Monday, July 10, 2023

In Search of Easy

 

Matthew11:16-19,25-30

Here is a parable from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. In the beginning, before God began creating the world, time was eternal. Then God began dividing time into seven days. With every day, a new realm of things came into being, by God’s word. This was true for six days. But on the seventh day, nothing came into being. And the seventh day was lonely.

What was this like? It may be compared to a king who has seven sons. To six of them he gave his wealth and to the seventh he gave nobility. So the six older sons went out and found mates, but the seventh noble one remained alone. And so it was with the creation of the days.

The seventh day said to God: to every day of the week you have given a mate; only I have been left alone. And God answered: Israel will be your mate. And so it is. The sabbath is given to the people of Israel.

We know the commandment: remember the sabbath and keep it holy. And sometimes we squirm uncomfortably about that. Because we have – in one way or another – been taught all kinds of uncomfortable things, rules, about keeping the sabbath.

I have heard about playgrounds where the swings have been chained together on Sundays, because it is unlawful to play on the sabbath. Some of us have memories of childhood where the expectation was to be in church all day on Sunday, and of course that meant being on your very best behavior. All the live-long day. Not an easy thing for a kid.

Many of us remember “blue laws” that kept businesses closed on Sundays – and sometimes we say how much we miss those laws. Although I do see an awful lot of church people at the supermarket on Sundays.

Our problem with keeping sabbath, I think, is that we think of restriction rather than freedom. We think of dreariness rather than joy. We think of thou shalt not rather than let there be.

The Rabbis of Jesus’ day were diligent about spelling out the rules for things like sabbath restrictions, and on the list of things “thou shalt not” do were walking, carrying things, writing, lighting a candle, and apparently even providing compassionate care, which is something Jesus ran into when he healed a woman on the sabbath.

And maybe we are confused, because why would our God of love and life put chains on us? Why would the God who frees people want to enslave us to sabbath?

I wonder, sometimes, if the first-century Jews would have been asking themselves similar questions. I wonder if they grew irritated with strict rules about this one day of the week and thought to themselves: Is this necessary?

Is it really necessary for me to run around like a crazy fool all Friday afternoon trying to outrace the sun, because if I don’t get all of the sabbath preparations done before sunset I’ll be in big trouble? Is it really wrong for me to do certain things on the sabbath – important things?

And then Jesus came out, saying: take my yoke upon you and I will give you rest.

The Rabbis were the teachers of Israel. They would gather students who learned from them and followed their teachings – these were their disciples. A Rabbi’s disciples were said to have taken on the yoke of their Rabbi.

And some of these yokes were hard, cumbersome, heavy. And not life-giving, as one would hope for. But Jesus says: My yoke is easy.

And that is really the point of the sabbath. A day in which we step away from the hardness of the world and step into the realm of God.

With these words, Jesus is encouraging us to let go. “My yoke is easy, my burden is light.” Let go of the burdens you insist on carrying. Remove the yoke to which you have attached yourself, the yoke that is hard, burdensome. Take my yoke upon you.

Jesus says, “My yoke is easy.” But that becomes hard when we are unwilling to remove the other yokes, the ill-fitted yokes, the burdensome yokes of this world. The ease that Jesus offers comes from moving away from, letting go of, the burdens of the material world.

I read from Rabbi Heschel that when the Romans were first introduced to the laws and customs of Israel they were appalled by this reverence toward sabbath. They called it laziness. The only way they could understand, and maybe accept, the practice of sabbath was to see it as a necessary rest that was built in to their lives for the sake of being most effective when they returned to their work. That is, to see the sabbath in service to work.

But that is getting it backwards and getting it backwards is completely missing the point. The sabbath day is not a pause in our frantic working weeks. If that is so, then we are wearing the yoke of the world of stuff. We are still enslaved to the world of productivity. And how can we be fitted with the yoke of Jesus when we are still wearing that burdensome, heavy, ill-fitted yoke?

The Romans didn’t understand it, but the Rabbis did, and they tried hard to protect the sabbath. The problem was when they outfitted it with too many rules and restrictions of their own. I suppose they didn’t really believe that it could possibly be easy.

The same is true today, when we weigh down Jesus’ perfect yoke with lots of extra rules.  I have seen people walk into our sanctuary then walk out because they heard something they did not like, some element of our worship that, in their minds, didn’t follow the rules. They might say that our faith is too worldly, too easy. But perhaps their yokes are too heavy, ill-fitted, binding rather than freeing.

Jesus knew then, and knows still, that many people will refuse his yoke. They will find it inadequate, imperfect, not exclusive enough. As he says in these first verses, there will be no pleasing them; they will find fault in whatever he does. But he is still offering the easy yoke, the light burden, to everybody. Even all the whining children…even us.

It’s not any wonder that we whine and complain. These things are not easy for us to understand. What Jesus is offering us is a glimpse of the eternal, a little bit of heaven when we slip into his yoke. Whenever we consecrate a day, or even a moment, this is what we are offered: a little bit of heaven on earth.

The sacrament of communion is an example of just this: the sacredness of a moment. The elements, themselves, are less important than the act in the moment, the experience in time. When we celebrate the sacrament together, whether you are here in the room or in the livestream, we are entering into a moment of holiness together. We are entering into sacred communion with Jesus.

A little sabbath.

I know the resistance we feel to this. It’s really hard for us to turn away from our agendas and our worries, our to-do lists and our wants. Yet if we deny ourselves sabbath rest we are denying the very purpose of life: to touch the holy, if only for a moment.

You may not have the ability to fully immerse yourself in sabbath. But what if you tried it for a moment? For an hour? To slip off the yokes of the world and into the ease that Jesus offers.

It is always there for you, and that is the good news. You don’t have to make it. You don’t have to earn it or be good enough for it. His easy yoke is here now; you only have to let go.

And slip into it.

Photo by Clément Falize on Unsplash

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