Encanto: We Do Not Talk About Bruno (Ezekiel 37:11-12)

In the vibrant hills of Colombia, where the colors of life seem to dance in rhythm with the wind, the Madrigal family resides in a magical home that reflects their gifts. Yet, amidst this wonder, a shadow looms — the name of Bruno. It is spoken in hushed whispers, if at all. His room, once alive with dreams and visions, now stands in decay, covered in dust and memories discarded. Imagine the heartache of a family that has buried the truth so deep that they forget the very essence of who they are. Bruno, the seer, the prophet, saw cracks in their facade, visions of a future they were too afraid to confront.

As we walk through the story, we find ourselves in the shoes of these beloved characters, trapped in the cycle of denial. When Bruno's unsettling prophecies fell upon them, their instinct was to silence him. They believed that by ignoring his warnings, they could erase the looming darkness. But like the valley of dry bones Ezekiel encountered, ignoring the truth only delayed the inevitable—those bones did not disappear; they lay waiting for life to return.

In our own lives and churches, how often do we find ourselves silencing our Brunos? The voices that speak uncomfortable truths, the prophets who dare to challenge our narratives. Think of the family gatherings where unspoken grief lingers in the air, where we tiptoe around the issues that demand our attention. Refusing to talk about Bruno — or the pain he represented — does not remove the cracks; it only makes them wider.

Eventually, every truth that is hushed calls out for acknowledgment, for healing. Just as Ezekiel prophesied to those dry bones, we too are invited to breathe life into our silenced truths. It is time for the Madrigal family, and perhaps for our own families and churches, to reclaim the voices we have dismissed, to embrace the discomfort, and to find hope in the healing that follows.