Rev. Linda B. Hirst

March 17, 2002
 

Ezekiel 37:1-14
 

"Can these bones live?" Lord God, you know.

 I love this passage from Ezekiel.  I love what it says about hope.  No matter how bad things get, now matter how low you feel, how hopeless a situation seems, how dry we may feel - spiritually, emotionally, physically, there is the potential for new life.  There is always hope.

 Take the Israelites in our scripture reading.  At the time of EzekielÌs vision, the once proud people; the chosen ones of God have been carried away from their land,  from the city of Jerusalem, from their holy temple which was destroyed, to the city of Babylon. They were carried away, conquered by another country, another people...it was God’s judgment upon them because they had consistently gone against God’s word and God’s ways. They’re now living in a foreign land with foreign gods - living in exile - some of them for as long as ten years.

 The Israelites feel cut off, abandoned, their hope of ever returning to their land, ever knowing God’s favor and love again is gone.  And then one day,  the Spirit of the Lord comes upon Ezekiel in a dream and whisks him away to a valley full of dusty dry bones, sets him down in the middle of it and says to him:

 "Son of Man,  can these bones live?"    O Lord God, Ezekiel replies.  You know.   Now I love EzekielÌs answer.  Not quite yes, not quite a no.  I would have said, "O Lord. Not a chance.  Look - there’s nothing here but bones, no life whatsoever.  Let’s move on.  But Ezekiel  leaves the door open for God.  He leaves room for God to act.  "O Lord God, you know."

 "Prophesy to these bones," God says to Ezekiel. "Say to them; O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.   Tell them I will cause my breath to enter you and you shall live."

 And he does.  He preaches to the dry bones, to a valley in which there is no sign of life.  And we know the rest of the story...the ankle bone connects to the knee bone and the knee bones connects to the thigh bone, the bones rattle together, sinew and flesh cover them. God’s spirit comes from the four winds and they live.  And God tells them what theyíve longed to hear;  "I shall open your graves and bring you back to the land of Israel."  They will be restored to their home land  and they shall live once again as God’s people.

 And all of sudden, where there was despair there is possibility, where was dry bones, there is new life.   With God the impossible is possible. I love what this passage says about hope.

 And I love what this passage says about the Spirit, the Spirit of God.

From the spirit of God comes life. Without this spirit we are nothing but bones and sinews and flesh.  Ezekiel prophesied to the bones and they came together and skin had covered them but it wasn’t until they were filled with the breath of God, the spirit of God, that they lived.

 The Israelites knew  how powerful, how important the spirit is.  They knew the story of creation, how in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, a wind from God - God’s spirit - swept over the face of the waters and gave the world life.  And then God made man and breathed into him his spirit and gave him life.  The Israelites knew how powerful the spirit of God is.  When they heard the words of God: Tell them I will cause my breath to enter them and they will  live - they knew they would be o.k.

 I think we tend to underestimate the spirit of God.  We tend to underestimate just how powerful it is, what it can do.  It may be because it’s kind of a vague thing - you can’t see it, although you can see what it can do, you can feel it, but everyone feels it differently so you’re not quite sure if  what you felt was the spirit of God, or a draft in the room.  And if you talk about the spirit too much,  people are gonna talk about you.

 I heard a story once about a pastor who was preaching on this passage from Ezekiel.  And when he finished reading the scripture he said to his congregation:  When you feel the Spirit, stand up.  And then he sat down and waited.  You can imagine the rather awkward silence that followed.  But after a few minutes, someone stood up.  Then another person and another and another.  Until the entire congregation was on it’s feet - can you imagine what that felt like.  Can you imagine if I asked you to do the same thing.

 When you feel the Spirit, stand up.

 The Spirit of God is powerful.  It can raise dry bones to new life and bring an entire church - congregational at that - to it’s feet.  And it is in each of us giving our flesh and bones, our dreams and hope, new life.

 And I love what this passage says about faith - and we learn this from Ezekiel himself - as we go about our life as children of God we need to be faithful to our present tasks even though there appears to be little or no hope of success.

 Ezekiel, God said, Prophesy to these bones and tell them to hear what I say.   Preach to these dry bones - these people without hope - these people without a hint of possibility or potential or anything - and tell them to hang in there, that even though it looks impossible, even though everything around them tells them otherwise, even though it is beyond their wildest imagination,  one day I will bring them back home where they belong and I will be their God and they will be my people.  Prophesy Ezekiel.  Preach to these bones.
 

 Craig Barnes, a presbyterian pastor said that if he were Ezekiel, he would have gently suggested that the Lord first bring these bones back to life and then he’d do a little preaching.   Then he could say, "See?  See what God can do?" But that’s not always the way of God, he says.  Our, God calls us to believe without seeing, to make room for hope when it appears there is none.

 I agree with Rev. Barnes.  It’s much easier to preach - to speak the word of God - to spread the good news - if there is a sign of life, a sign of hope. It’s human nature to want to see that what we do makes a difference, it’s what keeps us going;  that flicker of light in the darkness, that smile on a child’s face who doesnít smile very often, the possibility that the homeless person youíve just helped in some way, might not be homeless next year.   These little rays of hope, these little signs of life help us as we go about our present tasks.

 And yet, we don’t always get them.  Two years ago on a week long mission trip to West Virginia I was assigned to work on a home with five youth and a friend of mine.  You may have heard me talk about it - it’s the time we jacked up a house - we, who had no experience ever jacking up a house before and probably should not have been let near a jack, or under a house for that matter.  But we did it and everything turned out o.k., or so we like to think.  But the situation itself, the poverty
in that home, in that town, in that whole county was one of the worst I’ve ever seen - and I used to work in Appalachia doing this very thing  for years so I’ve seen a lot.   Economically, spiritually, physically, emotionally, though, I was looking at a valley of dry bones.  I left that home, with the grandmother and grandson sitting on the front porch without a glimmer of hope.   And I so badly wanted to hope.

 And yet...God calls us to believe without seeing and to make room for hope when it appears there is none.  Had Ezekiel not obeyed the inner voice which told him to preach to those bones, there would have been no wind of the spirit and no great army astir in the valley.

 So we continue...like Ezekiel...to be faithful to our present tasks, to the challenges before us.  We continue to pray for peace between Israel and the Palestinians, to hope for and work for an end to terrorism and understanding between nations,  we continue to clothe the homeless and feed the hungry and repair homes,  clean up city parks that will be filled with trash again in a few months,  pray for and walk for an end to cancer, care for the sick and sorrowing among us, work through our grief and spiritual dryness even if we see no glimpse of hope, no success on the horizon because that is what we’re called to do, because we are people of faith.  I love what this passage says about faith.

 And, finally, I love what this passage says about God.  And that is, that God is not done.  Contrary to what we may think or what others may say, or what we may see,  God is not done, with the world, with you, with  me.   Our God, who gave new life to dry bones, who raised Jesus from the dead, who sent us the Holy Spirit as an advocate, our helper, is not done, is not finished with us, not yet.

 I was reminded of this a few years ago when, on a day like today, almost spring,  my husband, Brad went to the local grocery story and bought a tree to plant in our front yard.  He came home with this sickly, scraggly thing that resembled more a dead branch than a tree, dug a hole in the front yard, stuck the scraggly, sickly thing in the hole, lovingly covered it with a mixture of dirt and mulch, and stepped aside to admire his work.

 Ever the supportive wife, I went to where Brad was standing and said to him.  That tree is dead.  You know that, right? You just stuck a dead tree in our front yard.  It’s dead.

 And Brad, like any good husband, ignored my comments and went to get the hose to water his new tree.  Every day, he watered and fed and nurtured that sickly, scraggly old thing and each day, as I passed by, I would offer encouraging words such as: you’re wasting your time.  That tree is dead.  Look, not a baud on it.   No life, no hope, no chance.   Dead, dead, dead.   This went on day after day, week after week, for quite some time.  Brad, watering,  feeding and nurturing his tree and me being my incredibly supportive self.

 A few weeks later as I was walking past the scraggly, sickly looking tree, proclaiming it’s death to all who could hear,  I stopped and looked and was shocked to see... bud on one of the branches.  Our God is not done yet, with the world, with you, with me.

 "Can these bones live?"  God asks.  "O Lord God," we say in reply. "You know."

Amen.