A reflection for Sunday July 5th
It's all God's word and therefore you must enjoy every last bit of it. From the slaying of Abel, to Judas hanging himself, to Lots wife becoming salty, to the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Perhaps a better way of thinking might be to say that there are some bits that are more helpful than others.
But today's gospel speaks clearly and gently to me.
The first bit is a conversation that Jesus is having with his Father
“I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do.”
So the Lord of heaven and earth reveals the mysteries not to the clever, the brainy, the articulate, the swift of tongue and nimble of mind. He shows forth his treasures to the little ones, the children, the least likely. The insignificant, the unimportant and everyday who just get on and say their prayers with a twinkle in their eye, joy in their hearts and love for all they encounter. People, just like the ones I am looking at now. And we should rejoice in this, not just because these things are revealed to us, although that would be reason enough, but because that is what the Father wants to do. That is his intention.
If God were a crass old introvert who didn’t like to share or play, but rather struck down people at a whim and peddled division and retribution… then I think I would be quietly putting my birettas away, typing a quick letter of resignation and heading off to Port Fairy to rust away in the salt air.
But notice that not only is it God's intention to reveal his love to seemingly inconsequential people, but he also decides to hide these things from the learned and the clever. More than that he is PLEASED hide things from the smarty britches.
Mmm… Now there's something to ask Bishop Garry about.
Does God really have favourites… or is he just expecting more from the learned and clever?
The conversation then changes. Jesus stops speaking to his Father and chats to his listeners.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 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 pondering the imagery of the yoke the other day. What are our yokes? I could think of a couple.
There is the yoke of our past.
It is a terrifyingly easy thing to persist in carrying around the yoke of the past. The yoke of the past has the notches of regrets, recriminations and guilt etched deeply into it. It is a particularly nasty yoke and even when we successfully manage to put it down, we can find that much later, somehow we have managed to pick it up again.
Then there is the yoke of expectations. We expect that we will be able to do A, B, C and q.3 We expect that we can do the laundry every second Tuesday and have the greatest sense of intimacy in our prayers whenever we simply mutter “Our Father”.
This is an infuriatingly monstrous yoke. We expect wooly mammoth sized things of ourselves and they are unrelenting. Amongst the things we expect are to make minimal, negligible mistakes. To carry this yoke is folly and detrimental to your well being. It should come with a health warning. No wonder we are weary and burdened.
The yoke that Jesus asks us to carry is not the yoke of the past, nor the yoke of self expectations, it is HIS yoke. Take MY yoke upon you and learn from me. My yoke is easy, my burden is light. This is because his yoke is a simple wooden cross of love. All it requires, is for us to walk with him, beside him, learn from him and engage with Him. We don’t have to prove anything to ourselves, or to others.
So we come today and we accept his invitation as he accepted us long before we took our first breath.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 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.
Even so we come.