Live, O Dry Bones
Text: Ezek. 37:1-14; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The prophet Ezekiel must have been a very mentally resilient man. Of all the prophets, he was given some of the most terrifying and vivid visions and experiences. If you haven’t read the object lessons that the Lord had him live through and had the descriptions of what he saw painted before your eyes, I recommend giving the entire book of Ezekiel a read—a lot of it doesn’t show up in the picture Bibles of our childhoods or even in the cycle of readings in the church year. So here today, on Pentecost, we hear about the prophet being taken by the Spirit of the Lord and set down in the middle of a valley filled with human bones. We don’t have a specific number, but Ezekiel tells us there were very many, the valley was full, and that they were on the surface, unburied, exposed to the elements, readily visible. Picture the prophet surrounded by pale skeletons, fallen into heaps—femurs, spines, skulls, ribcages; perhaps ankle deep, perhaps waist deep. It was clear they had been dead for a long time, as they were very dry. The Lord explains what this valley of death is: it’s His people. “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Behold, they say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are indeed cut off.’”
We may not be able to fully picture the macabre scene Ezekiel found himself in, but we can understand that cry of Israel: “Our hope is lost; we are cut off.” We know what it is to feel hopeless, trapped, caught in a canyon with no retreat and no exit. We know what it is to feel the pressure of the world closing in, even crushing us, drying us up, sapping our strength and life. You’ve felt it, the fear of finances, of failure, of the future, of disease, of repeating some nightmare from your past. You’ve faced your own mortality, you’ve seen that you too will be dry bones in a narrow 6-foot-deep valley someday. You’ve felt the wilting heat of mockery, of shame, of guilt that drains you of your vitality. And even more than that, you know the doom of standing convicted—convicted by God’s own Law, the things you have done and the things you have left undone, the dried out dustiness of not loving God with your whole heart and not loving your neighbor as yourself. You’ve heard the conviction that Jesus speaks of today in our reading from John: conviction of the world—and that includes you—conviction concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.
Can these bones live? Can you live—truly live—being cut off from joy and peace, from the life that was meant to be lived so abundantly? When the Lord asked Ezekiel if the sea of bones in the valley could live, the prophet gave the best answer a mortal can when asked a question dealing with the impossible: “O Lord God, you know.” Then the Lord said to His messenger, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live, and I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.” And when Ezekiel prophesied those words of the Lord, there was a sound, a rattling, and the bones came together, assembling into a grotesque army of skeletons. Flesh began to cover them, then they were concealed with skin. But there was no breath in them. So the Lord instructed Ezekiel, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” And when Ezekiel did just that, the breath entered them, and they lived and stood, an enormous army made alive again by the Lord.
And still the Lord breathes life. It’s a curious thing, not at all accidental, I think, that the word for “breath” and the word for “spirit” is the same in both Hebrew and Greek, the languages of this reading. Nor is it a coincidence that when the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, arrives on the scene, that He comes with noise—not silence, not inward focused revelation, but with sound. When the Spirit blew into that valley at the words of Ezekiel, when He blew through the house where the Apostles were gathered on that first Pentecost, He arrives with sound, with words and speech, with breath and life. And when those words are spoken, new life is breathed into those who were dead, physically or spiritually. It happened in the valley bones. It happened with the crowds of people hearing the Apostles’ Spirit-filled words on Pentecost. It’s happening even now, here in this sanctuary. The Holy Spirit breathes Jesus’ own life—the life He sacrificed on the cross, the life He took back up when He crushed death into the ground at His empty tomb—the Spirit breathes that life into God’s people. He enlightens the hearts of the disciples to understand what their Savior has accomplished for them. He gives them the words to speak so that all the world can know about the life that Jesus has won.
How does the Spirit do this? What words does He give to God’s people, to the prophets, to the Apostles, to you? Jesus Himself has told us what the Spirit speaks: “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” The Holy Spirit speaks Jesus’ words to us. It’s as simple as that. Whatever Jesus has said, whatever Jesus has done, whatever Jesus has won, the Holy Spirit’s job is taking that and giving it to you, declaring it to you.
Can these bones live? Can you live, even in the midst of your suffering, your sin, your worry, your anxiety, your broken and lost hopes, your fear, your failures, your mortality and death? Thus says the Lord God, Come from the four winds, O Holy Spirit, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live. Hear the words of your Lord that give life and healing, that pour vitality into your bones and mend your wounds, restoring your flesh and soul. Hear those words again: I forgive you all your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. You are baptized into the name of the Triune God, who has made you His own. Take, eat; take, drink; this is the true body and blood of your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins; to strengthen and keep you in the true faith in body and soul to life everlasting. Having heard this Holy Spirit and His words, the words of your Lord, poured upon you this Pentecost, hear the promise of your Lord, given to you: Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people. And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own eternal homeland, the new heavens and new earth. Then you shall know that I am the Lord; I have spoken, and I will do it, declares the Lord. Breathe again and live, O baptized children of God, receive the life and breath and body and blood of your Savior, and look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. In the name of Jesus, who sends us the Holy Spirit. Amen.
