Have you ever felt like the writer of this Psalm?  Have you ever cried out in the middle of the night – or in the heat of the day –

My God, my God… why have you forsaken me? …you were midwife at my birth,
    setting me at my mother’s breasts!
When I left the womb you cradled me; since the moment of birth you’ve been my God.
Then you moved far away and trouble moved in next door.
I need a neighbor.

Truth is, we all need a neighbor right now.  We come to this worship acutely aware of the trouble that has moved in next door, or into our homes, even into our very own souls:  the chaos of Covid-19;  the confusion of unemployment and isolation; the uncertainty of a new way of being in the world, even a new way of being the church in the world!  We know the discomfort of conflict as opinions clash and struggles for justice mingle with calls for righteousness.  So we might stand with the Psalmist and wonder aloud, “Where is God in the midst of this moment?”  Right here.  God is right beside us, offfering a shared yoke.

When Jesus told his original audience Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened… and offered them an easy yoke … they would have caught on right away.

As an agrarian society, the farming metaphor would not have been lost on them.  And, along with images of yoked oxen plowing fields, two other images would have come quickly to mind – one Biblical, and the other, Rabbinical.

First, the Biblical image of “yoke”.  In the ninth chapter of Isaiah, the prophet issues a harsh warning against a nation that had forgotten their God, a nation that had made worship empty idolatry, a nation that had ignored the needs of the poor or the cries of the oppressed, while allowing people to be marginalized in their midst.  After pointing out these transgressions, and warning them of God’s anger, the prophet then offers a word of hope.  He gives them the vision of a new day, when God would appoint a king to overthrow those who oppressed the people, and to break the yoke of their burden.

So, when Jesus speaks of his easy yoke, the people immediately think of this promised king, and their hopes are rekindled… that they might yet, see the Roman occupation thrown out, the yoke of their oppression broken.

Close on the heels of this image would have been the Rabbinical understanding of a yoke.  You see, the teaching of a Rabbi was said to be his yoke.  Putting on that yoke was something which took a lifetime.  The Torah, with its 613 individual laws, and all their various interpretations, could be a heavy burden.  Certainly that was true for many of Jesus’ contemporaries… not only was their civic life a heavy yoke, but religious life also didn’t offer much in the way of lightening the load.

Then along comes Jesus, who refers to his teaching as an “easy yoke”, and  2000-plus years later and we can still hear the peoples’ audible sigh of relief.  At last… a neighbor has moved into this neighborhood of trouble.

I like the way Eugene Peterson paraphrases this invitation of Jesus:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Recover your life.

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

Live freely and lightly … This is the invitation Jesus holds out to us today.

While the Psalmist speaks at great length of all that is frustrating hope, Jesus enters this moment to restore our hope.  He offers us a way to make things easier, not harder.  Jesus’ yoke – his teaching – is easy, and its burden is light.  So why is it we are so quick to dismiss this invitation, to shun this yoke and to pick up our heavy burdens once more –  to trudge joylessly through the world?

It seems we are creatures drawn to complication.  Given the choice between making the way easy and making it difficult, too often we lean into complication.  Perhaps we need something to push against, something to mold and form us.  Maybe we secretly long – like Jacob – for an intense wrestling with the divine, a striving that blesses us with a new name.  Jan Richardson reminds us, however, that

There is a difference between the complications and complexities that forge the soul and those that drain it… 

Think about it – how many times have you made your own way more difficult?  Maybe you’ve tried to take on too much, or you’ve picked up the wrong load.  You know, we can spend years thinking we are picking up our cross, only to discover we’ve been carrying someone else’s burden the whole time!  We can be weighed down by misguided expectations (our own, or others).  We are so very good at complicating our own way, making it more difficult by taking on too much or taking on the wrong stuff.

It is equally possible for you to make your way difficult by avoiding the load that is

yours to carry, whether it’s a task you dislike or a person with whom you disagree or a change you know you must make.  “Listen!”  Jesus says… “you can recover your life.  You can learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  You can live freely and lightly.  You can move beyond the place of frustrating hope.”

All too often, we labor under the illusion that we have a single yoke, that we have to go it all alone, while all the time, Jesus is standing right in front of us, with half a shared yoke across his shoulders, and the other half open, waiting for us.  It requires nothing more than for you to step into it, to share it, to become two, together.

Jesus’ yoke is easy and his burden is light because it offers us a connection beyond everything in this life that frustrates our hope, a connection that fulfills our hope.

To learn the unforced rhythms of grace, to share Christ’s yoke, is to recover our lives.  It is also what helps us choose the complexity that deepens us (like difficult conversations where we may not always agree); over the complexity that deadens us (like defensive postures which allow for no possibility of listening, much less of changing).

The truth is, we are always stepping into one yoke or another, binding ourselves, even subtly, to something – to people or places, to habits or possessions, to beliefs or world views, to fears or frustrations.  So I ask you:  What kind of yoke do you wear today?

Is it one you have chosen, or have you allowed it to be placed upon you by others?

Does it deepen you or deaden you?  Does it connect you with God’s power to live freely and lightly?

There is a yoke that will connect you and free you and lighten your load.  It is waiting for you.  Right now.  You have only to step into it to recover your life. 

 I leave you today with a short video of the yoke we have shared this past year, and 

the ways in which this congregation has responded to Jesus’ offering, to come to him, whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light.   Because ultimately Jesus’  yoke is a yoke of partnership.  And the burden we have to bear is simply, to love.  Our burden is simply to love, as we have done in the past, and as we will continue to do, for the sake of the Gospel.

Thanks be to God!  Amen.