Breath and Bone
(Rutgers, March 21, 1999; 5th Sunday in Lent, Year A;
Women's History Month)
Psalm 130 (OT, p. 635); Ezekiel 37:1–14 (OT, p. 898)
Ezekiel's vision of a valley full of dry and dismembered skeletons
brought to fresh life by the breath of God borne on the four winds—
Ezekiel's vision of breath and bone!
It was just three weeks ago, right after our all-church retreat, that
I first became a regular reader of the New York Times obituaries.
You see, in one of the small-group discussions during that retreat
someone—whom I'll allow to remain anonymous—
shared with us that her favorite newspaper reading is
the obituaries, so I decided to try them out for myself; and, you know, by reading them
you do learn the most fascinating things.
For example, last Sunday after I got home from church
and opened the paper, I learned of the death of
Gershon Legman, age 81, who way back in 1963,
in the early days of the Vietnam War,
delivered a speech in my home state of Ohio,
in which he coined the phrase, "Make love, not war."
I'd never known who's said that first. Did you.
Gershon Legman, age 81.
Well, as I went on with my reading, I was aware that I'd set for myself
the task for this Sunday of preaching on Ezekiel's bones,
and I figured that the week's obituaries would yield me
at least one really good illustration for a sermon like that.
I thought I'd found the one that I would use
when I read about Garson Kanin, age 86, who,
along with his wife Ruth Gordon, had written the screenplay for
the Spencer Tracy-Katherine Hepburn movie "Adam's Rib."
Well, that seemed just right for a sermon on the theme:
fresh life from a bone.
Garson Kanin, age 86.
But then on Tuesday I found an even better obituary,
that of the improvisational comic Del Close, age 64,
whom I had actually seen early in his career, back in 1962-1963,
when Margaret and I, as young seminary students in Chicago,
went pretty regularly to see the brilliant new comedy troupe,
Second City, of which Mr. Close was a part.
Well—according to Mr. Close's obituary—on the night before he
died:
"Some 50 of his friends, including [the comedian Bill] Murray …,
gathered in his hospital room for a raucous farewell,
during which among other things, Mr. Close [listen!]
bequeathed his skull to [Chicago's] Goodman Theater .…"
You see, explained Mr. Close's associate in comedy, Charna Halpern,
he loved Shakespeare. He had appeared
in a Goodman Theater production of The Merchant of Venice,
he had also played the role of Polonius in Hamlet, and he
wanted to play yet one more role in Hamlet after his death.
So he donated his skull in hopes that he could play the role of Yorick:
"Alas! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio:
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy …"
But should Del fail in his audition for the role of Yorick's skull—
added Ms. Halpern, her tongue firmly in cheek—
should he fail in his audition for that part, then he had hopes that
he might at least serve as an extra—you know, playing just
one of the desert skulls scattered around in a Western scene,
or, as this preacher will now add, just one of the valley
skulls arrayed for a dramatization of Ezekiel's vision.
That would be fresh life, indeed, for a bone!
Del Close, age 64, and hoping for more,
"a fellow of infinite jest."
Well we don't have to die to be reminded that we're but breath + bone,
and we don't have to die to be led to pray
that there may be fresh life for old bones.
When I visited Marshall Williamson in the hospital Friday night,
we prayed for a restoration of full vitality to his knee+leg bones,
and after I left his room, riding down alone in the elevator,
I found myself singing under my breath:
"Oh, the ankle bone's connected to the leg bone,
the leg bone's connected to the knee bone,
the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone…
now hear the word of the Lord!"
Hmm, I guess I did have Ezekiel on my mind during the visit.
No, we don't have to die to be reminded that we're but breath + bone,
and we don't have to die to be led to pray that
God may breathe fresh life into all the dry bones of our world—
into all the people and groups and circumstances
where there is death, where there is a dead end, where
there is no apparent potential or possibility for hope.
In last week's newspapers,
one didn't have to read the obituaries to encounter death notices—
to find notices of dead ends, and of situations without hope,
without any apparent potential or possibility for good.
And in light of the symbolism found in today's lesson from Ezekiel,
all of us readers of last week's newspapers need to ask ourselves
questions like these:
Is there a way beyond a valley of dry, dismembered bones
in Kosovo,
where the Serbian army is marching against Albanian Kosovars;
or in the southern Sudan, where millions of tribespeople
have been starved to death by the national government?
Is there a way beyond a valley of dry, dismembered bones
on the island of Ambon, Indonesia,
where Christians have been targeted for beatings and death;
or in Bhubaneswar, India, where 60% of the city's Christian homes
were just destroyed by fire—60%?
Is there a way beyond a valley of dry, dismembered bones
in the West Bank,
where since the signing of the Wye Plantation peace accords
militant Jewish settlers have violated the accords not just once
but 16 times by establishing new settlements on Arab lands,
something that's strictly prohibited by the accords, all
the while "explaining themselves" to Israeli journalists
by saying, "What, we should let the Arabs have it?"
Is there a way beyond a valley of dry, dismembered bones
in the relationship between our city's police force
and our city's minority communities,
a way beyond corpses,
a way beyond "stop and frisk,"
a way beyond the need for daily civil disobedience,
and, yes, a way beyond crimes that are too common?
Is there a way beyond a valley full of the dry, dismembered bones
of all the children and the poor whose well-being will be sacrificed
to pursue the renewed goal of a national missile defense system
whose cost initially will be a staggering $6.6 billion per year?
Is there a way beyond a valley full of the dry, dismembered bones
of a denomination—the National Baptist Convention, U.S.A.—
whose leader pocketed a quarter million dollars worth of
donations given to rebuild churches destroyed by arson?
Is there a way beyond a valley full of the dry, dismembered bones
of a denomination—our own, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)—
in which so many of our congregations are willing to sacrifice
the well-being of their gay and lesbian members in order
to maintain a so-called "peace,"
a "peace" that's illusory since it's devoid of justice?
Confronted as we are by a vision of a world filled with dry bones,
a vision so much like that of Ezekiel in today's Second Lesson—
a worldwide panorama of death, of remains long since
picked by vultures and bleached by the unrelenting sun,
all of us readers of last week's news
can but join with the prophet Ezekiel in crying out to God,
saying, "Only you know if these bones can live!"
Confronted by a contemporary vision so much like Ezekiel's,
all of us readers of last week's news
can but join in a heartfelt prayer,
a prayer similar to the psalmist's in our First Lesson,
a prayer that God may quickly and soon forgive us
the dry bones of our sins, failures, and dead ends
+ may quickly and soon redeem these dry bones
by breathing fresh life and new being into us.
Ezekiel's vision reaches its awesome climax
in a scene that proclaims great good news!
By the power of God's breath,
the whole valleyful of dry, dismembered bones
is fully "re-membered" and restored to life,
amidst a great rattling noise.
God does not stand aloof from the valley of our bones.
God comes on the breath of the wind to renew and restore us.
When circumstances seem at a dead end,
and the news is bleak,
there is one eternal, never-changing source of hope:
God's power to create something new
out of the death in our lives,
God's power to open our self-made graves,
to lift us from our self-manufactured pits,
to fill us with the breath of the Spirit,
and to lead us back to wholeness.
Can these dry, dead, lifeless bones of our own making rise to life?
Yes! By the power of the breath that is the Spirit of God, they can.
Will these dry, dead, lifeless bones of ours rise to life?
Yes! By the power of the breath that is the Spirit of God, they will.
For God has promised us new breath for our bones!
Let us pray:
O God, take not the dry bone of our skulls for the role of Yorick, the
fool.
But, by the power of Your Spirit, transform the dry bones of our sins,
our failures, and our dead ends into the flesh and sinew of new being.
In the name of Christ, we pray. Amen.
Return to Sermon Archive