Many years ago, I was sitting in a Bible class that Michael Zeigler was teaching. Michael is now the Lutheran Hour Speaker, as many of you know, but back then he was an assistant pastor at Timothy, my church. He was teaching this Bible class, and I don’t remember anything else about the class except this one line, which I have never forgotten. He said that getting to know your wife is not like learning to balance your checkbook. It’s more like learning how to peel an onion.

Few of you know my wife, Diane, very well. But if you did, you would know how true that line is. (By the way, I got a sharp elbow to my ribs when I laughed—too loudly—at Michael’s observation.) But it’s true. Every time I think I have Diane figured out, she surprises me. Little did I know that when I married Diane, I married an onion raised on steroids. It is amazing to me how many layers of complexity there are to my wife.

But there is genius to that complexity. It is compelling, not repelling. Its force is centripetal, not centrifugal. All the ambiguity and mystery and contrast and tension that make up my wife pulls me in dramatically. I want to be part of her story, her drama. I want to be inside, not outside.

Some texts are like that for me. They are more like people than words on a page. They seem to have complex personalities, and Ezekiel 37 is one of those texts. I know the text so well, and yet at times she seems like a stranger to me. I peel the onion, and layer after layer comes off. I think I know what the vision is about, but what I think doesn’t seem to capture all of it. I think it means this, then I think it means that . . . and on and on I peel away. I am constantly working through the ambiguity and double-entendre, and imagery and symbolism of this text. I see shadows and allusions. Subtle hints of something deeper. But you see, just like my wife, I find myself drawn into the text’s complexity and drama. The text is compelling. Its force is centripetal. I want to be inside the text, part of the story, not outside of it looking in.

Let me see if I can help you experience, for a moment, the centripetal force of the text. Let’s go to verse 11, at a point in the text just after the dry bones had been brought to life. Again, God addresses Ezekiel. He says, “These bones are the whole house of Israel.” Now, God is obviously talking about the bones that Ezekiel had just finished preaching to. The bones that God had added sinews and flesh and skin to. The bones into which God had put his רוּחַ (Is that his Spirit or his breath?). The bones which had come alive as a great army.

But how inclusive is the whole house of Israel? How hard should I push the “whole,” the “all”? When he says “all the house of Israel” does he mean only the Israel in Babylon? Or is he hinting that the bones represent a much bigger house and a different resurrection experience altogether? The question pulls me into the text. Does God have me in mind or not? Am I part of this vision or not? I am in the middle of the text, looking backwards on captive Israel but also forwards, far beyond the borders of Babylon. How far does the house of Israel extend? Many modern commentaries say that I should keep myself out of the text. It’s a vision about Israel’s return from Babylon only. But again, the vision is so compelling that I want to be part of this story.

After God says this, he continues by echoing the speech of . . . who? The dry bones? Flesh and blood people? Both? “Behold, they say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are indeed cut off.” This agonizing lament is a mix of metaphor and literal language. On the surface, it is a communal lament of Israel in Babylonian bondage. But the images of the lament fit a very personal and present tense grief that echoes in the hearts of so many people through the ages who face death and sorrow that they cannot escape. “Our bones are dried up . . . our hope is lost . . .” Does God have any of these myriads of people in mind?

Then, God commands Ezekiel to prophesy, and the prophecy is more a promise of a resurrection than anything else, “Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people.” That plural word “graves” sounds individual and personal to me. God repeats the promise twice. And as a result, the promise to Israel that they would return to their land, a promise that is sandwiched between the two resurrection promises, seems almost anticlimactic, though from the perspective of ancient Israel it surely was not. Again, I am compelled by such clear promises.Certainly, God’s promises look back to Israel’s return from Babylon. But do they also look forward to a guy like me? I want to be in the middle of it all too.

Then, in the final verse of the text, God adds another layer, he says, “And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people, And I will put my רוּחַ, my Spirit, within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land.” That promise of the Spirit and life through the Spirit seems to me to hint at more than a now chastened, pious Israel returning to Judah. I want to experience the power of this life-giving Spirit. At every turn I am drawn in by this compelling vision.

You can see that I feel the centripetal force of this text. I don’t want to remain outside of it. I am sort of like that Canaanite woman who cried to Jesus on behalf of her demon-possessed daughter. Jesus said to her, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” When she persisted, Jesus said, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” But to that she responded, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” So, I ask, “Are there any crumbs for me and you in this text?”

Indeed. You and I can indeed, like this Canaanite woman, assert our rights to be part of the vision of this text. Simply because God, in his mercies, has declared us—you and me—to be members of the whole house of Israel. He has brought us from the outside to the inside.

“For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God through faith. For as many as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.” That’s Israel. That’s you. God says to his people, “I will put my Spirit in you, and you will live.” And that is what he has done for you. “You, once dead in your trespasses and sins, God has made alive together in Christ.” That’s what he says. “God has raised you up with Christ and seated you in the heavenly places with him.” That’s what he says. “By grace, you have been saved.” That’s what he says.

Of course I am in-between, in and under this text. I am waiting for God to deliver on the extravagant promises that I see Ezekiel make to his people. You are right in it too.

One other thing that draws us into this text. There are a lot of dry bones lying around this world. A lot of bones that need to hear the Word of the Lord. They need pastors and deaconesses and teachers and mentors to proclaim to them the marvelous things our Lord has done. They need to be raised from the grave. And that is what you are preparing to do. You, who are part of Ezekiel’s vision, will be called to expand his vision.

Through you, God will expand Ezekiel’s vision to people who are dead in their sins. He will do it through the gospel that you proclaim to the spiritually dead all around you. He calls you to be the servants of his life-giving, Spirit-powered Word to the dead. This is indeed amazing. You are the ones whom God has chosen to bring life to “the whole house of Israel.” You bring people who are dead to life when you baptize them, and proclaim God’s forgiveness to them, and give them the Lord’s Supper, and care for them with the Word of God’s grace in Jesus. In all these things you can hear God’s declaration echoing, as Ezekiel did, “These bones are the whole house of Israel.” That is what God has promised.

So, when you go to where our Lord will call you to serve, go with this expansive vision of Israel. God is calling you to make Israel through your ministry of the gospel. He is calling you to raise the dry bones lying in great heaps in your cities and communities through the powerful Word of the Lord. That is an incredible thing to think about. It’s mind blowing, really.

Let me leave you with one other vision from another prophet. It’s the apostle John on the island of Patmos, and it matches Ezekiel’s vision of the whole house of Israel. All those whom God has raised up. “After this I looked,” he begins, “And behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples, and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.’”

Ezekiel puts it more succinctly, “They lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.” And look, I can see you, and I can see me, right in the middle, in that vast crowd. Amen.

Dr. Timothy Saleska is Professor of Exegetical Theology at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.

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