Like Psalm 23… “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside still waters; he restoreth my soul….” Or Isaiah 43: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you … when you walk through fire… the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God… and I love.” Or maybe Romans 8: “For I am sure that neither death nor life… nor things present, nor things to come… nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God….” Or, from this Sunday’s gospel reading, Matthew 11:28… “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Now that’s one that gets a lot of use; it even comes in the King James Version:… “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Judging from the anthem we just heard from the Vocal Ensemble, it must have been one of Handel’s favourites also. There he is, working away on “The Messiah,” with so many grand themes floating around his musical mind, and all of a sudden, this phrase pops up.

But it’s no surprise, eh? Weary and burdened is a fair description of much of our lives, when we feel like the bent-over woman [the story we heard during the Time with the Children], who was carrying such a load that she couldn’t even raise her eyes from staring at the dirt in front of her feet, to see the glory that was all around. Too often we can feel like an exhausted swimmer, waves slapping in the face, the distance seemingly endless, ready to just give and sink beneath the water. Every felt like that before, so weary, so ground down, ground under?

Burdens have a way of accumulating, year after… disappointments, hurts, heavy expectations and obligations, heartbreaks, set-backs, losses and injuries. What’s the psychological terminology – “Are you carrying any baggage?” – Well, let me be clear… suitcases of it! Have you got time for a long coffee? … I could start with family, move on to school, society, church…. Oh, have I got baggage!

We humans need a lot of comfort, given the reality of what life throws our way. I am reminded of some lines by Alden Nowlan, from a poem which starts off describing his visit to a home for people with mental disabilities (although the poem was written in politically incorrect times, and Nowlan calls the people he meets “retarded”.) Nowlan meets a young woman at the home, and she asks for a hug… which, initially, he refuses, afraid, as he says, of being labeled a sex-crazed poet who takes advantage of a vulnerable girl. But she asks again, and he can’t help but respond… and he writes:

It’s what we all want, in the end,

to be held, merely to be held,

to be kissed (not necessarily with the lips

for every touching is a kind of kiss.)

Yes, it’s what we all want in the end,

not to be worshipped, not to be admired,

not to be famous, not to be feared,

not even to be loved, but simply to be held.

She hugs me now, this retarded woman, and I hug her.

We are brother and sister, father and daughter,

mother and son, husband and wife.

We are lovers. We are two human beings

huddled together for a little while by the fire

in the Ice Age, two hundred thousand years ago.

Because surely that’s what Jesus is offering – an invitation to lay our burdens down, dump ‘em, leave them behind; -- “Stop carrying such a weight, this heavy yoke that weighs you down, and prevents you from standing upright, dancing, laughing,” he says.

Just pause for a moment… if I were to invite you to get rid of one burden, if you could let go of one thing that is really weighing down on your spirit… what would it be? What would your life be like, waking up tomorrow morning, if you were able to leave that particular burden behind you?

You smile wistfully… hopefully; but maybe not at all convinced that it’s possible. It’s all very nice, on a Sunday morning in church, to dream of freedom for an hour or two… but then Monday morning comes rolling round again; and you feel oh so tired once again. But what if it could happen? What if the invitation were real? What if you could find rest for your soul?

How might it happen? How might this invitation from Jesus become real? The other night, Tim and I were watching a video at home… not a great film, but an entertaining enough cop show. The lead character, feeling overwhelmed by blood, intrigue, threat, worry… burdens plus… well, he found himself in a church… very much like our church; big, old… even had votive candles over at the side. And he said to someone he met there, “I haven’t been in this church for a long time; I used to come here as a kid, with my family… but I can’t remember the last time I was here.” He didn’t pray exactly, but nevertheless, the church offered space for pondering, for quietness and reflection. Maybe it’s a question of perspective… you get a sense of your own small role in the larger scheme of things; maybe some sense of reassurance that your sufferings and burdens are part of something larger. Maybe you get over yourself, just ever so slightly; and maybe that’s a first stage in picking up on Jesus’ invitation and letting go of some of your burdens.

That shift in perspective might also help you focus more thoughtfully on the baggage that you are carrying. You see, in Jesus’ time, the word “burden” was often used in an idiomatic way, as a figure of speech for talking about the Law – all the rules and regulations that have been placed upon you by the “authorities” – family, religious and political. Now, of course we humans need rules in order for us to live well together; and we need to be abide by social expectations, from etiquette to norms to laws, in order to keep things moving smoothly, and for us to have a sense of what will make for a good life. But too often these guidelines start taking on their own life; they become onerous and oppressive… and their original intent – the fostering of life -- is forgotten.

Right after Jesus issues this invitation, to lay down the burden, he engages in a further teaching moment, when he and his disciples are chastised for plucking produce from the fields when they were hungry because it was the Sabbath, and no work was to be done. And that’s when Jesus shook his head, and said, “The Sabbath was made for humankind; not humanity, for the Sabbath.” Keep perspective, he seems to be saying; don’t get worked up about the small things, and the outward form… go to the essence of what life is all about, what the law is trying to enhance and enrich. Let the unimportant stuff fall away… don’t let yourself be unnecessarily burdened.

Another way of understanding Jesus’ invitation, his promise of relief, gets expressed in that oh so familiar story of footprints on the sand. I’m sliding close to evangelical understandings, perhaps – don’t worry, Tim – but it’s a powerful image. You remember, the person who dreams of a conversation with Christ, and sees his life marked by footprints in the sand. Two sets of footprints – his own, and Christ’s. Except that on a number of occasions, there’s only one set of footprints – and those times just happen to be when the going was really rough, when the burdens felt overwhelming. “Lord, why weren’t you there when I really I needed your help?” – that’s the question. And the answer? “My child, when you see only one set of footprints in the sand, know that I had not left you alone; I was carrying you.”

Does that feel too anthropomorphic … too unbelievable? Well, hear it as a story --- and believe that there is a sustaining, all-embracing Spirit moving through creation, that reaches out to uphold us, strengthen us, that empowers us to keep moving. “I carried you,” is another way of saying that there is an amazing grace at the very heart of creation, that will lighten all our loads, that will enable us to live our lives with confidence, in freedom, and with a deep-rooted joy… maybe not always happy, but something richer and more enduring.

I am reminded of a prayer from the Iona Community – off the west coast of Scotland… a prayer that opens up different ways that we might have of finding that rest for our souls:

In you, gracious God,

the widowed find [one who cares],

the orphaned find a parent,

the fearful find a friend.

In you,

the wounded find a healer,

the penitent find a pardoner,

the burdened find a counselor.

In you,

the miserly find a beggar,

the despondent find a laughter-maker,

the legalists find a rule-breaker.

In you, Jesus Christ,

we find our Maker

and our match.

And if some need to say, “Help me;”

and if some need to say, “Save me;”

and if some need to say, “Hold me;”

and if some need to say, “Forgive me;”

then let these be said now

in confidence

by us.

Now, I want you to stay with me… and jump a little bit, into the second half of this sermon. Because it seems to me that in following Jesus, we are never simply freed from something, including all our burdens, but rather, that we are freed for something. “Help me, save me, hold me, forgive me” – the cry is heard and there is response, which brings comfort; and then …well, it seems that there is a call into something new, a direction, a path, a task that requires a “Yes!” from us, that sends us into a new way of living.

The Bible is a powerful blend of comfort mixed with invitation and challenge. I bet you know those passages too… like Deuteronomy 31, “Today…I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God….” Or Isaiah 6, “Whom shall I send?” Or in the gospels, “Come and follow me.” Or those verses at the end of the eleventh chapter of Matthew. The offer of rest for weary souls, is immediately and almost simultaneously, linked with an invitation to pick up a different kind of burden: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you’ll find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden it light.” We are being invited here, into a new way of living, not just to embrace a love that frees us from burdens, but a love that sends us back into world to live differently. It’s not life on some eternal beach, -- “Hey, no problems, man; just bring me another marguerita.” No, we are to become disciples, who follow Christ.

Take a closer look at that image of the yoke… used for linking two oxen together so that they can share their strength and plough the field. To put on Jesus’ yoke… “take my yoke upon you…” is to partner with none other than Jesus himself… Jesus as fellow ox, who will help you pull forward, and when you’re feeling overwhelmed will carry more of the load. When you’re paired with Jesus, you have opportunity to learn much more directly what the task is all about… “learn from me” is what he says; become my apprentice… a learning that occurs by a shared doing.

Here’s another take on this Jesus-yoke that we are being invited to pick up. If we see ourselves in partnership with Jesus, then perhaps our learning curve will include beginning to anticipate where our fellow ox might be headed, how he might deal with some task that faces us, showing us a way that is less burdensome. Again, let me move to a slightly more evangelical stance, and wonder about the power of asking the WWJD question… What Would Jesus Do? Oh I know that we need to do all the interpretative work to move from one era and context to another; and I also know that the question rarely leads to clear-cut answers, all neatly tidy in black and white options. No, there’s always going to be a lot of gray, but whenever we do ask ourselves the WWJD question, we are committing ourselves to work away at discovering what might be the most loving, compassionate and joy-filled response in any given situation. And moving in that direction, suggests Jesus, will make our burdens a lot lighter.

Let me shift angles a little on this image… yesterday afternoon I was standing here, celebrating a marriage… two people who were choosing to join their lives together… to be yoke-partners, really. I know only preacher folk think this way, but I couldn’t help but hear their marriage vows to each other as another way of understanding this Jesus invitation. What would it be like to say to Jesus? --

I promise to join my life with yours,

and to share with you all that is to come;

to laugh with you in joy,

to grieve with you in sorrow,

to grow with you in love…

And yet… and yet. I know the burdens are still going to be there. They always are. And sometimes when I look closely at the Jesus invitation to pick up his yoke, when I read the fine print, I suspect that it can lead to some troubling times… like cross-carrying. So… rest for our souls isn’t just a matter of kicking back and relaxing, taking it easy. But… well, no, let me just finish with a bit of a story…

There was a widow whose only son was killed in a car accident. Overcome by sorrow, she went to a holy man and asked for help with her grief. He was a compassionate man, and saw how weighed down she was. He said, “The only thing I can suggest is that you find a magic mustard seed and bring it back to me. Then I can help you.” And she replied, “Tell me, sir, where am I find such a seed.? And he replied, “You will find the seed in a home that has not known sorrow.” The woman left immediately to search as best she could. She decided to start in Kerrisdale… they have a lot of money there, so surely there was a better chance of finding a home that had known no sorrow. But when she knocked on her first door and asked her question, the woman greeting her burst into tears; the widow ended up sharing a cup of tea and listening, and comforting. The next day she tried again… with the same results. In fact, everywhere she went, westside, eastside – she could not find a home that had not known sorrow. But over the months, as the widow continued to visit, and listen, she discovered compassion; she became, in a sense, a wounded healer; she thought less about herself and more about the people and families she was meeting; and slowly, day by month, she learned to live more gently with her loss, she re-discovered a certain joy at the heart of life, and her own sorrows and burdens began to feel lighter.

So friends… rest for our souls. And a yoke that is easy to bear… that will bring new life… to us, and to the world. Comfort and invitation… as disciples of Jesus Christ. May it be so… Amen.