The Ascension of Our Lord

In his book The Eternal Year (Helicon, 1964, Chapter XI, pp. 97-104), Fr. Karl Rahner gives the most plausible theological explanation that I've read of the meaning of a feast which has mystified countless Christians over the ages. People in the 21st century have pretty much figured out by now that the New Testament's spatial references to the Ascension ("he was taken up") or hints of a sort of "divine elevator" aren't to be taken literally. Yet as the Church continues to tell us that the Ascension is one of its major feasts, unfortunately it's celebrated traditionally on a weekday when most folks work or are engaged in their multiplicity of activities and busyness. That makes it unlikely that they'll make time for such a liturgical observance. No wonder, then, that we ask why it's important at all, or what significance can it have for our spiritual lives.

Fr. Rahner speaks of Jesus' departure from the realm of space/time as leaving us all with a sense of loss.  Yet, Rahner says, "It is alarming that we feel no grief." (p. 97) Jesus' fellow human beings at the time, particularly those who followed him, must've felt the goodness, compassion and comfort which he radiated in his words and actions, not to mention the understanding of God, his Father, which he attempted to communicate to us. "...we were able to imagine something about God besides the abstractions of philosophers. At last, there was someone who knew something, and yet did not have to speak with clever eloquence. Someone we needed only to touch, someone we dared to kiss. Someone we slapped on the shoulder in a friendly way, and he did not get all upset about it. And in these trivialities we had everything -- everything incarnate: we had God, his mercy, his grace and his nearness. The eternal Word of the Father had compressed himself into our flesh..." (pp.97-98) 

For all the talk about and defense of Jesus' humanity through the centuries, it's been my experience and that of others that when you start talking about its logical implications and reality, most Christians resist. They seem unable to handle it. So embedded, in their view of Christ, is his divinity that his humanity, except for a few of the early Fathers of the Church, gets only something of a token nod. "Yes, but..." And so, says Fr. Rahner, we acknowledge that Jesus is gone, and we accept it with indifference. It's almost as if we assume that Jesus had bigger and better things to do than remain here on earth, and, Rahner suggests, who wouldn't, after the way those who arrested Jesus, judged him, and sent him off to be crucified treated him? "Can a person like me believe in you and love you? I hope so, Lord. Have mercy on me!..." (p. 98)

In this regard, that Jesus the Christ returned to the Father, Rahner points out something very significant, one of those "logical implications" of the humanity of Jesus. "...my faith and my consolation are centered on this: that he has taken with him everything that is ours. He has ascended and he sits at the right hand of the Father...The absolute Logos shall look at me in eternity with the face of a man. Those who theorize on the beatific vision forget this. As yet, I have read nothing about this in any modern tract in dogma [the original of this book appeared as Kleines Kirchenjahr in 1953]. How strange! At this point pious ascetics read into the silence of the dogmaticians some sentimental anthropomorphism about joy. And what is more, they even dare -- on their way to the beatific vision -- to bypass the humanity of Jesus. As though we can do this so casually! Whoever 'imagines' things this way obviously is not sufficiently aware that God's revelation was a man..." (pp. 100-101)

When one begins to put all this together, as Rahner has done, and takes the time to seriously reflect on and pray over it, the importance of the Ascension hits one with a force which takes the breath away! When Jesus speaks of "the Spirit whom I will send...who will lead you into all truth", he's not kidding us with flowery language. The Spirit, who actually is already with us and in us, isn't present in some vague, shadowy, general sort of way, e.g., through the Commandments or through some nice "lovey" dispositions or attitudes. According to Rahner, the One Jesus give us is "...his actual spirit, the Spirit that proceeds from him as the living, given reality of his divine life...Because [Jesus] wanted to come close to us definitively, he has gone away and has taken us with him...The reason for this is that his Spirit...upon whom Christ from eternity to eternity bestows the eternal fullness of life from the Father, the Spirit over and above which there is nothing that Christ could give in all eternity -- this Spirit is already in us now..." (p.104) In the Ascension, Jesus, the human and divine Anointed One, God's Son, returns home with all that is ours, making it possible for you and me to share God's own life, Godself.

Fr. Rahner concludes: "We notice nothing of this, and that is why the Ascension seems to be separation. But it is separation only for our paltry consciousness. We must will to believe in such a nearness -- in the Holy Spirit."  

6 Domingo de Pascua

El antiguo dramaturgo griego Esquilo, escribió esto en su obra de teatro, Agamenón: "El que aprende debe sufrir. E incluso en nuestro sueño, dolor que no se olvidará se cae gota a gota sobre el corazón. Y en nuestra desesperación, contra nuestra voluntad, viene la sabiduría, por la gracia de Dios impresionante ".

¿Con qué frecuencia el sufrimiento y las penas nos sorprenden, como si nunca debemos esperar que suceda, como si deberíamos estar exentos de ello. El sufrimiento es siempre incómodo. No se acomoda a nuestro horario. Se impone en nosotros en los momentos más inoportunos. Muchas veces reaccionamos a él con la ira, la frustración, y el cuestionamiento. Es implacable: “se cae gota a gota sobre el corazón". Sin embargo, nos podemos aprender y adquirir sabiduría sólo abrazando nuestro dolor y sufrimiento. Pero no podemos hacer esto, excepto "por la gracia de Dios impresionante".

No hay atajos. Para amar a Dios nos debemos abandonar y entregar toda la fácil adquisición de la santidad. Debemos abrazar la cruz; debemos "sufrir por actuar con rectitud". El colecta de Lunes Santo dice: "Dios todopoderoso, cuyo muy amado Hijo no ascendió al gozo de tu presencia sin antes padecer, ni entró en gloria sin antes ser crucificado: Concédenos, por tu misericordia, que nosotros, caminando por la vía de la cruz, encontremos que ésta es la vía de la vida y de la paz; por Jesucristo tu Hijo nuestro Señor...".

En su primera Epístola San Pedro (3:13-22) se dirige a los primeros cristianos que fueron calumniados, acosados e intimidados severamente por el imperio romano a causa de sus creencias religiosas. Les dice: 
"...pero aun si por actuar con rectitud han de sufrir, dichosos ustedes", es decir, a pesar de que sufren por fielmente haciendo la voluntad de Dios, Dios nunca los abandonará.

San Pedro recomienda cinco cosas: 
Primera: "No temáis su temor." Los que viven como Jesús vivió deberían rechazar la violencia y la injusticia hacia otros que son menos poderosos. 
Segunda: "No os preocupéis." Cristo está siempre con ustedes. 
Tercera: Reverenciad a Cristo en sus corazónes como vivís cada día. "Honrad a Cristo como el Señor de su vida." 
Cuarta: Ser capaz de explicar su fe, ser capaz de dar razón de la esperanza que usted tiene. Esté dispuesto a contar historias de esperanza unos a otros y animar a otros a hacer lo mismo. Pero hazlo con cuidado y con respeto, nunca con violencia. 
Quinta: Por último, mantener la conciencia tranquila. La gracia del Bautismo te autoriza para hacer esto, porque a través del Bautismo sois salvos por medio de amor del Padre, a través de Jesús resucitado, y por medio del Espíritu que da la vida.

El Evangelio (Juan 14:15-21) es parte del discurso de despedida de Jesús a sus discípulos en la Última Cena. Los discípulos están tristes y angustiados porque Jesús va a desaparecer. Jesús les dice que durante su ausencia Dios proveerá "un otro Defensor...el Espíritu de la verdad". Jesús dice que el "mundo", es decir, los que hostigan, intimidan y oprimen a los demás no pueden conocer al Espíritu, porque se resisten a fijar sus corazones en la verdad, en Jesús. Se niegan a creer. Pero el Espíritu Santo es la presencia de Dios: "la gracia de Dios impresionante" para los que están dispuestos a creer.

Jesús promete a los discípulos que no los abandonará, a pesar de que debe dejarlos temporalmente con el fin de ir al Padre. Les asegura que va a enviar el Espíritu Santo para que sea el que los consuela, los aconseja, les ayuda y les anima. "...pero ustedes conocen el Espíritu, porque él permanece con ustedes y estará en ustedes ... En aquel día, ustedes se darán cuenta de que yo estoy en mi Padre, y ustedes están en mí, y yo en ustedes."

A través de "la gracia de Dios impresionante" que es el Espíritu Santo tú y yo estamos invitados a también consolar, aconsejar, ayudar y animar a nuestros hermanos y hermanas. A veces, todos nosotros luchamos contra la desesperanza a causa de nuestras propias dificultades personales y tristezas. Estamos invitados a consolar y animar uno a otro en el nombre del Espíritu Santo.

El autor, Wayne Teasdale, dice: "En la compasión, la bondad y el amor, discernimos lo que se necesita y respondemos. Somos un buen oyente para algunos, un proveedor de la fuerza a los demás, un firme defensor y profeta a otros más...Esta habilidad es un don de Dios…", y del Espíritu Santo.

+    +    +    +    +

The ancient Greek dramatist, Aeschylus, wrote this in his play, Agamemnon: “He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that will not forget falls drop by drop upon the heart. And in our despair, against our will, comes wisdom, through the awesome grace of God.” 

How often does suffering and hardship surprise us, as if we should never expect it to happen, as if we should be exempt from it. Suffering is always inconvenient. It does not fit our schedule. It intrudes on us at the most inopportune times. We often react to it with anger, frustration, and questioning. It is unrelenting: it falls “drop by drop upon the heart”. Nevertheless, you and I can learn and acquire wisdom only by embracing our pain and suffering. But we cannot do this except “by the awesome grace of God”.

There are no shortcuts. In order to love God you and I must abandon and hand over all easy acquisition of holiness. We must embrace the Cross; we must “suffer for doing what is right”. The collect for Holy Monday says: “Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

In the Epistle St. Peter (1 Pt 3:13-22) addresses early Christians who were slandered, harassed and intimidated severely by the Roman Empire because of their religious beliefs. He tells them: “...even if you suffer for doing what is right, you are blessed”, that is, although they suffer for faithfully doing the will of God, God will never abandon them.

Peter recommends five things:

1. “Do not fear their fear.” Those who live as Jesus lived should refuse violence and injustice towards others who are less powerful.
2. “Do not worry.” Christ is always with you.
3. Revere Christ in your heart as you live each day. “Sanctify Christ as the Lord of your life.”
4. Be able to explain your faith, to give a reason for the hope which you have. Be willing to tell stories of hope to one another and to encourage others to do the same. But do it gently and with respect, never with violence.
5. Finally, maintain a clear conscience. The grace of Baptism empowers you to do this, because through Baptism you are saved through the Father of love, through the Risen Jesus, and through the Spirit who gives life.

The Gospel (John 14:15-21) is part of the farewell speech of Jesus to his disciples at the Last Supper. The disciples are sad and distraught because Jesus is going away. Jesus tells them that during his absence God will provide “another Advocate...the Spirit of truth”. Jesus says that the “world”, that is, those who harass, intimidate and oppress others cannot know the Spirit because they stubbornly resist setting their hearts on truth, on Jesus. They refuse to believe. But the Holy Spirit is the presence of God: “the awesome grace of God” for those who are willing to believe.

Jesus promises the disciples that he will not abandon them, even though he must temporarily leave them in order to go to the Father. He assures them that he will send the Holy Spirit to be the One who comforts them, counsels them, helps them, and encourages them. “You know the Spirit, because the Spirit abides in you and will be in you...On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.”

Through “the awesome grace of God” who is the Holy Spirit you and I are invited to also comfort, counsel, help and encourage our sisters and brothers. At times, all of us struggle against hopelessness because of our own personal difficulties and sorrows. We are invited to comfort and encourage one another in the name of the Holy Spirit.

The author, Wayne Teasdale, says: “In compassion, kindness and love, we discern what is needed and respond. We are a good listener to some, a provider of strength to others, a fierce advocate and prophet to still others...This ability is a gift of God...”: and of the Holy Spirit. 

"This Is the Way: Walk In It"

In the midst of a personally trying space of time three years ago -- a death in the family; the ongoing terminal illness of my close friend, Fr. Leo Joseph; some family concerns; yes, and even mixed emotions surrounding the announcement of Osama Bin Laden's death -- it was tremendously comforting for me to meditate one morning during that time on texts from the liturgy of the feast of SS. Philip and James.  The reading from the Hebrew Scriptures was Isaiah 30, where he says: "The Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him...He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry...your Teacher will not hide himself any more, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'"  

Then, in that feast’s Epistle from St. Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians (4:1-6), the message continued with the comforting words: "...we do not lose heart", immediately going on to speak of "the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God" found in our hearts in "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."

The Gospel reading for that day happened to be the last half of today’s Gospel, John 14, wherein Jesus echoes Paul's theme in Corinthians of “the glory of Christ”, “the image of God”, “the face of Jesus Christ”, by reminding Thomas and Philip how he, Jesus, uniquely images the Father: "If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him...Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" Jesus tells them that, if they're having difficulty setting their hearts on him, which is one way of describing the meaning of faith, at least "believe me because of the works themselves" because "the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these..." It resonates with the assurance which John gives in his first Letter (1:1-10): "...We declare to you...what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands...we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us...his son Jesus Christ." 

Sitting awhile with those Scriptures that day brought me at least a modicum of peace, knowing that in the face of Jesus you and I come to recognize the One who is the bearer for us of God's graciousness, mercy, and wisdom, the One who speaks a loving word behind us: "This is the way; walk in it."

Amazingly, today’s liturgy bears similar reminders for us who have often sung Kathleen Thomerson's hymn, "I want to walk as a child of the light", which urges us to “walk as a child of the light”, to “want to follow Jesus”, to “see the brightness of God”, to “want to look at Jesus”, and to “want to be with Jesus”. St. Luke, in the reading from Acts (7:55-60), says that Stephen, as he faced being stoned to death in witness to his faith, “gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” In the Epistle St. Peter (1 Pt 2:2-10) describes us as “chosen”, “royal”, “holy”, “God’s own”, “in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light…” And in the Gospel (John 14:1-14) Jesus responds to Philip, “How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?...I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

However it is that you and I "see", especially in light of all that bothers us, frustrates us, depresses us, particularly the burden of our own personal brokenness, we still find ourselves capable of doing for ourselves and for others "greater works", greater generosity, greater understanding, greater love, than perhaps we ever thought was possible. For the way we’re walking, the truth we’re seeking, and the life for which we’re yearning each and every day all constitute the “narrow path” which, Jesus indicates, his followers must take. It’s the path which evolves in ever deepening stages of awareness and consciousness for us of the wholeness and holiness of life, beginning with the quickening moments, the stirrings of love, the fleeting flashes which you and I experience from time to time: in nature; in our times of intimacy; in solitude; in music, poetry and art; in the experience of birth; in observing children; in helping others; and finally, even in experiencing death, our own or that of another. Every such moment is a revelatory moment, in which God in Christ becomes the gate which was spoken about in last week’s Gospel, his voice awakening you and me to God already within the person that we are; awakening us to see that you and I possess the capacity to live and move and have our being in habitual awareness of God giving Godself away. 

Every moment of our existence is the sheer reality of God’s compassionate love. Infinite Love is always in charge, despite all human failure, shortcomings, tragedy, illness, death, and all that is evil around us. Regardless of how things ultimately play out, that Love always has the last word. Through God’s mercy which we receive, “new every morning”, in “the glory of Christ”, “the image of God”, “the face of Jesus”, we see revealed the utter powerlessness and meaninglessness of any of our failures, sufferings, or other negatives in our lives to name or define who we are. “In him there is no darkness at all, the day and the night are both alike. The Lamb is the light of the city of God. Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.” 

How can we who John 14:1-14 encounter and share in the Eucharist of Christ’s body and blood “the face of Jesus”, “the image of God”, and “the glory of Christ” not go forth renewed, like newborn infants to which St. Peter alludes, longing more and more for his presence in our lives, that we may continue to “grow into salvation”? How can we but be more attuned and sensitive to the Body of Christ in our own environments of family, friends, school. community, parish: becoming ourselves “living stones”, letting ourselves be built into a community of compassionate love and servanthood and mercy, heeding the voice of the Teacher who walks the path with us, the One who is the way, the truth, and the life. “He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry...when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'"  

St. John XXIII, Pray For Us

There was a man

sent from God

whose name was John,

he was fat

and kind.

We found that very intriguing,

not so much the being fat

but the being kind.

(by Bro. Denis Wiseman, O.P.)

Christ the Gardener

Christ as a Gardener 

by Andrew Hudgins

The boxwoods planted in the park spelled LIVE.

I never noticed it until they died.

Before, the entwined green had smudged the word

unreadable. And when they take their own advice

again—come spring, come Easter—no one will know

a word is buried in the leaves. I love the way

that Mary thought her resurrected Lord

a gardener. It wasn’t just the broad-brimmed hat

and muddy robe that fooled her: he was that changed.

He looks across the unturned field, the riot

of unscathed grass, the smattering of wildflowers.

Before he can stop himself, he’s on his knees.

He roots up stubborn weeds, pinches the suckers,

deciding order here—what lives, what dies,

and how. But it goes deeper even than that. 

His hands burn and his bare feet smolder. He longs

to lie down inside the long, dew-moist furrows

and press his pierced side and his broken forehead

into the dirt. But he’s already done it—

passed through one death and out the other side.

He laughs. He kicks his bright spade in the earth

and turns it over. Spring flashes by, then harvest.

Beneath his feet, seeds dance into the air.

They rise, and he, not noticing, ascends

on midair steppingstones of dandelion,

of milkweed, thistle, cattail, and goldenrod.

The Paschal Triduum

MAUNDY or  HOLY THURSDAY

The Paschal Triduum (Latin, three days) begins with Maundy Thursday, celebrated from the 4th century on, since Good Friday was reckoned from sunset on the previous evening. The ancient traditional name of this day is "Thursday of the Lord's Supper", commemorating the historical gospel events surrounding the Last Supper and the institution of the Holy Eucharist. The title, "Maundy" Thursday, is a corruption of the Latin, mandatum = commandment. The service includes a reenactment of the solemn ritual of washing of feet in imitation of Jesus who washed his disciples' feet at the Last Supper, and from his words, "A new commandment I give you…": signs of his humility and service to others. Anyone can have their feet washed, though participants are usually chosen from the parish at large, or from those in parish leadership roles. Some parishes intentionally include the very poor or "rejected" citizens to send a more vivid message.

At the end of the Maundy Thursday liturgy, consecrated bread and wine are carried in procession to an altar of reservation, to be used in Good Friday's Communion liturgy. An atmosphere of quiet waiting with the Lord begins, with some places keeping vigil through the night hours. 

A sign of anticipation of Christ's suffering and death on Good Friday is evidenced in the complete stripping of the altar and the sanctuary of all liturgical appointments & linens by the celebrant and others.

GOOD FRIDAY

This is the anniversary of the death of Jesus on a cross, outside the walls of the Holy City, Jerusalem. This moment finds its completion on the following day as the Holy Saturday night hours change into the Sunday of the Resurrection, Easter Sunday. The origin of the term "Good" is unknown, but probably emphasizes the saving value of the historical event of Jesus' crucifixion. Some would also say it refers to "God's" Friday. Historically and liturgically, the atmosphere of this day is one of quiet sadness and mourning for the crucified and dead Jesus.

The Eucharist, as such, is not celebrated on Good Friday, but people receive the reserved elements, consecrated the previous day. The absence of the usual celebration of the Eucharist respects the historical sacrificial action of Jesus on the cross. The Church's celebration of this day emphasizes a liturgy of the Word, with a reading of the Passion narrative, and psalms prophesying the suffering of Jesus.

An atmosphere of quiet and even silence is appropriate and to be encouraged, even in this day and age, with a curtailing, as much as possible, of usual secular activities.

THE GREAT VIGIL OF EASTER

The annual celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus dates back to the first generation of Christianity. The original celebration of what would become the Sunday of the Resurrection or Easter Sunday was done by way of a vigil (Latin, vigilia = a watch or waiting. Celebrating the resurrection during the night hours served as an expression of people's religious experience of Christ victorious over death and sin, and their victory along with his. All the Gospels (Matthew 28; Mark 16; Luke 24; John 20) attest to the mystery which took place during those dark hours of night, turning into the first day of the week.

With modifications, especially in respect to length of time, today's renewed Vigil service continues that ancient tradition. When the evening star became visible, there was a celebration of new fire. There were Scripture readings and prayers, emphasizing the theme of new creation and salvation through water, including the biblical stories of creation, the Fall, the flood, the sacrifice of Isaac, the Passover, the crossing of the Reed Sea, the entry into the Promised Land.

As the hours of night progressed, this theme was ritualized in an initiation into the Christian community through the water of Baptism. Our modern Easter Vigil largely includes elements of the original ritual: the solemn blessing of Easter water, the chanting of the Litany of the Saints, the plunging of the Paschal Candle, symbolizing Christ and new life, into the "womb" of the Easter water, the mixing of the water with holy and healing oils. Originally, catechumens who had been in preparation during the weeks of Lent, sometimes even for years, at this time renounced the Adversary/Satan's influence on their former lives, confessed their faith, and were baptized, anointed and dressed in white robes. Eventually, the chrismation or anointing by the bishop, evolved into a separate rite which today we call Confirmation.

During the first centuries it was common to give blessed milk and honey to the newly baptized, symbolizing that they were, in effect, still infants in the faith: neophytes, to use their term. They had symbolically crossed over into the new Promised Land, said to be "flowing with milk and honey." 

Finally, as the hours of the ancient Vigil approached dawn, the newly baptized shared the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ, for the first time.

In our times many parishes begin the Great Vigil of Easter with the lighting of the new fire just outside the church. From that fire the Paschal Candle, symbolizing Christ the Light and Wisdom, is lit. From the Paschal Candle the candles of the participants are lighted. This is a remnant of the ancient daily ritual of the Lucernarium = lighting of the lamps. The deacon leads the participants in procession into a completely darkened church. At three stops along the way, he or she chants "Lumen Christi = The Light of Christ", to which the participants respond "Deo gratis! = Thanks be to God!" After the third stop, all the lights in the church are turned on, adding to all the light from the participants' candles.

The deacon, celebrant or cantor then sings the ancient hymn of praise: the Exsultet, a joyous song celebrating God and Christ as the source of liberation for humanity. It is similar to the Jewish practice of the youngest in a family reciting the narrative of the Exodus Passover.

Several readings, beginning with the story of creation and ending with the great prophetic visions of the gathering and renewing of God's people, then follow.

If there are any people who are coming into the community of faith as candidates for Baptism, the ancient rite of Christian Initiation or sacramental Baptism is reenacted. In any case, the whole congregation also participates in a Renewal of Baptismal Vows, by which they reaffirm their faith in God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and by which they pledge to devote themselves to the service of all others in their lives.

The Great Vigil concludes with the Holy Eucharist, the first celebration of the Resurrection, centering on the theme of Christ as the Light and the Presence of our lives. It is also customary on Sunday morning to celebrate the Easter Eucharist. In many places there is a service at sunrise, while others have the Eucharist according to their regular schedules.    

Getting Through Your Valley of Dry Bones

Ezekiel's dramatic vision (37:1-14) of all those dry bones joining together and coming to life again strikingly resembles the vision of creation in Genesis 2: "Then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being." That same breath of God, always associated with God's ruah, God's breath, is what Ezekiel is told in a vision to call upon: "Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live."

In this story God's creating spirit, who in the beginning had brought life into being by breathing into human flesh, is seen as recreating life out of death for the whole people of Israel, a people carried off captive into exile, and wondering if ever again they would become a strong, free, living people.

Ezekiel prophesies to them in their near despair, in their living death: "Thus says the Lord God: 'Behold I will open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you home into the land of Israel...And I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.'" Raising up dry bones, bringing life again where there is the emptiness of death, is the work of God's creating and recreating Spirit, a work which continues in our lives.

As humans, each of us who follow Jesus walk in our own personal valley of dry bones in two ways: 1) confronting and dealing with the reality of death; and 2) confronting and dealing with the reality of our limitedness and selfishness, also called sin. They're two unpleasant facts, however tempted we might be to gloss over them or avoid them, or pretend they're not so, or ignore them.

First, death. In John's Gospel (11:1-45) the family and friends of Lazarus, including Jesus, are faced with Lazarus' illness which leads to his death. Lazarus' sisters, Martha and Mary, and their friends ask, in effect, the question which we all ask at some time or other: "Why? Why did this happen? Why now? Why me, or my loved one?" Ultimately, there's really no satisfying human answer. Among the explanations offered is the one which holds that death isn't a punishment. It's simply a fact of life. All people who begin to live sooner or later stop living. Many people of faith recognize that God isn't the problem. It isn't God's choice that a person dies, especially if the situation is a particularly tragic and sudden one: a heart attack, cancer, a shooting, an automobile accident. Sometimes, other hold, there's simply no logical reason for death. Sometimes things happen at random, in those corners of the universe where the creative light of God's Spirit hasn't yet penetrated.

For those who try to understand with the eyes of faith, there are further explanations. In its directions for An Order of Burial, the Book of Common Prayer (p. 507) notes: "...It [death] finds all its meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we, too, shall be raised...This joy, however, does not make human grief unchristian. The very love we have for each other in Christ brings deep sorrow when we are parted by death. Jesus himself wept at the grave of his friend [Lazarus]. So, while we rejoice that one we love has entered into the nearer presence of our Lord, we sorrow in sympathy with those who mourn." Jesus, indeed, wept at the death of his friend, but he also affirmed that "...the one who believes in me, though he die, yet shall live."

The second unpleasant reality is our human finiteness and selfishness. Most of us, at least periodically, give in and accept this condition as "just the way I am", resigning ourselves to the reality of self-absorption and sinfulness. Look at the Israelites in exile: surely some among them had concluded that, for all the hardships they'd endured, for all the insult and indignity they'd suffered as a captive people, maybe this was the best that life could be for them, that to hope and strive for more was to dream an impossible dream, that it might be better to accept second-class citizenship under foreigners rather than to risk losing even that in pursuing something better.

We've all experienced the strong temptation to just "let things slide", to come to terms, perhaps too quickly, and to accept the failings of our human lot as a given. Not only that, but aren't we often strongly tempted to make believe that what we've settled for, that for which we've compromised, isn't really so bad an existence after all. At least, we get by.

Over and against all such glossing over who and where we actually are, Ezekiel throws down before us his vision of this valley of dry bones. He dares us to see ourselves within it. For all our attempts to convince ourselves otherwise, for all our covering up to the contrary, many of us, much of the time, are living in a valley of dry bones. When we gain the courage to face failure and fear, when we stand up and refuse to settle for the shallow, the sordid, the second-best in our lives, then we allow God's creating and recreating Spirit the freedom to raise up our dry bones, to breathe into them the refreshing, revitalizing power of God's presence. This, according to the Gospel, is exactly what setting our hearts on Jesus the Christ is based upon. This is what God did for the crucified Jesus, and what God ever does for you and me through the Risen Christ. "For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

How do you and I deal with all this during these two weeks before celebrating the great feast of the Resurrection? How do we come to that recognition and hopefulness when we're down and know we're down? Are we, at last, willing to admit it, and to reach out to each other, the community of faith, in whom the Spirit of the crucified and risen Christ dwells, the Spirit who reaches out to raise us to new life. In the Eucharist you and I are most dependent on one another as partners in faith: on one another who often, quite unconsciously, through a word, a comment, a gesture, a look in the eyes, convey to each other in a marvelously real way the new life which God is ever holding out to us. We're not doomed forever to our valley of dry bones. Through God's Spirit, groaning within us according to St. Paul, what we bring to and renew in each other is Jesus' own promise: "I am the resurrection and the life; the one who believes in me, even though he die, yet shall live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die."

Rabbi Harold Kushner relates the beautiful story of a  Chinese  woman whose only son had died. She went to her holy man and said: "What prayers, what magical formulas do you have to bring my son back to life?" The holy man responded: "Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow, and we'll use it to drive the sorrow out of your life." The woman went out, and in every house she visited she found misfortune, suffering, or despair. She began to stay in each house in order to comfort those in grief. Eventually, she became so involved that she forgot about her original quest for the magical mustard seed, never realizing that, in fact, it had been driven out of her life. The lady felt herself awakening. She came to know the power of resurrection in her own life because she was willing to walk with others through their valley of dry bones.