Thursday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 392

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

I was on retreat last September when I heard the retreat director read the above verses to the friars gathered in chapel. I have read those words so many times to patients in the hospital, I now just recite them. I was taken aback when I heard them read to me. On retreat I am permitted to think that I, too, labor and am burdened; and that the Lord might give me rest. I, too, can learn from him and find rest in carrying his yoke and burden, which are so much lighter than the ones I fashion for myself.

In the context of Saint Matthew's gospel, the "yoke and burden" that we carry are Pharisaic interpretations of the Law of Moses. The Pharisees saw themselves as devout men living under Roman occupation but striving nonetheless to "be holy as I am holy." If they successfully observed every jot and tittle of the Law they might not suffer God's wrath and his punishing arm, the Roman soldiers.

But like all occupation armies, the Roman soldiers were a fickle lot. They didn't mind punishing Jews for any reason and no reason. The Pharisees desperately tried to keep themselves scrupulously clean and make sure everyone else did too! They were like children living with alcoholic parents in a dysfunctional household. But their enforcement of the Law was as emotionally and spiritually brutal as the Roman occupation.

Ireland experienced a similar oppression when the Catholic clergy desperately tried to protect their hapless faithful from the arbitrary violence of English overlords. That misery was enhanced by a Jansenist spirituality which spread like a disease out of France. (Catholic seminaries were closed in Ireland, candidates for the priesthood had to study in France.)

Today, given our widespread experience of violence in the home -- due to insanity, alcoholism, drug abuse, poverty, abortion, divorce, etc -- many people grow up heavily burdened with the fear of a violent, arbitrary, all-powerful, all-seeing god. Their pantheon of gods is more Greek than Christian although they insist they are "Christian."  (Perhaps the name, like a talisman, will protect them.)

Jesus' primary aim is to relieve our distress;

"For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him." 

His salvation, however, does not come cheap. It costs him and it costs us. His mercy comes as both invitation and warning:

Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God." (John 3:16-17)​

Those who cling to the yokes and burdens they have fashioned for themselves, refusing to consider or accept his burden, have "already been condemned." This is where "Pharisees" -- Jewish and Christian, ancient and modern -- despite their effort. hard work and ostensibly good intentions, lose the way.

To accept his yoke of discipleship, which is freedom, we must die to ourselves. Everything we thought we knew is thrown into confusion; and everything we own or wish to own is placed on the altar of sacrifice. We enter the via negativa. 

Choosing freedom entails avoiding those choices that restrict freedom. Saint Francis took up that pursuit when, on the road to another war, a midnight voice told him to back to Assisi and wait. "You'll be told what to do." Several years would pass before another revelation would show him the path of evangelical poverty. 

Very often our "sinful fallen nature" prefers the bad stuff. Death to self entails that controlling, restricting discipline which is both wise and healthy. It recognizes the danger of short-term gains and the wisdom of delayed gratification. Cultivating prayer, it learns to recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd even in the darkness of indecision.  It is eager to move only when the Spirit of God says "Move!" 

Recently I had what seemed like a good idea. I sat on it for several days thinking how it might work out. And then, quite suddenly, I knew it was a "Bad idea!" The Spirit spoke very clearly. Oh well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I wonder, "What was I thinking?"

I came out of that retreat with the reminder that I was not sent to save the world, nor any part of the world, nor even myself. I can do my part, and let the Lord do his.