There is a scene from the movie “The Wizard of Oz” where Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion finally arrive at the end of the Yellow Brick Road in Emerald City and were about to meet the Wizard. They all came with a request that they thought only the great and powerful Oz could grant. But when they came so close to meeting that person they believed could change their lives forever, they practically stopped. They were so overcome with fear of the Wizard, that they could hardly approach him at all.
But experiences like this don’t happen just in the movies. There are public figures, rulers of nations, and even some religious figures that are surrounded by bodyguards and other people that keep most people away and at a distance. For example, when Queen Elizabeth was living in Great Britain, no one could touch her, even to shake hands, unless she initiated the action; the same would probably be true for King Charles. Gaining admission to see the President of the United States is monitored heavily by a committee that is controlled by the White House Chief of Staff. Procedures surrounding the pope are so demanding that an appointed committee oversees all audiences to see the pope and they even suggest proper clothing and behavior.
Unfortunately, this is the way many people see proper behavior to be. Some people want others be kept away from them and at a distance, while we may want to get as close to them as possible for any number of reasons: autographs, handshakes, or just to see someone famous in person. And because of this, we kind of see God in the same way: difficult to approach – hard to get near. The difference is, we are the ones who put God at a distance. We want to think that he puts such fear in us that we can’t approach him, that we can’t get near to him.
The readings for this Sunday tell us that this just isn’t true. They tell us that God is very approachable, that he wants to be near to us. Our first reading comes from the prophet Zechariah, who prophesied at a time after the exile, about 520-500 B.C. when the prophets taught about God’s restoration of Israel instead of its destruction. They spoke of hope rather than despair. Zechariah describes the coming of a king who will be different than what is expected. This king will be meek, and riding on an ass, a humble donkey. This is not someone who keeps his distance, but rather is someone who wishes to be among the people.
He will also be a king of peace. All instruments of war will be banished: the chariot, the horse, and the warrior’s bow. And when we reflect on this it’s pretty ironic when we consider that our country just celebrated its independence in a way that kind of glorifies war and warriors. But all through the Old Testament, God tells us that he is a God of peace, and the prophets testify that he desires to be near us, that we can approach him.
In fact, God’s desire to be near to us is so great that he became one of us in the person of Jesus Christ. And Jesus says in the Gospel reading for today, “Come to me.” He doesn’t exclude anyone, or require certain procedures. He doesn’t say “Come to me, you who are sinless” or “Come to me, all you conservative Catholics.” He doesn’t have any bodyguards that keep most people away and allow certain others in. “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened.” That should include each and every one of us, because we all labor and we all are burdened in one way or another.
“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me … for my yoke is easy and my burden light.” When Jesus says this he is not giving us his load or his burdens. We could never handle that. No — he is inviting us to share our burdens, our troubles and concerns, all those things that weigh us down, with him. In Jesus’ day, a yoke was a common wooden device that paired two oxen and made them a team to work together. The oxen were brought to the carpenter’s shop and carefully measured and then the yoke was roughed out. Then the oxen were brought back and the yoke was then marked and adjusted by shaving the wood. Each yoke was tailor made to fit the oxen.
The work for the oxen, then, is made much easier for them. They don’t need to struggle and fight to get the job done. Only if they work against the yoke does it make their work more of a burden. So when Jesus says “my yoke is easy and my burden light,” he is saying that our life is not a burden to wear us down, but by fitting our lives to us, Jesus can make our burden light by sharing the yoke with him. In other words, Jesus is the one taking the load off of us by sharing the yoke. It is when we fight against that yoke and try to do everything on our own without the help of Jesus, when we find that our burdens seem to be more than we can bear.
Jesus may also have been referring to the time in Israel’s history when the kingdom divided after the death of King Solomon. After Solomon died, the people of Israel came to Rehoboam, Solomon’s son and heir to the throne, to plead for relief from the forced labor and heavy taxation that was imposed on them from King Solomon. “Your father made our yoke heavy. Now therefore lighten the hard service of your father and his heavy yoke upon us, and we will serve you” (1 Kgs 12:4). But Rehoboam refused and said “My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke” (1 Kgs 12:11), and he increased their burdens instead. This led to the northern tribes of Israel separating themselves from the Davidic Covenant and choosing their own king, which led to the collapse of the Kingdom and their eventual exiles.
But Jesus, the true Son of David, contrasts himself with the corrupt and abusive previous kings of Judah and Israel. He comes as the healer and consoler, who would reunite the divided kingdom—Ephraim and Jerusalem—as Zechariah prophesied from the first reading. The Church, founded on the Apostles, is the restored kingdom of David.
“Come to me,” Jesus invites us. Sometimes it seems easier said than done. But he gives us a clue how it can be done. In the beginning of today’s Gospel Jesus says in his praise to God, “although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned, you have revealed them to little ones.” – to the childlike. He’s telling us that we must become like children in order to enter the Kingdom of God.
Jesus knows that children are naturally humble, since they depend on others for everything. Have you ever noticed the joy and happiness of young children when they are around their parents? They show their utmost trust in them because they know that whatever they need will be there for them. This is what makes them such good candidates for God’s Kingdom. They are not impressed by our accomplishments and recognitions. All they want to know is: “Do you love me?”
Like children, we need to recognize and be open to a power that is much greater than ourselves. Children absolutely need to recognize their dependability on a greater power so they can exist. And that’s the attitude Jesus would love for us to have. Sometimes I think we lose that kind of innocence as we grow in knowledge and worldly wisdom. So we need to regain that childlike appetite for God. Otherwise, why would we want to enter the Kingdom?
Anyone who finds life burdensome should ask themselves: What am I relying on to give me the strength to deal with life? Is it just myself – me and who I am in the world? If the answer is yes, then I probably should be anxious. Just relying on my own means will never be enough. But if we believe and trust in what Jesus tells us in this gospel message, then our burdens, while they don’t necessarily go away, they immediately become lighter. And the yoke of Jesus is not burdensome – it actually frees us.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Jesus invites us to approach him. If we become more like a child, we can.