When you’re weary…
“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 have always loved this piece from Matthew’s gospel.
I use it frequently at funerals especially when the deceased person has been through a lengthy illness. But I realised only recently that it’s not just the deceased who is weary. Surely this reading applies to everyone in the Church. Do not those who have come to mourn and pray also have their own weariness?
Absolutely they do. And when you begin to explore this phenomenon of weariness you realise that there are in fact lots of different ways of being drained.
There is physical weariness; like when you do a park run and you’re aware that the clock is ticking away in the background and you're trying really hard and the rain is chucking it down and the wind is pushing you backwards.
There is a psychological weariness like the sort of tiredness the Bishop must have after chairing a bothersome Synod magnanimously for a couple of days. There is a spiritual weariness where we just seemed to have tried so hard for so long seemingly for so little in results. For all our searching and praying and reading and endlessly offering our psalms, readings and interminable homilies, He is frequently a God who is hidden and elusive.
Sometimes I think we make our own selves tired.
Later on, Matthew will tell us that Jesus had an unveiled swipe at the scribes and Pharisees in these words.
“They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them.”
So in other words the scribes and the Pharisees had become so obsessed with the letter of the law and its interpretation that they had completely forgotten the spirit of the law. The spirit of love, reconciliation, forgiveness, healing in brokenness and life in the midst of death. The ways of gentleness and rest.
And part of the trick is this… I think.
The Master invites us to take HIS yoke upon us. Not our own yoke. Not our yokes we mercilessly put on ourselves. The unrealistic expectations of ourselves, our pride, our ego, the things we can’t forgive ourselves, the desire to be more sparkling and noticeable than any other. These are very heavy and cumbersome weights that we drape around our necks and it is a waste of our hard-won energy to cart them around. They are fruitless and we should cast them off and try very hard not to pick them up again.
So what does His yoke, the yoke of Christ look like? What is it that he wants us to learn? My guess is that the yoke of Christ is just a plain simple cross. A giving of self to others in uninhibited love. And when we shoulder his yoke, not our own, we will discover that it is surprisingly much lighter than the ones we want to lug around.
There is one other tiredness that is very difficult to articulate but which affects us all.
We tread this earth and it is rich and beautiful and exquisite and we enjoy our lives and the people that God sends our way and we revel in the relationships that enhance our lives and the undeserved but thrilling privilege of enhancing other people's lives. While all that is authentic and true we know somehow, somewhere, deep within us, that this is not all there is. Occasionally we are given a sense of a distant land, another shore, that is our true home. And we know that somehow, while things are pretty jolly good on this side of the grave, they will be sublimely perfect in unimaginable ways and dimensions on the other side of the grave. When we shuck this mortal coil when the bell rings and we know that it is finally home time. Yes, if we are brutally honest, there is a part in all of us that is fatigued and weary. The world is a fickle place and from time to time it must inevitably disappoint and frustrate us. And while we have given it a really good shot, a great shot, our best shot and will continue to do so, our sense of longing for our true home can sometimes surprise us. With its yearning and familiar but disquieting ache, we long to be complete and fulfilled in ways that we cannot hope to be on this side of the grave.
Perhaps subconsciously, this is also why I have chosen Matthew’s words to read at a funeral because the person who has died has finally come to that homeland where there is no more pain or suffering, but only lasting peace and joy.
A prayer to finish off with that might be of some help.
O Lord, support us all the day long of this troublesome life until the shades lengthen, the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over and our work is done. Then Lord in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging, a holy rest and peace at the last. Through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen.