Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading

Zechariah 9:9-10

Thus says the LORD:
Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion,
shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king shall come to you;
a just savior is he,
meek, and riding on an ass,
on a colt, the foal of an ass.
He shall banish the chariot from Ephraim,
and the horse from Jerusalem;
the warrior's bow shall be banished,
and he shall proclaim peace to the nations.
His dominion shall be from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth.

Second reading

Romans 8:9, 11-13

Brothers and sisters:
You are not in the flesh;
on the contrary, you are in the spirit,
if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. 
Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. 
If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you,
the one who raised Christ from the dead
will give life to your mortal bodies also,
through his Spirit that dwells in you.
Consequently, brothers and sisters,
we are not debtors to the flesh,
to live according to the flesh. 
For if you live according to the flesh, you will die,
but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body,
you will live.

Gospel

Matthew 11:25-30

At that time Jesus exclaimed: 
"I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth,
for although you have hidden these things
from the wise and the learned
you have revealed them to little ones.
Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will.
All things have been handed over to me by my Father. 
No one knows the Son except the Father,
and no one knows the Father except the Son
and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him."

"Come to me, all you who labor and are 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 you will find rest for yourselves. 
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

Sermon

Sisters and brothers!

In ancient times, people told of a figure—a rather tragic one. They spoke of a giant who had been condemned by the gods to stand at the edge of the world, where heaven and earth meet, and bear the pillars—those pillars upon which the firmament rests and the vault of heaven is founded. They called him Atlas, this giant, and he was now forced to stand there, bearing the pillars of the heavens on his shoulders. Had he let go even for a moment, the entire firmament would have collapsed, and the heavens would have crashed down onto the earth. So there he stood, year in and year out, bearing the vault of heaven on his shoulders.

A truly tragic figure, this Atlas, who was condemned to bear the heavens—as tragic as many figures who play a truly pivotal role. For just like this Atlas, that is exactly how many people feel who are irreplaceable in their roles and upon whose shoulders the entire burden of responsibility rests. Sometimes you feel as if you’re caught between heaven and earth, as if in a giant vise, pinned down under an oppressive burden that you can’t shake off and with no idea whatsoever how you’ll ever be able to bear it in the long run.

Whether you’re a politician or a businessperson, a mother or a father in a family, a college student or a high school student—there’s no peace and quiet, and time to catch your breath is something you’ve only ever known from memory. One of the kids always wants something from their parents; at the office, the phone is always ringing somewhere; every businessperson knows the ever-looming certainty that the competition never sleeps; and for college students and high schoolers, there’s always another exam just around the corner, even though the last one just ended.

Anyone who is so tied up, squeezed between a multitude of tasks, assignments, and exams, feels more than once like Atlas, upon whose shoulders the entire sky rested, who struggled mightily not to be crushed by this burden.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

This statement by Jesus truly sounds like the Gospel here, like Good News: “I will give you rest.”

What a tempting offer! Here is someone who wants to provide rest—literally, “refreshment”!

But don’t get your hopes up too soon! If you’re expecting Jesus to give us a formula for how to escape this constant tension, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you right away! He doesn’t give us one! And he doesn’t relieve us of any of our responsibilities either.

And perhaps he does this because he knows full well that we don’t actually want him to. Deep down, we often don’t really want him to take away the burdens that weigh so heavily on our shoulders.

What parent would want their children—who sometimes get on their nerves—to disappear altogether? What elected official would want to suddenly have to give up their office? What retailer would want their store to never open again? And what student would want to give up their entire degree program the moment they feel stressed?

Perhaps Jesus recognized quite correctly that, deep down, we don’t really want to be rid of the burdens we carry. Perhaps he knows full well that what matters most to us is that these burdens become bearable again—that we can actually carry them.

And he actually gives us a recipe for this: “Look to me and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.” That’s what he sets against it. That’s his answer to this constant feeling of being weighed down to the point of no return. “Look at how I’ve done it: Learn from me, for I am humble!”

I know this could be hugely misunderstood. To us, being humble sounds like keeping quiet, like simply resigning oneself to one’s fate and enduring it without complaining. But Jesus means this word differently. He means it in its original sense: To be humble, etymologically speaking, means nothing other than to be “courageous in service”—to have the courage to serve, to have the courage to stand up for something. In this sense, Jesus was courageous in service. He had the courage to serve a tremendous task.

And: He had the courage—that was the crucial point. He himself had decided to take on this task.

That’s what sets him apart from Atlas. Atlas had to carry the pillars, whether he wanted to or not. Jesus wanted to! He wanted to take on this task because he knew it was necessary and meaningful. And that conviction ultimately gave him the strength to bear the burden.

When we humans know why we’re doing something, when we feel that something is meaningful, and when we truly want to do it, then we’re capable of tremendous things. It usually only becomes difficult when we slowly forget this amid the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

That’s why some things that often seem so hard to get done in the moment look completely different when we take a step back and look at them every now and then—when, after the work is done, we finally have some time to catch our breath, time to simply do something different for a change, where there doesn’t always have to be an immediate result…

Sometimes we need that kind of distance—distance from our children, from our jobs, from our studies, from all our commitments, from the daily grind; distance to find peace, to reflect, to remind ourselves once again of what’s important to me and why it’s important to me. It’s no coincidence that the Bible urges us so strongly to observe the day of rest. It’s not for nothing that we all need vacations and holidays—not as a time for new tourist feats, but above all as a time that reminds us anew of the difference: the difference between Atlas, who was condemned to bear that constant burden, and Jesus Christ, who had the courage to serve a cause—a cause he knew was important, meaningful, and absolutely essential.

For there is indeed a difference between taking on something because I simply have to—because someone told me I should—and doing something because I understand its purpose, and above all, doing something—quite simply—because I want to!