5 Lent, March 22, 2026 Dry Bones The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling
In her article
entitled “Dry Bones Don’t Resurrect Themselves” Erica MacCreaigh asks the
question “Can these bones live?” She asks us, the readers, “Has your life ever
been so disrupted that you found yourself asking that question? All of us who
have passed through—or still inhabit—the valley of the shadows of abuse,
addiction, displacement, divorce, financial catastrophe, chronic illness,
terminal illness, mental illness, or death know what cataclysmic disruption
looks like. We spend our days in survival mode. If we can find the energy to
hope, we look forward to a day when we will be through the worst of it and feel
like we can stand up and breathe on our own again.” (Xian Century,
March 2026 issue published on March 16, 2026).
Sadly, I can
relate. Perhaps you can too, especially if you’re living in parts of our world
that are under siege, in one way or another. And then, like ticks on a dog, the
challenges attach themselves, piling on, one after another, until you join the
chorus of voices crying out, “Enough!” We are sick of being sick! The suffering
of people living in war torn countries breaks our bleeding hearts. Stop!
I recall being
challenged by a woman in a support group for rape survivors that I was
facilitating many years ago. If I hadn’t suffered like they had, how could I
relate or even help them, she had asked me. My co-facilitator quickly responded
before I could. “Pain is pain.” And we can all relate to pain in one way or
another, she claimed.
So pain is pain
but there are levels to our suffering. When they march into your life like
boots on the ground, or start dropping bad news on you like a fleet of B52
bombers, the pain becomes magnified and seemingly intolerable. Sucked dry, our
bodies feel dessicated. Walking is laborious, as if it's a process of dry bone
rubbing against dry bone. Endless sleeping is a temptation, until violent
dreams invade our peace. And then when we awake, we look for anything that
might numb the pain.
What’s a person
to do in times like these? Perhaps we turn to our church and find little
comfort there. Platitudes ring hollow. Calls for justice echo in the chambers.
Empty pews remind us that the bell tolls for all of us, and who needs that
reminder in times like these? So we look for signs of hope in creation, little
buds of daffodils pushing through the dirt like the picture of Lazarus coming
out of the tomb.
Dry bones don’t
resurrect themselves, Erica MacCreaigh wrote; and yet on some levels, we do.
Resurrection power comes in small numbers like you and me when we offer each
other a moment of respite, a collegial conversation, a time for commiseration.
We vent and complain about our situation with others. We know we’re not alone.
We acknowledge that the pain is real and the end is nowhere in sight.
And yet, this
resurrection power is also not human, nor material. It takes a force greater
and more powerful than me or you or us together to restore life. It takes a
force greater than the most powerful armed forces in the world. It is a
Spiritual force, capital “S” Spiritual power, that brings eternal and
everlasting life to all of God’s creation. Forever.
Such a Force
defies explanation but offers us hope. And so we pray, “Almighty God, you alone
can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your
people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among
the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed
where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and
reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.” (Collect
for the Day)
Ezekiel, one of
the three great prophets living in the land of Israel, during the time when
foreign countries were invading them, knew what it was like to live under
oppression and occupation. It was like living in the valley of death, with dry
bones all around him. In despair, he dreamed of escape. In despair, he asked
God for help. Isolated, he too wondered if their dry bones could ever live.
“When the writer
of Ezekiel asks, “Can these bones live?” he is asking about the fate of the
Jewish people. He uses dry bones as a metaphor for the anguish of a people who
have suffered the horrors of siege warfare and exile. Dry bones represent
national hopes crushed, religious faith shattered, social ties severed, economy
in collapse, and homes scorched and deserted.” (Erica MacCreaigh,
Xian Century)
And God answered,
“Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and
you shall live. 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.” No, dry bones do not resurrect themselves.
But God’s Spirit will.
When Jesus called
Lazarus out of that tomb, it wasn’t a matter of resurrection. No, it was a
temporary matter of resuscitation. It was like the young man who died from a
head injury and met Jesus in heaven. According to him, after 30 minutes of
death, he returned to earth as himself. Yes, he had a foretaste of heaven, he
claims, but his earthly life was not yet over. Yes, the spirits of the people
who physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually cared for him while he
was in the hospital were instrumental to his recovery and resuscitation, but
not in his resurrection. That power belongs to God alone.
Most, if not all
people, will have moments of despair during their lifetimes. Like the psalmist,
we will cry to God or anyone who has ears to listen, “Out of the depths have I
called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; let your ears consider well the voice
of my supplication.” (Psalm 130) We will
pray for relief, for an end to the suffering. We will beg for our flesh to be
renewed, adding new layers of healthy skin to our dry, old bones. Like watchmen
in the morning, we will “wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; in his word
is my hope. My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.” (Psalm 130)
So, like Martha,
we eventually come to realize, perhaps, that Jesus is the resurrection and the
life, the promise of God where true joys can be found. We are assured by St.
Paul’s letter to the Romans that “To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to
set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Even when death and dry bones
and suffering and despair invade our lives, we can lift our minds and hearts to
the heavens, trusting in the power of God’s Spirit to raise us to new life and
peace.
On Ash Wednesday,
the day that kicks off our Lenten season, Brother Lucas wrote, “Blessedness
isn’t just nice; it’s the stuff of death, and life.” (Lucas Hall, SSJE,
Ash Wednesday 2026) Now as we
look forward to Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter, we can remember that our
blessedness involves both death and new life. There is pain and suffering
before the good news of the Resurrection.
“Thus says the
Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O
my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know
that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves,
O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will
place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken
and will act,” says the Lord.” (Ezekiel 37:1-14)
Indeed, we are blessed by God’s Power, and in that, I have hope.
