Matthew 11:25-30
Raise your hand if you’re tired this morning. I’m a little tired this morning. Actually, I’m a little tired most mornings. I stay up too late, usually doing nothing of real importance. I always tell myself I only need six or seven hours of sleep. It’s actually not true. My body really prefers eight. I’m more productive and less grouchy on eight hours, and I’m sure my immune system is stronger, too. I know this, and still I stay up that extra hour for no good reason. And so I go through life perpetually just a little bit tired.
So I read this passage of scripture and it feels good to me. “Come to me, all you that are weary . . . and I will give you rest.” Like finally putting your feet up at the end of a long day. Like a rare Saturday morning when you get to sleep in. Like the first day of vacation. Sometimes this is how Jesus feels to me.
Of course, Jesus isn’t really talking about physical tiredness. I asked for a show of hands for who was physically tired this morning. It’s fairly easy for us to admit that. It’s a little harder for us to admit when our spirits are weary. But it’s a common problem. In fact sometimes I think it’s an epidemic.
There are so many things that drain our energy, so many things that sap our spirit’s vitality—stressors at work and conflicts at home; worries about our children or our parents or both; prayers that we pray over and over again, the same prayers we’ve prayed for months—years!—and we’re no longer sure anyone is even listening. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Ah, that sounds good, doesn’t it? That sounds like the medicine our hearts need. Come to Christ and lay down your burdens and rest.
I like this verse because it reminds me to find rest in Jesus. I like this verse because it reminds me to come to God when I am weary.
But the passage isn’t quite that straight forward. Jesus has been talking—and will continue to talk in the verses following—about the religious leaders of the day, how they place heavy burdens on the people through their insistence on strict adherence to the law. The Pharisees taught the letter of the law: every detail had to be followed, all 600 rules and regulations had to be obeyed. Religion then became a heavy burden upon the people, weighing them down rather than lifting them up. Jesus got in trouble because he broke those rules by doing things like healing someone on the Sabbath, which they considered working. But Jesus knew there was no “wrong day” to bring healing. Jesus knew that religion should drive us to end suffering wherever and whenever we encounter it.
So when Jesus says to the people “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,” he is actually referring to the burden of religion. What would that look like today? Come to me, all who labor for the church, and you will never have to serve on another committee? Come to me, all who are weary of three-month-long stewardship campaigns, and you’ll never feel guilty for not pledging more? It’s no wonder the religious leaders were mad. How could we possibly meet the needs of everyone who relies on our church without all of us doing the work of the church? How could we possibly fulfill the ministry commitments of the church without everyone giving? Simply put, we couldn’t. But that’s also not what this scripture is about. Jesus isn’t simply saying: “Come to me and I will free you from the burden of following 600 rules and regulations.” Jesus is saying: “Come to me and I will give you just a few rules, and if you follow those, the rest will fall into place.” Those rules, of course, are: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. St. Augustine wrote, “Love God and do whatever you please: for the soul trained in love to God will do nothing to offend the One who is Beloved.”
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Have you noticed how difficult it can be to be merciful to the bigot who calls you names? Have you noticed how difficult it can be to be kind to that person who is taking advantage of the system? Have you noticed how difficult it can be to help someone find their voice when you know they’re going to use it to say things you hate? Have you noticed how difficult it can be to forgive? how hard it can be to love?
But then, in the very next verse, Jesus had to go and really complicate things. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Wait a minute—What’s up with giving us a yoke? Isn’t Jesus just exchanging one burden for another? Isn’t Jesus supposed to set us free? Well, yes. And no.
In Jesus’ time, “The yoke was a familiar symbol of burden bearing, oppression, and subjugation. Yokes were laid on the necks and shoulders of oxen and also on prisoners of war and slaves.” This doesn’t sound like good news, does it? Why would I want a yoke? Even if it was an easy one—which sounds like an oxymoron, anyway. I’m no animal. I don’t want to pull the plow or tote that barge or be harnessed and limited and subservient.
But in many ways, we’re all subjugated anyway—already yoked to something, already living in service to an idea or desire.
For some of us it is success. We labor 50, 60 hour per week after achievement, accomplishment, shunning weakness and fleeing failure, so that we can be deemed successful, whatever that means. We labor under the yoke of accomplishment.
Others of us are yoked by addiction, laboring day and night under a weight that seems never to get lifted, struggling to haul a load of shame when all we want is to escape. We labor under the yoke of addiction.
Others of us are serving expectation. We are so concerned about others’ expectations and opinions that we freely put ourselves at the mercy of other people and define ourselves by their views of us. We labor under the yoke of validation.
For Jesus’ audience it was religion. Some of us have been there, too. We know the weight of oppressive religion. We know how it feels to be taught law instead of grace, how it feels to be told we’re not measuring up. We have labored under the yoke of religion.
And this week the highest court in our land just added more weight to that yoke. First let me say that I did not want to preach on this today. I’ve preached some hard sermons recently, and on this holiday weekend, I really wanted to preach a nice, safe, comforting and comfortable sermon. In other words, I wanted to give us a break. But I believe it was theologian Karl Barth who said preachers should write their sermons with the Bible in one hand and the daily newspaper in the other. And what has been in the news this week has nagged at me until I cannot keep silent.
This week the supreme court said that the religious beliefs of a corporation’s owners can determine the healthcare options that are available to their employees. By limiting coverage to contraceptives that the employer deems acceptable, women will be given less control over their own reproduction. Now let me be clear that I am in favor of religious exemptions in some situations. But giving religious freedom to non-religious corporations, based on the primary shareholders’ religious views, is not an expression of religious freedom. It is an expression of religious bullying. Furthermore, when the price of one of the now not-covered contraceptive devices is the equivalent to a month’s pay for minimum wage workers, this is an attack not just on women’s freedom, but on the poor as well.
As a woman, I am angry. As a pastor, I am appalled.
I am dismayed that one portion of Christendom is once again deciding for everyone else what is appropriate and acceptable. I am disgusted that what Christians are getting the most publicity for right now is denying access to healthcare. I am offended that what freedom of religion now means is apparently “I have the freedom to impose my religion on others.”
Come to me, all you who labor under heavy burdens, and I will give you rest, Jesus proclaimed. He was talking about the burden of oppressive religion then, and we’re still talking about it now. You see, we cannot help but be subject to something—as I said earlier, to accomplishment or addiction or expectation, or to unjust laws and oppressive religion.
If those are the yokes we are currently under, maybe we should consider a change. In comparison, Jesus’ yoke is easy. Sure, it can be difficult to have mercy; but how much more painful is it to withhold it? Yes, it can be difficult to forgive; but how much more life-draining to deny it? Certainly, it can be difficult to love, but where would we be without it? Maybe Jesus is saying, “You can’t help but be yoked by something. It’s part of the human condition. So instead of being subjugated by a yoke, let me show you how to be empowered by one . . . the yoke of partnership and collaboration, the yoke of community and kindness, the yoke of Christ.
We may still not like the sound of a yoke, and perhaps it was an image more suitable to Jesus’ time than ours. We tend to carry the illusion that we are independent, unencumbered. But sometimes being bound is what sets us free.