This is the first post in a possible weekly series being contemplated by a couple of regular contributors. The idea is to provide a short reflection on the readings for each Sunday, one which would ideally serve as the basis for a homily for the day. Feedback on the idea of such as series, as well as on the reflection itself, is welcome. Also, if we do continue, we are looking for a title for the series.
At that time Jesus exclaimed:
“I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth,
for although you have hidden these things
from the wise and the learned
you have revealed them to little ones.
Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will.
All things have been handed over to me by my Father.
No one knows the Son except the Father,
and no one knows the Father except the Son
and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.”
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” (Mt 11:25-30)
In today’s Gospel, Jesus concludes with the promise, “My yoke is easy and my burden light.” And to this I am often tempted to respond, “yeah, right…” On the face of it, this does not seem to be a reasonable promise. We could interpret it naively as a promise that if we just believe in Jesus—accept Jesus as Lord as our evangelical brethren say—then all of our problems will be over. But our own experience shows this is not the case: we have all known people, good Christians, loving and open, who are crushed by disease and tragedy. Faith in Jesus does not remake our world into a kinder, gentler place.
We could also interpret Jesus as saying that the cost of discipleship—his yoke—is small. But the cross of Jesus showed us that the cost of discipleship is high: our very lives. As St. Paul reminds us in the second reading, we need to die to the flesh, our old ways, in order to live in Christ. To be a follower of Jesus is to keep his commandment: “love one another as I have loved you.” This is not the sentimental love that lets us feel good about people we don’t really know. To love as Jesus loved, as the beatitudes show, is to love those we don’t want to love, who we think don’t “deserve” our love: the child who disappoints us, the spouse who has grown distant, the co-worker who betrayed us, the terrorist who threatens our country.
So what does Jesus mean? There are two ways a burden can become lighter: when we accept it freely (instead of having it imposed on us) and when it is shared. We have to choose to become a disciple: no one will make us become one. By accepting the yoke, we make it, if not lighter, then more bearable. It will still be heavy at times, and it will do nothing to make the cares and troubles of our lives any less. But twice in a row, while offering us his yoke, Jesus also offers us rest. Our problems will not go away, but he will help us carry them.
His help will not always be obvious: a lot of times, when I am at the bottom of a pile of trouble, I feel more alone than ever. But he is there, and if I pause and look for him, I find him. He can be present to me directly, in my soul, urging me to get up and keep going. He can be a helping hand from a stranger, a smile from my wife, a hug from one of my kids.
Jesus also said, “take up my yoke and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” If God himself, creator of the universe, is standing by each of us, ready to help when we need it, then we too have to reach out to others. In the week to come, look for someone who is burdened and offer them rest. Give someone a hand, turn the other cheek when someone is a in a bad mood and lashes out, give some of your money or possessions to someone in need. And the peace of Christ, which is beyond all understanding, will be with you.
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