Sharing the Burden

Sunday, July 9, 2023

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67

Psalm 45: 11-18

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Homily by David Whitlow

Sometimes, when I look at the Lectionary, it is difficult for me to see the common thread that draws the readings together. It makes me wonder what the selection committee was trying to get us to think about, or maybe, was it their intent to play a joke on those who have to prepare a sermon. If God can test Abraham, as in last week’s reading, why not have the Consultation on Common Texts do the same for those working on sermons? As I began to look at today’s passages, I was really doing some head scratching. But then, it dawned on me that both the Old Testament reading and the Gospel were really about yoking. You might say that the yoke was on me.

The yoke has several different ways of being defined, but generally refers to the bringing of two or more together to share a common burden. It requires a creation of balance.

In Genesis, we read of how Isaac and Rebekah were brought together to live as husband and wife and continue the root of the nation to be created by Abraham, to share this burden in a common yoke. This yoking should not be viewed as a misogynistic relationship, but one of love.

In Matthew, we read first of the yoked course of John and Jesus, each playing a role in defining God’s kingdom. John prepared the way then awaited the arrival of Jesus to complete the prophecy described in Isaiah. Then Jesus, acknowledging to God that he understands his role and the burden that he shares with God in serving humankind. But then Jesus addresses yoking directly in those well-known verses 28 through 30.

We had guests at our home in Callao for the July 4th weekend in 1976. This being the focal weekend of a 5-year celebration of the bicentennial of the United States, we decided that we needed to hit as many of the historical sites in our area as we could in three days. Stratford Hall, home of the Lees, including signers of the Declaration of Independence, Christ Church, attending a community service at Morattico Baptist Church, mother church of Baptists in the Northern Neck, and Wakefield, the reconstructed birthplace of George Washington.

I don’t remember everything about that weekend, but one thing that is still vivid in my memory is the ox driver at Wakefield. The oxen were yoked by a wooden yoke, and pulled a single blade wooden plow, turning the soil over as they crossed back and forth over a one-acre garden area. The driver walked along beside them, giving them verbal commands, with an occasional touch to the hind quarters of the left yoked ox. He seemed please to stop and chat with us about how this team worked. He told us that the only difference between a cow and an ox was that the ox was a cow that had been to school. They learn several basic commands—“haw” meaning turn left, “gee” meaning turn right, “back” meaning back up, “come up” meaning come ahead, “whoa” for stop, and “stand” meaning stay. The ox on the left is always the leader, and traditionally is named Buck, while the ox on the right is traditionally named Shorty. He said that one of the most important parts of an oxen team is the yoke. It needs to be properly fitted so that during the hard work that they are assigned, the necks would not be galled by the rubbing of the wood against the skin. The distance between the oxen needs to be carefully calculated so that the two animals do not inadvertently bump into one another, but close enough that they can match their strides and the direction of the pull, minimizing the effort necessary to complete the task. We asked how much more valuable a schooled ox was than a regular cow, and the driver said, with a wry smile on his face, about 5 cents a pound. So much for the value of education.

Today’s gospel reading offers us Jesus’ words on the value of the yoke.

When Jesus speaks of the yoke, he is certainly speaking about the Pharisees interpretation of the laws, as well as Roman governance, but perhaps most importantly, Jesus extends an invitation to us to join him in the design and work of his yoke.

The Mosaic Law or Torah is the set of laws given through Moses to the Jewish people. We are familiar with the Ten Commandments, but actually there are a total of 613 commandments given in the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testament. By Jesus’ time, the rabbis and Pharisees had created thousands of additional laws or commandments to clarify the original 613. Not to discredit or trivialize the laws, I must interject that in almost every case that I can think of where a law was adopted, there was a reason behind it, and it is generally that some people don’t want to follow accepted principles and try to stretch these principles in a direction that is detrimental to the public, in our culture, something like speed limits. And, sometimes laws become too specific, too limited or too broad in their application to achieve their intended goal. The rabbinical laws that grew out of the Mishnah surrounding the time of Jesus sometimes included things that today we might refer to as overreach.

An example:

Mosaic law commands the Jews to keep the Sabbath holy, including that one was not supposed to work on the Sabbath. In order to clarify what work meant, the leaders created thirty-nine categories of what constituted work, and within these categories were sub-categories, and within these sub-categories, rules, and within these rules, sub-rules, resulting in thousands of sub-rules to follow. The Mishnah allows a Jew to travel 2,000 cubits from one’s city limits on the Sabbath, something on the order of 3,049 feet. But the city limits are defined as where the distance between homes is greater than 70 ½ cubits, or about 106 feet. Starts to get pretty complicated, right? And this was just one of thousands of interpretive rules that the rabbis developed. Needless to say, these rules could be onerous at best, and a major burden for any Jew who was serious about the practice of faith. They also created huge possibilities for mis-application and punitive actions toward those who did not follow all of the rules.

And as we know from history, this was a time of Roman control over much of the known world, the Pax Romana, or Roman Peace, that lasted from 27 BCE until 180 CE. While this was indeed a time of relative peace, it was a brutal time as well, something under which the Jews chafed. Rome allowed each province to develop its own laws under the umbrella of Rome, but required that taxes be paid to Rome and exercised military control over the functions of the empire. Rome taxed land, homes, slaves, animals, other personal property and wealth. The Jews danced between these two sets of governance, the Temple and the Empire, a balancing act.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus provided us with a more simplified approach than the institutional approaches that yoked the people—love God, love your neighbor, render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. His more focused approach, though easier to understand, is not necessarily easier to follow. Beyond what Jesus offers in the restructuring of the law is the most important offer to us. Jesus invites us into his yoke, telling us that his yoke is fitted properly to us, accepting our help and letting us know that he is lifting his part, if only we will do ours.

Back to the oxen yoke, it is typically constructed of wood and designed to work with two oxen, one serving as the leader and the other as the helper and between the two, the load is shared, lightening it for both. And Jesus and the peoples of the Middle East understood how a yoke worked to help the oxen function more effectively. Jesus would have known well how yokes were designed and worked and the importance of a well fitted yoke, for yokes were generally fabricated by carpenters.

In our time, we are still yoked to one another in so many ways—in our families, through our work, in our communities, our states and our country, in our congregations, and between congregations. Through our collective yoking, we can accomplish so much more than as individuals. If we work on perfecting the yoke, avoid the distractions of differences, and focus on common goals, maybe we can fulfill some of God’s plans.

Nowhere does Jesus say that his commandments to us are achieved without any effort and without risk. He tells us that his yoke is simple but ultimately, more rewarding. He tells us that our souls will find rest in him and that his humble approach is something that everyone can receive. And if we dive deeply into his teachings, we find that he has carefully crafted a yoke for us to share with him, something that allows us to share the burden, something that fits us for heaven.

Here is the most astonishing thing to me—God wants us to share the burden. This is the same God that can do all things, the Alpha and the Omega, who really doesn’t need our participation to make things happen. Yet God has chosen to allow us into the yoke, to work shoulder to shoulder, to accept our feeble efforts in trying to heal a broken world. What a compelling vision of God’s love for us.

So, in these perplexing times, let us step into the yoke that Jesus offers, come up as we move into the field, not worry about our gees and haws, and know that God will gently but firmly tap us on our hind quarters if we deviate from the course, and together we will experience the kingdom of God.

Amen