July 9th,  Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 11: 16–19, 25–30 All Angels

Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name.  Amen.
This morning, in the Gospel of Matthew we are walking into the middle of a conversation between Jesus and a crowd of his followers.  And in this crowd, nobody seems to be content.  They are anxious, dissatisfied, demanding.  So, the Gospel words I just read aloud here don’t make much sense until, that is, we understand what has been going on just before we entered the scene.  You see, just as it is in our day, in those days the people were anxious about many things.  All their lives, when times were tough and enemies threatened, they had been reassured – “Don’t worry, honey.  When Messiah comes ’ he will set everything straight.  When Messiah comes our troubles will be over; no more tyrants, no more unjust taxes, no more ‘rich getting richer and poor getting poorer’.  When Messiah comes, he’ll settle everybody’ hash!”  That, anyway, is what they’d been told.
So, when John the Baptist came on the scene, announcing he was the forerunner of long–expected Messiah, people flocked out into the Judean desert to hear him preach, to be baptized by him, to begin what they hoped were their brand–new lives in the Kingdom of God.
In other words, they did what John had told them to do.  But things hadn’t turned out quite the way they expected.  The Kingdom of God had not descended on them like some radiant cloud, obliterating all their troubles.  Instead, John’s fiery preaching landed him in prison when he dared to tell Herod Antipas he had no right to marry his brother’s wife.  And overnight, from the depths of that prison, the prophet’s strong preaching turned into plaintive questions, carried to Jesus by his followers.  “Are you the One we expected, or are we to wait for another?”  Even John the Baptist, you see, suddenly doubted whether Jesus really was all they had hoped for.
That’s the setting for our reading from Matthew this morning – that nothing the people had assumed would happen – now seemed to be happening.  The Roman occupying forces were still in power.  Oppressive taxes were still being levied.  And their own Temple officials were still colluding with those Roman forces.  So, what was wrong?  What had happened?
What had happened was that peoples’ expectations had tripped them up.  They thought if they followed the prophet’s recommendations to the letter that Messiah would come with an avenging force of angels – and their troubles would be over.  Or maybe, they thought, it was their fault – that they hadn’t followed every single tenet of the Law scrupulously, as the Pharisees insisted was necessary.  Whatever it was, nothing seemed to be working.  And the crowd was looking for someone to blame.
So, this morning, Jesus is trying to set everyone straight.  “Don’t you see what you have done?” he asks them.  “You have gotten entangled in a human set of rules, turning what was meant as an article of faith – into something like a sure thing, something under your control.  And — on the basis of your human expectations — you have discredited both John the Baptist and me. John came neither eating nor drinking as you thought was right – and you said he had a demon.  Then I came, eating and drinking with people you’d been told were low lifes – and you called me a drunkard and a glutton.”
“In fact,” he adds, ”you seem to think you’ve set the rules of this game — and everybody ought to follow your rules.  But let me tell you: You have mistaken a set of human rules for the abundant life God wants to give you.  You have mistaken human standards for the loving wisdom of the One who wants to guide you — step by slow step through this life.
Then, abruptly, Jesus’ tone softens as he begins to pray to his Father in heaven.  “Father,” he says, “I thank you that you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent.  You have shown them instead to babies.  Crying babies.  Hungry babies.  For this is how you do things.  You reward those who admit their need – and confound any who think themselves wise.  For this, Father, is how you do things.”
And then Jesus addresses us all — in what is probably the most tender invitation in all of Scripture.  “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden,” he says.  ”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.”
The answer to the troubles of their world, you see, lay in their relationship to Jesus.  Not in a series of rules, a series of “thou shalts” or “thou shalt nots.”  And not in the cataclysmic arrival of warring angels suddenly appearing on their doorstep – ready to defeat their enemies.  No, the answer lay in a working relationship, a yoked–together relationship with Jesus, a relationship they could enter into by taking on his yoke of love.
You see, in those simpler agrarian days, everybody understood what a double yoke was and how it worked.  The farmer would place an animal who had experience pulling the plow on one side of the yoke – and an animal who was new to the task on the other side.  And the inexperienced animal would learn from the experienced one, as they both pulled the plow together.  That, you see, is what Jesus was offering the people that day – the experience of walking through this world beside him, yoked together with him, and learning how to handle all they encountered through his love.
And that, I believe, is what he’s offering us this morning — in that same tender invitation.  “If you are weary, if you are burdened, Come to me,” he says.  “Walk with me, yoked together with me, through this world.  With all its uncertainties.  All its terrors.  All its cruelties and deceptions.  Not to mention all its characters – bent and twisted out of shape by the sin they’ve encountered.  Together, in my gentleness, my humility, we will love them into the Kingdom of God.”
You see, the answer for us is the same as it was for them.  Walk with Jesus, and he will walk with you.  And no power on earth will defeat that combination.  Amen and Amen.  Thanks be to God.
Amen.
 
Return to Sermons Archived Sermons Home Page