Refractions

Palm Sunday lays a question before us, maybe the most important question of all. As John Crossan and Marcus Borg describe it in The Last Week, it’s a question about two parades on the same day, one coming through the east gate of the city, the other through the west.   The important question is, “Which gate?”   Through the west gate, coming from Caesarea Maritima, comes the infantry and the cavalry, with the Governor, Pontius Pilate.   It is a national festival, and the army is arriving to stifle any unrest, any thought of rising up against Rome. Through the east gate comes an odd and ominous parade.   Jesus of Nazareth enters on a donkey, laying claim to the city as anticipated by the prophet, Zechariah:                                              ...

There in the valley of dry bones stands our ancestor, carried there by the hand of God. Just as with Jesus in the wilderness, led there by the Spirit immediately after his baptism, we learn that Ezekiel’s journey is the work of the Spirit. This is no tame Spirit, then. And these are no green pastures, no still waters. In fact, this valley’s principle feature is its utter lifelessness. Not so much as a drop of water or a breath.  God leads our ancestor around the valley, and it’s nothing but bones, nothing but dry. This lifeless valley and its bonescape are what has become of the people of God. God asks Ezekiel if these bones can live. “You tell me.” But he knows they can’t. Dead is dead. Over is over.  “You tell me,” says Ezekiel, to the Holy One, who replies – “I’ll tell you . YOU tell the bones.” Prophesy to them, tell them that things are about to be quite different for them. Tell them to be alive again. Walking through the bones, our dreaming ancestor does tell them. ...