I hardly know what to write this week. I’m still reeling from last week’s festivities. If you somehow missed it, a group of folks from Aldersgate decided that the occasion of my 30th anniversary of elders ordination needed recognition. So, last Sunday was quite the party. Just that they wanted to acknowledge it was honor enough, but they pulled out all the stops. From the beginning of the service to the end of the potluck dinner that afternoon, many folks went out of the way to say congratulations and thank you and I’m glad you are or were my pastor. The moment that blew my mind was during the liturgy of presentations (usually an installation ritual we’ve used almost too often - but was gloriously rewritten for this occasion) the presentation of the stole was not the usual grab one off the shelf and use it symbolically, but a brand new one of a kind, custom made stole, designed and assembled and (and this is the part that still brings a lump to my throat) presented by my brother, Jason. All the way from New York City, he was in on the surprise and made the trip just for me.
Just for me. I have seen my brother off and on over the past years - since we lived in the same house I mean - but it was usually on the way to something else. Or because my folks were here. Or a kid was graduating. Or something. I would never have asked him to interrupt his busy schedule to make the trip for me. Others asked him. He said yes. And there he was last Sunday morning. Looking oddly older than I remembered. But still Jason. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Eyes that filled with tears are notoriously suspect witnesses to a miracle. But it was him, placing yet another glorious work of art around my neck and then holding me while I tried to compose myself.
Everything changed in that moment. Forgive me, but I thought I knew what I was in for. I pretty much had the day figured out. There would be words of congratulations. There would be smiles and thanks. Maybe even a gift of some kind. There would be a meal afterward with delicious food prepared by loving hands. There would be a cake, perhaps, maybe, I figured, maybe it had my name on it, or maybe just a congratulations. And it would have been a very nice day. And I would have been grateful. But it was more. So much more. It was family, it was welcome - radical hospitality is the buzz word - it was sincere words, it was heart breaking - in a good way! It was grace poured out like I can’t recall ever experiencing before. It was bone to its bone. I was taken apart that day and then put back together. And I wasn’t the only one. We were taken apart and put back together that day.
Ezekiel 37:1-10 NRS The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. 2 He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. 3 He said to me, "Mortal, can these bones live?" I answered, "O Lord GOD, you know." 4 Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD. 5 Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. 6 I will lay sinews on 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." 7 So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. 8 I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. 9 Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, 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." 10 I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.
Maybe it is because the prophet is telling his own story here. “The hand of the Lord came upon ME.” Maybe that’s why this becomes such an individual story. When it isn’t about individuals at all. The passage ends with a vast multitude, for heaven’s sake. Yet we insist on hearing it as a multitude of individuals. And this is about being shorn up. It’s about getting what you need to keep going. It’s about God who can revive you no matter how dry you are. God can breathe into you new life, no matter how much you are gasping for air. I’ve heard, and probably preached, too many sermons along those lines.
Full disclosure, that’s not all bad. Certainly souls, individual souls need reviving. Certainly, breath can come to reanimate those who have had the wind knocked out of them. Certainly, there is something there for the individual yous in this story. Last Sunday was a wonderful personal day for me. Which, all of a sudden I understand the desire to take a personal day off work. I need a personal day. You need a personal day. Everyone needs, if that is what it was last Sunday, everyone needs a personal day. Wonderful. Let’s make it happen. Personal days for everyone!
But that limits the power of this passage, both historically and today. The passage usually includes verses 11-14, because they function as an explanation of Ezekiel’s vision. And verse eleven begins “These bones are the whole house of Israel.” The whole house. Not just individuals. Not just one on one, but all together. So, then if you go back to verse three where God says to Ezekiel, “can these bones live?” God isn’t referring to any specific individuals. Can this one live, can that one? Can you live? Can I live? No, as important as those individuals are, God is talking to Ezekiel about the whole community. The family of God. The body, we have come to call it, the body of Christ.
We live in an era of massive and rapid change. One of those changes is the loss of influence of institutions like the church. Not just the church, by any means, but the one that concerns us in this space. The church is seemingly on its way out. Or at the least the church as we have known it for the last however many years you want to count. And now here we are. Set down in the midst of this valley of bones. Of what once was. Of what our expectations are. This is where we are. This is the world in which we live. But, and this is important, not because we messed up. Not because we lost something, or broke something, or did something wrong to this gift called the church. No we are here today because this is where God wants us. This is our paradise.
I know, sounds outrageous, right? In the midst of decline, in the midst of struggle, of conflict and disagreement and longing for a past that may not have been real, to call this paradise seems .... offensive. Or a scam of some sort. Like I’m trying to divert the blame for the mistakes I have made or something. Maybe. But look again. The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. Set me down. Did you know that is the same word that is used in the beginning of Genesis? He set them down in the Garden of Eden. (Gen 2:15) Maybe this is where God wants us. Here in this place where what used to be so easy, now involves effort and commitment and faith.
He set us down here in a church that is facing an uncertain future and asks us “Can these bones live?” And our response is often one of despair. If only. If only it was like it used to be. If only we could turn back the clock. If only we just advertised more, just opened the doors wider, just went back to what used to work, even though it was already losing ground. Can these bones live?
Let’s be honest, shall we? Can these bones live? No. Face it. No. Not a one of these bones can live. Not a one, they are too dry. Too old. Too dead. Not a one. But Ezekiel is wise enough to know that he shouldn’t voice that answer. Even though he feels it in his bones, like we feel it in ours. He wants to say no these bones can’t live, I can’t make them live. Too many, too dry, to broken. But he knows better than to say so. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and says “You know, Lord.” And God says, no. As they are they can’t, they won’t live. On their own. So, bring them together Ezekiel. Prophesy to the bones. Bring them together. What happened next took time, and made noise, and didn’t look right for a while. Wasn’t right for a while. Until it became right. Until the breath entered and what was apart came together and stood together. A vast multitude.
I truly hope what happened at Aldersgate last Sunday was not just about me and my longevity. I hope it was about us, about coming together, bone to its bone. Everything changed, I said, when Jason walked into the room. Then it was family, then it was a part of my flesh and my blood. But Jesus says family is not just those who share DNA, but those who share a vision, those who share a hope. We were set here in this paradise of brokenness to bring life where life seems to be lost. And it is not just a good idea, it is part of us, deeply part of us. We are not whole until we can bring these bones together. We are not complete until these bones can live. The truth is we can’t make the bones live - the bones of our church, the bones of our families, the bones of our world. But God can. So we prophesy to the bones and to the breath. To the body that we are becoming and the Spirit that makes us alive. Then maybe we can come together, bone to its bone.
Shalom,
Derek
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