We
find the prophet Ezekiel in a trance
in
the middle of a desolate valley.
And
in this valley there are countless desiccated bones –
Covering
the ground.
Ezekiel
in his vision is led all around the valley
Taking
stock of what is there.
And
his report is chilling:
“I
could see that there were very many bones and that they were very dry.”
And
if I was Ezekiel, I could imagine being overwhelmed.
And
perhaps this was the Lord’s intention
Because
after leading him all around the valley
to
survey the very many and very dry bones,
The
Lord asks the prophet very directly:
“Mortal
man, can these bones come back to life?”
Or
in the words of the King James Bible,
“Son
of man, can these bones live?”
And
I might have laughed at that question.
What
a preposterous question!
Not
quite laughter, but not quite hope.
His
is the response of a chastened faith.
“O Lord God, you know.”
But
this is a posture of faith,
It’s
not a bold and certain faith,
It’s
the faith of someone who holds on to a trust in God
Even
though he has seen the massive destruction that human civilization is capable
of.
It
is an opening of his hands and a giving over
the
present and the future to the plan and purpose of God.
“Son
of man, can these bones live?”
“O
Lord God, you know.”
Ezekiel
is then asked to prophesy to the bones.
To
give them the words that God gives to him.
Ezekiel
speaks to the bones that God would put breath, and sinew, and flesh on them.
And
no sooner has he prophesied the last of the words he had been given,
Then
a noise, a rattling, a clicking and clacking as bones collide
and
begin to join and be knit together.
And
soon Ezekiel sees before him an army of bodies,
Standing
and lacking only one thing.
They
have no breath.
And
so he prophesies to the four winds and in his vision,
And
he sees the wind move among the bodies and animate them – and there before his
very eyes he sees a valley of bones become a field of human community.
I
think it is fitting that this passage is given to us to read on Memorial Day
weekend.
Many
of us will find ourselves at the cemetery tomorrow.
Not
a valley, but a place where the bones of our friends and family,
Where
the members of the Acworth community from every generation going back hundreds
of years rest in the ground.
And
we will listen to speeches, and songs, and prayers, and shots fired, and
trumpets playing taps, one near and one echoing in the distance.
And
some of us will stay in one place,
sitting
on the grass somewhere where we can see all that’s going on.
Others
will walk over to see the graves that mean the most to them.
Putting
the last of the flags on the graves of those who lost their lives in American
wars.
And
we will be like Ezekiel making a survey of the grounds.
Ezekiel
was a prophet in exile.
In
the year 586 BC,
Babylon
had conquered Jerusalem after a long siege of the city.
They
had set the city on fire, destroyed the temple,
and
taken a large part of the population, the prophet among them,
on
the long road to Babylon.
And
so as Ezekiel surveyed the ground full of dry bones in the vision,
He had
fresh in his memory
the
destruction of the war that led to his exile.
He
had witnessed soldiers he knew well, young and old,
killed
defending their homes in Jerusalem while it was under siege.
Fresh
in his memory was the horror of watching the invading army
break
the defenses of the city
and
bring so much destruction to the place and the people
So
much loss was fresh in his memory.
Like
Ezekiel, we have fresh in our memory the losses of American lives from war,
our
sisters and brothers,
friends
and neighbors whose graves are marked with flags to honor their memory.
The
green grass and maples in full foliage only thinly veil the grief that so many
will feel as they walk among the graves of those they knew and loved.
Like
Ezekiel many of us tomorrow will make a survey of the grounds,
And
perhaps we’ll wonder what to do with the overwhelming fact
That
over the years there continue to be more graves and more flags.
We
honor them, we remember them.
We
play music in appreciation of their bravery.
But
are we then left like the prophet in the valley where there is no life?
What
if we hear the haunting question anew?
“My
children, can these bones live?”
Sometimes
I think we are too content to live with the bones
we
forget that God can breathe new life into dry bones.
I
don’t mean that we expect the fallen soldiers along with Acworthians of former
generations to suddenly rise up out of the graves like in the music video for
Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”
But
I think we have a tendency to look only backwards and not see the animating
power of God in the present and feel the possibility of the Spirit for our
future.
If
there are going to be less graves and less of a need for more flags in the
future,
It
will require that we not only look backward with respect for the fallen,
But
for their sake and our own, and for the future of our world
also
look again upon the place
and,
like Ezekiel, survey the ground of bones, but also hear the question:
“My
children, can these bones live?”
and
respond,
“O
Lord, you know.”
It
was fifty days after the disciples had found the empty tomb and seen the risen
Christ.
They
had seen the destruction of Rome in the crucifying of their friend and teacher
Jesus But they had seen in his
resurrection the creative power of God
over
all of the destructive actions of human civilization
But
even still they were uncertain of how to go forward,
They
had seen death, and they had seen and believed the life-giving power of God,
But
they remained in the upper room in confusion and uncertainty.
And
in fear of the ones who had been able
to
make their community into a spiritual valley of dry bones.
But
the story of the beginning of the Christian community,
what
we’ve come to call the church begins there in that place,
surveying
the dry bones of their mission of reconciliation and healing,
there
in that place, the Spirit came among them in a loud rushing wind.
And
the ones who had felt like dry bones became full of life and boldness in the
Spirit,
And
out they went into the streets proclaiming a message of reconciliation for all
people.
And
every language of every person gathered in Jerusalem that day was
Spoken
by the Spirit through these disciples.
The
four winds were coming together to reanimate a defeated human community
and
the whole earth was witnessing a new creation that God was making
out
of the tragic death of Jesus at the hands of the Roman authorities.
The
resurrection was reverberating through the streets
As
they shared the power of God’s forgiving love
To
a crowd living in the shadow of fear and oppression.
“Can
these bones live?”
“O
Lord, you know.”
We
are the disciples on Pentecost gathered in the upper room.
We
are Ezekiel surveying the bones of former wars.
And
God is with us, a powerful presence,
A
presence of love and reconciliation,
Robert
Frost wrote
“Something
there is that doesn't love a wall”
As
the poet looked at a disheveled stonewall after a long winter’s freezing and
thawing.
I
look at the God spoken of in the story of Pentecost
And
I think
“Some-one there is that doesn't love a wall”
Because
we see in this picture of the beloved community
that
the walls of language, nation, gender, race, and class –
Are
transcended by the Spirit who longs to bring together, to bind up, and to heal.
As
Ephesians chapter two puts it:
“[Christ]
is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down
the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us….
He
came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off
and
peace to those who were near;
for
through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.
So
then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the
saints and also members of the household of God…”
This
is what I see this Memorial Day weekend.
Mark
Koyama gave a sermon two years ago encouraging us to “look both ways.”
I
want to look both ways this weekend.
To
look to the past with respectful remembrance
of
the fallen soldiers who defended this country,
But
to also look to the future, which always has been in the loving hands of God,
Who
beckons us forward into the healing work of the Spirit
To
look both ways and honor the past by seeking to live into a future where no
more valleys of dry bones will threaten to overwhelm our hope.
To
see again by the Spirit who makes all things new,
To see
Spirit filled multilingual reconciling relationships,
to
see all manner of dry bones in our place and in other places brought back to
life
by
the enlivening power of the love of God.
I
trust in the Spirit, that as we give ourselves to the work of reconciliation,
That
God will continue to bind up what has been broken,
And
heal the wounds of past destruction.
That
as we are formed here into a community that overcomes the walls of separation
in
our relationships,
in
our ways of understanding the world,
That
this reviving here, might be one powerful step towards more just and peaceful
communities than the ones imagined by walls of nation, race, or language,
so
that there will no longer be the need to put more flags on more graves.
I
see all of God’s children reconciled to one another and to their Creator,
Working
together for the common good.
For
God’s promise to the people of Israel holds true for us,
“I
will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.”
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