Let Us Choose the Bones, the Senior Sermon of Richard Nelson, Class of 2004 from the Diocese of Wyoming (soon, Northwest Texas), presented in Christ Chapel on April 20, 2004

Ezekiel 37: 1-14

Holy God, fill our minds with your wisdom, our mouths with your truth, and our hearts with your love. Amen.

Having lived in Austin for three years, this city finally makes sense to me now. Well most of it anyway. You see, Austin is the via media of Texas. You'll find Austin somewhere between the words "University" and "Texas," somewhere between Uncle Willie Nelson high on weed at the Armadillo and Tom Delay high on the hog of redistricting. Somewhere between Hippie Hollow and Dell Inc., there's Austin. It makes sense to me now.

Four years ago my family drove to Austin to find this seminary. Austin didn't make sense to me then. Even the roads were a mystery. I watched from the upper deck of 35 as the 32nd street exit passed me by. A spiritual journeyman I was, but clearly not St. Benedict on the Freeway. I was lost, wandering, searching for a place I felt called to, but completely unsure how to get there.

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones.

Thank you Ezekiel! A patron saint of seminarians if there ever was one. The Lord brought us out of our exiles by the spirit and set us down, not in paradise, but in a valley of bones. How often these last few years I've cried to God, "Is this what you've called me to? I thought I was following you, but I am dry and I can see nothing but bones!"

He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, "Mortal, can these bones live?" Good question. I don't have the answer. Let me pull a trick my old friend Will Spong taught me and turn the question back on you. I answered, "O Lord God, you know." Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live."

And then it all began to make sense to us. As we walked through the valley of the Rio Grande, and observed people living on bones. Yes, this is the place of the Lord. As we walked the bony streets of Atlanta and LA. Yes, this is the place of the Lord. As we walked the cavernous halls of St. David's, Seton and other hospitals. Yes, this is the place of the Lord. And as we gathered daily to worship in this chapel we also knew, yes, this is the place of the Lord. This is the place where God calls us to stand. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord. I believe in God. I've seen the painful agony of decomposition to bones, but I've also seen the glorious steadiness of re-composition to incarnate flesh. I have seen people, including myself at times, fall apart and then watched as God gently, loving put us back together again. This is a God I can believe in.

Then God said to me, "Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live. Four weeks from today the senior Lutheran and Episcopal students will pass from one end of St. Matthew's Church to the other, and this portion of our journey will be complete. Many of us do not yet know where God is calling us, but we will inevitably be scattered in all four directions. The same four directions from whence Ezekiel called the spirit of the Lord. This is good news. For no matter which direction God leads us, we can rest assured that God's spirit is already there. We have seen it powerfully rushing to our aid in Austin. No less will we find the spirit in the next place God calls us.

Then God said to me, "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." And whichever valley God calls us to, we will surely hear people utter these words. Let us never doubt their authenticity. And never turn a blind eye to the death that surrounds us. For it is very real. Neither God nor Ezekiel ignored that they stood in the midst of death. And neither should we. We will find the death of relationships over the Episcopal General Convention. We will find death of trust in the midst of the ELCA's struggle over the exploitation of children in Marshall, Texas. But we will also find the death of hope in our vestries and boards, our families and homes, our cities and neighborhoods, and perhaps at times even within our very souls. Indeed if we do not find bones we are simply not looking hard enough. For, in the United States, 13 million children are living with hunger or are at risk of hunger. One in three women in the U.S. are physically or sexually abused by a spouse or boyfriend at some point in their life. And 7.2 million families, one in ten, live in poverty. Look outside your window; we are knee deep in bones.

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. And you shall know that I am the Lord . . .

Where is God? Humanity asks this question at every twist and turn in the road. With Moses in the wilderness, with Ezekiel in Babylon, with the disciples in the upper room, and on every battle field the question arises "Where are you God?" The answer is simple but it is not always plain. God is here, in the midst of us. I firmly believe that God acts in the world through us. The correct question is not "Why doesn't God do something about this mess?" but rather "Why don't we do something about this mess?" In every valley of dry bones we find ourselves, let us ask this question. God gives us the power through the spirit to prophesy and work miracles, bringing about resurrection again and again. But our vocal chords are the only ones God has. Our hands God's only means. God gives Ezekiel the words and the power, but Ezekiel must be the one to unleash them both to work in the world. Such is our calling. It may be a painfully slow process, but God will put sinews on our bones, and then flesh, and then skin, and finally the breath of life. As scholar Christopher Seitz has said about this passage, "Without God's spirit, there is no life. The biological reality is inherently a theological reality."

We are being sent forth by God. We are being sent forth by this seminary community. And we have a mission to fulfill. We are called to preach the Gospel, all of it. We are called to serve God's people, all of them. We are called to give God our lives, all of us. Our passage from Ezekiel today can serve as a powerful reminder of the witness we are called to bear to the world. The witness of God's saving deeds. And Ezekiel is not the only prophet we have to encourage us in this ministry. So I'll leave us with the words of two other prophets who have given me much hope and strength in my own journey.

The first is the prophet Bruce Springsteen who sings a song called "The Ghost of Tom Joad." I love the last verse in which Tom says to his mother:

"Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight 'gainst the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Mom I'll be there.
Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand
Or decent job or a helpin' hand
Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free
Look in their eyes Mom you'll see me."

We may find Tom there, but we will also find Jesus Christ. And if we are faithful to our calling, we will find ourselves in such a place.

The second prophet I'll note is my favorite one, Martin Luther King, Jr., who preached these words the night before he died. He said,

"I'm always happy to see a relevant ministry. It's all right to talk about long white robes over yonder, in all of its symbolism, but ultimately people want some suits and dresses and shoes to wear down here. It's all right to talk about streets flowing with milk and honey, but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here and his children who can't eat three square meals a day. It's all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day God's preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do."

Indeed this is exactly what we, as ordained Lutheran and Episcopal clergy, but more importantly as Christians, this is what we have to do. When we search for a place to stand, let it be this one. When we are faced with the choice between Eden and the Valley of Dry Bones, let us choose the bones. When we are faced with the choice of the country club or the homeless shelter, let us pick the shelter. When we are faced with the choice to fear or rather to risk to love, let us risk to love.

And the Lord said to Israel, I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord. It makes sense to me now, this place God has called us to. With your help, I have stood on this soil. It is solid ground. Thanks be to God. Amen.