YOKE OVER EASY
Sunday, June 25, 2023
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”
I was raised with a very serious Protestant work ethic. From my earliest childhood, I was praised for job well done, but chided for any perceived laziness. Mostly these messages came from my mom. - I guess they worked because Marcos once said to me that I might be accused of some things, but no one could ever accuse me of being lazy. I wear his comment as a badge of honor.
One day this week, I was out for my early morning walk on the canal trail. I like to get up early and talk to God and snap photos, mostly of wildflowers. But on that particular day, something else caught my eye. I looked over the railing of the footpath, and there it was: a wild raspberry bush. Its leaves were vibrant and its fruit enticing. And suddenly, I could hear my mother’s voice. “Those would make good jam. You should pick those before the birds get them. Waste not, want not!” And suddenly, I was in work mode! Suddenly, I was no longer talking to God and enjoying nature and breathing deeply. Instead, I was thinking about what I could do or should do with those berries.
In the end, I left them for the birds, not so much as an ethical decision, but more because I spied some poison ivy growing amongst the berries. But that whole scenario got to me thinking again about how hard it is for me to actually disconnect and rest – even for a 45-minute walk; even when resting made it right into the Big Ten – commandments, that is.
It’s Commandment #4, and it’s the longest of them all. It goes like this: “Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.”[1]
And there you have it, Campbell – divine permission to do nothing once a week; an actual commandment to rest and to take care of myself. -- But there always seems to be so much to do, you know? And besides, isn’t the whole world a mess? And didn’t Jesus send us into the world to help clean up the mess? And how will any of that ever get done unless I do it?
Wow. That sure is a lot of ego. That sure is a lot about me. And it begs the question: just who do I think I am?
Well, I’m not sure I like the answer. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I stay busy. When I’m busy, I don’t have to alone with these thoughts. I don’t have to consider a world that will keep on spinning long after I’m gone. – Maybe my resistance to rest is actually a spiritual issue. Because rest is not just about the cessation of some physical activity. Rest is the relinquishing of control. And to really do that, you have to trust. Trust is the basis of any relationship – including our relationship with God. And I think trust is a big part of what the Fourth Commandment is all about.
In the Gospel passage of the day, Jesus tells a rather odd little parable about how we live in the world and what our choices say about our ability to trust in the Lord. Jesus said that people were like children playing in a marketplace while their parents bought and sold. One group of those children wanted the other group to play “party.” And so, they played the flute and invited the others to dance. It was a light-hearted game, full of joy. But the other group wasn’t interested in that game. They wanted to play a far more serious game called “funeral.” And so, they wailed and threw dust in the air, like they had seen the professional mourners do. But the party group didn’t think that looked like much fun and so, they refused to play.
Then Jesus interpreted the parable; which he didn’t often do. He said that John the Baptist’s ministry is represented by the funeral game. John came preaching repentance. He told the people to mourn their sins and turn and walk in a new direction – in other words, to get busy! Religion, for John, was serious business and required a serious response.
But Jesus’s ministry is represented by the party game. Jesus came announcing that the Reign of God was already here; already inside us, and all we had to do was open our eyes and see it; open our hearts and live it. Jesus was known as someone who liked a good meal and a good drink. He liked feasting so much that the gossips said he was a glutton and a drunk who hung out with all the wrong kinds of people. Jesus just wasn’t serious enough for some people’s taste – especially those who always needed to be doing something important.
Two games. Two ways of looking at how we live and what we believe. The funeral game is driven by a sense of great urgency and obligation. But the wedding game is undergirded by a great sense of trust. It’s played in the very same world as the funeral game is, but in the party game, there’s this underlying sense that He really does have the whole world in his hands.
Jesus ends this passage with one of his most beloved statements, which at first seems out of place, but is actually an invitation to trust and thus, rest. Jesus said: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”
God, in great love, commands us to rest. Jesus, in great love, provides that rest. Our bodies need it; our minds need it. But so do our souls. We need regular reminders that God is God and we are not.
You’ve heard me talk of my friend Walter, a much beloved and faithful leader of the church in New York, who died of bone cancer far too young. At the very end of his life, when he could no longer speak; when he had been catatonic for days; I prayed with him one last time. And in that prayer, I said something I had not planned to say, but something we both needed to hear. Maybe you need to hear it too. I said, “Now Brother Walter, you trust Jesus to do for you what you cannot at this moment do for yourself.” And suddenly, he looked right at me and wept at the gracious invitation to actually rest in the arms of Jesus; to let God do in that moment what we can never do for ourselves.
On another morning as I walked the canal trail, I listened to a podcast by psychotherapist and Christian teacher James Finley. He was lecturing on medieval Christian mystics – a subject I find very interesting. But it was the way Finley ended the podcast that moved this overly-busy, usually anxious child of God to tears. Using Psalm 46:10 as a meditation, he encouraged the listener to trust and to rest in God alone. Maybe this short meditation will speak to you too. So, get comfortable, close your eyes, breathe, and listen:
[1] Exodus 20:8-11
Sunday, June 25, 2023
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”
I was raised with a very serious Protestant work ethic. From my earliest childhood, I was praised for job well done, but chided for any perceived laziness. Mostly these messages came from my mom. - I guess they worked because Marcos once said to me that I might be accused of some things, but no one could ever accuse me of being lazy. I wear his comment as a badge of honor.
One day this week, I was out for my early morning walk on the canal trail. I like to get up early and talk to God and snap photos, mostly of wildflowers. But on that particular day, something else caught my eye. I looked over the railing of the footpath, and there it was: a wild raspberry bush. Its leaves were vibrant and its fruit enticing. And suddenly, I could hear my mother’s voice. “Those would make good jam. You should pick those before the birds get them. Waste not, want not!” And suddenly, I was in work mode! Suddenly, I was no longer talking to God and enjoying nature and breathing deeply. Instead, I was thinking about what I could do or should do with those berries.
In the end, I left them for the birds, not so much as an ethical decision, but more because I spied some poison ivy growing amongst the berries. But that whole scenario got to me thinking again about how hard it is for me to actually disconnect and rest – even for a 45-minute walk; even when resting made it right into the Big Ten – commandments, that is.
It’s Commandment #4, and it’s the longest of them all. It goes like this: “Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.”[1]
And there you have it, Campbell – divine permission to do nothing once a week; an actual commandment to rest and to take care of myself. -- But there always seems to be so much to do, you know? And besides, isn’t the whole world a mess? And didn’t Jesus send us into the world to help clean up the mess? And how will any of that ever get done unless I do it?
Wow. That sure is a lot of ego. That sure is a lot about me. And it begs the question: just who do I think I am?
Well, I’m not sure I like the answer. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I stay busy. When I’m busy, I don’t have to alone with these thoughts. I don’t have to consider a world that will keep on spinning long after I’m gone. – Maybe my resistance to rest is actually a spiritual issue. Because rest is not just about the cessation of some physical activity. Rest is the relinquishing of control. And to really do that, you have to trust. Trust is the basis of any relationship – including our relationship with God. And I think trust is a big part of what the Fourth Commandment is all about.
In the Gospel passage of the day, Jesus tells a rather odd little parable about how we live in the world and what our choices say about our ability to trust in the Lord. Jesus said that people were like children playing in a marketplace while their parents bought and sold. One group of those children wanted the other group to play “party.” And so, they played the flute and invited the others to dance. It was a light-hearted game, full of joy. But the other group wasn’t interested in that game. They wanted to play a far more serious game called “funeral.” And so, they wailed and threw dust in the air, like they had seen the professional mourners do. But the party group didn’t think that looked like much fun and so, they refused to play.
Then Jesus interpreted the parable; which he didn’t often do. He said that John the Baptist’s ministry is represented by the funeral game. John came preaching repentance. He told the people to mourn their sins and turn and walk in a new direction – in other words, to get busy! Religion, for John, was serious business and required a serious response.
But Jesus’s ministry is represented by the party game. Jesus came announcing that the Reign of God was already here; already inside us, and all we had to do was open our eyes and see it; open our hearts and live it. Jesus was known as someone who liked a good meal and a good drink. He liked feasting so much that the gossips said he was a glutton and a drunk who hung out with all the wrong kinds of people. Jesus just wasn’t serious enough for some people’s taste – especially those who always needed to be doing something important.
Two games. Two ways of looking at how we live and what we believe. The funeral game is driven by a sense of great urgency and obligation. But the wedding game is undergirded by a great sense of trust. It’s played in the very same world as the funeral game is, but in the party game, there’s this underlying sense that He really does have the whole world in his hands.
Jesus ends this passage with one of his most beloved statements, which at first seems out of place, but is actually an invitation to trust and thus, rest. Jesus said: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”
God, in great love, commands us to rest. Jesus, in great love, provides that rest. Our bodies need it; our minds need it. But so do our souls. We need regular reminders that God is God and we are not.
You’ve heard me talk of my friend Walter, a much beloved and faithful leader of the church in New York, who died of bone cancer far too young. At the very end of his life, when he could no longer speak; when he had been catatonic for days; I prayed with him one last time. And in that prayer, I said something I had not planned to say, but something we both needed to hear. Maybe you need to hear it too. I said, “Now Brother Walter, you trust Jesus to do for you what you cannot at this moment do for yourself.” And suddenly, he looked right at me and wept at the gracious invitation to actually rest in the arms of Jesus; to let God do in that moment what we can never do for ourselves.
On another morning as I walked the canal trail, I listened to a podcast by psychotherapist and Christian teacher James Finley. He was lecturing on medieval Christian mystics – a subject I find very interesting. But it was the way Finley ended the podcast that moved this overly-busy, usually anxious child of God to tears. Using Psalm 46:10 as a meditation, he encouraged the listener to trust and to rest in God alone. Maybe this short meditation will speak to you too. So, get comfortable, close your eyes, breathe, and listen:
- Be still and know that I am God.
- Be still and know that I am.
- Be still and know.
- Be still.
- Be.
[1] Exodus 20:8-11
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