The Breath Came and They Lived

Ezekiel 37: 1 - 14

This Sunday, the fifth Sunday in Lent, features two of my favorite stories in scripture.  The first is from Ezekiel…the valley of dry bones.  The second is from John…the emotional account of Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead. 

Throughout this season of Lent, we’ve been watching for further revelations about who Jesus is, why his life mattered, and how he is the Christ – the awaited Messiah – the promise of eternal life.

And on the fifth Sunday of Lent, we are rapidly moving toward Holy Week.  We are moving closer and closer to Jesus’s trial and crucifixion.  We are moving closer to resurrection.

So here we have two stories of new life. These are stories that prepare us to understand that the death of a body is not all there is.  They are stories that remind us that what makes us human is the limitation of a body.

I encourage you this week to sit with the story of Lazarus found in John’s gospel (John 11: 1 – 45). It is an important story.  Ask yourself what Jesus is doing here.  Think about how some might be threatened by Jesus’s miracle of bringing the dead to life.  Think about the things we grieve.  It is a stunning story and can give rise to good soul work as we prepare for Easter at home.

But this week the Holy Spirit has walked with me and steeped me in the story that is the more ancient story about a prophet and some bones and flesh and some breath. 

Ezekiel was called as a prophet while in exile in Babylon. He was among the first wave of Jewish leaders driven out of Jerusalem by the Babylonian armies.  In short order, a second wave was pushed out, and the city of Jerusalem was flattened. With the Temple destroyed, all the “normalcy” known to the Jews had disappeared.  As God’s chosen people who had been led from slavery into a promised land, suddenly all they possessed had been whisked away.  The house where God dwelled in their tradition was gone. 

It had to have been a disorienting time. 

A time when nothing was as it had been.

 A time when all the normal patterns were gone.  

A time when work lives had been upended, when financial lives had been upended, when spiritual lives had been upended. 

One thing I want to remind you of – Jewish culture did not separate “religion” from all the other things – the economy, societal norms, food culture.  To be Jewish was all-encompassing.  When life was radically interrupted, eyes turned to God…and folks despaired that God had left the building.

So into this season of exile, God calls a prophet. Prophets were called upon to speak truth into the times, to see things in a different way.

Ezekiel is called in a season when the Jews really need to remember that they are God’s people no matter where they find themselves.

God shows Ezekiel a stark scene. A valley of dry bones. The Lord tells the prophet to speak life into the bones.

“suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them;”

But with sinew and flesh there was no breath.

And God commands Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath….

"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."

I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.”

Call on the breath.

The Hebrew word is found throughout the Hebrew scriptures – ruah…

Call on the ruah…

The very breath that was breathed into humankind at creation.

Call on the ruah.

Because a body is just a body without the breath of God.

A body is just a body without spirit. Breathe spirit into these bodies…

Of course I sat with this text this week.

We are surrounded by news of a virus that literally steals breath. 

News that takes our breath away.

In the wide scope of Hebrew Scripture, this can be read as a story of national identity – a story about the people who are Israel. It is a cheerleader story for the Jews – God is with you even when you are not where you expected to be. 

Sometimes stories of national identity are dangerous.  They can be misused. They can be read as imparting favor.  And they can distract us from the bigger story.

Let’s remember some of the bigger story…

Early in Lent we remembered how Abram and Sarai received a promise that, “in you, all the families of earth shall be blessed.”

In recent weeks, Jesus met a Samaritan woman at the well and offered her abundant life. Springing forward and looking toward Pentecost, we know that the Holy Spirit rushed in on the wind and people of all languages understood one another.

The breath that enlivens us goes beyond national identity. The breath that enlivens us encompasses all of creation.

That is powerful right now. 

Have you looked at the COVID 19 map that Johns Hopkins maintains? It tracks confirmed cases all over the globe.  It is updated regularly.  You can look at how the red dots grow and spread out.  If you look closely, you can see how people move from place to place spreading that tiny virus as they go.

Looking at that map had depressed me at times. It is easy to be overwhelmed by how a tiny virus spreads. 

But also…I see that we really are not that distant, not that separated, not even that unique.  We are all human. We are one in our humanness.

And in our shared human condition we are both vulnerable and powerful.  How might we watch that virus map and imagine how goodness might be spread as well?

In this strange season of social distancing and global pandemic, I cling to the idea that the God who loves me and loves you also loves all of God’s creation. In all parts of the world.

It changes things when we remember this.

God weeps for those who have no clean water.

God weeps for those who do not have access to good health care.

God weeps for those who cannot find toilet paper or milk because someone has a closet full.

God weeps when we insist our agenda is more important than our neighbor’s health and safety.

My encouragement to all of us in these strange times is to see our work in line with Ezekiel’s.  To prophesy not just to the bones but also to call on the breath.  The very ruah…the breath of God that enlivens all of us in the same way.  To see the common thread that connects us, and to honor and praise it.  To do all in our power to offer life.  In fact to speak life into that which seems dead.

Right now that means staying home.

It means using the phone and the internet and the mail to share love and encouragement.

It means sharing from our privilege where we are able.

Maybe it means sending a check to a local non-profit that houses the homeless or feeds the hungry.

Maybe it means creating whatever beauty we can.

A poem.

A picture.

A flower arrangement.

A tasty meal.

Maybe it means quieting ourselves and making space for others to breathe.

To receive the breath.

And in doing these things, we share life.

May it be so.

Amen.

Breathe on me, breath of God,

fill me with life anew,

that I may love what thou dost love,

and do what thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, breath of God,

till I am wholly thine,

till all this earthly part of me

glows with thy fire divine.

Sources: Working Preacher, Commentary on Ezekiel 37: 1 – 14 by Rolf Jacobsen, March 9, 2008, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=39

Breathe on Me, Breath of God, United Methodist Hymnal #420, words by Edwin Hatch (1878) and music by Robert Jackson (1888).