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One of the most comforting words of Jesus would be the one from today’s gospel reading. That is, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” This saying is particularly fitting in the hospital context. As a hospital chaplain, I sometimes pray this saying of Jesus with patients. One of the reasons why this saying resonates well with patients is they recognize that they are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. They feel and experience the weariness of physical, emotional, and spiritual pains that their illnesses bring. They carry heavy burdens, not only of their illnesses, but of the thought that they are becoming burdens to their family.
This saying of Jesus is only comforting to those who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. It is quite meaningless to those who have no problems in their lives. Why need another rest when you’re already resting? So here’s my question to all of us this morning: Do you feel comforted by this saying of Jesus? Do you find peace in his saying that he will give you rest? If "Yes" is your answer, that means you somehow feel weary and carry heavy burdens. One strange thing about the Christian faith is that one has to realize one’s own need of help from God. I have to admit that I cannot save myself as well as others. Not only do I need God’s help, but also that of others and the entire world. There must be something greater than myself to rescue me from whatever misery or despair or unhappiness I’m dealing with. It’s like you can’t be a sinner if you don’t know what you’re sinning against. And you can’t be saved if you’re not a sinner. So this whole strange, even paradoxical nature of the Christian faith is that we must start with our brokenness and imperfection. Traditionally speaking, this is the doctrine of the Original Sin. We messed up big time. And what we messed up is socially transmitted and spread throughout centuries, from generation to generation. I personally consider the 12 steps of AA as the greatest spiritual invention of America. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it, but it is worth reading. The first step is this: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.” If we translate this to St. Paul’s version, “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Wretched man that I am!” Admitting my brokenness, recognizing that I’m perfectly imperfect is a prerequisite to the Christian faith. And this is a very tough step to take. Socioculturally, we are educated to cover up our imperfect nature. We are to pretend that everything around me is fine. Our American culture condemns and despises brokenness as weakness. It shames our brokenness. Wearing different masks that say “we’re okay” is never a Christian virtue. Becoming authentic, becoming who we really are, whose we are, and who we want to become through Baptism is far from operating under a pretense. As a hospital chaplain, there’s this one response I hear from patients I visit. “I am fine.” I usually ask them, “How are you feeling this morning?” I would say 50% of them tell me “I am fine.” I’m not being skeptical or doubtful, but sometimes I wonder if they are really fine. I would like to keep my job so I would never ask them, “Well, you’re in the hospital. You’re pretty sick. Are you really fine?” So I have to use a different question. “How are your spirits?” Then 70% of them give me some real answer. Of course, there’s always 30% who continuously tell me their deep desire to be fine! And I keep my Anglican coolness that teaches me “All may, none must, some should!” The point is whether we as Christians admit and recognize our brokenness before God. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus rebukes these religious leaders. John the Baptizer who seems to be religiously perfect is considered as being haunted by a demon. Jesus who welcomes the broken is considered a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners. These religious leaders are self-righteous. They don’t see anything wrong with them. Their will to have power blind their eyes and hide them from the mystery of God in Jesus. I would say one good thing that these religious authorities have done for us is that they actually give a great nickname for Jesus. He is a friend of sinners. And this friend of sinners is the God who became flesh! He is the Divine Wisdom enfleshed. The mystery of the gospel is that this friend of sinners is hidden from the wise and the intelligent, those who think they are perfect and who believe they possess all that the world requires. This friend of sinners is only revealed to not just a little less wise and intelligent people, but infants! Just as he himself came to the world as an infant through the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, God shows us how to humble ourselves. God Himself reveals to us God’s own broken heart in the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Michael Ramsey, the 100th Archbishop of Canterbury’s words of wisdom are still valid today. (Please excuse his gender-exclusive language.) He says, “Here is man satisfied with himself and with his immense powers and using his powers to aggrandize himself in ways which make the world divided and miserable. And here on the other side is the answer of the gospel, that if man has lost the power to humble himself before his Creator, the Creator will humble himself towards his creatures. So the divine humility breaks upon the scene of human pride…” And quoting St. Augustine, “So low had human pride sunk us that only divine humility could raise us up. (Sermons, 118)” (Michael Ramsey, The Christian Priest Today, p. 77) After all, the mystery of God’s salvation is only revealed to infants and those who can see God who came as an infant. One of my teachers once said, “Hurt is home to healing.” It took me so much hurt and pain to understand what it means. Wherever there’s a deep wound, that’s where healing is born. Paraphrasing this wisdom, I can say “Death is home to resurrection.” Looking at our own brokenness is facing ourselves dead to all the illusions and fantasies that tempt us to be perfect and powerful. Only those who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens can receive rest from God in Christ. Going back to the comforting words of Jesus, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” This is not the end of his teaching. Once we know we are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and are given Christ’s rest, we take his yoke upon ourselves. This yoke metaphor indicates observing his commandments, which is prayed in our collect for today: Loving God and our neighbor. As we take the yoke of Christ, the enfleshed Divine Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. As the Body of Christ, whatever we do is the deeds of the Divine Wisdom Jesus. And the Church has called this deeds of the Church something fancy, which is “Sacraments.” Completely broken and perfectly imperfect we are, take up the yoke of Jesus Christ, loving God and our neighbor in this dangerous world. We dare to do this because we know so well that his yoke is easy, and our burden is light. At the Eucharist, especially at fraction, the part where the celebrant breaks the bread, we see Christ revealing the brokenness of God to the world, giving his broken body for the life of the world. We as Church are embodied in this sacred broken body of Christ, tasting the wholeness of God, the resurrection which makes us whole. May our brokenness be transformed by the broken body of Jesus Christ to the wholeness of God that brings healing to the world. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
April 2025
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