Memorial of Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, Virgin

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.”

How fascinating that the Lord's most comforting words invite us to "take my yoke upon you." The Lord's comfort will be his daily obedience; he will bear it willingly despite its destination. 

When we think of struggle we often imagine physical, mental, and emotional challenges. Younger athletes among us might think of football or soccer matches. But most of us address the complications of living and working with others. Plus the daily challenge of balancing personal responsibilities of health and hygiene against duties and expectations. 

Jesus was certainly familiar with struggle. He faced the suspicions of leadership, the opposition of scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees, and the indifference of a jaded nation. If any party claimed him as one of their own, neither he nor his disciples returned the favor. But his mightiest -- and most frustrated -- efforts went to setting his disciples on the straight and straitened road. His life was no picnic! 

The yoke he loved -- and recommends to us -- was the daily urging of the Spirit. He was compelled to move from place to place, continually encountering broken, demoralized, dispirited Jews whose faith depended upon the broken reed of pharisaic religion. They knew the rules; they didn't know the spirit of God's law or the story of God's covenant. 

But that Spirit was so sweet to him; his heavy duties were more like the tasks of artistic cooks. They live to select and prepare the meats, fruits, vegetables, and drinks of a lovely meal; they delight in pleasing the palates of others. 

The Lord's daily pleasure was feeling God's urgency within himself. Whether he was moving from village to village, healing the sick or raising the dead, walking on water or multiplying loaves and fishes, he knew, "This is what my Father wants." He found that urgency in every word of Scripture, in every hymn, psalm, and inspired song, and in the innumerable signs and symbols of a preoccupied with God. 

If that Spirit seemed to leave him occasionally -- as in Gethsemane -- he knew he must stop and wait for its return. That too was obedience, a yoke with its own satisfactions. If every child must endure inexplicable, seemingly irrational discipline, he saw no reason that he should not. 

We often celebrate the martyrs of our faith. I once supposed they were warriors, trained in militaristic households and inured to hard work and severe punishment. They could endure mistreatment as I cannot. But as I read about them, I more often meet men and women who practice their faith with daily prayer and devotion to duty. I don't find them burning their arms with matches to prepare for the trials to come. They keep their eyes fixed on Jesus and develop a mystical sense of the Spirit's presence. They say, "Here I am!" in the silence of solitude and amid the distractions of a crowd. 

When the trials begin they cannot be bothered with hating their enemies; they have better things to do. Nor are they dismayed by the convictions of their tormentors; their knowledge of God surpasses this world's nonsense. They fear the Lord and no one else. 

As we take up the yoke the Lord offers, we pray to, and for, the same eager Spirit.