of Peace
The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.”
So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.
Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.” Ezekiel 37:1–14
Time flies, doesn’t it? Exactly a year ago, I began a sermon by reflecting on 2016. I remember saying that, in light of Pulse, the Syrian War and refugee crisis, and that oh, so bitter Presidential campaign, a writer had asked historians if 2016 was the worst year yet. The historians suggested that perhaps the year of the plague or time during the Spanish Inquisition or the deadliest years of the Civil War or Holocaust were worse. While 2016 didn’t quite reach the levels of a massive plague or the worst wars the world has seen, it was stressful. That being said, I must borrow a pop culture phrase used to describe one event topping another. It seems as if 2017 looked at 2016 , “Hold my beer.”
Charlottesville. Las Vegas and Sutherland Springs. Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, and Maria. Sexual harassment and assault accusations. Policies that negatively impact Dreamers, Muslims, and the LGBTQ community. Scandals involving Russia and potentially our own government. Fake news. We’ve experienced such strong divisions that there is an abundance of articles floating around offering advice about how to survive the holidays with one’s own family! 2017 has been exhausting.
In fact,The American Psychological Association just released a report which states that 59% of Americans say they consider this to be the lowest point in US history that they can remember. This belief spans every generation including those who lived through Word War II, Vietnam, the Cuban Missile Crisis and the September 11 terrorist attacks. The sentiment also transcends party lines. According to the Stress in America Survey, 43% of Americans are stressed about healthcare, 35% over the economy, 32% are worried about our ability to trust our government. Americans are also worried about hate crimes, crime in general, terrorism, the possibility of war, and unemployment and low wages.
I sure know that I’m tired, and this survey suggests that I’m not the only one who is. Keeping up with the news has been exhausting. Even when I intentionally step away from it to catch my breath and maintain my sanity, it seems like 4–5 major stories break during the time I am unplugged. I feel like I’m always on guard waiting fo the other shoe to drop. Figuring out how to talk with my children about what’s happening in the world takes a tremendous amount of mental energy. Even church meetings are more tense than usual because everyone’s stress levels are up. And preaching. Whew, that’s been a greater challenge than ever before! Just this week, there were three different calls for clergy to come to DC. We were asked to come advocate for the poor, the Dreamers, and the LGBTQ community. Each of those is important, but there is simply no way to do it all. If I’m honest with you, I feel pretty dried up.
During the time of the Babylonian exile, the Hebrew people felt dried up, too. Babylon had invaded ancient Israel, which is not the exact same entity as modern Israel, and decimated as much as they could, including the Temple. Hebrew people were ruthlessly slaughtered. Of those who survived, many were captured and taken to live in exile away from their loved ones, their community, and the traditions, cultures, and markers that defined who they were and how they worshiped God.
Ezekiel is a prophet that Yahweh had called to prophesy to the Hebrew people prior to the invasion. Ezekiel had preached dyer warnings of the destruction to come if the people did not turn back to God. The people hadn’t listened. And the devastation came. Ezekiel, who many scholars suspect suffered from severe depression, must have felt like an utter failure of a prophet.
One day when the Word of the Lord comes to the despondent prophet, God’s hand comes to him, as well. The Holy One touches Ezekiel and leads him to a valley, or perhaps a battlefield, filled with bones. Dried up, brittle human bones. Still touching Ezekiel, God leads the weary prophet throughout this field of bones. The Hebrew here implies that they walk through this death yard in silence, over and over again hearing only the clanking of bones whenever their feet brush against them knocking the bones into each other as they walk past.
Finally, God breaks the silence posing a question to his despairing prophet, “Son of Man (what Yahweh calls Ezekiel throughout the book), can these bones live?” You can hear the exhaustion in the prophet’s voice as he replies, “You know that answer to that better than I do.”
When the Eternal (what God is often called in Ezekiel) responds to his prophet, you can practically see the twinkle in God’s eyes. “Why, yes, I do.” God then instructs Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones. God says: Tell them that the Eternal says, “Dry bones, I will breathe breath into you, and you will come alive. I will attach muscles and tendons to you, cause flesh to grow over them, and cover you with skin. I will breathe breath into you, and you will come alive.”
As Ezekiel prophesies, rattling and clanging begin to reverberate throughout the valley. The bones start quaking and coming together forming skeletons. Just as Ezekiel has prophesied, connective tissue and muscles appear between and over the bones, and then skin covers it all. The dry bones become people. Well, they’re almost people. Their bodies have been re-formed, but there’s no breath, or spirit, in them. This eerie scene must have resembled a zombie apocalypse as thousands of bodies with no spirit fill the desolate valley.
God speaks to Ezekiel again. This time God directs the prophet to prophesy directly to the breath, or the wind. The word used throughout this story is my favorite Hebrew word, “ruah”. It can mean breath, wind, or spirit, and it sounds like what it means. Ruah. As Ezekiel prophesies to the breath, the breath begins swirling around the valley and surges into the corpses filling them with life.
God says to Ezekiel: These bones are the exiled people of Israel. They’re not the ones who were slaughtered during the invasion, but those who survived. My people are saying that they’re weary, so weary that they feel like they’re nothing more than dried up bones that are lying in the dust and have been picked over by scavengers. They cry out that their hope is gone. They’ve been cut off, abandoned. Through you, I am here to tell my people, “You’re not dried up anymore. I will bring my children back to life.”
God says: I want you to prophesy one more time, Ezekiel. This time say that the Eternal proclaims, “My people, I am going to open up your graves and bring you back to life! I will take you home. I will breathe my breath, my Spirit, into you, and you will be alive once again. Then you will know that I am the Eternal and have always kept my promises to you.”
This story tells us that not only can hope pierce through time and space to enter our world, but hope can even infiltrate death yards and nourish dry bones bringing what’s dead back to life. Resurrection can take place in the most desolate of places, and God is never quite finished creating it within us- even if we feel as though we’ve been abandoned. No matter how cut off we believe we have been, God will breathe God’s holy breath, the Spirit, into us, and that is enough to revive even dried up, tired, weary souls.
When the state of our world includes the current circumstances with North Korea, Jerusalem, Syria, and Myanmar. When there’s violence just down the road in Charlottesville as well as in schools, concert venues, movie theaters, nightclubs, and houses of worship all over our country, it seems foolish to anticipate peace. Perhaps this is where we connect with the longing of Advent. Advent longs for what should be but is not yet. We long for peace. We need it because the lack of it is eating away at our souls.
As we long for peace for our world and for our hearts, we hope. We hope because God can bring life to a valley of dried up bones. We can dare to hope even if we’re utterly exhausted because all we have to do allow the Spirit to fill us. That’s it. She’ll do the work of bringing us back to life. Her rushing wind will, in time, rejuvenate us. The Spirit will soften and bring warmth back to the places in our hearts which have become cold and hard. She will awaken us to something new and better. Then God will reach out a hand and guide us to action so that we can help create that something new and better.
God did bring life back to the exiles through the voice of a weary exile. However, God guided and directed the prophet so that he was equipped for the service to which he was called; even if wasn’t he aware that he was ready. It took time, several efforts, and at one point it felt like it was all for naught. But, in the end, God’s promises came true.
Dry bones can live. Just you wait.
