A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
How are you holding up right now? My usual question is, how are you, but that seems like such an inappropriate question right now. Stressed? Yes. Is it hard? Is it challenging? Difficult? Saying how are you holding up seems to acknowledge that I know this is difficult, I know this is stressful. But, within that context, how are you holding up under the weight of the burdens of this time?
This is a difficult time. It is difficult for all kinds of reasons for different people. It might be difficult because your work has utterly transformed during this time, and you’re trying to figure out new ways of doing work and are experimenting as some things are working and some things are not. You are often working harder at this time for less return, and that is exhausting.
It might be exhausting for you because you are a parent, and this is an exhausting time as we try to figure out how to parent differently, and how to educate our children without all the social structures that we have in place to support us and help us through that process.
Some of us are exhausted because we can’t work. We’ve lost our jobs, and that is exhausting to try and find a new job in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of a time in which jobs are being shed. It is exhausting. It might be exhausting because it is anxiety producing not to know if you will have enough money to pay next month’s rent. It can be exhausting to try and figure that out.
Some of are exhausted because we are weary of being home. The same thing over and over again. We are ready to go explore the world again, to get back to normalcy. It is exhausting to do this thing of not doing things.
It is exhausting because the news of this world is overwhelming. It is exhausting because there is a movement for racial justice and we want to be a part of it. That’s tiring work on top of everything else. It’s exhausting. It’s important and it’s good that we want to get involved and do get involved, but we’re tired, exhausted.
There is so much going on right now to exhaust us, but in the middle of that we have these words: “I heard the voice of Jesus say, Come unto me and rest. And in your weariness lay down your head upon my breast”, a beautiful paraphrase of the Gospel from the opening hymn. “Come unto me all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
We know from science that rest is critical to our bodies and to our minds. Rest is critical to our healing. It is critical to how we process memories. We know that people who don’t get enough rest are physically less healthy and mentally less healthy. Jesus, in the Gospel, is also reminding us that rest is critical for our souls. When we are exhausted it affects our spirit, our spiritual life, our relationship to God. Our souls are damaged by not getting enough rest.
This is not a new truth that Jesus is coming up with. It is an ancient truth. In the very beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, on day one God did this, on day two, he did this, so on and so forth. We think it is the pinnacle when God created us, humanity, but it is not the pinnacle. It is the penultimate moment. It is on day seven when God rested. God stopped creating. God laid down the burdens of that creative work and just rested. He invites us to do that as well. We who are made in God’s image also need to take time away to rest. Scientists say this is true about our bodies and our minds, and Jesus reminds us it is true about our souls. We need to rest from the exhaustion of work, and the exhaustion of not working, from the exhaustion of parenting, the exhaustion of staying at home, the exhaustion of doing critical justice work in the world. We need to be doing all of these things. What we are doing is important. What we are doing is necessary, and yet we also need to rest. This is a marathon. We are in this for the long haul and we need to rest so we don’t damage our bodies, or damage our minds, or damage our souls in the process.
It seems there is a critical thing in front of us that we have to deal with. It seems like in the middle of a crisis everything is so critically important that we can’t stop. And Jesus is saying to us, stop and rest. Come unto me and let me help carry that burden for you, whatever burden it is that you are carrying in this moment. The burden of overwhelming work, the burden of not working, the burden of overwhelming parenting in becoming a teacher and learning new skills, the burden of being stuck at home, the burden of anxiety of the disease and fears of getting it, the burden of the work of justice we need to do in the world. Whatever it is, whatever exhaustion you are feeling, Jesus says, come to me and let me carry your load with you for a while. He says, my yoke is easy and my burden is light. I am not going to give you a lot to do. Instead, I want to walk the path with you, I want to walk the journey with you. In this moment in the journey I want you to sit down and take a load off. Sit down and rest with me.
Jesus rests a lot. Some of my favorite throw away lines in the Gospels are in the stories in which Jesus does this, and Jesus does that, he heals someone, he teaches and preaches. But there are always these little moments that tell us Jesus went away to a deserted place by himself to rest. Jesus needed to rest, and Jesus invites us to do the same.
I love this paraphrase in the hymn, “I heard the voice of Jesus say come unto me and rest, and in your weariness lay down your head upon my breast.” The hymn goes on, “I came to Jesus as I was, so weary, worn, and sad. I found in Him a resting place, and He has made me glad.” In whatever way you are weary, in whatever way you are worn, in whatever way you are sad, come unto him. Come unto Jesus. Come unto Christ and find your resting place.
AMEN
