Sermon – Standing in the Valley

(I preached this sermon at Christ Lutheran Church in Harrisburg, PA on Sunday, December 7, 2025. The sermon is based on Ezekiel 37:1-14. You can listen to the audio of the sermon at https://christlutheranharrisburg.podbean.com/e/valley/)

There’s something in American life we need to admit.
Not everyone does it, but the dominant parts of our society have been very good at avoiding hard truths.

We have a long history of covering up, rewriting, and forgetting painful realities—sometimes because facing them is really uncomfortable.  And if there is anything that our society has perfected it is ensuring the comfort of comfortable at the expense of the afflicted.
Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg calls this collective guilt: when communities avoid the harm they have caused, the pain doesn’t disappear—it keeps going.

Think about it: we hide the truth about slavery and segregation.  Making absurd arguments that diminish the human cost of slavery and ignore the brutal reality of bondage.

We hide the truth about how immigrants have been treated—even going back to the colonies.  The groups discriminated against have changed over the centuries, while the fear and physical harm hasn’t.
We hide the truth about war.  There is a high cost in human lives and to communities while arms manufacturers rake in hundreds of billions of dollars each year. 
We hide the truth about poverty, and how laws and systems punish people for being poor.
We hide the truth behind book bans and anti-DEI campaigns.  Mostly so we don’t have to see the truth. 
We hide the truth behind monuments to the Confederacy, built decades after the Civil War as propaganda for a lost cause myth that is nothing more than a destructive lie.  

And we hear it still today:
“That’s in the past.”
“No one cares about that anymore.”
“It’s been so long ago, why bring it up?”

All of this is meant to cover the pain, to numb conscience, to protect the powerful, and to make the past feel irrelevant—so the trauma continues.

But there are also people and communities trying to tell the truth. 

The Carlisle Indian Industrial School site is starting to tell the actual story of the cost of forced assimilation and honor the memories of those who were there.  
Some schools are working on fair history lessons.
Some congregations feed, heal, and walk with those who suffer.
It’s not enough, but it’s something.
Even small acts of truth-telling and repair are signs of God’s work in the world.

Ezekiel shows us something important today:
God refuses to look away.
God refuses to cover up.
God refuses to make excuses.
God leads Ezekiel into the valley and into the painful truth.

And that’s why I love preaching at Christ Lutheran.
This is one of the few places I can speak the truth without a filter.
We don’t have to sugarcoat the pain. We don’t have to protect the powerful.
We can walk in the valley, see the dry bones, name the harm, and still proclaim God’s hope.

There’s a Hebrew word in this story that matters: ruach.
It means breath, wind, Spirit—all at once.

God uses it in amazing ways.

In Genesis 1, God’s Spirit hovers over the waters while God speaks life into being.
In Genesis 2, God breathes life into Adam; only then does he become fully alive.
In Exodus, after 400 years of slavery, God brings life to people who thought hope was gone.
At Pentecost, the Spirit comes like wind and transforms fearful disciples into a bold, courageous community.

And now, in Ezekiel 37, God brings ruach to a valley full of bones.

God’s story is clear:
Where God’s breath is, life happens.
Where God’s Spirit is, what seems dead can rise.

And God is still breathing today—into our lives, our neighborhoods, this church, this country, and this world. 

God does not offer comfort that hides the truth.
God does not distract or tell us to ignore the valley.
God brings breath into the valley. 

God brings life where there is death.

Ezekiel’s people are in exile.
They’ve lost home and Temple. Community and Identity.
They are traumatized. They have seen destruction they cannot fix.
And God says to Ezekiel: “Walk among the bones. See them. Look closely.”

God refuses to look away.

Notice how different this is from what the dominant culture says:
“Don’t think about that.”
“Move on.”

“What good can come from talking about it?”
“Celebrate the good parts, forget the rest.”

God does the opposite: God brings Ezekiel into the valley, witnesses the death, sees the trauma.

Because you cannot resurrect what you refuse to see.
You cannot repair what you refuse to name.
You cannot rise from despair if you never confront the valley you’re in.

This is not an abstract story.
Some of us carry a valley inside ourselves.

Some of us have families torn apart.
Some of us fear ICE.
Some of us have lost loved ones to gun violence.
Some struggle with poverty, illness, or a system that punishes rather than helps.
Some are marginalized for who you are.

Some of us carry valleys of dry bones inside our chests.
Inside our memories. Inside our bodies. Inside our fears.

Ezekiel’s story is not far away—it is right here, in our lives.

One of the most powerful parts of this story is how God works.

God doesn’t tell Ezekiel to fix the bones.
God doesn’t tell him to rebuild the nation with his hands.

God says: “Speak my word to the bones.”

Words are powerful.  They are dangerous when used for abuse and cruelty.  They are impactful and transformative when used for healing and liberation.  

This entire worship service is full of words – the words of forgiveness, the proclamation of Good News in the sermon, and the words of institution that we will hear.  

Words first.
Action follows.
Breath brings to life.

And then transformation takes place. 

This is God’s way through all Scripture.
God speaks, and life begins.
God speaks, and healing happens.
God speaks, and fear becomes courage.

God speaks, and people are set free.

Jesus heals and transforms with words:
“Take up your mat.”
“Your sins are forgiven.”
“Peace be with you.”

“Go and tell.”

And we, when we speak truth, hope, courage, God breathes into our words. God brings them to life.

Hope is not pretending everything is fine.
Hope is not pushing pain away.

Hope is not a band-aid for deep wounds.
Hope is not a tool for the powerful.

All the myths we hear—Christian nationalism, book bans, rewriting history, scapegoating people to lay blame —are not hope.
They try to smother hope, hide the valley, normalize the status quo and protect the powerful.

Real hope sees the valley. Stands in it with the dry bones all around.
Real hope names the pain.

Hope says:

• This is real.
• There is pain and hurt here.
• This is wrong.
• It goes against justice, equality, and freedom.
• It dehumanizes and blinds us to God’s image in one another.
• This has to stop.

Hope is an alarm clock: it wakes us up to reality, opens a path for repair and reconciliation, invites everyone forward, not just a few.

And hope moves us:

• Fear becomes solidarity.
• Grief becomes care.
• Despair becomes action.
• Silence becomes truth-telling.

Imagine Ezekiel’s vision here in Allison Hill:

“The hand of the Lord set me down in the middle of Allison Hill, and the valley was full of bones.”

God asks,
“Can these bones live?”

And we say,
“Lord… you know.”

God says,
“Speak to the bones.
Tell them I am breathing life into this place.
Tell them I have not forgotten them.
Tell them I will make them stand again.”

The bones begin to move.
Muscles form. Flesh covers them. God’s breath fills them.
They rise.
They stand.

God is doing the same here today—breathing life into this church, this neighborhood, this people.
And we respond, just as Ezekiel did.

First, notice what God is doing:
God’s breath moves, raises, transforms, animates what seems dead.
God acts in the world through Spirit, Jesus, and the Church.
God acts in care, courage, repair, and steadfast love.

Then, our response:

• Speak God’s word.
• Feed the hungry.
• Tend the sick.
• Pray.
• Organize.
• Advocate.
• Lift each other up.
• Join God in raising life from the valley.

This is resurrection now: God giving life in the valley. God calling us to rise. And us joining in that work.

Christ Lutheran, here is the charge:

Speak life.
Speak justice.
Speak truth.
Speak hope.
Speak courage.
Speak God’s promise.

You don’t have to fix the world.  You can’t. 
You don’t have to solve every problem.  You would burn yourself out if you tried.
You don’t have to carry the valley alone.  You are not alone.  

Just speak the words God gives you.

And watch God move.
Watch dry bones come together.
Watch people rise.
Watch hope take action.

Because the same God who breathed life into creation,
who breathed life into Adam,
who breathed hope into Israel in exile,
who breathed courage into the disciples,
is breathing on us and in us today.

Stand tall. Lift your heads. Open your hearts. Feel the Spirit move.

When God breathes, resurrection is already on the way.  Thanks be to God.