This morning’s Gospel reading can, I think, unless we pay close attention to what Jesus is saying, present us with something of a puzzle. In the teaching we read this morning, Jesus promises to give “rest” to those who come to him, in other words to give rest to his disciples, to Christians, to us. He asks us to “shoulder his yoke” which is another way of telling us to take up our cross and follow him. And at the end of his teaching, Jesus tells us that his “yoke is easy” and his “burden light.” This seems to imply that being a disciple of Jesus is something of a doddle, and yet we know from the Church’s history and our own experience, that being a Christian is very far from being a doddle. In fact, being a Christian can be very difficult, and whether it’s in terms of our own personal discipleship, and living a good, Christian life, or in terms of the ridicule, oppression and persecution that the Church, and individual Christians, have had to endure throughout the Church’s history, and still do endure today, it can be extremely difficult to be a disciple of Jesus. So how do we reconcile this seeming contradiction between what Jesus says about being a Christian in this morning’s Gospel, and our own knowledge and experience of being one? 

One thing we always need to remember, whenever we read the Scriptures, is that we have to take a holistic view of what we read. We have to remember that the short passages of Scripture we tend to read are only a small part of a much bigger whole, and it’s only when we read and understand them as part of that bigger whole that we can really make sense of them. And that’s true even of the short passages we tend to read; we have to pay close attention to everything that we read, or we risk missing the real meaning of what we read. And that’s certainly true of the Gospel passage we read this morning because there are two key statements that Jesus makes in this teaching that help us unlock the secret of this Gospel passage.

First, we have to understand what Jesus means by ‘rest’. Normally when we think about rest, we’re thinking about relaxing and taking things easy, but that’s not the kind of rest Jesus is speaking about here. Jesus tells his disciples that they “will find rest for (their) souls.” Jesus isn’t talking about rest as relaxation or taking things easy here; he’s not promising his disciples an easy time, in fact elsewhere in the Gospels Jesus tells his disciples in no uncertain terms that they will have trouble and persecutions in the world. No, the rest Jesus is speaking about is an inner peace, an inner tranquillity, regardless of what’s happening in our lives or in the world around us.  

That kind of rest isn’t easy to achieve, but it’s something that’s often experienced by people who are terminally ill. Anyone who’s spent time with a terminally ill person will probably have found that, in spite of the terrible and extremely difficult time that person is going through, they seem to find an inner peace and tranquillity. And that comes from the knowledge that all the cares and concerns of daily life are not so important after all; they’re certainly no longer as important as they once seemed to be. One person I met who was suffering from terminal cancer told me that, once he’d come to terms with the diagnosis, he found it a very liberating experience, simply because he realised that all the things he used to worry about, weren’t important anymore, and so he stopped worrying about them. He, and others, have told me that they suddenly realised life was too short to worry about things like their career and how much money they were making. Life was too short to worry about their savings and their possessions. And, perhaps above all, they realised that life was too short to argue and fall out with people about these and other things that now seemed so trivial to them. Life was too short to bear grudges. But what did become important to them was happiness, and their relationships with other people. It became important that they mended broken relationships and let others know how much they loved them. And, for many I’ve met and spoken to, their relationship with God became very important to them too.

Of course, as the saying goes, realising that you have only a short time to live is very good for focussing the mind on what’s important and what isn’t. But how can we do that in everyday life, when we’re not faced with such extreme circumstances? How can we find that inner peace, that rest for our souls that Jesus promised his disciples, each and everyday of our lives, regardless of the situation we find ourselves in?

The answer to that lies in something else Jesus says in this morning’s Gospel:

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart”

And, perhaps above all, it is Jesus’ gentleness and humility that we need to learn and take on for ourselves if we’re ever going to find the rest for our souls that he promised.

If we think about the things we tend to concern ourselves with in life, the things we worry about and the things we argue and fall out about, isn’t it true that in almost every case, these things all boil down to pride, to a lack of humility? How often, for example, do we argue and fall out with people because we think they’ve treated us badly? Well, they might have done but, as Christians, aren’t we called to love such people anyway? We find that hard to do and, in large part, that usually has something to do with our pride. We’re offended by what they’ve done and so we want, or demand, an apology, or some other redress. And if we don’t get what we want, we’re inclined to fall out with those whom we think have wronged us and perhaps to bear a grudge against them. But very often, it’s our pride that’s wounded more than anything else in these situations, and it’s our pride that demands redress, it’s our pride that shouts, ‘How dare anyone treat me like this? Who do they think they are?’ And we want redress. We want an apology, at least, but how many of us are willing to apologise when we’ve been in the wrong? How often are we even willing to accept that we’ve been wrong? And it’s our pride that won’t allow us to apologise because our pride won’t us let admit, and very often, even see our own faults. But isn’t all this a very long way from shouldering the yoke of the one who was most terribly wronged by being put to death for our faults but who could still say,

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”?

And isn’t our ambition for position and status very often fuelled by a desire for the power and authority those things give us? And what is that but an expression of our pride?  But Jesus said,

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” 

But, in our pride, don’t we very often try to ‘lord it’ over others? Doesn’t our pride very often demand that others should do as we say, that they should be our servants, while we would be slaves to no one?

And what is our greed for wealth and possessions other than a desire to surround ourselves with very visible symbols of our status, a desire to show others just how well we’ve done for ourselves. But we read about the folly of this in the Gospels too:

“And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry. But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich towards God.”

This is also a form of pride, the pride of the Rich Fool which Jesus warned his disciples to beware of. And how often do we act like rich fools?

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with speaking out against wrongdoing, either in general terms or if we have been wronged ourselves in some way. As many people have said, for evil to triumph it only requires good people to look on and do nothing about it. There’s nothing inherently wrong either, with wanting to improve our life and lot in worldly terms because, despite what many people think, the Scriptures do not say that money is the root of all evil; they say it is the love of money that is the root of all evil.  But we do have to be very careful that we don’t allow pride to dictate how we go about these things. If we allow pride to rule our lives, we’ll never have the rest that Jesus promised because we’ll see offence where there is none, insult where there is none is intended, we’ll be unable to let go of petty grievances, we’ll bear grudges because we’ll be unforgiving and lacking in love, and  so our relationships with other people, and with God, will suffer. And we’ll be driven towards greed, perhaps even avarice, and find ourselves in a constant game of one-upmanship with others. There can be no rest for our souls, no inner peace for us, if we live like that. So let’s turn to Jesus, and learn from him how to unburden ourselves of the cares and concerns that our own selfish pride brings into our lives, and exchange them for his easy yoke so that we can find his promised rest for our souls.

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Trinity 4) here.

I’m sure that many of you will have heard of John Henry Newman. Newman was a 19^th Century Anglican priest, and although originally an evangelical, he became one of the leaders of the so-called Oxford Movement, the group who brought about the Anglo-Catholic revival in the Church of England in the early-mid 1800’s. Later, Newman was received into the Roman Catholic Church and became a cardinal. And if you didn’t know any of that but are familiar with Newman’s name, it’s probably because he was canonised, that is, officially recognised as a saint of the Church just last year, in 2019. But whether you know anything about Newman or not, you may be familiar with this quote from him:

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments. Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.”

Those words of Newman’s will probably resonate with meaning for us at this time, as we go through the coronavirus pandemic and the many unpleasant changes it’s brought to our lives, and the great suffering it’s caused in so many parts of the world. None of us will have experienced times quite like this before but, whenever bad things happen in the world, or in life, perhaps especially in our own lives, it’s very difficult for us to see any purpose in what’s happening isn’t it? And for that reason, it’s at times like these that many people question God, the existence of God, and their own faith. But what we always have to remember is that, no matter how much we can and do see, we can never see the whole picture; we can only ever see a very small part of that whole picture, and only God sees all.

We can liken this to an orchestra playing a piece of music. Each musician has a part to play in the whole piece, but they only see their own part of the piece and, very often, their part, on its own, doesn’t make much sense, it’s sometimes not even very tuneful or nice to listen to. It’s only when it’s played well, and in harmony with the parts the other musicians are playing, that it makes sense and becomes the music it’s intended to be. And there are only two people who know fully, how all the different parts of the score should work together, and how that music should sound; the composer who wrote it, and the conductor who makes sure the individual musicians play their parts properly. And as it is in an orchestra, so it is in life. God is the composer, Jesus is the conductor, and we are the musicians.

God, wrote the music of life and Jesus, through his teaching and example, shows us how to play our part in the music of life, and, as Newman said in that quote, we each have our own part to play in that music. And, as long as we take notice of what the composer and conductor are asking of us, we’ll play our parts properly and contribute to the harmony of the music of life. But, if we ignore the wishes of the composer and the instructions of the conductor, and simply look at our own small part of the music, then we’re not going to be able to play our part properly, and both the noise we make, and the noise going on around us, isn’t really going to sound very nice or harmonious, or make much sense to us, or anyone else either for that matter. Unfortunately, though it is all too easy for us to ignore, or forget, the wishes of God the composer, and the instructions of Jesus the conductor.

The part we’re asked to play in the music of life can be a very difficult one at time, and we all know just how difficult it can be. And it’s at those times that we can ignore God’s wishes and Jesus’ instructions simply because we’ve become so engrossed in what’s going on in our own lives, that we forget all about what’s going on around us. It’s like trying to play a part in an orchestra when we’ve become so engrossed in getting through a short, difficult section of our own part, that we forget to look up at the conductor to see what we should be doing, or listen to what’s going on around us, to the parts that others are playing. We all know times like these, but these are the times when we’re asked to remain faithful to God’s wishes and Jesus’ instruction, to simply do what they want us do in faith that, what they want us to do, is the best and right thing to do.

Then there are times when we perhaps feel that we’ve got our part off pat, that we know it to perfection. These are the times when we can start to think that we don’t need to pay attention to what God and Jesus are asking us to do, because we already know that. And so we start paying more attention to what others are doing than to what we’re doing ourselves. That’s like trying to play a part in an orchestra when we’re so busy looking at the music the other musicians are playing, that we’re not even looking at the part we’re supposed to be playing ourselves. These are also the times when we’re likely to start telling other people how to play their part and taking their minds off the part God and Jesus are asking them to play, so that they can concentrate on what we’re telling them to do. That’s like a musician in an orchestra telling their fellow musicians to ignore the composer and conductor, because they know better than the composer and conductor how the music should sound and how it ought to be played. And these are the times when we can become so full of our own importance that we start to think that we, and what we want, are more important than anyone or anything else. And so we simply do what we want to do, regardless of the wishes of God and Jesus, or of the impact that what we’re doing has on anyone else. That’s like a musician in an orchestra thinking that they’re a soloist rather than a member of the orchestra and playing more loudly than they should or embellishing their part so that they can be heard above the rest of the orchestra.  In an orchestra, these things could only result in everyone’s playing being impaired and in the music being harsh to listen to and not at all as the composer and conductor intend it to sound.  And how often do we come across situations like that in life and in the Church? These are the times when Jesus is disowned. Such behaviour in an orchestra would no doubt result in the offending musician being thrown out of the orchestra. Our Gospel reading this morning tells us that such behaviour in life and the Church, will result in the offenders being disowned by Jesus, and that will result in them being thrown out of heaven.

God has given us all a part to play in the music of life. As we look at the part we’ve been asked to play, as we turn the turn the pages of life, so to speak, we’re like musicians turning the pages of a musical score. What we see may seem strange and puzzling to us. It might not make much sense to us and be very difficult to understand and play. But, as Newman said, God, the author and composer of our part, knows what he’s doing, and if we simply do what he asks of us and play the part he’s given us, as he wants us to play it, then we will play it well and contribute to God’s grand vision of how the music of life should sound. And we don’t have to work out for ourselves how to play our part, we have Jesus to conduct us, to show us what to do and how to play through his teaching and example, written in the Gospel, the score, if you like, of the music of life.

It can be very difficult for us to understand what God is doing when we see some of the terrible things that go on in the world, and when we experience them in our own lives, but if we can remain faithful by trying to imagine how things should be, and God wishes them to be, and if we can do our best to follow the teaching and example of Jesus, however difficult or meaningless the world and life can seem to be, then, whether we can hear it now or not, we will be playing our part in making the beautiful and harmonious music of life as God intends it to be, and bringing it a little closer to being played as he intends to be, for all people.

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for the 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Trinity 2) here.