Can These Bones Live?
John 11:1-41; Ezekiel 37:1-14
March 26, 2023
Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley
Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQI3-MVWkmU
We heard two familiar sacred stories this morning. The story of Ezekiel’s vision in the valley of the dry bones and the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. These are stories of hope and despair, of deep grief and loss, of weariness and struggle, stories of life and death. Each story is rich in detail. There is much worth exploring in each one. As much as the Bible nerd inside me would enjoy it, I’m not doing that today.
Instead, I am focused on the question “Can these bones live?” This is a question that people are asking in so many different ways right now.
Can democracy survive?
How will Ukraine and Russia ever make peace?
Will the earth as we know it exist for our grandchildren?
People are concerned for so many of our institutions – will the bones of health care live?
What about schools?
What about churches?
For some of us the question may be asked about our personal lives and relationships. Many people are weary. We are worn down from the years of the pandemic. There is still some life in our bones, we think, but many days we just go through the motions.
We are not the first to feel weary or despairing or half-alive. In times like this, we may seek the wisdom passed down by those who lived before us.
Ezekiel is one of the prophets of the exile, deported to Babylon in the 6th century BCE. The dry bones in his vision are of soldiers slaughtered in battle, left unburied, to be ravaged by birds and beasts. In his vision, Ezekiel walks around among the very dry, very many, bones. The bones evoke memories – of the siege of Jerusalem, with family and friends trapped inside the city, unable to conduct normal life, dying of hunger and disease. They surface memories of the destruction of the Temple and of the forced march to Babylon where he is now, among the exiles. And so the dry bones come to represent not just the actual dead, but the living dead. The dry bones represent those living in exile, those who might as well be dead because they have no future and no hope.
In that dry valley, Ezekiel speaks to the bones and they come together. There is bone and muscle and skin, but no life. Most of the requirements have been met. The skeletons look like real humans again but they’re still dead.
If we were talking about an institution, the dry bones of government, for example, we might say we might say there are laws and enforcers and judges, but no life. Or if it was a church of dry bones, we might see preaching and programs and governance structure, but still no vitality.
There is no life in the dry bones until they breathe and they do not breathe until the spirit of God fills them. We remember that breath and spirit are the same word in Hebrew.
It seems if you are going to come back to life, after war or tragedy, after a long deep struggle, you have to breathe. Life is in the breath. Life is in the spirit.
Let’s breathe together for a minute, shall we? Take a deep breath in . . . and let it out. Life is in the breath. One more time. Breathe in, feel your lungs expand. Know that you are alive. Life is in the spirit. Let it out.
The dry bones are lifeless without the breath, without the spirit. If we are feeling less than lively right now, it might be that we just need to breathe for a while.
It occurs to me that a person who has stopped breathing cannot perform CPR on themselves. The breath of life comes from beyond them, sometimes from a human rescuer who shares oxygen with them for a time, but ultimately the breath of life comes from God. When we feel lifeless, what we need most is the enlivening of God’s spirit.
. . .
Let’s consider the raising of Lazarus, another one of our sacred stories. Here’s what I notice: Lazarus is dead. The breath of life is gone. But Jesus calls him urgently. Jesus summons him with a command “Lazarus, come out.” Jesus calls him to life with the power that only he has.
But after that, two more things happen. The first is that Lazarus responds. Lazarus rouses himself. He has been dead for 4 days. He has firmly settled into death. He is comfortable in the tomb. Surely it would be easier just to stay dead, to ignore the call to life. But Lazarus does not. With difficulty, he makes his way out of the tomb.
Jesus’ second instruction is to the people around the tomb. When Lazarus stumbles out, he is still wrapped in a shroud. He cannot see and can barely move because, in spite of his efforts, he is still bound in the clothes of death. Jesus tells the people “Unbind him. Set him free.”
Can these bones live? Ezekiel says that only God knows. He’s got that right. Life and death are a mystery. Life requires more than skin and bones and muscle. Life is in the breath, the spirit which God supplies. But it seems that God is not always the only one involved. Sometimes we who may feel dead must respond to the summons to life, even when it takes great effort. And sometimes, it takes a community to help us escape the trappings of death. Coming to life again is a collaborative effort. God breathes life, but we also have a part to play.
We have heard two sacred stories. I offer one more. May it be contemporary parable. This is one of the good stories I promised from the transformative story-telling conference two week ago.
Mark Yaconelli is a spiritual director, retreat leader, community activist, and storyteller. He is a creative, soulful person who has done a lot of youth ministry. This story comes from one of those youth ministry experiences.
Several years ago, some one came up with the idea of writing a book for teenagers on the theology of the church. They got grant funding for the project and invited 15 theologians to collaborate. They asked Mark to serve as a consultant for the project. He says that he’s not a theologian, but he had a reputation for understanding teenagers, so he was invited and he agreed. [1]
They all got together at the appointed time and place – fifteen theologians, academic types from across different denominations and schools, each writing a different chapter in the book Mark listened to their ideas for a while and then he said, “I just have one suggestion. Since this book is for young people, why don’t we, you know, get some actual teenagers involved?”
So they agreed. Each theologian left that meeting with the assignment of finding a teenager who was willing to be their partner in this work. They set up a series of weekend meetings over the next few months. They would meet at a hotel and have long theological conversations. The teens were bright and engaged high schoolers. They were involved in extra-curricular stuff, but they made this project a priority. Between meetings, they were even reading classic theology. They showed up for the weekends with backpacks full of AP Bio homework and readings from scholars like Tillich or Neibuhr.
It was one of the weekends when they were meeting in a fancy hotel, the kind often used for conventions or conference. Those hotels often have signs welcoming the various groups who are present for the weekend. Mark noticed the name of their group on a sign, and he also noticed that a group of Southern Baptists happened to be there too.
Saturday had gone according to plan. It was almost over. They had a series of long serious conversations. The kids had shown up. The theologians had shown up. Everyone had engaged with the assigned content at the right times. But energy was low. Most of the joy had been sucked out of the process. Everything on the planned scheduled was done, but Mark told the youth that there was one more meeting just for them. He told them to gather in his room at 10:30 p.m.
And they did. At 10:30 p.m., they all crowded into his room. He told them, “Our final event for the day is a game of Capture the Flag. You’ll see on this white board that I’ve put you into two teams. One team gets the even number floors, the other gets the odd-numbered floors. You’ll see on the board the room numbers of our theologians. Your assignment is to capture all the theologians and take them to the lobby. And here’s one rule – the elevators are Switzerland, neutral territory where you can’t capture them.”
“Also,” he said, “you might run into hotel security. They are part of the game too. They don’t know it though. Do whatever they tell you, but if they ask who you are, say that you’re with the Southern Baptist group.”
The youth set off to capture their theologians. Mark gave them a head-start and then he took the stairs to another floor to see what was happening. As he walked down one hallway, a door suddenly opened and the occupant of that room whispered “Stop. If you keep going that way, you will be ambushed. Get in here quickly.” Mark said he had never seen this man before. But he ducked into the room. The stranger said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I want in on it.”
So he and the man went down to another floor, where they watched as one of the theologians clung to the sides of an open elevator. He was shouting “This is Switzerland” while two teens pried his hands loose and captured him anyway. Over and over again, these kinds of scenes repeated themselves. I’m sure that many people’s peace was disturbed and possibly the blame fell on a certain tribe of Baptists.
Finally, all the theologians had been rounded up and everyone was gathered in the lobby. It was close to midnight and the only open place was the hotel bar, which was empty. So they were able to get some tables together at the back. They ordered some munchies and soft drinks and everyone began telling their stories about being captured or resisting capture and what other people did or said and all the details of the night. There was a lot of laughter. Mark let that conversation go on for a long time and then he said, “This, right here, is the kingdom of God. This is what it should feel like. This is what you want in your book. If you don’t have this, you don’t have the church.”
…
Can these dry bones live? Only God knows. The spirit is as close to us as breath. Beloved ones, as long as God’s spirit is breathing in us, let us rise to the summons. Thanks be to God.
[1] This is the story as I remember it from Mark’s telling at The Porch Gathering, Montreat, NC March 9-12, 2023