By the end of 1862, the tragic immensity of the Civil War s carnage had settled

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1 Can These Bones Live Again? Ezekiel 37:1-4 NUCC 25 May 2014 (Memorial Day Weekend) PRAY By the end of 1862, the tragic immensity of the Civil War s carnage had settled into fact, and Lincoln had already written a number of painful letters of consolation. None, however, spoke more eloquently to the searing devastation of loss, and the haunting promise of solace, than the 166 words he penned to twenty-two year old Fanny McCullough on December 23 upon the loss of her father: Dear Fanny, It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind and brave Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases. In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned to ever expect it. I am anxious to afford some alleviation of your present distress. Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You can not now realize that you will ever feel better. Is not this so? And yet it is a mistake. You are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now. I have had experience enough to know what I say; and you need only to believe it, to feel better at once. The memory of your dear Father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer, and holier sort than you have known before. Please present my kind regards to your afflicted mother. Your sincere friend. A. LINCOLN. We gather this morning for worship on Memorial Day weekend. Tomorrow is the day that is set aside to remember those who have paid the ultimate price so that we may live in freedom. One of the greatest freedoms is the freedom to gather in worship as we so choose. As we began to plan for worship today, I could not help but think of the story of Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones. I find the exchange between Ezekiel and God a fascinating one, and I find it particularly poignant and relevant to us today. [1]

2 You see, the nation of Israel, the holy city of Jerusalem and the magnificent Temple all lay in ruins. It was a tragic scene. But the prophet Ezekiel had a vision. In his vision, he sat in the middle of a valley where there was nothing but old dried-up skeletons. Bones were everywhere. It was a scene of total desolation and despair. A valley of dry bones. Have you ever been in the valley of dry bones? I think we all have. We ve been in the midst of a bad relationship. One day we wake up and all around you are dead bones where a loving relationship had once been. There had been happier times, times when we thought this marriage was made in Heaven. Dry bones. Some of us go to work... and we re surrounded by dry bones. Our job certainly doesn t match up to the dreams and aspirations of your youth. Dry bones. Or it happens when we ponder our health, or our relationship with our kids. Just a few years ago, life seemed so promising. But one by one our dreams have died. Now we sit there surrounded by those bones. And we do not know what to do. For many of us, it happens as we age. The pundits are right... aging is not for wimps. Your strength falters. You spend an inordinate amount of time waiting in doctor s offices. Dry bones. Or perhaps you re caring for a loved one. You tell yourself you don t mind, not really. After all, you love them, but the stress never lets up. And it s beginning to affect your health and well-being. Dry bones. Ezekiel looked around at all those dry bones and he understood that those bones represented his people, the people of Israel, scattered and without hope. He knew that only a miracle could bring his people together again and restore them with vitality and [2]

3 purpose. Only a miracle would make his people live again. As Ezekiel gazed upon those dry bones scattered on the floor of the valley, he heard the voice of the Lord asking him, Can these bones live? But isn t the real question: Is there any hope? And isn t that the question that we ask ourselves each Memorial Day? Did these men and woman, some younger, some older, die in vain? Can our world find a way to live in peace? Can we find a way to live in peace with one another? Can the bones buried in Arlington, at the Florida National Cemetery or in our Memorial Garden teach us anything? Can these bones live again? Not that life has many simple answers and today is no different. Because the reality of life and death is that yes, those who have died are no longer with us. Just like a grieving president trying to comfort a grieving daughter, we can do our best to try to go on despite the pain. However, it is up to each of us, it is up to you and to me, whether or not these bones can live again. Will we learn the lessons they taught us? Will we make the difference they asked of us? Or will it all be for naught? Can these bones live again? It was late on a Wednesday night in September a few years ago when I got the call. As soon as the caller ID identified it as my dad, I knew the cause for the late phone call. Pop, my paternal grandfather, had lost his battle with leukemia. I had seen him the previous Friday, when I had driven to his house to say my goodbye. If you ever wanted to see Pop s face light up, all you had to do was ask him to tell you about his service aboard the U.S.S. North Carolina during World War II as a proud member of the United States Navy, and that s what I had asked him to do the last time I saw him. I just wanted to hear those same stories one more time from the man who [3]

4 didn t finish high school and forged his parents name on the document granting him permission to enter the Navy at the age of 17. Actually, in researching this story this week, my brother helped me find in the online archives of his battleship the text of a postcard that my grandfather sent his parents on September 11, It reads: Dear Mom and Pop, Just a card to let you know where I am. Am having swell time. Went to Norfolk last night. Nice city. I took in a show. Give my love to all especially you, your loving son, Billy. But another special event happened during my final visit that day. For his 15 th birthday, my grandfather had received a ring from his mother. It was gold, with a red garnet and four small diamonds, one on each corner. He kept it until the end of his life, except for a brief time immediately after World War II. My grandfather was being discharged from the United States Navy and was anxious to return to New York City, where my grandmother was pregnant with their first child. However, my grandfather received a distressing telegram late one afternoon that said that my grandmother had gone into delivery early and that she and her baby were in grave danger. He needed to come home immediately. He did not have the money for the flight home, so that evening he pawned the ring for $5 and was able to get airfare home. It took him 17 hours to fly from California to New York City. When he arrived home, he discovered that the danger had passed and his wife and first-born child were doing well. He sat down the next day and wrote a letter to the pawn dealer about the ring, about its sentimental value and enclosed $5, and asked him to return the ring. He knew that it was a shot in the dark, but he just had to try. A month later, a small package [4]

5 from California arrived with a note congratulating my grandfather on the birth of his daughter; enclosed was the ring he had longed for. You see, my grandfather kept that ring and wore it every day of his life until the Friday before his death, when I came to see him to say goodbye and he slipped it off his hand and placed it in my hand. He was weak, as the cancer had taken such a toll on his body, and I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and tell him goodbye for what I knew would be the last time. As I did, he whispered his last words to me: You never disappointed me.you never disappointed me. That proud veteran is now the man I remember each Memorial Day, as I also do my maternal grandfather. Each year I ask God Can these bones live again? And then I look at the reminder on my hand and think to myself, yes, by the grace of God, through you and through me, their sacrifice will not be in vain. [5]