Grounded through the Valley

 Sculptor and environmentalist Anthony Goldsworthy said: We often forget that we are nature. Nature is not something separate from us. So when we say that we have lost our connection to nature, we have lost our connection to ourselves.

 

This is the last Sunday of Lent. We are invited to the valley. Not one of rolling hills, green pastures, and still waters, but rather, a valley filled with dry bones. To be in the state of weathered, sun-bleached, and dry the bones have been forgotten in this valley for a long time. We are invited to the valley of the shadow of death as Jesus faces a rock cut tomb with a stone over the entrance. Lazarus is inside and has been dead 4 days, long enough to have started the process of decay. As a community we are invited to contemplate death – actually, beyond death. With Lazarus we may be tempted to focus on one death, Lazarus’ with Jesus coming to the rescue. We might think of our death, and what happens after – grasping at this idea of resurrection of the dead – for me, for my loved ones. I challenge you this morning to consider the Lazarus story, as a community story about dry bones.

 

Before Ezekiel is a vast valley filled with dry bones.

What comes to my mind is an extremely excited paleontologist surveying a dry riverbed and its banks, discovering fossils, dinosaur bones, and petrified trees. Ancient creatures preserved in the land. Such sites teach and remind us of the circle of life, repeated and continued through the eons.  I wonder at God’s nature – the imagination, the intricacy of details, and the vast web of relationships operating in creation, past and present.

When I consider the valley of dry-bones I also have a heavy heart. These bones remind me of mass graves that came to be because of human nature. In my adult life the valley of bones from the Rwanda genocide, the Srebrenica massacre, the Libyan Civil war, the Islamic State in Mosul, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Gaza War. And how can we forget the hundreds of unmarked graves found at Canadian Residential schools.

 

The valley of dry bones is written in Babylon during a time of Israelite exile. The people have been subjugated. Exiled. Destroyed. Deported. Executed. There is active rebellion. And all of these actions repeat many times, over many decades.

Unlike other prophetic messages like Isaiah or Jeremeiah, directed specifically to people of the time experiencing the tyranny of Babylonian rule, Ezekiel is different. The prophetic is composed in the moment to be preserved for instruction and reflection by the community at a later date. Ezekiels’ visions are captured in writing, not waiting for fruition of prophecies to create a back story to actual events that have occurred. Not written to the contemporary audience means that the text has a timelessness and a veracity of words that speak to people in troubled times across the centuries.

Ezekiel’s purpose is timeless. Ezekiel’s purpose is to talk about hard stuff! The stuff that troubles humankind. Inquiries that dare to consider: God’s abandonment of the people? The purpose of suffering? Making sense of tragic history? Viability of renewed relationship between God and humankind? The capacity of human nature to live commonwealth? Hard stuff!

The prophet’s words address doom and gloom, … and then … through the valley a path of hope materializes. Hope is embodied by dry bones and there is restoration.

In describing the prophet Ezekial, the study notes of my Oxford Annotated Bible, talk about the general vocation of a prophet who uses many means and creative forms to articulate God’s message. For Ezekiel this includes elaborate stories with bizarre and extreme images. The notes read: Ezekiel “has inspired fear, awe, and wonder in readers because he attempts not merely to name but also to embody, God’s sovereignty, holiness, and mystery in words that come close to the limits of expression.” The words embody an expression of the nature of God.

 

When standing before the valley of dry bones my first thoughts and gut reaction, does not turn to God’s sovereignty, holiness, and mystery. My human nature is overwhelmed in doom, gloom, hopelessness, and the largescale suffering humans inflict upon each other.

 

I have been reading Prime Minister Mark Carney’s book, “Value(s)” It is primarily about the importance of moral value within the valuing of an economic system. He commends economic definitions that are more robust than value based solely on utility. In the introduction he writes:

The second set of risks derives from our human nature. We are far from perfectly rational. We tend to support past decisions even when new information suggests they are wrong. We think that examples that come readily to mind are more common than they truly are. And we’re irrationally impatient.

If we value the present more than the future, then we’re less likely to make investments today to reduce risks tomorrow. -pg. x Mark Carney

 

The utility of the valley of dry bones from a human perspective is non-existent. The people, humanity, have been here before, continually one pile of bones heaped upon another. The people have lost patience in waiting for peace, friendship, and kindom. People lament: Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely. God however remains patient; through generations the dry bones continue to hold great value. God asks, Mortal can these bones live?

Human condition in the valley gives a tired, far from perfectly rational confession– Lord only you know.

After generations of human nature beating on each other, story after biblical story of exile and occupation, God’s kindom not coming, can a people trust in the word “that you [that they] will know that I am the Lord.” I will cause breathe to enter you, and you shall live?

Ezekiel stands with a vast valley of bones, a community of bones, before him and dares to put new information, a new approach into action as he prophes[ies], and say[s] to them, Thus says the Lord God” I am going to open your graves, … you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. 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.”

 

At the beginning I challenged you to consider the story of Lazarus to be a community story. The story describes human response to death. Community has gathered around Mary and Martha. A wake of sorts is described, along with burial rituals. There is sadness and grief. But because of the placing of the story in John’s gospel, there is more to the story. In this group of Jesus followers the kindom of God has come near. Bones have been given sight, been given the ability to walk, been freed from demons, been released from cultural boundaries, been challenged to live rather than prescribe to the law, and in experiencing the incarnation, the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us been given hope for today and trust that generations of prophecy and promise are about to be manifest. A people, future generations, are about to be restored -no longer a valley of dry bones. Rather a people placed on their own soil, grounded through the life and death and life of the Word made flesh.

 

In the story only one person sees beyond death, beyond dry bones. It is Martha who proclaims the confession of faith – Yes Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world. Her confession is a continuation of proclamation by those grasping the nature of God. It is a prophetic statement over dry bones. God has not forgotten the people. God has not forgotten us. There is purpose and promise. We are more than dry bones. Dry bones have value. God is patient with humankind. God is and never stops coming into the world. Yes, there can be holy relationship. Yes, human nature can trust, can change, and can embody life. Yes, there is restoration – not in one specific moment, but rather a continued active agency, a continual coming of God’s nature being breathed into and embodied in dry bones.

 

Valley of dry bones – breathe deeply. Embody the coming of God’s nature.

 Go into the world professing to the Breath. Breathe restoration and confess: Yes Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.

Grounded in Green Pastures

 Sculptor and environmentalist Anthony Goldsworthy reflected: We often forget that we are nature. Nature is not something separate from us. So when we say that we have lost our connection to nature, we have lost our connection to ourselves.

 

You are standing in an unplowed field, in a landscape of gently rolling hills. There are a few gracefully grazing animals in the distance. The sky above is blue with puffy clouds. Its brightness goes on and on for eternity. Rays of sunshine flood the meadow and warm your skin. The land is covered in grasses of greens and yellows with a variety of textures. A pleasant aroma of fresh plants and rich earth embraces you. A gently moving breeze kisses your checks. It carries a sweet scent of camomile and clover. There is a cacophony of sound. Birds of all kinds are singing and dancing. They flit from plant to plant, as do the graceful butterflies. There are bees buzzing and delighting in the flowers of the field. Take in the view. Take in the smells and the textures. Enjoy the orchestra of nature before you. And breathe deeply 

 

Through Lent the Hebrew scripture readings have led us to explore nature, human nature, and God’s nature. Each text has provided an earthly environment where God’s nature has consistently pursued relationship with God’s creatures. God’s action has remained trustworthy and steadfast, no matter the expression of human nature shown in each story. God came to the garden to walk with Adam and Eve. God walked the land with Abram and Sara. God was present, waiting before the rock, for the people in the wilderness of Sin. The Psalm for today describes an environment, a green pasture and still water. Once again God’s nature is present in the land. Here God walks in the role of Shepherd. In the description of the place, God’s nature provides release from want, safety for rest, and restores the soul. Everything that happens in the Psalm is in relationship to God’s nature.

 

Psalm 23 is considered a Psalm of trust. Components identifying trust psalms include a perceived calamity, and trust that the disaster will pass, and that all will be well. In this case, trust in the relationship with the Shepherd. Trust in God’s nature. Trust is not a virtue immediately attributed to human nature. Consider the world in which we live, with fake news, doctored photos, and deep fakes. Who do you trust? Who do you put trust in? Do we trust politicians and world leaders; do they trust each other? Do we trust AI? Do we trust another’s word or a handshake or a deal on FB marketplace? Do we trust in a future as temperatures rise and weather patterns change? Do you trust that your children, and those following after, will be okay? Do you trust that despite calamity, these things shall pass, and all will be well?

 

David the writer of this Psalm is the last character introduced in the first reading. David is chosen by God to be anointed by Samuel as the next King. The choosing of the next king happens in an unusual place, not a palace, not a Temple, not with lots of people around to witness the event. The choosing of the King happens on the land. The prophet has asked Jesse and his sons out to the hills to offer sacrifice. While on the land, Samuel examines Jesse’s sons. Samuel’s human nature takes control. Human nature identifies king-material by appearance, stature, being the eldest. Samuel becomes less convinced and less trusting as God says ‘no’ to each passing son. When Samuel has exhausted the candidates that meet human criteria, it is mentioned that there is another son. He is out on the land, in the fields, keeping the sheep.

God’s nature is exemplified in choosing the son who is the closest to the land. What is it about the relationship with the land that makes David king-material and God’s choice? Could it be that walking the land, where we have already determined God is present and choses to walk and journey with humans, grounds a person and opens their hearts – to nature, to human nature, to God’s nature? Does connection and relationship with the land change the soil of the heart, and thus changes what kind of leader that grows? Can it be this simple?

 

There are those who spend time walking, working, and playing on the land, in an embracing field of creation. Consider for a moment the pastors and other leaders in the church that you know. It is astounding the number of currently serving Lutheran pastors who spent summers on the land working at Lutheran Church camps. There is a large number who grew up in farm communities, or working on farms. And there are those who are avid hikers, canoers, campers, and runners. Could it be that nature cradled these persons and gently nurtured and whispered to their human nature, such that their hearts were opened. Their hearts were nourished with good soil, able to hear and grow God’s call to vocation as pastor. And they continue to walk the land and to be fed through connection with nature.

 

Think about the last time you were outside for an extended period of time. Maybe you were on a walk, sitting on your balcony watching and listening to the birds, maybe you went for a sail, put your feet in the surf, gardened, or watched the night sky. Did the time communing with nature and in nature affect you? Change your mood? Calm your anxiety? Clear your mind? …  If a short time in nature can affect a change in you, imagine a life of centred on living, playing, and connecting with the land. For that matter, consider the feeling of change that comes over you in simply hearing, the Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.

Connection to nature changes the response defaults of human nature. Connection to nature grows human capacity – beyond our nature – for deeper relationship with God. Grounding attunes us to God’s nature – God’s created orchestra changes paths of thought, creative imaginings, and nurtures a different kind of leadership. Can you imagine changed leaders? Leaders who are not paralyzed by the world for they trust in the Shepherd and so fear no evil. Changed leaders are those who lead in a way where goodness and mercy follow them. This goodness and mercy heals the blind, satisfies the thirsty, and blossoms from one community to the next.

 

Wendell Berry, an American novelist wrote a poem called, The Peace of Wild Things. His poem applies Psalm 23 to present time. He starts in being disconnected and finishes in God’s nature.

The Peace of Wild Things –

When despair for the world grows in me

And I wake in the night at the least sound

In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

Who do not tax their lives with forethought

Of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars

Waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

 

I rest in grace.

I will dwell in the house of the Lord – Perhaps you have thought of the house of the Lord as heaven. Afterall Psalm 23 gets read at many funerals. We think of the house of the Lord as a place like a palace or a mansion with many rooms. A place filled with choirs of angels, Saints listening to prayers, and the great cloud of witnesses gathered at God’s banquet table. We hear the words and consider a future place, for a future time when our life is done. We have not interpreted that the green pastures are present now; that we can rest in the grace of the world, and be free.

Why does human nature put off that which grows and nurtures wholeness? I will dwell in the house of the Lord is a statement of faith and trust written by David. David is on the land, walking the land, keeping sheep. Dwelling in the house of the Lord, is dwelling with all of creation, standing in the field where this sermon began. Trusting that God is present and coming to walk with us in a place that reminds us of who we are.

We are invited to ground our human nature by reconnecting to the land, a connection that nourishes us. Where belonging is grounded to the Source of All Being from in the beginning when God created. Connection is earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. Resting in grace, for the healing of the whole world.

 

Grounded in the Wilderness

 Sermons through Lent begin with this quote from sculptor and environmentalist Anthony Goldsworthy. We often forget that we are nature. Nature is not something separate from us. So when we say that we have lost our connection to nature, we have lost our connection to ourselves.

 

This morning, we find ourselves in the Wilderness of Sin with the people who have fled Egypt, following Moses through a river into a vast unknown-to-them landscape. The people journey by stages, as the Lord commanded. The land they enter, is the Sinai Peninsula. Its nights can be extremely cold and its daytimes full of intense heat. Strong winds blow as they please. The wilderness of Sin has high altitudes, mountainous topography, and lots of arid desert. The south is full of igneous rock and canyon-like wadis, in the North are massive plateaus, and the costal plains have extensive sand dunes. The landscape is dotted with scrubby plants, succulents, and on plateaus stubbly pasture. Animals are rare. In ancient times, the Egyptians built, Tjaru, in Sinai, as a place of banishment for criminals. The wilderness of Sin was noted as a hostile and inhospitable environment. This is the nature -the natural environment – the place of freedom that greets the people who have fled slavery.

 

In the Exodus story, human nature expresses itself early. It took just three days for the complaining to begin, What are we to drink?, the people ask. There was water but it was bitter. Complaints continued. No bread! No meat! Each time the people were provided for: the water was made sweet, manna fell from heaven, and quails appeared. And yet again, human nature wanted more. As we enter today’s scene, we once again hear that the complaint of the people is for water. This time the complaint is expressed as a demand, the first account in the biblical story of humans testing God, demanding, Give us water.

 

One April I went camping with my son and his Scout Troop. There were still large patches of snow on the ground and the temperature hovered around freezing at night. The first part of camp -we complained-was cold and wet, the second part was hot and sunny … the temperature went above 20C. Scouters are always prepared. Each Scout had brought their drinking water, calculated based on the duration of the camp, average temperature, and required hydration. Everyone ran out of water because of the spike in the temperature. Plan B was to use melted snow and extra water brought in large plastic drums that was intended for washing, doing dishes, putting out fires, and wiping down equipment. The water in the plastic drums was not intended for drinking. Anyway, water in the drums and melted snow was made potable by shocking it with bleach. Our water bottles were refilled – with water that was safe to drink. It was a little yellow, it had an off-taste, slight smell, and it was warm. It was kind of icky! No, it was really icky! We asked for water, and the Scout Troopers provided. Although we judged it as second-rate and complained about it, it was water and it was hydrating and it did quench our thirst.

 

Human nature tends to identify what is missing and then complains about it. Human nature, while provided for, judges and then complains about the provision. This is nothing new. The Exodus stories have Moses naming the places of complaint as: Marah, Massah, Meribah. Respectively they mean bitter, testing, and quarrel. Each relates to the response of human nature in each circumstance.  Bitter. Testing. Quarrelsome.

 

While the three consecutive stories of complaint are being told, listeners get drawn into the very human response to the conditions. As hearers we judge the people and their reactions. We assume that we would have acted differently had we been there. Would we not have been patient, grateful, and trusting? Not likely. These stories are memorable because they reflect our nature.

My Godson brought a book to my house last weekend that he thought I would enjoy. We had a lot of fun looking through it together. It was a small book square book filled with photos of animal faces. Some were bizarre, others humorous, some faces were serious – there was a wealth of expression and emotion.

On one page there was an owl’s head taken from a sideway perspective, the owl’s head slightly turned out towards the viewer and with a definite tilt of the head down, so the big owl eyes looked down their beak in a judgemental kind-of-way. Lent is the season of confession – I saw the look as one that I give. Or at least an expression I feel. It is ‘the look’ I have when I shake my head in disbelief at stupidity; utter the phrase– are you serious; the look I have when baffled by other’s intolerance or am aghast that others don’t see things my way --- the look I would have had in the wilderness of Sin.

 

The people complained and asked, Is the Lord among us or not? This is the crux of the story, attention finally gets around to God and their judging of God’s character. So wrapped in complaint they had forgotten the story of God walking the land with Adam and Eve, with Abram and Sari. Did they not trust in the stories of old, that clearly tell that God was and is present?

 

The story is told from the perspective of human nature. But it is God’s nature that is extraordinary. Perhaps you heard it in the story - God’s nature is expressed in rescue, freedom, and provision. God was present in Egypt. Through God’s power Moses is rescued as an infant and brought up in the Pharoah’s house. Through God’s walking the land with Moses, Moses remembers his people. Through repeated visits to the Pharoah, along with plagues, the people who are in bondage – slaves- are told to leave Egypt. The people are rescued, and as they flee, the waters of the parted sea cover over their pursuers. Once across the sea and into the Sinai Peninsula - there is freedom from bondage. God’s big dream continues. In this wilderness landscape God is already present, knowing the nature of the land, God knows there is provision for food and drink. It is hidden in new-to-the-people-forms and although not instantly seen sustenance is present. Rescue, freedom, and provision are God’s nature – God’s nature is the foundation of this story. It is unfortunate that in the story – and in human life – God’s nature gets overshadowed by human nature’s complaining and judging.

If we take the time to explore the text, we learn something else about God’s nature, God doesn’t give up. God remains present among the people. God continues to pursue relationship. God confirms with Moses, I will be standing there in front of you on the rock Horeb. In spite of the lack of gratitude and distrust on the part of God’s people, God gives water. God provides for the quenching of thirst.

Human thirst. The story is not just about physical water for the body. Human nature thirsts for more – the want, the complaining, the testing, the quarrelling, the bitterness – returns to a thirst for deeper meaning and deeper connection. Thirst is unsatiated when human nature remains on its own, disconnect from others, creation, and God. Living water -the nature of God- quenches thirst through relationship with God who is already standing there in front of us, at the rock, waiting for us to stretch out our hands to receive the water. Water. Rescue, freedom from bondage, provision.

 

Today’s story can be read from the perspective of nature, human nature, God’s nature. We are invited to reflect on our thirst, as a people. How do we face the challenges and crisis that cause us to want, to need? Are we grounded in our relationship with God? So that we trust in God’s presence and wait on God and God’s nature of rescue, freedom, and provision – filling us with life-giving water. Or do we choose to walk with fear and doubt, complaining, testing, quarrelling, bitter that needs are not met fast enough, that God is not present; will human nature overshadow God’s nature such that we believe that we will die of thirst in the wilderness… or do we remain grounded, even in wilderness, trusting in God’s big audacious promise and dream that is continuing in becoming whole.