A couple of days ago the Wall Street Journal published an article by R. R. Reno entitled ‘the Profound Connection Between Easter and Passover.’ In the piece the author discusses the parallels between the two spring holidays, with their focus on new life, renewal, and resurrection. For Christians these themes are explored through the lens of Jesus and the Gospel’s narrative of his life, death, and rising to life anew. In Judaism for the most part the the hints are subtler – an egg and green vegetable on the seder plate, or the Haggadah’s introduction of Elijah, the figure Jewish tradition understands as the precursor to the messianic era.
But there is one Passover text that directly confronts the idea of resurrection. On the intermediate Shabbat of the festival Jews around the world read the 37th chapter of Ezekiel, the well known narrative of the so called ‘dry bones.’ In one of the Hebrew Bible’s strangest narratives, the prophet is whisked away by God to a valley that is filled with desiccated human bones. At God’s instruction Ezekiel speaks over the bones, and watches as they reconstitute, first bone to bone, forming intact skeletons, and then sinew, muscle, and flesh. The last, and most important touch, is the breath of God. “God said to me, prophesy, son of man, prophesy to the wind, say to the wind, ‘Thus said the Lord God: Come, wind, from all four directions, and breathe into these slain ones, so that they might live.’” Ezekiel proclaims God’s message. The wind/breath fills the reformed bodies, and ‘they were alive, and they stood upon their feet, and exceedingly vast army!’
What are we to do with such material? Certainly as modern, educated people living in the 21st century we are not expected to believe it literally. A valley of bones coming back to life? How can this be? So we reject the plain meaning of the text, and instead read Ezekiel’s vision as a metaphor. It is about the people Israel, during one of the most difficult and dangerous moments of its existence, when many believed the ancient covenant with God had been shattered. In this context Ezekiel’s message is clear: Israel as a nation will survive, will come back to life, will be rebuilt, and will once again be vital and strong. Like the bones in the valley, the Jewish people will be reconstituted and God’s ancient covenant will survive. With this understanding we can comfortably read the text as parable, draw meaning from it, and at the same time satisfy our modern intellectual sensibilities.
That is the way I’ve always read the Ezekiel dry bones passage. Passover does focus on themes of renewal and resurrection, and the holiday is tied into the coming of spring and the rebirth of the world, the growth of crops, the blooming of flowers and blossoming of trees. The Ezekiel text is chosen for Passover not because it is about bones coming back to life, individuals being revivified, but because it reminds us that the potential for life is locked into everything around us, and the coming of spring releases that potential. And in general when I encounter Jewish texts about resurrection I read them as metaphor or parable. So for example in the opening paragraphs of the amidah, when we sing about מחיה המתים , about bringing the dead back to life, I’ve always understood that to be a reminder of the work I have to do in my life to make the world the kind of place the Messiah would want to come to. But I’ve never believed that one day actual bodies would come back to life.
All that being said, as they say live and learn, and this morning I would like to suggest another way that we might think about these resurrection texts in our tradition, where we don’t have to use metaphor to find meaning in them. And by way of introducing that idea I would like to tell you a story about a famous baseball player, one of the all time greats, named Rod Carew. I am sure many of you remember him – he played 19 years in the majors, mostly at 2nd base, and 18 of those 19 years he was an all star. He retired with a career batting average of .328, and in 1991 he was elected to the baseball hall of fame.
About a year and a half ago Rod Carew had a major heart attack. He survived, but his heart was damaged to the point where he had only a limited time to live, unless he could receive a heart transplant. And as his heart got worse, his kidney started to fail. Doctors told him he would need a new heart – and a new kidney – in order to survive. He was put on the transplant list, fairly high priority, and he waited.
Three months ago Carew got a call. A young man – 29 year old – had died suddenly, of a brain aneurism, and he was a match. Carew went in for the surgery – double transplant! Heart and kidney. He did well, recovered his strength, left the hospital, and is getting stronger and stronger at 71.
Carew wanted to know who the young man was who had saved his life. He was able to track down the man’s name – Konrad Reuland. Those of you who are very, very devoted Ravens fans might recognize that name – he was a professional football player, and on the Ravens practice squad in 2014. Just this week Carew met Konrad Reuland’s mother, he wanted to express his gratitude for what her son had done in saving his life. She brought a stethoscope with her to the meeting, asked Carew if it would be OK, she placed it on his chest, and for a few precious seconds listened once again to her son’s heart beat. Think of that story for a moment – Rod Carew on the verge of death, saved by a young man’s heart and kidney, and then the mother of that boy, still grieving from his loss, and yet able to hear her son’s heart beat, and knowing that another person was alive because of what her son chose to do, to be an organ donor – and maybe in all of that, in some way, מחיה המתים – the dead do come back to life.
Of course one moral of the story is that we should all be organ donors. There was a time when this was frowned upon in the Jewish community, but a few years ago the Conservative Movement came out to say not only are Jews permitted to be organ donors, it is in fact a mitzvah – a commandment – that a Jew should be an organ donor, because it is an opportunity to save another human being’s life. So if you are not an organ donor, make that change on your driver’s license the next time you have the opportunity and become one.
But also the story reminds us that there are more mysteries in this universe, even in our own world, than we could ever count or understand. Many of those mysteries come at the precise intersection of life and death, and whether we understand them or not, we do know that we all share in them, and we know they unite us in a common humanity, and in our search for what is holy in our world and in our lives.