Monday, April 3, 2017

The Living Starts Now -- Fifth Sunday in Lent

Ezekiel 37:1-14 
April 2, 2017

            It must have been so quiet, this valley of death. No sound; no terrible squawks from birds of prey or grunts from stalking predators come to feed. Nothing left to feed upon. It must have been so quiet, this valley of death. No whisper of wind or breath of breeze. There were just bones; dry, dead, whitewashed bones, growing whiter still in the glare and heat of the relentless sun.
            Brought by God’s hand, God’s Spirit, Ezekiel stood in that valley, in the midst of those dry bones and stared into the burning silence. God’s question broke the quiet,
            “Mortal, can these bones live?”
            Ezekiel understood that was up to God. He responded,
            “O Lord, God, you know.”
            God did know. God does know. God commanded Ezekiel to prophesy to those dry, dead bones. Prophesy to those dry bones, and tell them to hear the Word of the Lord. Tell those dead, dry bones that the Lord will give them breath again and they shall live. Prophesy to those dry bones that the Lord will knit them together with sinew, cover them with flesh, fill them with breath and they shall live.
            Ezekiel prophesied. He preached to the dead, dry bones. He spoke God’s Word, and even before every word had left his lips, the bones began to shake and move. It must have been a powerful noise. The dead silence of the valley replaced with a deafening din of rattling bones resurrecting, reconnecting, rejoining one to another.
            Just as God said, the bones became skeletons and the skeletons took on flesh and shape and form. But still there was no life in those bones. There was no breath in those bones.
            So God commanded Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath. Prophesy to the ruah, the same breath, wind, spirit that in the beginning God breathed on that formlessness and void, that chaos, and called creation into being. Prophesy to the breath, call the breath to come from the four winds and breathe on these bones, these slain bones. Fill them with breath so that they might live.
            Ezekiel prophesied to the breath and the ruah, and the breath flooded the valley and filled the bones with its life, and people, living, breathing people, stood in that valley. Dry bones lived. Dead bones lived. People, children of God, lived again in that valley of death now valley of the living.
            “Mortal, can these bones live?”
            These were not just any dry, dead bones brought to life. The Lord told Ezekiel that this valley of dry bones was Israel; Israel, the children of God who had turned away from God again and again. This valley of dry bones was Israel; the people of God who had been defeated by the Babylonians, seen Jerusalem reduced to smoking ruins, and had been exiled, scattered north, south, east and west. Many must have been killed in the process. And those that were not physically dead were dead in their hearts and souls. You see this valley of death that the Lord brought Ezekiel to see was not just about death, it was about despair. Israel felt cut off from God. They were lost. They despaired.
            But as surely as those dry, dead bones were brought back to life, created again as children of God, then Israel would be brought back to life, resurrected from death into new life.
            It might seem strange that two weeks before Easter, the Day of Resurrection, we are reading and hearing stories about resurrection. They are not stories about Jesus being resurrected, true, but they are still stories of resurrection; of life resurrected from what was dead. The bones in that valley were really, really dead. Lazarus had been in the tomb four days. He too was really, really dead. Yet in both stories, the dead lived. And in two weeks we will hear again the stories of Jesus being crucified, really, really dead, and living again.
            So why talk about resurrection now? Why not wait until Easter? I think we, perhaps unwittingly, reserve resurrection for Easter Sunday. Yet, it is clear from these two passages and from so many others that we find in scripture, that new life happened at any time and in any place. New life happens at any time and in any place. I believe this. This is the good news of the gospel that I proclaim and preach. I write about it. I talk about it. The problem is, though, that I’m not very good about living it.
            I think about new life in future terms. The resurrection will happen at the last day. When I die I will be reunited with the people I have loved who have gone before me. I may wish that dead bones could be brought back to life right now, as they did in Ezekiel’s vision, but I know that sometime in the future, I will see those dead bones live again.
            But dry, dead bones are not just what are left of a physical body. There have been times in my life when I have felt, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, as dry and dead as those bones in that valley. There have been times when I have been so lost, so despairing, that I may as well have been nothing more than a skeleton in some desert. God told Ezekiel that those dead bones were more than just forgotten skeletons too. They were the children of Israel. They were the Israelites who were alive, but not living. They were filled with breath, but not with the Spirit of God. They were walking and talking, but were dead to hope because of despair.
            Yet God will not let our despair win. God will not let our dry, dead bones stay that way. We may look at those dead bones and see nothing more than that. But God looked at those bones and saw life. We may look at ourselves, our lives, our church, and see only dead bones. But God sees more. God sees life.
            And that new life is happening now. Resurrection is not limited to one day of the year. Resurrection is happening now, starting now. The living, the new living, is starting now. New life happens, new life starts, when we are able to look at our lives and this world with hope. It happens when we trust that God is acting in our lives, whether we see that action or not. New life happens when we let go of despair – that thing which surely makes us dead before we die – and  remember the One who called us into being. The living starts now when we remember that we are being shaped and formed and re-created by the Spirit again and again and again.
            God can breathe new life into dry, dead bones. God can breathe new life into us, into hearts and souls that may feel dry and dead as well. God can breathe new life into our congregation. When we believe that, when we trust God, when we give into hopefulness and let go of despair, we can live new lives. Right now. This moment. We are resurrected – not in two weeks, but right now. The living, our living, starts now.
            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.

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