“I prophesied as charged, and there came a noise as I prophesied. Listen, it was a shaking. It was the bones drawing together, bone upon bone” (Ezekiel 37.7).
Did you ever read the story about the man who was terrified of skeletons, and then realized there was one inside of him?
Skeletons seem sort of quaint these days. They don’t seem to hold the power to be scary anymore as they dangle from porch eaves and wave from pumpkin patches. Last year, I had a trio of them sitting around a campfire, laughing and enjoying the October night in our front yard. Even the most skittish neighborhood dog didn’t bark at them.
I suppose, though, if a skeleton were really sitting out in the front yard, it’s ribs whistling in the autumn wind and toe bones clacking against the sidewalk, I’d feel a lot differently about them. That’s just something that should not be.
But, the truth is, bones can’t move by themselves. They need tendons and muscles atop them to tie them together, enable their motion. And, of course, they need minds that tell them which foot to lift and which direction to move. Outside of some mystical, magical spell a skeleton’s only real terror is that you’d trip over it in the dark.
However, like lots of other people at this time of year, I find myself pulling out the candle holders decorated with them, eyeing them in the store, and trying to figure out how best to pose them throughout the month. Somehow, they seem to fit in with the spookiness and scariness of this time of year.
Makes me wonder if there isn’t something more to them. Maybe they aren’t meant to be scary in and of themselves. Sure there might be an old tale or a black and white movie where they come crawling up out of the ground to click-clack their way toward us. But, really, does that stick with anyone once the lights have come up and they’re heading for bed?
I guess that’s what makes the story I mentioned at the outset absurd on its surface. The story’s called “Skeleton” and was written by Ray Bradbury over fifty years ago. It’s a macabre little tale with a misunderstood protagonist who’s so disturbed by the idea of a walking pile of bones that, one day, he realizes everyone, including him, is just a walking, talking skeleton.
The story resolves in a rather odd and unexpected way. But it never gets to the heart of just what bothers our main character so much about skeletons. As such, you’re left to contemplate if this strange man was emotionally disturbed in some way or really and truly was afraid that these front porch decorations, these anatomy lab stalwarts were threatening. That hiding within everyone else, including himself was this secret and hidden thing that might come out on its own, and walk exposed up and down the street for everyone to see.
Which just seems silly, when you think about it. How could hidden within us just come out into the open.
Of course, if it did, it’d be pretty scary, don’t you think?
You who know all our secrets and innermost parts, free us from the fear of needing to hide who we are from one another.