The Light Burden – 9 July 2023

Matthew 11:16–19, 25–30

The final words of today’s Gospel passage are some of the most familiar and lingering words of consolation in the entire Bible. Countless generations of people have heard them in times of illness, distress, or death. We’ve heard Jesus’ self-described promise of easiness, gentleness, and lightness, and a sense of comfort washes over us. The problem is, we have a tendency to stop thinking about Jesus’ wholeness with God, and start believing that Jesus exists primarily to make our lives easier.

That hope in and of itself is not a bad thing. It speaks to the promise of our being yoked to the One who is greater than we are. It is a promise of security and help. . .

When we are in relationship with God, God’s covenant comes with everything that God has. God did not hold anything back when God created the world and everything in it. Our response to being in a relationship with God is that we, in turn, do not hold anything back. All of our praise, worship and thanksgiving is offered up to God.

How easy, or even feasible, is it to do that? How often do we hold back, for the sake of propriety, or social acceptance, or deference to the plurality of religious and spiritual expression? How often do we as preachers of the Word hold back when the Gospel calls us to preach words that are hard, words that are tough, and that we know will be met with resistance and suspicion in our congregations? –– Katrina L. Holland

Romans 7:15–25a

Laying down our burdens is not a matter of relinquishing all responsibility, of escaping to a darkened room of solitude with the aromatherapy scent of our choice—though care of our selves is, I believe, an important part of our stewardship as Christians. It is an invitation to surrender those things that weigh us down, the frustration of fi ghting ourselves not to do the very things we know are not good nor healthy for ourselves or others, in exchange for the yoke of Christ’s call—which is nevertheless to work, not idleness. It is the gift of a new armful to carry, the work of preparation for the feast of the kingdom of God, the call to join in the laughter and sweat and work of the family in the kitchen, preparing the feast. It would be an emptier life to sit on the couch. –– Meghan Johnston

Zechariah 9:9–12

Zechariah sings a rejoicing song of hope for a people who found their home in a covenant with God. This was a people tired, and poor, the wretched refuse, the homeless, the tempest-tossed conquered of Babylon. “Prisoners of hope,” Zechariah called them as they were given the vision of a future restoration when their king would arrive triumphant, victorious and mounted. The prophet’s song of hope invokes an era of peace when weapons of mass destruction such as chariot, war horse and battle bow would be cut off, silenced and stopped. In their place peace would be commanded to all nations, from sea to shining sea, even to the ends of the earth. –– Stephen M. Larson

Katrina L. Holland is interim pastor of Salem Evangelical Lutheran Church,

in Lebanon, Pennsylvania.

Meghan Johnston, an ordained Lutheran pastor and PhD in Religion, Media, and Culture, is the ELCA Theologian in Residence for the Middle East and North Africa based in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land, living in Jerusalem.

Stephen M. Larson is a retired ELCA pastor.

Homily Service 38, no. 8 (2005): 3–12