A Yoke for the Childlike
Jesus is portrayed in this week’s Gospel as a new and greater Moses.
Moses, the meekest man on earth (see Numbers 12:3), was God’s friend (see Exodus 34:12,17). Only he knew God “face to face” (see Deuteronomy 34:10). And Moses gave Israel the yoke of the Law, through which God first revealed himself and how we are to live (see Jeremiah 2:20; 5:5).
Jesus too is meek and humble. But He is more than God’s friend. He is the Son who alone knows the Father. He is more also than a law-giver, presenting himself today as the yoke of a new Law, and as the revealed Wisdom of God.
As Wisdom, Jesus was present before creation as the firstborn of God, the Father and Lord of heaven and earth (see Proverbs 8:22; Wisdom 9:9). And He gives knowledge of the holy things of the kingdom of God (see Wisdom 10:10).
In the gracious will of the Father, Jesus reveals these things only to the “childlike”—those who humble themselves before Him as little children (see Sirach 2:17). These alone can recognize and receive Jesus as the just savior and meek king promised to daughter Zion, Israel, in this Sunday’s First Reading.
We too are called to childlike faith in the Father’s goodness, as sons and daughters of the new kingdom, the Church.
We are to live by the Spirit we received in baptism (see Galatians 5:16), putting to death our old ways of thinking and acting, as Paul exhorts in the Epistle for Sunday. Our “yoke” is to be His new law of love (see John 13:34), by which we enter into the “rest” of His kingdom.
As we sing in Sunday’s Psalm, we joyously await the day when we will praise His name forever in the kingdom that lasts for all ages. This is the sabbath rest promised by Jesus—first anticipated by Moses (see Exodus 20:8-11), but which still awaits the people of God (see Hebrews 4:9).
St. Augustine
Confessions, I, (1-5)
“You are great, O Lord, and highly to be praised,” (Ps 145[144],3). “Great is your power, and your wisdom is infinite,” (Ps 147[146],5. And man, who being a part of what you have created, desires to praise you; this man, bearing his own mortality about with him, carrying with him a testimony of his own sin, (even this testimony, that “God resists the proud,” (Jas 4,6)) yet this man, this part of what you have created, is desirous of praising you; you so stir him up, that he even delights to praise you.
For you have created us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in you…
“Those who seek the Lord shall praise him,” (Ps 22[21],27). For they that seek shall find; and finding they shall praise him. I will seek you, O Lord, calling upon you; and I will call upon you, believing in you: for you have been preached to us.
My faith, O Lord, calls to you: the faith you have given me and inspired within me by the humanity of your Son and the ministry of your preacher. And how shall I call upon my God, my Lord and God? Because when I invoke him, I call him into myself: and what place is there in me fit for my God to come into me, by which God may come into me; even the God who made heaven and earth? Is it so, my Lord God?
Is there anything in me that can contain you? No, indeed, can the “heaven and earth which you have made,” (Gn 1,1) and in which you have made me, in any way contain you?… Since, therefore, I am, how can I entreat you to enter me, who could not have been unless you were first of all in me?…
Who shall grant me to repose in you? By whose gift will you enter my heart; and so inebriate it that I may forget my own evils and embrace you, my only good? What are you to me? Let me find grace to speak to you. What am I to you, that you should command me to love you…
What you are to me, answer me for your mercy’s sake, O Lord my God: say to my soul: “I am your salvation,” (Ps. 35[34],3). Speak it aloud so that I may hear you. Behold, the ears of my heart are before you, O Lord: open them, and say to my soul, “I am your salvation.” I will run after that voice, and take hold of you.
St. Aelred of Rielvaux
The Mirror of Charity, I, 20
People who complain about the roughness of the Lord’s yoke may not, perhaps, have cast aside entirely the heavy yoke of worldly lusts… But tell me, what could be sweeter or more restful than no longer to be tossed about by the uncontrolled stirrings of the flesh?…
We come close to sharing the tranquil rest of God when insults have no effect on us, when persecutions or penalties have no terror for us, when prosperity or adversity have no influence on us, and when friend and enemy share the same measure of our consideration. This is indeed to resemble closely «Him who makes His sun to rise upon the good and bad, and rains upon the just and the unjust» (Mt 5,45).
All these things are rooted and done in charity, and in charity only, which brings with it true peace and delight, since charity is the Lord’s yoke. And we know that if we answer our Lord’s call and bear his yoke, our souls will find rest, since: «His yoke is sweet and his burden light.» Saint Paul describes charity as «patient and kind; it is not pompous or inflated; it does not seek its own interests and is not ambitious» (cf. 1Cor 13,4-5).
The other virtues help us as a carriage bears the weary traveler upon his way, as marching rations strengthen the tired soldier, as a light shows the road by night, or as arms help in winning a battle. But charity, which we must have in conjunction with the other virtues, is in a special way the tired man’s rest, the traveler’s shelter, the voyager’s destination, and the victor’s trophy.
Pope Benedict XVI
Angelus Address, July 3, 2011
In today’s Gospel the Lord Jesus repeats to us those words we know well, but which always move us: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
When Jesus went about the roads of Galilee proclaiming the Kingdom of God and curing many sick, he felt compassion for the crowds “because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd” (cf. Matthew 9:35-36).
That gaze of Jesus seems to extend to today, to our world. Even today it rests on so many people oppressed by difficult conditions of life, but also deprived of valid points of reference to find a meaning and aim to their existence.
Many of the weak are found in the poorest countries, tested by poverty; and even in the richest countries there are so many dissatisfied men and women, in fact sick with depression. Then we think of the numerous dispersed peoples and refugees, and all those who emigrate putting their own life at risk. Christ’s look pauses on all these people, rather on each one of these children of the Father who is in Heaven and repeats: “Come to me, all you …”
Jesus promises to give all “rest,” but he puts a condition: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” What is this “yoke,” which instead of weighing is light, and instead of crushing lifts? The “yoke” of Christ is the law of love, it is his commandment, which he left to his disciples (cf. John 13:34; 15:12).
The true remedy for the wounds of humanity — whether they are material, such as hunger and injustice, or psychological and moral, caused by a false sense of well being — is a rule of life based on fraternal love, which has its source in the love of God.
It is therefore necessary to abandon the path of arrogance and violence that is used to procure positions of greater power, so as to ensure success at any cost. Also, out of respect for the environment, it is necessary to give up the aggressive lifestyle that has become prevalent in the last centuries and to adopt a reasonable “meekness.” But above all in human, interpersonal and social relations, the rule of respect and of nonviolence, that is, the force of truth against any abuse is what can ensure a future worthy of man.
Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
The Prayer of the Church
“Father, Lord of heaven and earth, to you I offer praise.”
When the Lord took the cup, he gave thanks (Mt 26:27). This can remind us of the words of blessing, which certainly express thanksgiving to the Creator, but we also know that Christ was in the habit of giving thanks every time he raised his eyes to the heavenly Father (Jn 11:41) before working a miracle. He gave thanks because he knew ahead of time that he would be heard. He gave thanks for the divine power that he carried in himself and through which he was to manifest before the eyes of men that the Creator is all-powerful. He gave thanks for the work of redemption, which was given him to do, and he gave thanks through that work, which is itself the glorification of the Triune God, whose disfigured image it renews through its pure beauty.
Thus, Christ’s eternally present sacrifice on the cross during Holy Mass and in the eternal glory of heaven can be understood as one single immense thanksgiving – that is what the word “eucharist” means – thanksgiving for creation, for redemption, and for the final fulfillment. He offers himself in the name of the whole created universe, of which he is the original model and to which he descended so as to renew it from the inside and to lead it to its fulfillment. But he also calls this whole created world to come with him to give the Creator the homage of thanksgiving, which is his due.
Pope Francis
Angelus on Sunday, July 9, 2017
Dear Brothers and Sisters, Good morning!
In today’s Gospel, Jesus says: “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). The Lord does not reserve this phrase for certain friends of his, no; he addresses it to “all” those who are weary and overwhelmed by life. And who could feel excluded from this invitation? The Lord knows how arduous life can be. He knows that many things weary the heart: disappointments and wounds of the past, burdens to carry and wrongs to bear in the present, uncertainties and worries about the future.
In the face of all this, Jesus’ first word is an invitation, a call to move and respond: “Come”. The mistake, when things go wrong, is to stay where we are, lying there. It seems obvious, but how difficult it is to respond and open ourselves! It is not easy. In dark times it feels natural to keep to ourselves, to ruminate over how unfair life is, over how ungrateful others are, how mean the world is, and so on. We all know it. We have had this awful experience a few times. But in this way, locked up inside ourselves, we see everything as grim. Then we even grow accustomed to sadness, which becomes like home: that sadness overcomes us; this sadness is a terrible thing. Jesus, however, wants to pull us out of this “quicksand” and thus says to each one: “Come! — Who? — You, you, you”. The way out is in connecting, in extending a hand and lifting our gaze to those who truly love us.
In fact it is not enough to come out of ourselves; it is important to know where to go. Because many aims are illusory: they promise comfort and distract just a little; they guarantee peace and offer amusement, then leave us with the loneliness there was before; they are “fireworks”. Therefore Jesus indicates where to go: “Come to me”. And many times, in the face of a burden of life or a situation that saddens us, we try to talk about it with someone who listens to us, with a friend, with an expert…. This is a great thing to do, but let us not forget Jesus. Let us not forget to open ourselves to him and to recount our life to him, to entrust people and situations to him. Perhaps there are “areas” of our life that we have never opened up to him and which have remained dark, because they have never seen the Lord’s light. Each of us has our own story. And if someone has this dark area, seek out Jesus; go to a missionary of mercy; go to a priest; go…. But go to Jesus, and tell Jesus about this. Today he says to each one: “Take courage; do not give in to life’s burdens; do not close yourself off in the face of fears and sins. Come to me!”.
He awaits us; he always awaits us. Not to magically resolve problems, but to strengthen us amid our problems. Jesus does not lift the burdens from our life, but the anguish from our heart; he does not take away our cross, but carries it with us. And with him every burden becomes light (cf. v. 30), because he is the comfort we seek.
When Jesus enters life, peace arrives, the kind that remains even in trials, in suffering. Let us go to Jesus; let us give him our time; let us encounter him each day in prayer, in a trusting and personal dialogue; let us become familiar with his Word; let us fearlessly rediscover his forgiveness; let us eat of his Bread of Life: we will feel loved; we will feel comforted by him.
It is he himself who asks it of us, almost insists on it. He repeats it again at the end of today’s Gospel: “learn from me, and you will find rest for your life” (cf. v. 29). And thus, let us learn to go to Jesus and, in the summer months, as we seek a little rest from what wearies the body, let us not forget to find true comfort in the Lord. May the Virgin Mary our Mother, who always takes care of us when we are weary and overwhelmed, help us and accompany us to Jesus.
After the Angelus:
I wish all of you a happy Sunday. Please, do not forget to pray for me. Enjoy your lunch. Arrivederci!
Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross [Edith Stein] The Prayer of the Church
“Father, Lord of heaven and earth, to you I offer praise.”
When the Lord took the cup, he gave thanks (Mt 26:27). This can remind us of the words of blessing, which certainly express thanksgiving to the Creator, but we also know that Christ was in the habit of giving thanks every time he raised his eyes to the heavenly Father (Jn 11:41) before working a miracle. He gave thanks because he knew ahead of time that he would be heard. He gave thanks for the divine power that he carried in himself and through which he was to manifest before the eyes of men that the Creator is all-powerful. He gave thanks for the work of redemption, which was given him to do, and he gave thanks through that work, which is itself the glorification of the Triune God, whose disfigured image it renews through its pure beauty.
Thus, Christ’s eternally present sacrifice on the cross during Holy Mass and in the eternal glory of heaven can be understood as one single immense thanksgiving – that is what the word “eucharist” means – thanksgiving for creation, for redemption, and for the final fulfillment. He offers himself in the name of the whole created universe, of which he is the original model and to which he descended so as to renew it from the inside and to lead it to its fulfillment. But he also calls this whole created world to come with him to give the Creator the homage of thanksgiving, which is his due.
Pope Francis
Angelus on Sunday, July 6, 2014
Dear Brothers and Sisters, Good morning!
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we find Jesus’ invitation: “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). When Jesus says this, he has before him the people he meets every day on the streets of Galilee: very many simple people, the poor, the sick, sinners, those who are marginalized…. These people always followed him to hear his word — a word that gave hope! Jesus’ words always give hope! — and even just to touch a hem of his garment. Jesus himself sought out these tired, worn out crowds like sheep without a shepherd (cf. Mt 9:35-36), and he sought them out to proclaim to them the Kingdom of God and to heal many of them in body and spirit. Now he calls them all to himself: “Come to me”, and he promises them relief and rest.
This invitation of Jesus reaches to our day, and extends to the many brothers and sisters
oppressed by life’s precarious conditions, by existential and difficult situations and at times lacking valid points of reference. In the poorest countries, but also on the outskirts of the richest countries, there are so many weary people, worn out under the unbearable weight of neglect and indifference. Indifference: human indifference causes the needy so much pain! And worse, the indifference of Christians! On the fringes of society so many men and women are tried by indigence, but also by dissatisfaction with life and by frustration. So many are forced to emigrate from their homeland, risking their lives. Many more, every day, carry the weight of an economic system that exploits human beings, imposing on them an unbearable “yoke”, which the few privileged do not want to bear. To each of these children of the Father in heaven, Jesus repeats: “Come to me, all of you”. But he also says it to those who have everything, but whose heart is empty and without God. Even to them, Jesus addresses this invitation: “Come to me”. Jesus’ invitation is for everyone. But especially for those who suffer the most.
Jesus promises to give rest to everyone, but he also gives us an invitation, which is like a
commandment: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart”
(Mt 11:29). The “yoke” of the Lord consists in taking on the burden of others with fraternal love. Once Christ’s comfort and rest is received, we are called in turn to become rest and comfort for our brothers and sisters, with a docile and humble attitude, in imitation of the Teacher. Docility and humility of heart help us not only to take on the burden of others, but also to keep our personal views, our judgments, our criticism or our indifference from weighing on them. Let us invoke Mary Most Holy, who welcomes under her mantle all the tired and worn out people, so that through an enlightened faith, witnessed in life, we can offer relief for so many in need of help, of tenderness, of hope.
After the Angelus
Dear brothers and sisters, I cordially greet all of you, Romans and pilgrims!
I would like to specially and warmly greet the good people of Molise, who welcomed me yesterday in their beautiful land and also in their heart. It was a warm, hearty welcome: I will never forget it!
Thank you very much. Please, don’t forget to pray for me: I pray for you too.
To all I wish a happy Sunday. Have a good lunch. Arrivederci!
