The visible starts with the invisible. Look how the tree grows. Trees grow by absorbing carbon dioxide from the air, light, energy, water, and nutrients from the soil. But conclusively, what makes trees grow well is the invisible wind. Photosynthesis works best when the wind blows and shakes the still trees. When the wind blows and shakes the branches, it does not bother the tree but wakes it up. What we see is a tree but growing it into life is an invisible wind.
The word ‘wind’ is used very significantly in the Bible. The Hebrew word that we often translate as spirit or holy spirit is ‘Ruach’, but the original meaning of this word is wind, or breath. In the creation story, the earth was formless and empty in the beginning, and darkness was over the deep. But how was that chaos, emptiness and darkness overcome? How did God’s creation come to exist in this world? Doesn’t it say that God’s ‘wind’– the Spirit of God – was hovering over the waters. The work of ‘God’s wind’ was the foundation of creation?
If the climax of creation is the making of humans, then the importance of the wind in this act is no exception. When God made the man, he first formed him from the dust of the ground. But it was not yet truly a man: its form and outward appearance was a man, but its essence was not a man. Then God breathed the breath of life into his nostrils. Here, this breath, this wind, is the Ruach. He became a living human being only after receiving God’s ‘wind, breath’. This is the basis of human creation: not a man made of clay, not a man made of material, but made by the breath of God, which is the Spirit of God.
Humans need both economics and materials to live. So, we have to have money and we have to have muscles. However, upon receiving the breath of the invisible God over these external things, a body becomes a whole person.
Today’s Hebrew Bible passage, the text of Ezekiel’s valley, is the story of renewing (re-creating) the Israeli community by God’s Spirit. First, the Spirit of God takes Ezekiel to a valley of bones scattered; a valley of despair where there is no movement because they are already dead and dried up. He is confronted with the reality of hopelessness. That’s right. What does Ezekiel see here? We often say that Ezekiel saw some kind of vision, but the truth is, what he saw was not a vision. He saw the historical reality of Babylonian captivity in his day. The Spirit of God has not anaesthetised him to a fantastic dream but to the painful truth. The valley Ezekiel witnessed was a valley of despair, suffering a death of the spirit, a living death in exile in a foreign land, and becoming as lifeless as a valley of dry bones.
We see these familiar visions again today. So many in the world have had their own experience of dry bones, from the Congo and Zimbabwe to Myanmar and Pakistan and Iraq, and recently the severe earthquake in Turkey which has resulted in the loss of numerous families, and the Russian War, which does not seem able to end easily. Can these bones live? Can we really survive? Is there any hope, can things really change? Can light shine through this chaos and darkness? Today we hear promises that only God can give. God tells the prophet to speak to these bones, “I will cause breath to enter you by the word of the Lord, and you shall live.” God not only promises sinews, flesh, and skin but most importantly, He brings breath to come from the four winds and breathe upon the slain. So, it happened. This Breathing is the Spirit of God, the life-giving ‘Ruach’ that God breathed into the first human creature in the garden.
We see these familiar visions in our lives, too. We have periods of time when doubts, hopelessness, depression, fear, and anxiety come into our daily lives. As such times, don’t our bones seem to dry up? And we feel cut off from all sides. What words do we need to hear for our lives today? How do we open ourselves up to that living breath of the Spirit?
This life-giving breath moves forth in the Lazarus story. Jesus wept over the death of his friend Lazarus and Jesus cries out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” Jesus then urged those who were alive to,“Unbind him, and let him go.” Jesus is willing to nurture and strengthen until we are able to walk alone, to remove our self-doubt, our heavy clothes, and the wrapping of fear, anxiety, loss, and grief. And allow us to be creative ourselves.
We are on the brink of resurrection. Today’s Hebrew Scripture passage and Gospel encourage us to lift up our dark and heavy hearts. The promise of new expectations and hopes will unfold, a promise that remembers and raises up parched souls and lives that have been dried up. Jesus offers new living to those bound by the chains of darkness and crushed by the forces of death. This is the promise of resurrection.
God does not forget the dry bones; His tender heart caresses the bones that have lost hope. Now, at His word, the scattered bones find their place, connect tendons and flesh, and get skin and face. It is clearly His Will not to lose a single bone fragment. This is the moment of re-enactment of the creation story that unfolds in the beginning through ‘the Word’. The breath of God restores them whole. Restoring a new living life is our resurrection.
In conclusion, death is a life without the imagination of the ‘beyond’ and transcendence, a life without reflection on God and the transcendent world. Religion, too, cannot escape the world of death when it is only there to ensure our personal security. But as followers of Jesus, we acknowledge our physical age and human limitations and finally, take the great step of entrusting our lives to a greater God. It is this ‘faith of entrustment’ that leads us to the mystery of the resurrection.