Text: Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
Jesus offers lots of guidance, most of which we don’t follow. Jesus makes lots of suggestions, most of which we don’t take. Jesus gives us a few commandments, most of which we don’t honor. Jesus makes lots of promises, most of which we decline to accept.
This is not something we need to be ashamed about. We say that Jesus’ teachings are teachings of grace. That means they are offers without strings or judgment. They are not promises that end with “or else,” as in “do this, or else.” Rather, they are promises of “and then.” Do this, and then see what good things will happen. So when we don’t do what Jesus teaches us to do, it is not something to be ashamed or guilty about.
But it is something to ponder. If Jesus is making us offers, and if the offers seem to us to be good, why do we so often refuse them?
It is not like we couldn’t use a little help with things. We have a lot on our minds and a lot on our shoulders. Burdens, as Jesus says in today’s Gospel passage. We are weary, as he says. We are weary, often to the point of exhaustion, and we are worried. We are worried about whether we will prosper. Whether we’ll be able to provide for ourselves and our families. Whether we will be safe. We are worried about what the world is coming to.
Our deepest urge and longing is to be happy and be useful. We worry that we haven’t been, that we are not now, that we might never be.
We are burdened with responsibilities to others, with apprehension about what the future holds. We are burdened with doubts about our own abilities to be the person we want to be and do what we want to do. We are burdened with anger and regrets. Jesus is right. All this is exhausting.
Come to me, all of you, Jesus offers. All you, who are weary and carrying heavy burdens. Come to me, all of you, who are trying to cope. All of you, who are working so hard. Come to me, all of you, Jesus offers, and I will give you rest.
What a great offer. What a welcome offer. I will give you rest. It sounds wonderful. It brings to mind pleasant images. Green pastures. Still waters. Wide white beaches. Quiet streams and sunny glades. Open meadows. Or large, cool, quiet rooms full of light. The word Jesus uses means relief and refreshment. I hear in this passage his sympathy and concern for us, his brothers and sisters. You will find rest for your souls, he says. He uses a word here that means your deepest self, your complete self.
We ask: How can we accept this offer? How can we get this rest? Jesus answers: learn from me. And he teaches us. His teaching is this: Take my yoke, he says. I am gentle, he says, I am humble. Be like me in that regard. These are strong words, these words of seeming weakness. Gentle implies meek, accepting. Humble implies submission. A yoke is a device the farmer uses to control oxen.
Evidently there is a connection between rest and humility, rest and gentleness. Between rest and being led around by something or someone else, not yourself.
This is not a welcome answer. This is not what we hoped to hear. It sounds a lot like giving up and giving in. It sounds a lot like losing mastery of our own fates. What about standing up for ourselves? What about planning? What about taking control of our lives? What about fighting the good fight? What about saving and making lists and goals and vision statements and proposals? What about keeping our eye on the ball, our shoulder to the wheel, our nose to the grindstone?
Jesus says to be gentle and to be humble. We can hear this as a betrayal of our selves, a loss of our souls. Weaknesses. Or we can hear this as a simple acknowledgement of the way things are. We spend a lot of time trying to control things. We try to control the present. We worry about the future. We regret the past. I can, I should, I should have. These are mottos of control.
But the truth is we do not have control over much. And if we insist that we do, we’ll end up disappointed. It is simply not possible to control everything about us and around us. If we try, we’ll end up tired and sad. We’ll end up weary and we’ll end up carrying heavy burdens. We are so used to figuring everything out that we forget that most things can’t be figured out.
When Jesus tells us we should be humble and gentle, he is telling us to let go. When he tells us that we should put on his yoke, he is asking us to agree to let someone else—to let God—guide us. That does not mean that we are not going anywhere. But it does mean that we might end up in places unforeseen. It does not mean that we have no goals. But it does mean that we have no expectations. It does not mean that we have no plans. But it does mean that we have no worries. A yoke is a device of action. A yoke augments and concentrates the force of the animal who wears it. Jesus doesn’t say his yoke is weightless. He says it is easy. He doesn’t say we’ll have no burden. He does say our burden will be lighter than the one we are carrying now.
Jesus makes us this offer. He says: If you are humble and gentle you will be happier and more useful. And mostly, we don’t accept this offer.
We don’t for two reasons. The first reason is tactical and minor. We don’t accept his offer because we are not quite sure how to do it. We are not quite sure how to be humble and gentle. We aren’t taught how. We don’t have classes in humility and gentleness. But we do have a textbook, which is the Bible. Jesus says “I am humble and gentle.” So we can look to what Jesus does and how he behaves and what he says about living in the world. We can see what he pays attention to and what he ignores. We are Jesus’ disciples, a word that means student or learner. Jesus is our teacher.
But the second reason is strategic. And more serious. The second reason we don’t accept Jesus’ offer is, I suspect, that often we don’t believe him. Even though we call him Lord, we are uncomfortable following him. If we are humble, if we are gentle to the point of meekness, what will happen to us? And we think the real answer to that question is not Jesus’ answer. Jesus says we’ll be happy. But we think we’ll be sad. And poor, beat up, exploited, and scared. We can believe in our teacher, but it seems harder to believe him. So we act like the people in the first part of the Gospel reading, pretending not to hear Jesus. We act like children with our hands over our ears saying “la la la.”
We want to be in control because we are fearful. We are fearful because we are creatures. Experience teaches us that people who are humble and gentle finish last. And culture teaches us that people who finish last are losers. And finishing last is a fate nearly as bad as death.
To follow Christ is to live against that fear. It takes a huge amount of courage to be humble in the face of fear. It takes courage to let go. It takes courage to trust God. It takes courage to drop our burdens and worries on God. We are already in God’s hands, but it takes courage to live as if that were so.
But we would not be here today it we did not suspect that Jesus is correct about a thing or two. Though we as creatures live in fear, we trust Jesus when he says that worry and sadness are not our destiny. The current way of doing things doesn’t seem to be working too well. We follow Jesus because we want to know the better way.
We are drawn by the promises, and offers, and commandments of Jesus. Do this, he says, and then see what good things will happen.
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