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Saint Charles' Episcopal Church – Saint Charles, IL
The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 9 - RCL Year A
Sunday July 6, 2008
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67 – Psalm 45:11-18 – Romans 7:15-25a – Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
The Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.


In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen. "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants." I want to share with you a story told by the Rev. Dr. Susanna Metz. Several weeks ago on a gray afternoon in June, tourists in Tewkesbury Abbey in England experienced something rather unusual. A pure, clear, child's voice floated in the dim light. It reached into every corner, every chapel and chantry. No matter where you were, you could hear it. It seemed to come out of nowhere and yet it was everywhere. The voice sang hymns—Advent hymns, Easter hymns, everyday hymns—one after another for more than an hour. Reactions to the singing were varied. Some tourists looked bothered or mildly amused. Others paused to listen and then move on. Some seemed drawn to find a quiet spot to listen and then to pray. One tourist, determined to find where this lovely sound came from, found Brendan. Almost hidden in the high, dark, richly carved wooden choir stall, nine-year-old Brendan, a chorister on vacation, sat with his hymnal going page by page singing completely unselfconsciously his favorite hymns. At Evensong that afternoon, Brendan sat with his newfound tourist friend. The boy with the angelic voice was also quite a character. He insisted on helping his friend find her place in the prayer book and hymnal. He whispered and squirmed until other adults rolled their eyes and found new seats. He commented on the visiting choir's anthem and was utterly involved in the sights and sounds of everything that was going on around him. He missed nothing. Brendan even seemed to know intuitively who would "play" with him—sing with him—and who wouldn't. Kids are like that. They see things we miss. They know things we do not.

In our Gospel this morning Jesus uses a brief story of children playing in the marketplace to illustrate to his first century listeners something we need to hear just as much as they did. You're not getting it. It's so obvious that children get it right off the bat, but you're missing it completely. And we still miss it today. But what exactly is this ‘it' that Jesus is talking about? It is a faithful life; a life lived in a healthy relationship with God and with each other.

Just before the portion of the Gospel we heard this morning, Jesus has heard that John the Baptist has been jailed, and that John has sent messengers from the jail to ask Jesus if he is really the messiah. I can only imagine what a shock this must have been for Jesus. If his own cousin, and a prophet to boot, has come to doubt that Jesus is the messiah, what hope do the rest of the people have. With John thrown in prison it is clear that many, if not most, of the people have rejected his message; John's call to repentance has fallen on deaf ears. For Jesus this is his first hint, I think, of what is to come; he sees for the first time the lengths to which his journey will take him. A return to the law will not be enough. The law has become a heavy burden; a burden it was never intended by God to be. Jesus sees that the only way out is to shatter our old perception of the law as burden, bringing into the light a new perception of law – as love. To do that he will need to take our burdens from us, take them all the way to the cross, for only there can they be removed well and true. And so, it began. "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." We can never hear these words too many times. They are so simple and yet so easy to forget. "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me..."

A yoke, if you don't know, is an apparatus used to allow two oxen to pull together side by side in a straight line. Without it any difference in strengths between the two oxen would cause the cart to veer to one side or the other. The yoke that Jesus is talking of is the yoke of complete obedience to God, a yoke Jesus himself already bears. To take that yoke is to strap in beside Jesus and to learn from him as you both bear your burdens together. In the midst of this hard work of the soul you will find again your connection to Christ and through him your connection to the whole of God, through the mystery of the Holy Trinity. And out of that awareness will flow the rest your soul longs for. It was the power of that mystical connection that allowed Brendan to sit in a strange church and sing his songs without fear or self-consciousness.

Imagine a world where everyone felt that connection. Imagine the kingdom of God. Not a far off pie in the sky in the great by and by, but here in the flesh in this world, in this town, in this church. What a gift that vision would be. What a gift to share. One might even say a light shining in the darkness; a true light. Well, it looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Let's get to it!
Amen.