Can These Bones Live?

Last week we discussed the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37:1-14. The passage falls in the third section of the book of Ezekiel. Its purpose is to instill hope for the exiled people of Israel in deep despair. To reimagine hope for the displaced, distraught, and suffering people, Ezekiel describes a prophecy of a valley of dry bones coming to life. In the exchange, God asks Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” Ezekiel responds, “Only you know, Lord.” 

Let’s stick with this question: Can these bones live? 

The question is asked out of a place of desolation and deep hopelessness. The despair for the people of Israel was so tremendous that it is described as dead dried up bones. The question is ironic—of course dead bones cannot live. And yet, as the prophecy follows the bones come together with flesh and tendons and, eventually, breath. 

We have all been in places where we feel like we are in a valley of dry bones. Whether it be our financial situation, broken relationships, systemic oppression, death, abuse, addiction, loneliness, health problems, religious trauma, exclusion, and so on. All of us have found ourselves distraught, losing hope, and suffering—some more than others. Our lives have felt like dried up lifeless bones, and yet we each find ourselves in some way or another coming back to this God story as a place of healing and hope. “Maybe,” we curiously ask, “God can breathe life into my dried up bones?” Or as womanist theologian Monica Coleman says, "When there is no way, God makes a way."

Like the people of Israel, like many communities in suffering, we cling to the message of God making a way—breathing life into the deepest places of pain and tragedy. May this be clear, I do not want to oversimplify or reduce the harm that is done: many people and communities will not experience full healing and relief. So, we look to this passage in Ezekiel not to escape reality, but rather to see a vision of God breathing life into all of us to transform reality, to bring liberation, to bring hope in our lives and others.

At Harbor many of us have clung to this community out of our own places of dry bones—especially with the Church. We have questioned if the dry bones of the church can live. We aren’t sure. In our own ways, we have come together with our pasts of exclusion, rejection, and hurt, and God has breathed life into us. As someone on Thursday said, “We are the bones.” 

Harbor: We are a community of hope. 

So, can these dry bones live? 

We are the bones coming together in flesh, tendons, and—yes, breath.