Revisiting the dry bones

Ezekiel 37:11-14

This text is an Old Testament resurrection passage. Of course, it is a metaphorical prophecy about the people of Israel. Judgment befell them, as Ezekiel understood it. They disappeared before the Babylonians, literally and figuratively, as the empire crushed Israel. Israel ceased to be as a people. Their heart failed. They became a valley of dry bones--not a recently departed being, but one dead for a long, long time. But now, God quickened them, breathing new life and new being into them through the Spirit. Israel will thrive again as if nothing had ever happened. God will see it so.

So what?

That is often the case with biblical stories and promises. We hear them, we may even like them, but then we lift our eyes from the Bible and see the world as it is before us. According to the newspaper this morning, our President and the president of Israel toured a missile defense facility--a very modern indication that there are still nations who wish to erase Israel from the map. There was a story that once again certified that children born to young, single mothers will not do very well as they try to grow into a life with more success than suffering. There was an article indicating that our political parties still have a death wish for their rivals, i.e., no meaningful legislation will come to help us from the economic morass in which we live. There was an article telling of a hospital employee who terrorized the children entrusted to his care in a pediatric facility. So much for the wordy promises of scripture. 

So what?

Thich Nhat Hanh made an interesting observation about life with the promise of eternity in it--there is never a moment of running out of time because there is all the time in the world, so focus on right now, right here, and engage in compassion (“Peaceful Action, Open Heart,” p. 117-118). 

The promise of resurrection means that even in a world consumed with death, there is life. It means we can stop, see what is right before us, right here, right now, and meet that in love, letting go of all else--all that matters is this immediate space, this immediate moment. 

As we read of the threats of nations against nations, we can work for peace with our immediate neighbors, doing what we can to be sure we know who they are, how they are, and what we might do to help one another. There can be peace between us. As there is peace between us, maybe that peace will carry over into our presence in the wider world.

As we read of struggling children and families, we can work for peace in our own family, being sure we truly listen to one another, provide for one another, and meet one another in compassion. There can be peace in our homes. As there is peace in our homes, maybe that peace will go with us as we engage in the world, meeting others with settledness, hope, and care.

As we read of intransigent politicians who will not step down from ideological altars to help their constituents find what they need, we can work for compassion in our encounters with other human beings, listening to them, trying to understand them, and, even if we disagree with them (or maybe BECAUSE we disagree with them), work for peace between us. As there is peace between us, maybe we can see the disagreements are not reasons to separate from someone forever, or to fall into deep enmity against them, or to hate anybody, but rather might be an opportunity to see a wider world, a fuller picture of being human. 

As we read of unspeakable evil in the world, we can commit ourselves to never mistreating another human being in any way that demeans, dehumanizes, or devalues them. Instead, we can meet each and every human being as a unique act of God’s creative will, treasuring them, loving them, and being sure that their needs are met so they will know the power, presence, and promise of compassion. 

So, there can be no dismissal of the promises of resurrection if we are to follow faith. They are real promises. They are more than that--they are calls to make it so. 

Let love bring all to life--right here, right now.