“What a Burden”

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

July 9, 2023

Romans 7:15-25a

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Children’s Message:

I brought this weight from my weight rack. Can you read what it says on it? Yes! It’s 25 lbs. That’s heavy. I don’t use this weight very often. Does anyone want to try and lift it—very carefully?

Today we heard Jesus tell us to take his yoke, because his yoke is easy and his burden is light. Do you know what a yoke is? It’s a curved piece of wood that connects two animals together to pull large weight—like a wagon or piece of farming tool, like a plow. Do you think it’s easier to have two animals pull or just one? Yes, but only when they work together.

I wonder, I bet I can carry this weight if I have some help. If each of you can grab a part of this towel, we’ll pick it up together. Wow! That’s so much lighter! There are a lot of times in life when we have some pretty heavy burdens to carry. It’s hard to do everything we need to do. But here’s the good news—you don’t have to do it alone. Not only will Jesus always be there to help you through, your friends and family will be there for you, too.

Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for helping us carry heavy things. Remind us to ask for help. Amen.

Message:

I often find myself going down rabbit-holes, wondering where certain phrases come from. The one that comes to mind from today’s gospel reading is this: “Don’t shoot the messenger.” Wikipedia states that the phrase has several historical references, all the way back to Plutarch and Sophocles, telling stories of rulers receiving unpleasant messages from their enemies. Plutarch’s ruler beheaded the messenger because he told the ruler that his enemy was coming. Fearing a similar end, no messenger dared bring additional news.  Without any intelligence at all, the ruler sat while war was blazing around him, giving ear only to those who flattered him. Not a particularly effective example of leadership, but there you go.

Until newspapers and telegraphs and such, messengers were the only way to share information. Town criers would include bits of local news in their hourly updates. To kill such a messenger because of the message they delivered was actually considered treason.

All this to get us to the messengers of the Gospel—in this case, John the Baptist and Jesus the Christ. They both came proclaiming the same message: Repent, for the kingdom of God is near. And they were both killed because of it.

The messengers were quite different from each other. John was often found hanging out in the wilderness, eating wild honey and bugs. He kept himself from wine, rich food, and anything that would seem lavish or worldly. Jesus, on the other hand, could often be found at a party, eating and drinking—with sinners and tax collectors.

The problem, as Jesus points out, isn’t that one way or the other was particularly offensive. Or perhaps they were both equally offensive. But being offended by the messenger was just an excuse. What was really offensive and scandalous was the message, itself. Repent, for the kingdom of God is near.

Growing up, when mom would leave the house, she usually left instructions. Vacuum, clean your room, do the dishes. Of course, I would put it off. Does this sound familiar to anyone? I’d put it off, and then all of a sudden, I’d see her car coming down the street. And then there was a big scurry to look busy because mom was coming. Quick, repent! The kingdom of God is near! Quick, look busy! Mom’s almost here!

In the verses that we pass over this week, Jesus goes into further detail about the issue at hand. He focuses on the cities that were privy to his deeds of power. The places where he healed, fed, and raised the dead. “Woe to you, Chorazin, Bethsaida, Capernaum. You saw what I can do, and you still don’t change your ways. If I had done these powerful things in the notoriously sinful places like Tyre and Sidon, they would have grieved their old ways and repented. But you just sit there in your piety and pretend you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

And then he prays to God, giving thanks that the weak-minded have access to God’s wisdom when the self-appointed powers of the people have absolutely no idea. Much like Paul’s letter to Corinth, God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom. And God uses the weak, the burdened, the vulnerable, and the oppressed to carry the message of grace. Because those who rely on their own strength refuse to listen.

When we rely on ourselves and our religious notions to save us, we stopper our ears to the gospel. Because the good news of Jesus Christ always comes yoked to the bad news. The bad news is that we cannot help ourselves. We cannot save ourselves. We cannot do enough or believe enough or worship enough or BE enough to not need God. When we place God lovingly in the china cabinet, only to bring God out on special occasions—those times when we are down or when we want to show off—we lose the impact of the message.

But, the bad news of our sinfulness—the ways in which we can never manage to do what we know we ought to do, as Paul so eloquently put it in his letter to Romans—the bad news is always yoked to the good news. And the good news is this: God’s grace abounds. God’s kingdom is near. God’s burden is no burden at all because God carries all the weight upon the cross.

In fact, when Jesus says to take his yoke upon you, he uses the same verb as when he said to take up your cross. The yoke and the cross are one. And Jesus carries the weight because he is the only one who can. Jesus carries the weight of our broken promises and our unrealized expectations and our failures and our disappointments. He carries the weight of our addictions and our vulnerabilities and our fears and our anger. He carries it all so that when we are yoked to him, our burden becomes his and his burden becomes ours.

And we realize that the burden of the cross is so much lighter than the burden we have placed upon ourselves and others—burdens of culture, morality, race, and religion. These are not things that God ever intended for us to carry. And yet, when Jesus invites us to hand them over, we hesitate.

We hesitate because we can’t quite let go of the idea that these things give us worth. Who are we if we are not…what? White? Black? Immigrant? American? Morally upstanding? Honor student? Lutheran? Christian? Whatever we have used to define ourselves over against another, Jesus offers us release from these things. Freedom. Liberation.

It’s no wonder we, as humanity, chose to kill the messenger rather than accept the grace offered. It’s a frightening thing to consider all that is left of us when these human elements are taken out of the mix. What lies beneath the ways in which we choose to present ourselves?

Repent. Let it go, Jesus says. You don’t have to do anything. The kingdom of heaven is near, and your hands are full of all the things that you’ve grasped at for validity and worth. Simply open your grip so that these hands are prepared to carry his cross. Embrace the rest that comes when you no longer have to claw your way to the top of whatever heap is currently looming over you.

The burden of the cross is lighter than the burden you have been carrying for so long. Jesus is offering an incredibly unfair trade—he is offering grace. It is ours. Period.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE