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Ezekiel Walked Through a Valley of Dry Bones and They Stood Up

God carried a prophet to a valley full of sun-bleached bones, asked whether they could live, and waited for the answer before giving one of his own.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Question a Prophet Could Not Answer
  2. Who the Bones Had Been
  3. The Sons of Ephraim Who Could Not Wait
  4. The Breath That Came From Four Directions

The hand of God came upon Ezekiel, and the spirit lifted him up and set him down in the middle of a valley. The valley was full of bones. He was made to walk through them, past them, around them, until he had seen every one. There were very many, the text says, and they were very dry. Not recently dead. Not still damp with the memory of being alive. Bleached. Sun-stripped. Old enough that whoever these people had been, no one alive remembered them.

Then God asked him a question with no safe answer. Son of man, can these bones live?

The Question a Prophet Could Not Answer

Ezekiel did the only thing a prophet standing in a valley of strangers' skeletons could do. He handed the question back. O Lord God, you know. Not yes, which would have been presumptuous. Not no, which would have been a denial of the God he served. Just: you know. The rabbis reading this later treated the answer as a spiritual technique. When God asks you a question, you return it. You do not answer for God.

The plain sense of the passage was political and metaphorical. The house of Israel, exiled in Babylon, was saying exactly the language of dry bones: our bones are dried up, our hope is lost, we are cut off. The vision was the divine reply to that despair. But the rabbis of the Talmud refused to leave it metaphorical. They asked whether the resurrection Ezekiel witnessed was historical, and some answered: yes.

Who the Bones Had Been

Targum Jonathan on Exodus contains one of the strangest identifications in all of ancient translation. The dry bones in the valley were the Ephraimites, the tradition said, the two hundred thousand armed warriors from the tribe of Ephraim who had left Egypt thirty years before the appointed time, marched toward Canaan, fought the Philistines at Gath, and been slaughtered. Their bones had been lying in the valley of Dura since before Moses was born.

This is why, the Targum says, God did not lead the Israelites out of Egypt by the road of the Philistines. The official text of the Torah says God avoided that road lest the people see war and return to Egypt. The Targum rewrites the reason: God avoided the road so the current generation would not see the bones of their Ephraimite cousins and panic. The valley of dry bones was a road hazard. Ezekiel's vision was its resolution centuries later.

The Sons of Ephraim Who Could Not Wait

Joseph on his deathbed had made his descendants swear not to leave Egypt until the true redeemer came. He knew something they did not know about timing and about what early departure would cost. The sons of Ephraim calculated the end of the predicted exile themselves. They counted four hundred years from the covenant with Abraham and decided that their count was correct and that they should act on it immediately. Joseph had said wait for the redeemer. They said they were the redeemers.

They marched out armed. They were strong and confident. At Gath in the land of the Philistines, the Philistines came out against them and killed them, all thirty thousand or two hundred thousand of them depending on which source counted. The tribe of Ephraim went back to Egypt smaller than it had come out, to wait for Moses and the real departure.

The Breath That Came From Four Directions

God told Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones. He did. There was a noise and a rattling as the bones came together, bone to its bone. Then sinews came on them, and flesh, and skin covered them. But there was no breath. Ezekiel was told to prophesy to the breath, to call the four winds, to say: come from the four directions and breathe on these slain so they may live. He prophesied. Breath came into them. They stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.

God said: these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say their bones are dry and their hope is lost. Say to them: I am going to open your graves and bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you will know that I am God. The vision that had started with the bones of men who had left too early ended with a promise to the people who were afraid they had arrived too late.

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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Sanhedrin 92b; Ezekiel 37:1-14Talmud Bavli, Sanhedrin

And who are these dead whom Ezekiel revived? Rabbi Yochanan said: these are the dead of the Valley of Dura. And Rabbi Yochanan said: from the river Eshel to Rabbath is the Valley of Dura, for when the wicked Nebuchadnezzar exiled Israel, there were among them young men who outshone the sun with their beauty.

Our Rabbis taught: At the time when the wicked Nebuchadnezzar cast Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah into the fiery furnace, the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Ezekiel: Go and revive the dead in the Valley of Dura. Once he revived them, the bones came and struck that wicked one upon his face. He said: What is the nature of these? They said to him: The companion of these is reviving the dead in the Valley of Dura.

For it was taught: Rabbi Eliezer says: the dead whom Ezekiel revived stood upon their feet and recited a song and died. Rabbi Eliezer the son of Rabbi Yose the Galilean says: the dead whom Ezekiel revived went up to the Land of Israel, and married wives and begot sons and daughters.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 33:16Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

You need to hear the story of Ezekiel and the dry bones.

The tale comes to us from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, specifically chapter 33. Rabbi Phineas tells us that after twenty long years of suffering, after the exile in Babylon had claimed countless lives, the Ruach (spirit) HaKodesh – the Holy Spirit – rested upon Ezekiel.

God brought Ezekiel to the plain of Dura and showed him a valley filled with bones, bleached white and utterly lifeless. "Son of Man," God asked, "What do you see?" Ezekiel, ever the observant prophet, responded, "I see here dry bones."

Then comes the big question: "Have I power to revive them?" Now, you’d think any sane person would immediately say, "Of course, God! You can do anything!" But Ezekiel hesitates. He says, "O Lord God, thou knowest" (Ezekiel 37:3).

Why the hesitation? The text implies a lack of faith. Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews often highlights such moments of human doubt even within the most righteous figures. Because of this lack of unwavering belief, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us, Ezekiel himself was punished. He wouldn’t be buried in the pure land of Israel, but in an unclean land, fulfilling the prophecy of Amos: "And thou shalt die in a land that is unclean" (Amos 7:17). A somber consequence for a moment of doubt.

But the story doesn't end there. God commands Ezekiel, "Prophesy over these bones" (Ezekiel 37:4). Ezekiel, understandably, is still wrestling with the sheer impossibility of it all. He questions God, asking, "Will the prophecy bring upon them flesh and sinews and bones? Or will the prophecy bring upon them all the flesh and bones which cattle, beast, and bird have eaten, and they (also) have died in the land?" It's a graphic image, isn't it? The bones weren't just dry; they were scattered, consumed, seemingly beyond recovery.

And here's where the miracle unfolds. Immediately, the Holy One, blessed be He, caused His voice to be heard, and the earth shook! "And as I prophesied there was a thundering, and behold an earthquake" (Ezekiel 37:7). The earth itself responded to God's power. And, in a truly awe-inspiring moment, every animal, beast, and bird that had consumed those bones, even in distant lands, returned what they had taken. “Bone to his bone” (Ezekiel 37:7), the verse says. It all came together.

The earth, it seems, heard the call and obeyed. The very elements themselves conspired to bring about resurrection.

What does this story tell us? Is it simply a fantastical tale of divine power? Perhaps. But it's also a potent reminder that even in the face of utter desolation, even when all seems lost and scattered beyond repair, there is always the potential for renewal, for restoration. Even when we doubt, even when we hesitate, the possibility of miraculous transformation remains.

And maybe, just maybe, that's a message we all need to hear from time to time.

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Targum Jonathan on Exodus 13Targum Jonathan

The Targum Jonathan on (Exodus 13) contains one of the most startling cross-references in all of ancient Aramaic translation. It identifies the famous dry bones from (Ezekiel 37) as Ephraimites who tried to leave Egypt thirty years too early.

The Hebrew Bible says God did not lead Israel by the way of the Philistines "lest the people see war and return to Egypt." The Targum completely rewrites this. It says two hundred thousand armed warriors from the tribe of Ephraim left Egypt before the appointed time, fought the Philistines at Gath, and were slaughtered. Their bones lay in the valley of Dura until Ezekiel the prophet brought them back to life centuries later. God avoided the Philistine road so the current generation would not see those bones and panic.

This tradition, found nowhere in the Hebrew text, connects the Exodus directly to the prophetic visions. It also carries a theological warning: leaving bondage on your own schedule, rather than God's, leads to destruction.

The chapter also introduces the Targum's distinctive treatment of tefillin (leather phylacteries worn during prayer). Where the Hebrew says to bind a "sign" on your hand and a "memorial" between your eyes, the Targum specifies these are tephillin, inscribed and set forth on the left arm and forehead. It even adds a halakhic detail absent from Scripture: tefillin are worn "on work days, not on sabbaths or solemnities; and by day, not by night."

Moses retrieved Joseph's bones from the Nile itself, and the Shekinah (the Divine Presence)'s glory led Israel as a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. But the cloud behind them served a military purpose the Hebrew text never mentions: "to darken on their pursuers behind them." The glory of God was both guide and weapon.

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Jasher 75Book of Jasher

A fascinating, if somewhat tragic, tale from the Book of Jasher, a non-canonical Jewish text that fills in gaps left by the Torah.

Our story unfolds in Egypt, 180 years after the Israelites first went down there. A group of 30,000 valiant men, all from the tribe of Joseph, specifically the children of Ephraim, Joseph’s son, decided they'd had enough (Book of Jasher 75:1). They were convinced that the time for redemption had arrived, the period that God had foretold to Abraham was up (Book of Jasher 75:2).

So, they armed themselves – swords, armor, the whole shebang – and marched out of Egypt with a "mighty hand" (Book of Jasher 75:3). They were strong, confident, believing one man could take on a thousand, two could rout ten thousand! (Book of Jasher 75:5). Sounds like they were ready for anything. These mighty warriors, so focused on strength, forgot a rather crucial detail: food. They figured they'd just buy some from the Philistines, or, you know, take it if necessary (Book of Jasher 75:4).

They headed toward the land of Gath and came across some shepherds tending their flocks. "Give us some sheep," they demanded, "we're hungry!" (Book of Jasher 75:7). The shepherds, understandably, weren't thrilled. "Are these our sheep that we should just hand them over, even for pay?" (Book of Jasher 75:8).

The children of Ephraim, true to their word, decided to take the sheep by force. This, unsurprisingly, didn't sit well with the locals. The shepherds raised the alarm, and the men of Gath came out to defend their property (Book of Jasher 75:9-10).

A fierce battle ensued in the valley of Gath. The children of Ephraim and the men of Gath fought hard, inflicting heavy losses on each other (Book of Jasher 75:11). But the children of Ephraim were already at a disadvantage, having not eaten for three days! (Book of Jasher 75:14). The men of Gath, realizing they needed backup, sent word to all the Philistine cities (Book of Jasher 75:12-13). Forty thousand Philistine soldiers arrived to help (Book of Jasher 75:14).

The Book of Jasher tells us that in the ensuing battle, the Lord delivered the children of Ephraim into the hands of the Philistines (Book of Jasher 75:15). The Philistines utterly crushed them. Only ten men survived, fleeing back to Egypt to tell the tale (Book of Jasher 75:16).

Why did this happen? The Book of Jasher is clear: this was divine punishment. The children of Ephraim had "transgressed the word of the Lord in going forth from Egypt, before the period had arrived" (Book of Jasher 75:17). They were impatient, acting on their own timetable rather than God's.

The loss was devastating. The slain of Ephraim were left unburied in the valley of Gath, their bones scattered for years to come (Book of Jasher 75:19). Back in Egypt, their father, Ephraim, mourned deeply (Book of Jasher 75:21). Later, he had another son, whom he named Beriah – a name meaning "in misfortune" (Book of Jasher 75:22). A somber reminder of the tragedy.

It's a harsh story, isn't it? A reminder that even with the best intentions, acting prematurely, out of sync with a larger plan, can lead to devastating consequences. It makes you wonder: how often do we, in our own lives, rush ahead, thinking we know best, only to stumble and fall? Perhaps the story of the children of Ephraim is a cautionary tale for us all, a reminder to temper our ambition with patience and trust in a higher power.

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Legends of the Jews 1:9Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to The Tribe of Ephraim's Doomed Escape Before Moses.

It involves the tribe of Ephraim, one of the twelve tribes of Israel, and a premature attempt to leave Egypt way before Moses ever came on the scene.

In Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's masterful compilation of rabbinic lore, the sons of Ephraim just couldn't wait for the promised redemption. Joseph, their ancestor, had made them promise – a solemn oath on his deathbed – that they wouldn't leave Egypt until the true redeemer appeared. He knew something they didn't.

Impatience, it seems, runs deep. They ignored Joseph's adjuration and decided to take matters into their own hands. They figured, "Why wait?" And they acted.

Talk about a disaster! This first, failed attempt to leave Egypt, according to the legends, actually led to more oppression for the Israelites. The Egyptians, understandably, tightened the screws, exercising even greater force and vigilance to keep them in their place.

But the tragedy of the Ephraimites didn't end there. Their rebellion was met with fierce resistance, and they suffered a devastating defeat. Thousands perished in battle near the city of Gath.

And here’s where the story takes a particularly grim turn. Their bodies were left unburied on the battlefield for many years. Imagine the dishonor, the shame.

Now, why did God lead the Israelites on such a circuitous route from Egypt to Canaan during the actual Exodus? Why the long way 'round? According to this tradition, it was to spare them from seeing the gruesome remains of the Ephraimites.

The sight of those rotting corpses, a constant reminder of their brethren's failed rebellion, might have been too much for the Israelites to bear. It could have crushed their courage, filled them with dread, and sent them scurrying back to the perceived safety of slavery. The Exodus wasn’t just about leaving Egypt; it was about mental and spiritual liberation, too. It was about building a nation free from the psychological chains of slavery. Seeing the consequences of that earlier failed attempt could have been too much.

So, the long and winding road through the desert? Maybe it wasn't just about testing their faith. Maybe it was also about protecting their hope. Protecting their belief in the possibility of redemption, even in the face of past failures.

It makes you wonder about the detours in our own lives, doesn't it? Maybe some of those unexpected turns are there to protect us from something we're not yet ready to face. Maybe they're giving us the space we need to grow strong enough for the journey ahead.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 33:17Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

It's a story of hope, of revival, and a reminder that even in the darkest valleys, life can spring anew.

Rabbi Joshua ben Ḳorchah, a sage whose words echo through time, paints a vivid picture. He describes the scene: a valley filled with bones, seemingly lifeless. But then, a miraculous dew descends from the heavens, a dew of quickening, like a bubbling fountain. This dew, this life-giving force, sets in motion an incredible transformation.

What happens next? As Ezekiel prophesizes, as we read in (Ezekiel 37:8), the bones begin to move, to knit together. Flesh appears, then sinews, and finally skin covers them. It's a step-by-step process, a powerful illustration of gradual restoration. It’s not instantaneous, but it is inevitable.

Then comes the breath. God commands Ezekiel to prophesy to the wind, to call forth the breath from the four corners of the earth: "Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live" (Ezek. 37:9). And in that very hour the four winds rush forth. They unlock the treasure-house of souls, and each spirit returns to its corresponding body. What was once a valley of death now teems with life, becoming, as (Ezekiel 37:10) says, "an exceeding great army."

This image of resurrection, of countless individuals rising from the dust, is then connected to the story of the Exodus from Egypt. The text draws a parallel between the vast multitude of Israelites who left Egypt – "And the children of Israel were fruitful,… and waxed exceeding mighty" (Ex. 1:7) – and this resurrected army. The exceeding nature of the Exodus mirrors the exceeding greatness of the resurrected.

But here's where the story takes a surprising turn. Among this multitude, one man remains unrisen. Just one. He is left lying in the dust. Why? Because, as the text reveals, he was a usurer, someone who profited from lending money at interest. "As I live," God declares, "he shall not live."

Can you imagine the Israelites' despair? They had hoped for light, but darkness seemed to prevail. They longed to stand with all Israel in the resurrection, but now their hope was lost. “Our hope is lost,” they lament, echoing (Ezekiel 37:11). “We are clean cut off.” They had tasted freedom, but were left wanting.

But the story doesn't end there. It wouldn't be a Jewish story if it did, would it? The Holy One, blessed be He, responds to their despair with a powerful promise. He reassures them that, "As I live, I will cause you to stand at the resurrection of the dead in the future that is to come, and I will gather you with all Israel to the land" (Ezek. 37:12).

God promises to open their graves, to bring them up from the depths, and to bring them back to the land of Israel. "And I will put my spirit in you, and ye shall live" (Ezek. 37:14). This is a promise of ultimate redemption, of complete restoration, of a future filled with life and hope.

So, what can we take away from this ancient story? Perhaps it's a reminder that even when we feel like we're surrounded by dry bones, even when hope seems lost, the potential for resurrection, for renewal, is always there. The ruach (רוּחַ), the spirit of God, can breathe life into the most desolate places. And perhaps, too, it's a call to examine our own actions, to ensure that we are living lives worthy of that ultimate redemption. What do you think?

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