by Rev. Dr John Evans
Do you permit me to make a prediction?
When we look back on the first decade of the 21st century, the years 2001 and 2008 will stand out as being the most significant.
2001 is obvious. The 11th September attacks on the US brought a frightening religious dimension to global issues. This, in turn, led to what will be seen as a monumental mistake, the war in Iraq and, more generally, the so-called war on terror.
2008 will however, be just as crucial and perhaps even more significant. In the first half of this year we have seen the economic changing of the guard. We knew India and China were emerging economies, but it has taken the stumbling of the US economy to see things will be different now. Indeed the whole world economy is stumbling. However, more significantly the world has seen the dire state of the environment and climate change has starkly come into focus. Environmental degradation continues – last week the Russians said the polar ice cap is only half the thickness is was 30 years ago; but the oil price rises have focused the mind enormously. We now realise this stuff is scarce after all. Its use, along with other fossil fuels, just might have had some consequences. And so this year the Murray Darling was pronounced dead, or as the government would say, deadish. It has not rained since the Evans’ came to town – it’s sprinkled, but it has not rained. And in 2008 we have not even got to the Olympics or the Grand Final.
And yet we have childish blame games and denial about this momentous year. Petty’s perceptive cartoon in last Monday’s Age about the elephant in the room sums up this attitude. (We know climate change is there, but let us forget about it as we all try and get short term political advantage.) We are like petulant children, playing their games, being critical of the other kids, not able to agree, and just missing the point. Don’t you remember what it was like as a child? Now I am not quite across the current demands of children, but once it went like this: “I want to play dress ups”, “Oh I don’t feel like it; no that’s boring; besides you always get the good dresses”. Or, “I want to play cops and robbers” “Nah, you are always the goodie . . . it’s not fair, why do I have to be the baddie?” And at that point a responsible adult emerges to calm things down.
Jesus likens his generation to such a scene in the square where the children just banter and squabble – never seemingly satisfied. One group wants to play funerals – and another wants to play weddings. But then he takes it further with deep, biting irony. This generation is never satisfied, he says. They complain about John the Baptist – his austere life-style; living in the desert, and his diet, locusts and wild honey. He is deluded – he has a demon. So what do they then say about Jesus? Just the reverse: he is glutton and drunkard; a friend of tax collectors and sinners.
You can’t win – you can’t please them, people are fickle. They don’t get it. So it is the government’s fault they haven’t done anything about climate change; but when something is done, that is not fair. A prime minister, or sometimes just a parish minister, may be too hard working and not a person of the people; but if they are too much with the people, they are not hard working enough.
Jesus despairs over his generation. They are just not satisfied. And so Jesus gets annoyed with his generation. Very annoyed. We have him issuing threats, woes, to towns that just did not get the message of Jesus and understand what he was about. Jesus in fact ends up sounding really vindictive towards places like Chorazin, Bethsaida, Tyre, Sidon, Capernaum – it would seem most of the places we associate with Jesus’ ministry in the region of Galilee. I think, however, we all can understand such frustration when we are not understood, or our hard work is not recognised, or people just don’t get it.
And I think in 2008 we can feel very frustrated that around us the signs of a critical time of transition are not being heeded - not just by governments, but it would seem many around us.
Are we taking into account the profound reality of religious diversity; diversity which profoundly and at times threateningly exists within churches as well – as we have this week seen from the Anglican Church?
Are we working through the changing face of global economics - and not simply resenting that other nations and people want to be like us, and have all the stuff of modern life we have; and see that there indeed may be the common good for all – and then realise that many, many, many of our brothers and sisters still are being left behind?
Are we able to see beyond our own needs, and selfish desires and dream of handing on a beautiful, God-given planet to our children and their children?
So as we look around us, we also can understand Jesus’ frustration with his generation about his own life and mission. Jesus, however, did not leave it there – people feeling frustrated and despondent.
So how does Jesus respond to this generation?
There is first an observation (actually a thanksgiving) – and then an offer of help.
The observation simply is that wisdom will be vindicated by her deeds . . . and wisdom is revealed not to the so-called wise and intelligent of the world – the opinion leaders of our time; but amazingly to ‘infants’ – the poor, the marginalised, the tax collectors and outcasts. That same group, perhaps, of which he was critical for their childishness in the village square – do have a certain quality about them: They possess an openness and a profound wonder towards God. God, our destiny, our hope, our future, is not controlled by human brilliance (or the power of stubbornness or selfishness). God really should only be known as a gift of incredible grace – and this is why infants have such a special place. They make no pretence to knowledge; whatever they have is given to them; they are those who do not judge by some pre-conceived criterion. Infants are those who let God be God, on God’s own terms.
Jesus offers, in this passage, thanks – that even in this generation there are those who see life and have different values. They are the infants – not the powerful and the celebrities. They see there are the simple virtues of mutual love and respect for the spiritual which are critical for living life to the full.
And then Jesus offers an invitation: an invitation which is breathtaking in its scope.
Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me: for I am gentle in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
Jesus, rather than make demands, or lay ponderous loads on followers, he summons people to a discipleship that is easy and a burden that is light.
This may come as a surprise to us – who as recently as a couple of Sundays ago heard about discipleship being tough, about people being physically threatened. In fact that is what Jesus says to his own disciples in the previous chapter. Remember we thought of those associated with our own congregation who are doing it tough in other parts of the world? And yet here, Jesus promises to take our burdens?
Jesus is, of course, talking about the context of his time where the religious leaders heaped heavy burdens on people; observance of the law and the ritual customs were difficult and onerous. Life was full of don’ts and can’t dos if people wanted that relationship with God. Some of our brothers and sisters still can impose such a religiously motivated burden, but generally modern life creates its own burdens of having the latest, or keeping up with the Jones or whatever. Remember how we started the service – being still amid our busy world. These burdens now, as then, are imposed by human demands. In the face of that Jesus wishes us to move into a realm of a God given joy. He calls this rest – perhaps that Sabbath rest – a time of appreciation of God’s creation, and of God’s wonder and love.
This rest – however, is not just all passivity. There is this beautiful image of being yoked with Jesus. The yoke was the means of joining together two animals – usually oxen to plough to labour in the field. The yoke was carved wood – carved specifically for an individual beast – that would sit comfortably across the shoulders of the ox. This image here is thus both challenging and comforting. We, who are yoked to Jesus in our life – will learn, will learn so much about ourselves, the way of God, the hope and possibilities. There will be still work – you will still be trudging up and down the paddock of life, but there will be a companion to whom you will be yoked. There will not be the burdens the world places on you, and if there are burdens because of our discipleship, those will be shared. Jesus’ yoke is easy; and his burden is light.
Sometimes when we look at our world, or we look at our lives – or even the state of our church – we become overwhelmed. We can indeed understand the denial of this generation and the blame shifting and avoidance we all seem to get into. Let us not, however, beat around the bush – to do that will have its consequences. Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. . . and like those towns of Jesus’ generation, our own towns, and cities and even nations can come tumbling down. But Jesus offers to us hope – and a way forward. He will carry our burdens, God’s grace will lift those – but we are still to learn and follow the leading of Jesus. Problems may arise – but Christ will be there with us.
This morning we are reminded again that our burdens may be transformed and we can be yoked to Jesus. We gather around our Lord’s table. May we again take the bread and wine as sign that we are yoked in life with Christ, and remember he lifts our burdens, and provides to us rest for our souls.
