Sermon Text

What a strange place we find ourselves in as we read this section of Matthew’s Gospel!

In the verses preceding today’s reading, Jesus has some hard words for his followers, reminding them that following his way will be no walk in the park, but difficult, even dangerous. His words are a sword, cleaving lives, dividing families. Following Jesus exacts a cost. To follow him you’ve got to pick up a cross and carry it. Following Jesus requires unwavering loyalty and unceasing commitment. It’s hard!

Now, does that strike you as a strange way of talking on the part of someone who wants to gather a crowd, to recruit a following? If Jesus asked the best media consultants around today, they would set him straight quickly.

“Jesus, we think it would be best if you softened your demands, and more than just a little. Use some double-speak. Don’t start off with the hard requirements, but tell people what they will get out of this relationship with you. Hedge a little, use some qualifiers. The most successful preachers these days know not to lead with the hard stuff. They don’t want to burden people who are already burdened by life. You certainly don’t want to run off any prospective church members who might tithe! So try this: ‘If you want your best life now, you just need to follow me. I want you to succeed – in life, in business, in your family. I want you to prosper! I want you to drive a huge SUV! The family that prays together, stays together.’ That’s the right stuff for you to be preaching.”

But Jesus already knows what his message needs to be. He wants his followers to know up front that his way is a narrow way, and so he tries to prepare them for how difficult it might be. It’s fair warning.

Then, in today’s reading, Jesus compares “this generation” with children who would neither dance to the music of a flute nor mourn along with those who wailed. Many commentators believe that Jesus is referring to himself and John the Baptist here. John wailed his message, an ascetic preacher who brought a severe word about God’s reign and the people’s need to repent. But “this generation” dismissed John, clothed in camel’s hair, eating grasshoppers and drinking honey. Who wouldn’t look at him and think, “He’s crazy!”

Jesus, on the other hand, comes preaching a more joyful message concerning the God’s reign, but “this generation” rejected him too because he feasted with sinners and accepted outsiders. He was “a drunkard and a glutton,” words straight from Deuteronomy about people you should cast out of your fellowship or stone to death. “This generation” was tragically blind.

Then Jesus says something that sounds more like what the media consultants were looking for. “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened and I will give you rest. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” So, which is it? A heavy cross or an easy yoke?

How can Jesus go from talking one minute about how difficult it’s going to be to follow him, with heavy crosses and self-denial, to easy burdens and light yokes the next minute? Which is it?

Well, let’s step back for just a moment. When is the last time you took a good look at a yoke? It’s true, the image of the yoke was sometimes used in Jesus’ day to refer to Torah, to God’s law, God’s instruction. So, in one sense, Jesus is going to be One who teaches a view of the Law that will be more lenient than some other teachers of his day, especially about things like Sabbath observance and acceptance of the poor and the outsider. On the other hand, he is going to be more strict in his words about keeping promises, exercising compassion, and honoring commitments. On the whole, Jesus’ way of teaching the Law is characterized by his emphasis on what he calls the “weightier matters” of justice, mercy, and faithfulness, and on the commandment to love God and neighbor.

But back to real “yokes.” Yokes are these big, bulky wooden things, shaped like an upside-down “W” that are used to bind two oxen together to pull a plow or a wagon. You put the two oxen’s heads in it, and they are “yoked” together. Where one goes, the other one goes. They pull together. A good yoke is shaped carefully by the carpenter so that there will be an even distribution of the load, a minimum of chafing, and a structure that will allow one ox to pull harder when the other becomes tired or weak.

But yokes aren’t easy-chairs. They might be helpful for the work to be done, but they are definitely not instruments of rest and relaxation. They may make the work more comfortable, but only when the yoke is tailor-made to the particular oxen wearing it, and when the two are able to pull together. The burden only becomes lighter when the yoke connects one ox to the other. Jesus says he is going to give us a yoke, but because he is our yoke-mate, the burden becomes lighter.

Think of it this way. Your family is moving to a new home, and the movers are there to help you load up your belongings. There’s a five-year old in your house who wants desperately to help. The movers come to a heavy couch in the living room, and one worker lifts one end. The five-year old runs to the other end and says, “I’ll get this end.” He grunts and groans, but the couch obviously isn’t going anywhere.

Then another workman comes over and says, “Why don’t I help you with that? Let’s lift it together,” and he reaches down and picks up that end of the couch, and says, “OK, let’s go.” The five-year old is still there, grunting and groaning and doing his share. You know that, if he were to let go, the mover wouldn’t notice the difference. However, if the mover were to let go, the five-year old would be hurt, and perhaps even killed.

Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary from carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” and then he bends down, with love and grace takes on the brunt of our load, and says, “OK, let’s go.”