The Memorial of Saint Pius X
The Lord's hand was on me, and he brought me out in the Lord's Spirit, and set me down in the middle of the valley; and it was full of bones. He caused me to pass by them all around; and behold, there were very many in the open valley, and behold, they were very dry. He said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?"
I answered, "Lord God, you know."
Again he said to me, "Prophesy over these bones, and tell them, 'You dry bones, hear the Lord's word. The Lord God says to these bones: "Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and you will live. I will lay sinews on you, and will bring up flesh on you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you will live. Then you will know that I am the Lord."'"
So I prophesied as I was commanded. As I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold, there was an earthquake. Then the bones came together, bone to its bone. I saw, and, behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh came up, and skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them.
Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the wind, prophesy, son of man, and tell the wind, 'The Lord God says: "Come from the four winds, breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live."'"
So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up on their feet, an exceedingly great army.
Then he said to me, "Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Behold, they say, 'Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost. We are completely cut off.' Therefore prophesy, and tell them, 'The Lord God says: "Behold, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, my people; and I will bring you into the land of Israel. You will know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves and caused you to come up out of your graves, my people. I will put my Spirit in you, and you will live. Then I will place you in your own land; and you will know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it," says the Lord.'"
Let the redeemed by the Lord say so, Whom he has redeemed from the hand of the adversary, And gathered out of the lands, From the east and from the west, From the north and from the south.
They wandered in the wilderness in a desert way. They found no city to live in. Hungry and thirsty, Their soul fainted in them.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, And he delivered them out of their distresses. He led them also by a straight way, That they might go to a city to live in.
Let them praise the Lord for his loving kindness, For his wonderful deeds to the children of men! For he satisfies the longing soul. He fills the hungry soul with good.
But the Pharisees, when they heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, gathered themselves together. One of them, a lawyer, asked him a question, testing him. "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the law?"
Jesus said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. A second likewise is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments."
We celebrate today the memorial of Saint Pius X, who served as pope from 1903 to 1914 and is perhaps best remembered for encouraging frequent reception of the Eucharist at a time when many Catholics received Communion only rarely. His motto — *instaurare omnia in Christo*, to restore all things in Christ — gives us a useful lens for everything we're sitting with today.
Ezekiel's valley of dry bones is one of the most arresting images in all of Scripture. Here is a landscape of complete desolation — not just death, but the aftermath of death, bones bleached and scattered, any memory of life long gone. And into that silence, God asks what sounds almost like a ridiculous question: *Can these bones live?* Ezekiel, wisely, doesn't answer yes or no. He says, essentially, *you tell me*. There's an honesty in that response that we can learn from — the willingness to hold the question open rather than rush to a tidy answer.
Notice how the restoration happens in stages. First the bones gather. Then sinews and flesh. Then finally breath — the *ruah*, the same Spirit that hovered over the waters at creation. What becomes clear is that God doesn't just patch things up; God rebuilds from nothing, and the last thing added is the most essential thing.
The Gospel pulls this into sharp focus. Love God, love neighbor — not as two separate projects but as one movement. Pius X understood this. Bringing people to the Eucharist was, for him, a way of breathing life back into a Church that had drifted toward formality over intimacy.
On an ordinary day like this one, the invitation is to ask where we have gone dry — in a relationship, a habit of prayer, a sense of purpose — and to stay open to the breath that can still reach us there.
Where in your life right now do you feel most like those dry bones — depleted, scattered, cut off from hope? What would it mean to let God begin the slow work of restoration there, even before you feel ready? And how might loving one specific neighbor today be the very place that breath returns?