Photo by César Couto on Unsplash
Ezekiel 37:1-14 and John 11:32-45
I’ve been slowly reading through the book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. In this book, Kimmerer writes about the natural world, scientific knowledge, and wisdom from her indigenous ancestors. In one particular chapter, she writes about what she calls “the language of animacy,” in other words, “What words do we use or how do we describe the moment when something comes to life?” As a scientist herself, Kimmerer values deeply the contributions of the scientific method and of research, but she also notes that science often studies things from a distance. When we study things scientifically, we break things down into their parts, we look at our test matter as “objects.” This is not inherently wrong, but Kimmerer suggests this method is missing something.
While reading a book written by an Anishinaabe botanist, Kimmerer discovered an indigenous word for “the force which causes mushrooms to push up from the earth overnight.” This word even sounds like what it means: puhpowee. One moment, there is nothing there. The next moment – puhpowee – a mushroom where there was nothing the day before. [1]
As a person who loves to garden, I’ve often wondered about that “puhpowee” moment, even though I didn’t have any words to describe it. When I plant seeds, I prepare the soil. I dig a hole or make a little groove in the soil at the depth the seed packet says is ideal for the plant. I cover the seeds, water them, and I wait. Seed packets give an estimate for when the seeds might germinate. It might be 7 days, or 10, or 14, or longer. But, even the experts who packed and labeled the seeds don’t know precisely when they will grow. I’ve always wished I had some way of observing the moment a seed bursts forth with life, but not only does it take place underground, I also have no way of knowing when that precise moment might be. There is a force at work beyond my understanding. One moment, the seed is lifeless and buried. The next moment – puhpowee – there is life.
This morning, we have two beautiful stories from Scripture in front of us. We have Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones, and we have the family and friends of Lazarus grieving at his tomb. Both of these stories begin with hopelessness, God draws near, and puhpowee, there is life. These two stories often come up at this point during the season of Lent. They show up right when we might be weary from the journey. They remind us of the hopelessness the followers of Jesus probably felt as the leaders turned against Jesus and arrested him, but they also remind us that the cross is not the end of the story. These stories remind us that even in our own situations that feel hopeless, God is not done with us. Even though we have not yet made it to Easter morning, even though we still live in a broken world with heartache and loss, hopelessness does not have the last word.
In the story from Ezekiel, the spirit of the Lord brings him into a valley filled with bones. These bones had been in the valley for a long time, and the text tells us they were very dry. There was absolutely zero life left in the valley of dry bones. I wonder how Ezekiel felt as he looked at the hopelessness of the valley. I wonder if he immediately knew what the valley stood for, or what the bones were about. You see, Ezekiel was a prophet during a time of exile. The kingdom of Judah had fallen, and the kingdom of Israel had fallen about 130 years before that. The Babylonian army killed many in the army of Judah and then took captive the people they thought were most intelligent or had the most skills. Author Kara Eidson writes this about the exile: “Adding insult to injury, the best, brightest, and most skilled inhabitants of Judah were then captured and taken to Babylon. It was a common strategy, both brilliant and effective, of conquering nations at that time in history. When one nation conquered another to hold as a province, the victor would ship the residents most capable of leading a rebellion to the heart of its own empire. It was an excellent way to maintain newly acquired territory and to prevent uprisings among provinces.” [2]
The Lord asks Ezekiel if the bones could live. I love the way Lisa Thompson, professor at Vanderbilt University Divinity School, puts it. She writes, “The Holy One is asking the mortal one about the possibilities of the scattered bones living. In the presence of such a clear question, it is as if the mortal shrinks back without answering directly— ‘Sovereign Lord, you alone know.’” [3] Step by step, the Lord walks Ezekiel through the miracle. First, the Lord tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones. The bones begin to come together. Sinews and muscles form. The dry bones are transformed into what looks like a stationary army of people. Then the Lord tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath. The word used here is an important Hebrew word – ruach – which can mean wind, breath, life, or spirit. In fact the word ruach is also used in this story to describe the spirit of the Lord that brought Ezekiel into the valley in the first place. Ruach is the wind that hovered over the waters in the story of creation. God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath, the ruach, and when he does, the breath of life enters the multitude. They stand, and they are alive.
To make sure Ezekiel doesn’t miss the point, the spirit of the Lord tells him, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, 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.”
The miracle follows a similar pattern in the story of the raising of Lazarus. When Lazarus becomes ill, his sisters Mary and Martha send word to Jesus. Jesus does not respond immediately, not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows what he is called to do. He follows the movement of the Spirit and journeys to Bethany, the home of Lazarus and his family. By the time gets there, Lazarus is not just dead, he has been dead four days. John includes this detail because, as Luther Seminary professor Karoline Lewis puts it, “Jewish belief held that the soul left the body after three days, just in case we are wondering, Lazarus is really dead.” [4] Just like the dry bones in the valley, Lazarus’s situation seems hopeless. Death had won. All that was left to do was grieve. Only one person besides Jesus held onto any hope, even if her hope was the future resurrection of the dead of all who believe in Jesus. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” I mention this only because I think it’s important for us to remember that Martha was not just the busybody in the kitchen who was stressed that Mary wasn’t helping her. She was a woman of deep and profound faith.
Jesus looks around at everyone weeping. He sees how hopeless they feel. And he loved his friend Lazarus. Twice in the story we are told Jesus was “greatly disturbed” in spirit. The Greek word here is a word that can mean “to snort like an angry horse.” But the text also adds that he was “deeply moved.” You know that moment right before you let out the sobs you’ve been holding back. You forcefully push air from your lungs through your nostrils? I think that’s what the Greek word is getting at here. Jesus sees their pain. He sees their hopelessness. He sees their need. And he enters into it. He draws near, and he weeps with them.
Jesus approaches the tomb, and he prays out loud to God. This reminds me of Ezekiel prophesying to the breath. Then, Jesus calls out to Lazarus and – puhpowee – there is life where once there had been only hopelessness.
Where does the miracle happen? How can we tell the miracle of new life is on the way? We may not be able to see the precise moment. We may only look around us and see the dry bones of what used to be, or reminders of the pain we’ve each had in our own lives. From these two stories, I want to share this word of hope. This word comes in three movements.
First, God is with us. Ezekiel is scooped up by the spirit of the Lord to see the valley because God wanted Ezekiel to know that God sees our pain and suffering. Jesus drew near to his friends because he cared about them. He saw their pain and he shared it. Whatever you might be going through today, God sees it. God is near to you. God cares, and you are not alone.
God is with us, and God speaks to us. It’s interesting to me that the prophecy in Ezekiel happens in two parts, and the words of Jesus to Lazarus come in two parts also. Ezekiel prophesies to the bones, and later he prophesies to the breath or spirit. Jesus calls Lazarus to come out of the tomb, and then he calls for others to unbind him from the burial garments. When we go through hardships, God is with us, and God speaks to us. We may struggle to hear God at times. We may wonder if God has abandoned us, but God is continuing to speak to us. Sometimes we hear God in these times most clearly through the actions of others. This is one reason it is so important for us to physically reach out to others when they are struggling. In our tough moments, we may not always recognize God’s voice speaking to us, but the actions and words of others might remind us that God has not abandoned us.
God is with us. God speaks to us. And even though we cannot see the moment the miracle happens – the puhpowee when life arises from hopelessness – nothing is impossible for God. Friends, can these bones live? Can these hard times bear fruit? Can our hopelessness become the garden where joy and hope spring up in abundance?
I believe the answer is yes. God is with us. God speaks to us. And with God all things are possible. Who in your life might need a reminder that God is with them? Who might be in need of comfort or a kind word or a show of support–no matter how small? As we do this faithful work, I am convinced that below the surface, the spiritual work of God is bringing new life into being. One day we will blink our eyes, and in that moment – puhphowee – all things will be made new.
[1] Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, p. 49
[2] Kara Eidson, A Time to Grow, p. 59
[3] Lisa Thompson, Working Preacher, Commentary on Ezekiel 37:1-4 https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/narrative-lectionary/ezekiel-valley-of-dry-bones/commentary-on-ezekiel-371-14-10
[4] Karoline Lewis, Working Preacher, Commentary on John 11:1-45 https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-in-lent/commentary-on-john-111-45-2