Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 9, Year A
Zechariah 9:9-12
Psalm 145:8-14
Romans 7:21-8:6
Matthew 11:25-30

The gospel this morning is one of the more commonly quoted passages in the Bible. "Come to me," Jesus says, "all you who are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest... For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

He makes it sound so easy, doesn’t he? Come, we might think, and all will be sweetness and light, the scent of roses and the tingle of the Spirit at work in our lives. It makes me think of the visions of coming to America that many of the immigrants have had-- dreams of a place where the streets are paved in gold, and life is easy, and everything is possible. And sometimes there are moments when it does seem to work that way.

But like the immigrants, we find that it's not standard fare. We come to Jesus, and still have to deal with the same old world. We still have problems, and heavy burdens in our lives. We still contend with illness and tragedy, still get fired from jobs, still hurt people, and get hurt by them, in the same old ways.

Well, you might say, at least if you’re a Christian it makes some things eaiser to decide. Jesus and the Bible give us clear-cut answers to life’s biggest questions. Oh, really? Again, sometimes yes, and sometimes no. Think about the national debates surrounding our presence in Iraq; or in our own church, around the blessing of same sex unions. There are honest, committed Christian disciples on both sides of those conversations, and the answers often seem less than wholly obvious.

But wait-- there’s more! Not only does being a Christian not automatically solve some problems, but it seems to me that “Confessing Jesus” can, in fact, add to the difficulty.

Look outside, for example. It's a lovely, sunny summer day. You could be sleeping in, or playing golf, or relaxing on the back porch with the paper and a cup of coffee, or doing any number of other, easier things that many of your neighbors are enjoying right now-- instead of setting the alarm one more day in the week, and getting dressed, and schlepping yourself (and the kids) into the car to make it to church.

Then there are the reactions we get to the choices we make as Christians. Sometimes you can't win for losing. Take the current debate over the proposed constitutional amendment to ban desecration of the flag. Senator Orrin Hatch was recently quoted as saying it was "important that we venerate the national symbol of our country." (emphasis mine).

If I, as a Christian, allow this to pass without comment, what sort of worship am I tacitly supporting? If I disagree, however-- and I do; the flag is an important symbol, brothers and sisters, but it is not the cross-- there are those who would call my loyalty to this country into question.

Or, here's a simpler one: Yesterday I was in Michigan, for my classmate Susie's ordination to the priesthood-- a joyous occasion! My husband & I stayed at a local hotel the night before, and had breakfast there that morning. Because we were headed straight to the cathedral, I was in clerical attire-- and so what might otherwise have been a simple, quiet breakfast turned into an exercise in fielding an assortment of questions, as well as odd looks and double takes. Responses, as they often do, seem to run the gamut from perceptions of holiness, to confusion, to disapproving anger-- and had very little to do with who I am or might be.

Jesus knows this. In fact, he had the same experience. A few verses earlier than this morning's readings, he notes that "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!'"

Notice something here, though. Jesus takes note of the conflicting expectations, but shows no sign of him changing his ways to suit prevailing opinion.... or to make the religious leadership comfortable... or to “fit in.” He refuses to take on the burden of their expectations. The fancy psychological term for this is “self-differentiation.”

So many of our burdens-- the problems we encounter, or that we create-- are our own, or those we allow others to lay upon us. We are weighed down by human criticism, human opinion, human behavior.

Jesus’ burden really is so much lighter, isn’t it? "Follow me," he says. "Learn from me." Yes, you may be criticized, or insulted... but that’s not your problem, your burden, so you don’t have to take it on. Let it go.

Yes, despite our best efforts, sin pulls us away from God, and the love God has for us, and the best God wants for us. But Jesus takes that all on, at the cross, and bridges that gap. And only asks that we return, and be forgiven, every time.

This is a burden we can take, brothers and sisters. A burden worth carrying-- and worth sharing.