Monday, June 4, 2012

These Bones Can Live


Pentecost Sunday, 27 May 2012
Ezekiel 37:1-14
            This is the day that the Spirit made—that creative, life-giving force that is God-in-action. The Spirit moves. That is the most consistent quality of the Spirit of God, it moved over the waters of the deep before the world was created; it blew through the valley of dry bones and gave them life; it roared through the room where the disciples were gathered on the day of Pentecost. Wherever the Spirit moves, it upsets the stagnant order of the day. Wherever the Spirit happens, life happens. The spirit overturns tables and makes the dead rise up!
            Ezekiel looked around at the landscape of a conquered Israel, but it could have been anywhere the innocent were slaughtered at any time. It could have been Bataan, it could have been Wounded Knee, it could have been Auschwitz or El Mozote. Anywhere mothers grieve over their lost children, anytime brutality overwhelms humanity, we look upon the mass graves and ask, my God, my God, why have you forsaken us?
            And God answers with a question. Mortal, can these bones live?
            In Ezekiel’s vision, the bones rattle, reassemble into skeletons, and the skeletons grow flesh and the flesh is covered with skin, when the prophet spoke in the name of the Lord. But there was no life in them without the Spirit. So the prophet called out the Spirit—the spirit that moved over the waters of creation and filled the first earth-creature with the breath of life (wind, spirit, breath, it’s all the same word in Hebrew)—and the people lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.
            These are the people of Israel, God says, who say,Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” But the promise of God is that new life will come. If you think you are dead, rest assured, I will give you life. If you are lost, I will bring you back.
            Pentecost is the anniversary of the church. In case you haven’t noticed, the church is smaller than it used to be. Not just this church, but all the churches. For example, the number of congregations of the Minnesota Conference, and the total number of members of churches of the Minnesota Conference, have decreased steadily since the Conference was founded fifty years ago. But it’s not just the Minnesota Conference, it’s all United Church of Christ congregations. But it’s not just United Church of Christ congregations, it’s also Lutheran, and United Methodist, and Episcopalian, and Presbyterian. But it’s not just the old established churches, it’s also the newcomers. It’s not a matter of one kind of Christianity vs. another, or Christianity vs. other religions. The only group that has grown steadily is the group that answers “none of the above” to the question “What faith do you practice?”
            And the churches are panicking. Bishops and executive ministers are quaking in their wingtip shoes. Committees and task forces are forming, consultants are being contracted, troops are being mustered to fight the decline of the mainline church.
            “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost, we are cut off completely.”
            As much as we may try to reassemble the dry bones of the old church, there is no life there. Not without the Spirit.
            The thing about the Spirit is, being of a creative temperament, it rarely creates the same thing twice. When the Spirit created the church, it did not create Synagogue 2.0. The spirit didn’t recreate the religion of the Pharisees, under new management. The Spirit created something completely new. And the church, it was not born fully formed, it was born an infant. The apostles struggled to manage the growth, but they could not. Once the Spirit was loose, it created church in unexpected places. In the homes of gentiles, and in the hearts of aliens in the land. The Spirit went abroad and created churches all over the world, and no two were alike, and it was disorderly, messy. In spite of the Apostles desire to reign it in, the Spirit could not be bridled.
            The thing about church is, maybe it isn’t dying so much as being reborn in a new body—one that we cannot recognize, unless we look with the eyes of a heart enlightened.