By: Maggie Leonard
Reflection—v. 3, can these bones live again?
The thing about bones is that they are so final—they are all that is left when life is exhausted. Can these bones live again? The obvious answer is ‘no.’ But somehow that feels so unsatisfying and like the wrong answer, if for no other reason than that the question was raised. But let us rest in the truth and finality of death for just a moment. Can we allow ourselves to feel the definitiveness of dry bones, of death? I look around sometimes and feel the hopelessness of death, the ways in which love is killed or overlooked. Each article I read on my news feed feels like another bone in the valley—violent shootings, war-ravaged countries, people fleeing in mass from their homeland, name-calling and shouting matches, and further destruction of the environment. Looking around my own community, I see more dry bones—cold bodies, mental illness, hungry bellies, hearts broken, rage rising, relationships forgotten, backdoor deals, and poor communication. Each bone sucked dry by the fear, anxiety, loneliness, despair that accompany the circumstances described. The way out doesn’t seem clear and the resources scant. Can the bones live again? Can we live again? I suppose there is wisdom in Ezekiel’s answer, ‘Lord God, only you know.’
Prayer God of all life, may we believe in your unconditional love and the impossible life that your love brings about.