Persistent life
Ezekiel 37: 1-14
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
March 29, 2020
If you thought the lectionary was spooky last week…
But then it is Lent: the season of mortality, fragile flesh—ashes to ashes, dust to dust—and what it means to live a whole life. So of course the scriptures for each Sunday would reflect that.
And yet it will also be Passover beginning at sunset on April 8.
And Ramadan begins at sunset on April 23.
The timing of this pandemic brings our rituals and our stories into sharper focus.
“Can these bones live?”
When Ezekiel looked upon that valley of dead dry bones, he saw not only his own death but that of God’s people. They were a people without hope, in exile in Babylon, and despairing that the exile would be the end of them. And there were others who were in denial that indeed they were living in the midst of a catastrophe. Sound familiar? It was easier for them to believe that God had left them for dead, that even God herself was dead, than to believe that God was at work in the heart of all that pain and ruin and even death, that there was a future beyond all that. God makes the outrageous promise to make of them a new people of God.
Can these bones live?
At first I was angry when I saw news reports of college students filling the beaches in Florida, saying that if they got the coronavirus, then they would just deal with it. It’s not about getting it, it’s about spreading it. I had ugly thoughts, feelings of despair; I shook my fist. I thought of verses from Ecclesiastes, Isaiah, and 1 Corinthians, how us human beings continue to shrug off both calls for repentance and hopes of resurrection by eating, drinking, and being merry, for tomorrow we may die.
But then I thought about how young they are and the world they’ve grown up in. They didn’t ask for any of this. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have been born into a world of school gun violence, post-9/11 security, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, climate change, and an economy that has left them and millions of others behind with empty promises. What looks like reckless stubbornness comes from the same place as courage. And let’s admit it—we’re all coming face-to-face with the choices we’ve made, human beings have made, at least within our own lifetimes. None of us are clean. We’re all in this together in more ways than one.
Can these bones live?
This virus is not a judgment from God but a result of human hubris. If this virus is sending us a message, it’s one we’ve heard before in many other ways. If a virus has behavior, it is behaving like the worst of humanity: it has spread throughout the globe, killing indiscriminately but particularly those who are the most vulnerable, that is, people with pre-existing health conditions, and it is all for its own survival. It attacks the lungs, which is where traditional Chinese medicine says our bodies experience grief. I’m not implying any kind of causality but more of a spiritual narrative behind this crisis.
Daily we are witnessing both the best and worst of what it means to be human. Medical and mental health professionals, prison personnel, and healthcare workers are putting themselves in harm’s way. Volunteers are sewing masks, making meals for the homeless and food insecure, delivering groceries and prescriptions. The cracks we have been trying to shore up have become cliffs, the cliffs have become chasms. We’re desperately scrambling to form safety nets for those who’ve needed them for much longer. We’re realizing how little some of us need to drive to be at work and that there are many who could’ve been working with online assistance. And yet in a time when we need each other the most we must separate ourselves from one another and help from a distance.
Can these bones live?
Will we remember this shared vulnerability? Will we embrace all of who we are? Will we go back to the way things were or will we insist on change, even if it costs us? Will we remember what became ultimately important to us and also that it’s never really been about us? Will we allow what had kept us separate and disconnected from others to continue? Will we remember what knits us together and makes us strong?
Can these bones live?
Ezekiel says, “Oh Lord God, you know.” He was being humble, but if we answer that way it feels like a cop-out. I think we know or at least I hope we will know how to answer that question when we come through this.
And humankind will come through this because life persists. That is the nature of life. The question is, how will we live? Whether we like it or not, whether we know it or not, whether we live this way or not, if this virus teaches us anything it is that we are one human species. We are still evolving into Homo sapiens, literally ‘wise man’ or ‘the one who is wise’. Like that valley of bones knit together, we are one body. And I hope that what we’re beginning to see is that we are all worth more than how empire values a human life.
Rev. William Barber of the Poor Peoples’ Campaign, in a recent tweet, said, “This virus is teaching us that from now on, living wages, guaranteed healthcare for all, unemployment and labor rights, are not far left issues but issues of right vs. wrong and life vs. death”. Jesus was right. We cannot serve both God and mammon; we cannot serve both Love and wealth.
Can these bones live?
Yes, these bones of humanity will live but for what? What good is wealth, what good is life without love? We can have all that we need, we can have more than enough, we can have all the riches in the world but without love we are bankrupt. Love is the source of the grief we are experiencing. It is love that knits us together, it is love that enacts justice, it is love that rights wrongs.
From Eugene Peterson’s version 1 Corinthians 13:
“Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always ‘me first,’
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.”
Beloveds, as we move through these difficult days, let us persist not only with life but also with love, these bones may not only live but live well.
Amen.
Benediction
When you go out and see
the empty streets,
the empty stadiums,
the empty train platforms,
don’t say to yourself, “It looks like the end of the world.”
What you’re seeing is love in action.
What you’re seeing, in that negative space,
is how much we do care for each other,
for our grandparents,
for our immunocompromised siblings
for people we will never meet.
People will lose jobs over this.
Some will lose their businesses.
And some will lose their lives.
All the more reason to take a moment,
when you’re out on your walk,
or on your way to the store,
or just watching the news,
to look into the emptiness
and marvel at all that love.
Let it fill you and sustain you.
It isn’t the end of the world.
It is the most remarkable act
of global solidarity
we may ever witness.
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
March 29, 2020
 |
| Untitled by Abraham Rattner |
If you thought the lectionary was spooky last week…
But then it is Lent: the season of mortality, fragile flesh—ashes to ashes, dust to dust—and what it means to live a whole life. So of course the scriptures for each Sunday would reflect that.
And yet it will also be Passover beginning at sunset on April 8.
And Ramadan begins at sunset on April 23.
 |
| The Kaaba in Mecca |
The timing of this pandemic brings our rituals and our stories into sharper focus.
“Can these bones live?”
When Ezekiel looked upon that valley of dead dry bones, he saw not only his own death but that of God’s people. They were a people without hope, in exile in Babylon, and despairing that the exile would be the end of them. And there were others who were in denial that indeed they were living in the midst of a catastrophe. Sound familiar? It was easier for them to believe that God had left them for dead, that even God herself was dead, than to believe that God was at work in the heart of all that pain and ruin and even death, that there was a future beyond all that. God makes the outrageous promise to make of them a new people of God.
 |
| Grand Central Station, NYC |
Can these bones live?
At first I was angry when I saw news reports of college students filling the beaches in Florida, saying that if they got the coronavirus, then they would just deal with it. It’s not about getting it, it’s about spreading it. I had ugly thoughts, feelings of despair; I shook my fist. I thought of verses from Ecclesiastes, Isaiah, and 1 Corinthians, how us human beings continue to shrug off both calls for repentance and hopes of resurrection by eating, drinking, and being merry, for tomorrow we may die.
But then I thought about how young they are and the world they’ve grown up in. They didn’t ask for any of this. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have been born into a world of school gun violence, post-9/11 security, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, climate change, and an economy that has left them and millions of others behind with empty promises. What looks like reckless stubbornness comes from the same place as courage. And let’s admit it—we’re all coming face-to-face with the choices we’ve made, human beings have made, at least within our own lifetimes. None of us are clean. We’re all in this together in more ways than one.
 |
| Empty city street in Schenectady, NY |
Can these bones live?
This virus is not a judgment from God but a result of human hubris. If this virus is sending us a message, it’s one we’ve heard before in many other ways. If a virus has behavior, it is behaving like the worst of humanity: it has spread throughout the globe, killing indiscriminately but particularly those who are the most vulnerable, that is, people with pre-existing health conditions, and it is all for its own survival. It attacks the lungs, which is where traditional Chinese medicine says our bodies experience grief. I’m not implying any kind of causality but more of a spiritual narrative behind this crisis.
Daily we are witnessing both the best and worst of what it means to be human. Medical and mental health professionals, prison personnel, and healthcare workers are putting themselves in harm’s way. Volunteers are sewing masks, making meals for the homeless and food insecure, delivering groceries and prescriptions. The cracks we have been trying to shore up have become cliffs, the cliffs have become chasms. We’re desperately scrambling to form safety nets for those who’ve needed them for much longer. We’re realizing how little some of us need to drive to be at work and that there are many who could’ve been working with online assistance. And yet in a time when we need each other the most we must separate ourselves from one another and help from a distance.
 |
| Empty classroom |
Can these bones live?
Will we remember this shared vulnerability? Will we embrace all of who we are? Will we go back to the way things were or will we insist on change, even if it costs us? Will we remember what became ultimately important to us and also that it’s never really been about us? Will we allow what had kept us separate and disconnected from others to continue? Will we remember what knits us together and makes us strong?
 |
| Almost empty plane |
Can these bones live?
Ezekiel says, “Oh Lord God, you know.” He was being humble, but if we answer that way it feels like a cop-out. I think we know or at least I hope we will know how to answer that question when we come through this.
And humankind will come through this because life persists. That is the nature of life. The question is, how will we live? Whether we like it or not, whether we know it or not, whether we live this way or not, if this virus teaches us anything it is that we are one human species. We are still evolving into Homo sapiens, literally ‘wise man’ or ‘the one who is wise’. Like that valley of bones knit together, we are one body. And I hope that what we’re beginning to see is that we are all worth more than how empire values a human life.
Rev. William Barber of the Poor Peoples’ Campaign, in a recent tweet, said, “This virus is teaching us that from now on, living wages, guaranteed healthcare for all, unemployment and labor rights, are not far left issues but issues of right vs. wrong and life vs. death”. Jesus was right. We cannot serve both God and mammon; we cannot serve both Love and wealth.
 |
| St. Mark's Square, Venice, Italy |
Can these bones live?
Yes, these bones of humanity will live but for what? What good is wealth, what good is life without love? We can have all that we need, we can have more than enough, we can have all the riches in the world but without love we are bankrupt. Love is the source of the grief we are experiencing. It is love that knits us together, it is love that enacts justice, it is love that rights wrongs.
 |
| Empty Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA |
From Eugene Peterson’s version 1 Corinthians 13:
“Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always ‘me first,’
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.”
Beloveds, as we move through these difficult days, let us persist not only with life but also with love, these bones may not only live but live well.
Amen.
Benediction
When you go out and see
the empty streets,
the empty stadiums,
the empty train platforms,
don’t say to yourself, “It looks like the end of the world.”
What you’re seeing is love in action.
What you’re seeing, in that negative space,
is how much we do care for each other,
for our grandparents,
for our immunocompromised siblings
for people we will never meet.
People will lose jobs over this.
Some will lose their businesses.
And some will lose their lives.
All the more reason to take a moment,
when you’re out on your walk,
or on your way to the store,
or just watching the news,
to look into the emptiness
and marvel at all that love.
Let it fill you and sustain you.
It isn’t the end of the world.
It is the most remarkable act
of global solidarity
we may ever witness.
- Source unknown
Comments
Post a Comment