God specializes in resurrection. 

The prophet Ezekiel, along with his older contemporary, Jeremiah, was a prophet of the Exile.  From the far away land of Babylon, Ezekiel pleaded with the people of Israel. Look, he called, our parched, brittle, sad souls must see and trust that God will bring us home.  But such trust is hard to come by when all there is to see is darkness and guilt and shame, for the people believed that they had been dragged from their homes as divine punishment for their sins.  They did not know that God’s first impulse is compassion.   The good news, according to Ezekiel, is that God will release us from the perpetual torment of bearing the burdens of guilt and sorrow.  God will breathe God’s own Spirit into our inert bodies, and we will be resurrected, restored to a new, more vigorous life.

“The hand of the LORD came upon me, and [it] brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley: it was full of bones.”

Thirteen years ago, one of my parishioners asked me if I would go with him to stand in vigil outside Central Prison where an execution was scheduled to take place that night.  I agreed to accompany him.  I had no idea how traumatic our protest would be for me.  As the hour of death approached, I realized that the killing was going to happen despite our well-reasoned, moral high ground. Our protest would not stop the machine.  I felt helpless and horrified.  I had been set down in the middle of a valley filled with the bones of the dead; dead victims of murder, dead murderers, dead hearts and minds, dead spirits.  I was paralyzed with grief.

“Mortal, can these bones live?”

I don’t know.  I just don’t know.

In the early morning hours of December 2, 2005, I stood with about 100 other folks in front of Central Prison protesting the impending execution of Kenneth Boyd.  Here was a notorious occasion for the United States of America.  Kenneth Boyd was the 1,000th person to be executed in our nation since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976.  I didn’t feel helpless this time.  I felt fury. 

“Prophesy to these bones … I will cause breath to enter you…”

Earlier in the evening, folks who always see each other on these sad nights talked quietly and tried to keep their candles lit when the wind picked up.  Seven of my parishioners joined me, two of them teenagers.  A retired bishop of North Carolina walked over to greet us.  He’s almost 80 years old, and he’s present for every vigil. More police officers than usual stood silently or paced in front of us to keep everyone on the sidewalk.  At one point sixteen people were arrested for walking down the long driveway toward the doors of the prison, an act of civil disobedience.  Press people milled around looking for people to interview.  One of our teenagers, Oliver, told me that he didn’t care what the condemned person had actually done or how heinous the murder was. He was protesting the death penalty because it was wrong.  For Oliver, this was simple.   I wish someone had interviewed him.

“Prophesy to these bones…and you shall live.”

A few years ago Governor Mike Easley met with members of various communities of faith prior to executions.  He was always hospitable, but he was intractable.  He met with us as a courtesy.  He still meets with the attorneys and members of the victims’ families, but he won’t meet with religious leaders anymore.  Maybe he thinks it’s a waste of his breath.

“So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone.”

The death row inmate I visit told me what happens when it’s time for the condemned man to be taken to the death watch area.  Six guards, prepared to quell any demonstration of violence, arrive to escort the man off the row.  As he’s taken away, his friends call out their last words of wisdom to him: “Be strong, man! Be strong!”  The person I visit has mental retardation, and he is a bit confused about the whole process.  His sorrow is palpable when these evil events surround him.  I promise my friend that I’ll be out there and that Jesus loves him.  I pray that he not lose hope.

“I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had come upon them; but there was no breath in them.”

It is emotionally taxing to meet with legislators and attorneys general and governors again and again, trying to persuade them that God’s gift of a human life is not ours to destroy.  Their logic is astounding. Some examples: 

“If crucifixion was good enough for our Lord, lethal injection is good enough for a murderer.”  

When Gov. Jim Hunt was asked by Bishop Gary Gloster, retired Bishop Suffragan of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina, whether he thought Jesus would “pull the switch,” Gov. Hunt answered, “Yes.”

When she was shown the statistics demonstrating that the death penalty is not a deterrent to violent crime, a state politician answered, “The death penalty gives the public the perception of safety.  That’s what we want.”

Several years ago I met the mother of a condemned man who had been on death row for twenty years.  We happened to be standing outside Gov. Hunt’s office, waiting for our turn to appeal for clemency for her son.  At that time, Gov. Hunt was willing to meet with the family of the murderer before the execution.  When she was finally called into the governor’s office, I remember thinking that I wasn’t sure I would be able to leave that office quietly after begging for my son’s life, but she did it.  She walked out with dignity and hugged me hard.  She was hanging on for dear life.  Three days later her son died at the hands of the state.

“Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.”

Kenneth Boyd was pronounced dead at 2:15 in the morning.

“I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived…Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people…And you shall know that I am the LORD…”

Here is our only hope, that God will breathe new life in us.  Here is our call to prophesy— to the governor, to the legislature, to our congregations— that killing is not the way, for God will open our graves of fear and violence, and we shall live. 

“Be strong, man!  Be strong!”

God specializes in resurrection.

By Rev. Diane B. Corlett, Rector, Church of the Nativity, Raleigh