Ez 37:1-14

11 June 2000

Pentecost

 

“We are not Dead”

 

Ezekiel is one of those prophets with whom most Christians never become familiar.  He seems too remote, too odd.  What can we say about a book that begins with a vision in which the prophet sees images of creatures flashing like lightning, with wheels all around?  Sounds like an episode of the "X-Files."

And what about his bizarre behavior?  The prophet feels compelled by Yahweh his Lord to do such things as build a model of Jerusalem and then destroy it.  He shaves his head and beard and publicly burns the hairs.  And even when his wife dies, he's forbidden to show any signs of mourning.  Ezekiel doesn’t seem to lend himself well to nice Sunday school stories.

There isn’t much about this book that is familiar to most people, even most believers, with the possible exception of today’s scripture reading.  We’ve been helped by the old spiritual which tells us, “Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’ / Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’ / Ezekiel cried, ‘Dem dry bones!’ / ‘Oh hear the word of the Lord.’”  Do you know this one?  I’m afraid my rendition doesn't do it any justice!  We learn that, “The foot bone connected to the leg bone / The leg bone connected to the knee bone¼”  I think I can stop there; you probably don’t want to listen to me connect all the bones.

This scripture passage is one of the readings for Pentecost.  I almost always follow the readings in the Revised Common Lectionary, which the Presbyterian Church and many other churches use.  The problem is that the lectionary focuses more on the New Testament, since it follows the church year, which itself is based on the life of Jesus Christ.  This is a little frustrating to someone like me, who really likes the Hebrew scriptures.  What concerns me is that the Old Testament isn't given appropriate attention.  For years, a comment I’ve heard wherever I’ve been is that, “I know the New Testament pretty well, but when it comes to the Old Testament¼

So, why am I focusing on this text, rather than on Acts 2, which tells about the day of Pentecost?  It comes down to one little word:  j'Wr (ruah).  (That's an actual word; I'm not getting sick up here!)  This Hebrew term appears over and over throughout today’s reading.  It’s translated here by the three words that best capture its meaning:  spirit, breath, and wind.  It has the same meaning as the Greek word pneuma (pneuma), which appears in John 3:8, where Jesus tells Nicodemus that “the pneuma blows where it pleases.”

At the start of chapter 37, Ezekiel has another of his many visions.  He's in the midst of a valley filled with bones.  He examines them and finds that they're completely dry, utterly lifeless, with no marrow.  Yahweh asks Ezekiel, "can these bones live?”  What can the prophet say?  It certainly doesn’t look like anything living could emerge from that desolate scene.  Still, he knows firsthand not to limit the power of his God.  He’s had too much experience with the one questioning him to do that.  All he can say is, “You know, Lord.”

How have we gotten to this point?  How have we arrived at this moment in which Ezekiel is given this vision, this rather terrifying vision of a valley filled with human bones, haphazardly scattered about?  When I read this scripture, I think of the scene in the movie The Killing Fields in which Dith Pran, the Cambodian journalist fleeing the violence of the Khmer Rouge, stumbles upon such a valley in his own country.  He finds a valley filled with the bones of the slain.

To understand Ezekiel's vision, we need to take a step back and look at his world.  He lived through one of the true turning points of Biblical and world history.  Ezekiel saw the Babylonian Empire rise to superpower status, sweeping away the Assyrians, Egyptians, and whoever else got in their way.  By the year 597 (B.C.), the Babylonian leader Nebuchadnezzar was ready to seize the kingdom of Judah.  King Jehoiachin surrendered to the Babylonians, and Jerusalem fell to the invaders.  As a part of the military occupation, persons who might be considered a threat to efficient rule by the empire were deported.  This included the nobility and the clergy, among others.  Ezekiel the priest was part of the first group of exiles, people who tended to be the cream of Judahite society.  So it was that Ezekiel came to live in Babylon.

Early in the book, in chapter 3, Ezekiel is led by Yahweh out into the valley (v. 22).  This is the same word used in chapter 37, h[;q]Bi, biqe`ah (“valley, plain”), and many believe it's the same place.[1]  It’s here that the prophet is struck mute, unable to speak, except for when he has a message from God.  Again, not exactly the guy next door.  Only in chapter 33, when the news of the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple reaches Babylon, is Ezekiel’s tongue loosed, and he is able to speak freely.

For about eight years, Jerusalem has been occupied by the Babylonians, but they've refrained from destroying the city.  It’s only after the failure of an ill-conceived plan to join the Egyptians in resisting the empire does Judah feel the full weight of Babylon’s fury.  Jeremiah, a contemporary of Ezekiel who was not sent into exile, warned against this policy to no avail.  And in the process, he earned the name "traitor" for his trouble.

As a result, the unthinkable has happened.  The temple has been destroyed.  It’s difficult for us today to understand the tenacity with which the Judahites held to the belief that the temple would never fall—and the incredible dismay when it did.  Hadn’t Isaiah over a century ago declared that Jerusalem would not fall to the Assyrians?  The people figured, we were safe then, so we're safe now.  God won't—God can't—allow the temple to be destroyed.  As historian John Bright has noted, “The darker the hour, the more desperately the nation clung to the eternal promises to David, finding safety in the Temple where stood Yahweh’s throne.”[2]

But some superstitious trust in a building wouldn't save the people who had so thoroughly violated the covenant with their God.  And in 586, give or take a year, a conquering army ruthlessly put an end to their fantasy.

I said it’s difficult for us to grasp the depth of the impact this had on the people.  Nothing in our national history comes close.  Our country has, for the most part, avoided adopting a national theology.  We’ve tried to maintain a separation of church and state.

But I think, in a small way, we experienced this type of collapse of spirit in the mid-1970s.  To the extent that America has had a national theology, it’s possibly been that we're the strongest and the best, both militarily and morally.  Our involvement in Vietnam and witnessing the resignation of the president of the United States challenged both assumptions, at least for many people.  Now, regardless of one’s opinions about the war and the Nixon presidency, I think all of us who remember that time can agree that most people felt that we were in trouble.  (I was nine years old when Mr. Nixon resigned, so my memories may not be as vivid as what some of you recall!)  Still, the future appeared bleak:  there was a lack of trust in our institutions and questions about the direction of our nation.  A lot of people simply gave up caring.  The activism of the 1960s was dead; now it was time to turn inward and “look out for number one.”  Maybe that explains the rise of disco!

And so we arrive in the valley of dry bones.  Some people have said that this chapter represents an early expression of belief in the resurrection.  There may be a hint of that, but I think they’re being a bit premature; we need to wait a couple more centuries before that idea begins to take root in the Jewish mind.  The interpretation is stated right there in the text.  God says to Ezekiel, “these bones are the whole House of Israel¼I am going to…bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel” (vv. 11-12).  No mention is made of eternal life or something that must happen when the Messiah appears.  This is a promise of a return from exile.

How was the prophet guided in this vision?  This is where we see the creative use of the word ruah.  First he's commanded to prophesy to the bones, as our little song puts it, he's to say to “dem dry bones¼hear the word of the Lord.”  Suddenly the bones reassemble, with sinews, flesh, and skin reappearing.  Still, the bodies are dead.  Then Yahweh tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath, to speak to the spirit, to call out to the wind.  It's only then that ruah enters the bodies, and they come to life.

The exiles, defeated and taken captive far from their homeland, truly were dispirited.  They lamented (as we see in verse 11), “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost.”  They felt they were as dead as those dry bones.  With the news of the temple’s destruction, Ezekiel’s job has changed.  He's been calling for repentance; now he must offer hope.

There’s another aspect of this vision that I find interesting, a quality it shares with the rest of the book:  the way Yahweh addresses Ezekiel.  The prophet is continually referred to as !d;a;A@B,, ben adam, (“son of man,” or as the NRSV puts it, "mortal.")  It’s been noted that “Ezekiel is not addressed as ‘son of Israel’, but as a specially marked out example of the species human being in general.”[3]  The focus is on Ezekiel’s humanness.  Ezekiel first as a human, then as a Judahite exile, has something to say to all nations:  we see this throughout the book.  In a later day, Jesus will refer to himself as “son of man,” for similar reasons.

So what does this vision of hope given to a group of exiles 25 centuries ago in Babylon say to us here on the day of Pentecost?  When we consider the ministry of the priestly prophet named Ezekiel, the one who is called “son of man,” “human being,” "mortal," who received his visions far from the holy land, we are especially presented with a God who rules all the earth.

And when the people felt that all was lost, that their enemies had vanquished them, the prophet came to them and told them of the promise of the ruah of Yahweh, of the Spirit of God, which would revive them, which would bring them back to life.

Jumping ahead to the New Testament, the promise is true for us.  Looking in the second chapter of Acts, after Peter finishes his sermon, he's asked by some of his hearers what they must do.  In verses 38 and 39 he replies, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.  For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.”

We may feel that our nation has become a collection of dry bones, whether in the past or in the present.  We may feel that about ourselves personally.  Remember the promise of the Spirit, and if it helps, remember the words of our song:  “Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun’ / Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun’ / Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun’ / Oh, hear the word of the Lord.”


 


[1] John B. Taylor, Ezekiel (Downers Grove, IL:  Inter-Varsity Press, 1969), 236.

[2] John Bright, A History of Israel, 3rd ed. (Philadelphia:  Westminster Press, 1981), 332.

[3] Klaus Koch, The Prophets:  The Babylonian and Persian Periods (Philadelphia:  Fortress Press, 1984), 89.

 

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