The Sermon: Breathing the Wind of the SpiritScripture: Ezekiel 37:1-14

I was having a conversation about language with someone who spoke Hawaiian. We were commenting on the fact that in Hawaiian, one word can be noun, verb, adjective, and adverb without any change or inflection at all.

“The problem is that in English,” she said to me, “you have entirely too many words.”“But,” I protested, “it can be a blessing. We can express slightly different nuances and textures with words that are similar but different.”

“Maybe so,” she said. “But it makes you think too much. A simple language like Hawaiian lets you feel.”She had a point. In seminary, I was fascinated to learn that the same Hebrew word – ruah, with the “h” pronounced like “ch” in

Bach – can mean breath, wind, or spirit. Fascinating, to be sure. Beyond that, though, it can cause some confusion when we translate many stories into English.

The same is true with Greek, where the word pneuma means all three: breath, wind, and spirit. When Jesus is speaking with Nicodemus in John 3, he affirms how God’s “breath/wind/Spirit” blows where it wants. However we translate it, the original readers would have probably envisioned all three concepts when they heard the one word.

Today’s story from Ezekiel is a feeling story, and it contains the word ruah. The prophet tells a story about how he was taken by God to a valley full of bones. This is a vision, and we

should not get hung up on the how part of the story. I once heard a preacher expound greatly on how this thing worked in real life, and I can never remember the point of it all. He went on and on and on and on about how we absolutely had to take this story literally (“or else,” it seemed). Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter how this might have occurred – it’s a story, and the point of the story is what matters.

It begins with bones dried up and dead, no life here at all. God makes the prophet walk up and down among them, and notice their dryness. Clearly the point of

lifelessness needs to get hammered home.Then God asks Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” “Only you know that,” the prophet replies.Is Ezekiel chuckling and meaning, you know darned well they cannot? Or is the prophet unsure, reluctant to

give a “wrong” answer? Or does Ezekiel simply not know?It doesn’t really matter. God doesn’t respond, but simply moves on – and moves Ezekiel on. “Here’s what

you’re going to do: You’re going to breathe life into these bones, and they’re going to live again.”Without hesitation, Ezekiel begins to speak to the bones, and they begin to come alive. Bones connect with

sinews, and then are covered with muscles, and then skin. But they’re still not fully alive.So God continues with words to the effect: Now, Ezekiel, I want you to prophesy to the wind. I want you to

speak to the breath. I want you to command my Spirit.Ezekiel does, and the bones that were once dry and dead are bursting with life, and walking around again.

Just in case the prophet – and us – might miss the point: these bones are you, Ezekiel. These bones are your nation, your community. These bones are you: when you lose your job; when the economy goes sour; when politicians get caught up simply trying to prove who has the loudest voice; when the school closes and the bridge gets washed out. These bones are you when you give up.”

God does not promise, Gee, I won’t let that happen.God affirms instead, I won’t let you stay there.God says, in essence I am the God of life, and I will give you life, and restore you to life, and fill you with life,

and you will live.The ancients used to argue about this story. It seems one rabbinic school believed that in the present world we

started with skin and muscle, and then bone; in the world to come, this story tells us, it would be the opposite – bones, then sinew, muscle, and finally skin.

Not so, according to another rabbinic school. For them, the significance was that the world to come would be exactly like this one, with the order being the same.

Fascinating argument. But not the point.

The point here is the wind. The breath. The Spirit. The essence. The life-giving force that comes from God and changes and transforms us. (Yes, English does have entirely too many words sometimes!)

When we give up, and feel hopeless, and don’t know where to turn, God is with us – as close as our breathing.With each breath in, we breathe God’s breath. We breathe God’s Spirit. When we see what the wind can do – a gentle cooling breeze, a wild gale that knocks down branches, a

horrendous storm that threatens life – we can be amazed at the power of God. God’s breath. God’s Spirit.We can get caught up in the details, in the thinking, and miss the wonderful feeling. God’s breath/wind/spirit

blows in us and through us, and gives us life. Even when we give up. Even when it seems hopeless. Even when life seems downright impossible.

God’s offer to us: Here is my Spirit, here is my breath, here is my wind . . . It doesn’t matter which word you use, what matters is that it is all around you, that I am all around you. Always and everywhere. You are not alone. So long as you have me, you have life.

– Donald Schmidt