Preaching to Bones
“Preaching to Bones” by Pastor Rosanna McFadden
Good morning! It is the fifth Sunday of Lent — out of six. It hardly seems possibly that we are just two weeks away from Easter. I know that this bewilderment for me is because I have been traveling away from Creekside and been sick in between. It is grounding and reassuring for me to be back with you, and my thanks to Worship Team for all of the structure they have put in place so that things go smoothly while I am gone. It sounds like Byran Jackson did a great job last Sunday sharing about his ministry.
The title for this morning’s sermon is Preaching to Bones. My first draft of that title was Preaching to Old Bones, but I was afraid someone might hear that as personal commentary and take offense. This title is solidly grounded in our text for this morning which Jan shared so capably, and I would hope that even a casual student of the Bible would be familiar with the story it refers to — even if you couldn’t come up with the reference of Ezekiel 37. Although the image of bones coming back to life is memorable one, and there are some comedic possibilities here for sure, this story and the broader context of Ezekiel are not so clear, and not very funny.
Ezekiel is a prophet from a priestly family — two roles typically thought to be at odds, like a peace activist from a military family, or a conservationist from an oil executive’s family. The defining factor for Ezekiel’s time as a prophet is the time Ezekiel was a prophet, which was 593-571 BCE; the years go from higher to lower as we approach the date of the birth of Christ. In 587 BCE, five years after Ezekiel came on to the scene, Israel was invaded by Babylon and the Jewish people were starved, killed, or taken as prisoners into exile. This is the context to which Ezekiel is prophesying, and he did it with such a confounding mix of vision and reality that later Jewish scholars suggested that no one under the age of 30 should be allowed to read it.
This vision from chapter 37, two-thirds of the way through the material, is by far the best-known part of the book. Ezekiel is brought by the spirit of the Lord into a valley filled with human bones — dry bones — people who are not only dead, but desiccated. There’s no indication that this is an actual place, but we know there are actual places like this, and they are terrible places. There is no happy way to have a vast collection of human bones; it is always a sign of death. Unburied and unidentified bones happen on battlefields and in concentration camps, at killing grounds and mass graves like those in N. Korea or Syria. These are place of terror and death and despair. Perhaps Ezekiel saw a valley like this on his way out of Israel after Babylon invaded and burned all the crops and destroyed Jerusalem and starved its inhabitants.
And in this vision, God asks Ezekiel, O Mortal, can these bones live? And Ezekiel, either because he’s a prophet or because he’s the one recording this vision is wise enough to side step the obvious response which is Absolutely Not, and says instead, O Lord, you know.
Now I will be the first to admit that I don’t know a lot about bones — not even my own, which are starting to have some issues, let alone anyone else’s. But there are some general principles which I trust we can agree on: bones are the structure upon which our bodies are built; they are the structure which allows us to stand upright; they protect some of more vulnerable stuff inside. And when you fracture a couple of them it hurts a lot. Bones are an integral part of our bodies, but bones are not the complete package. God commands Ezekiel to prophesy to those bones, and I have some sympathy for any prophet or preacher in that position. Preaching to bones is perhaps one step down from flight attendants sharing important safety information with a bunch of airline travelers. This stuff could save your life! Don’t bother me, I’m busy looking at my phone before I have to shut it down on airplane mode. I’ll ask for your help if there’s a crisis.
Bones may not even have the ability to be inattentive, because they aren’t alive — but that changes in Ezekiel’s vision. It is not Ezekiel’s preaching, but God’s word which causes this to happen. Ezekiel shares with the bones what God told him to say, “Bones, you are going to live. You are going to get the breath of God, you’re gonna have tendons and ligaments and muscles; God is going to cover all that stuff with skin, and you are going to be alive and know that the Lord is God.” The bones are nonplussed by this, since they aren’t alive. This is a dynamic which is familiar to preachers. But then, in the midst of this prophecy, things begin to happen: the bones begin to shift and rattle, they get matched up with the right companions, they are covered with sinew and flesh and skin. But they are still not alive. Ezekiel is prophesying to beat the band, and God says, Prophesy to the breath! Call to the winds and let them breathe upon these people who were killed. And God’s breath came into them, and they were alive, and stood as a great multitude. That was one powerful sermon.
I want to point out a few things about this episode from Ezekiel. First of all, it is a vision — of God’s ability and power to bring new life, even in places of desolation. This multitude was symbolic, not literal. Ezekiel didn’t have to feed them or figure out where they were going to sleep or how to inform their wives that they were alive or any of those things. They lived as testament to God’s power. Second, Ezekiel’s role in this whole thing was to speak for God and to be the witness to God’s power. It wasn’t Ezekiel’s preaching that was so compelling; it was Ezekiel’s willingness to be God’s mouthpiece, to share the word of God, which is the role of a prophet. God could have done this without a mortal intermediary, but then who would have told the story? The bones didn’t even know they were dead, let alone how they came back to life. I was in the middle of this battle, it was going badly, and the next thing I know we were all standing up in the valley . . .
And finally, I want to say a word on behalf of the sinew and flesh and skin. The bones and the breath get the attention in this story, which I understand, because the bones are dramatic and the breath is mysterious and really cool. I get that. But bodies don’t function as a collection of bones. Bones don’t do their job unless there are tendons and ligaments holding them together, unless there are muscles to make them move, unless there is skin to protect and hold the whole thing together.
Ezekiel’s vision was about how the house of Israel — broken, scattered, slain — would live again. But I read this also as an image of the body of Christ: both the physical body of our Lord, which was tortured and died on a cross only to be mysteriously and miraculously restored to life by the breath and spirit of God. But this vision from Ezekiel is also an image of the body of Christ, the church. Perhaps not dead, but certainly battered and broken. We live, not by our own genius, but by the power and breath of God. And I believe what we need in order to function is the strength and structure of bones, but also the connections of sinew — the tendons and ligaments which hold things together. Without these connections, muscles cannot function as they supposed to and they atrophy and die; skin becomes a container for decay rather protection for activity and life.
If you are feeling old and weary in your bones this morning, take heart. The power of the church does not come from us — that is, we do not generate the wind and we do not dictate the Spirit of God. However, are called, commanded is perhaps a better word, to let that breath come into us, to animate us, to direct us. And, I believe, we are invited to be the body of Christ, to serve a purpose larger than our own welfare and our own salvation that we are to find connections with others and exert effort and to cover and protect the work of others so that we, along with all people, may flourish in the kingdom of God. Take a deep breath; and may the Spirit of God move within us and among us. Amen.