Yoke 101

28 September 2015

Castrojariez

Yoke 101

Today was a delightful walk. It was just 20km in cool, comfortable weather with just one stiff climb of 150m.  My knee still aches, but it was blister problems again. My second toe, “The little piggy that went home,” developed a blister and swelling that nearly doubled the size of the toe.  It was a tender bag of bright red fluid.  A kind couple from France lent me some assistance and supplies.  Lancing, ointment, and bandages should prepare me for a strenuous climb first thing in the morning.

My reflection today was a familiar one, Matthew 11:28-30. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart: and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

A common attention in this scripture is to the image of a “yoke.”  It is easy to imagine an oxen yoke, but one that is easy? I did learn at one time that a farmer will use mud to create a cast of the oxen’s shoulders so that he can cast it to fit perfectly to that oxen’s form.  The burden would be easier to manage because the burden is perfectly fitted to its shoulders.  Perhaps our burdens are fitted to our exact capacity as well?

The again, what I spent more time contemplating is a piece of Hebrew background.  The teachings of a particular Rabbi will include his added interpretations, or “yoke” of the scripture. Such as in this example, “Love the Lord your God with your whole heart, your whole soul, and with all of your being.” Rabbi Rabiniwisz’s “yoke” may add that it includes doing what he adds as his list of must do’s. Rabbi Shabac’s “yoke” might agree in part but add his list of another four must do’s.  Before long, the expectations of a single line in scripture grows and grows into such a monstrous load.

Jesus’ message is a relief. For his “yoke,” is easy.  Some scripture scholars propose that the entire bible could be distilled into just two words: love and mercy. Easy. I’ve contemplated this proposal and it rings true in my reflections of every story and message in the scripture stories from Genesis to Revelation.  Each one illustrates an essential element in God’s DNA: love and mercy. His “yoke” is easy when our relationship with Him is viewed through that lense.

This Rabbi Jesus is unlike other teachers.  There is no long list of expectations. There is no power of knowledge over you. He exudes a gentle authority born of meek and humble love.  The heavy burdened are those He wishes to teach how to be powerful in meekness and humility.  His “yoke” speaks of selling all to the poor, go and sin no more, are you not more valuable than the sparrow. Power is a silent dynamic force of surrender to a Father that knows what good things to give to his children. We become the lost lamb that the good shepherd searches and brings back on his shoulders while rejoicing over finding it.

Rabbi Jesus’ “yoke” is wrapped in the stories and images of the mighty power of meekness and humility. And the good news is that living His “yoke” brings rest to the burdened.  If I am restless, perhaps it is because I’m wrapped in matters outside of true meekness and humility.

Rest. The knowledge gained from Yoke 101 brings rest.

The imagination of this course rambled through my thoughts today.  They also played out in a recent experience on the Camino.  The night before I rejoined a few who I met at the communal albergue in Burgos, the one with the prayer service.  A delightfully friendly and deeply spiritual young lady, Winnie, had cooked food at our albergue using pots and pans from the albergue across the street where she and the others were staying.  She found our group and made a pleasant offer, almost plea, for us to follow her back where they had cooked enough food for all four of us. What a blessing to have a home cooked, yummy meal like a big Camino family. We chatted, told fun stories, unpacked new stories our lives, and did the cleanup.

I offered to help carry the pots and pans back to the kitchen of the albergue where she borrowed them. That is when a full blown drama erupted. The owners of the albergue, in mass, confronted Winne. It was a family owned operation and all of the members, husband/wife, grandparents, siblings, etc. had a piece of their mind to share, a very livid, angry piece. Winnie stood in a complete dumbfounded stupor over their fury. My hillbilly Spanish made out the source of their irritation. When people use their utensils to cook, especially for others, it removes meal orders from their little restaurant. Less orders and less sales means less income for them to care for their family. The borrowing of their utensils was seen as a threat to their way of living.

I understood more the passion behind their shouts, whereas Winnie only saw and felt their intense anger.  What of Jesus’ “Yoke” could I apply here?  This was the best I could imagine to do. I stepped between the impassioned Spanish clan and Winne and offered repeated soft and gentle comments, “Si, si, Senora. Yo comprendo.  Yo comprendo la problemas. Los siento. Muy siento.”

At first it didn’t matter. Each member felt a need to express their reason for anger. What I read of the situation is that they each needed to be understood. They needed for us to really feel the depth of reasoning why they were offended.

There is a love language of an apology, and I’ve learned that just a quick, “Sorry,” not only further angers and hurts the offended, but it ignites long lasting bitterness. The love language to the apology I used was to try to express that I understood how the act of using their utensils was wrong and the threat it was to their family’s income.  Adding all the body language and humility I could express, I turned right to the most offended, fuming-mad woman right in the eye and said in soft, humble sincerity, “Lo siento, Senora. Lo siento.”

Winnie stood just a step behind me solemn faced. Shortly thereafter, the emotions of all in the showdown vaporized bit by bit.  Thank God, I got it. These Spaniards work from before sunup to prepare simple pilgrim breakfasts.  They clean up after they leave, check a new troop in by late morning, then serve meals and drinks until late into the evening. Then they clean up and bring in new supplies into the evening. Their kids play games and run around the albergue lost in the hustle of their parents frantically trying to run the business. There is no time for family time. These pilgrim hosts were those who “labor and are heavy burdened.” Lacking this insight, it could have been a “What’s the big deal?!” reaction on our part. Gratefully this attitude did not surface.  For I witnessed the progression of a burdened soul to meekness to then to the gift of rest.  It was the courageous baby step from a lesson in Yoke 101.

What we can ask of ourselves are these questions. 

Who do I know who is heavily burdened? Are they overloaded with work?

What part of their burden can I offer to carry? And not this kind of offer, “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” NO! Say, “Let me do this for you. . . . .” Be proactive and operate outside of the comfort zone.  People don’t want to impose by asking for help, but they are overwhelmed by act of generous time and sacrificial efforts.

What language of meekness and humility can I practice in my conversations? Perhaps you find yourself in one of those surprising moments when a gentle response is one you’re grabbing for. Consider a meek and humble response in advance like one would prepare a special prayer. 

Am I at rest or restless with myself?  Contemplate becoming more like a little child at rest in his momma’s gentle tuck or his daddy’s big strong arms. Rest is the gift of growing more unburdened.

His “yoke” is easy. Perhaps we make it so heavy.

In His grip,

Deacon Willie, DW