This Sunday, Jesus Rejoices That Only the Little Receive His Rest

The Gospel passage we hear this Sunday includes some of the most consoling words in Scripture when Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

Anyone who has had a relationship with Jesus knows exactly what that means. The greatest feeling in the world is not any kind of bodily pleasure, but the supernatural rest of an encounter with Christ, especially in the sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist.

What Jesus stresses this Sunday is that this is only available to children — or adults who can be like them.

Here are six takeaways for the Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A taken from from Sunday Readings columns at this site and the Extraordinary Story podcast.

First: Jesus thanks God for revealing him to the little, and actively thwarting the wise.

The Gospel begins by telling us what Jesus “exclaims”— what he cries out in joyful celebration, like someone who can’t help but praise a newborn baby, or cheer when their team wins.

What excited him so much? He tells us:

“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 the little ones.”

St. Anselm said good theology is “faith seeking understanding” — a trusting examination of God’s truth. That’s the view Jesus endorses here. The opposite — bad theology — would be “mistrust demanding proof.” That approach will necessarily fail, Jesus says, and thanks God for that.

Jesus far prefers the trusting faith of an open-minded child to the angry insistence of a know-it-all. Some very smart people get this wrong. They start by valuing the truth above all, which is good. They may be skeptics who want to test everything, which is also good — but they refuse to test their own biases. They may be apologetics experts who embrace the Church enthusiastically — until they discover that the flesh and blood people who make it up are messier than their pristine arguments.

Or they may be so committed to their personal definition of what obedience to the Holy See requires that they directly disobey the pope.

And it isn’t just “they.” We each approach the faith with our own biases, blindnesses, and commitments to a pet theory or ideological position, and find it next to impossible to back down. When we do that, not only do we miss the whole point of the Gospel, but Jesus praises God that we miss it, because, “Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will.”

Because ultimately, the truth is found in a person, the person of Christ, not in the person of me and my intellect.

Second: Jesus has come to save one kind of person: The little ones.

Jesus describes how we find the faith when he says:

“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.”

We have two ways of looking at God: He is the generous and loving Father who gave us everything we see, touch, feel, or know — or he is the angry killjoy keeping us from what we love. Children tend to see the goodness of God because in their innocence they expect the whole world to be innocent. Adults imagine the worst about God because in our scheming and self-centeredness we expect God to be like us. Jesus came to restore our innocence so that we can once again see God like a child does.

How do you know which you are? “Little ones” look at the world with gratitude and contentedly say what Jesus says, “all [these] things have been handed over to me by my Father!” The falsely wise ignore the providence that envelops them and, like Prodigal Son’s brother, feel short-changed by life, disbelieving the Father when he tells us, “Son, you are always here with me and everything I have is yours!”

Third: The First Reading shows us an icon of what it looks like for an adult to trust God like a child.

Jesus wants us each to have the relationship with his Father that he has, and the First Reading from Zechariah is a prophecy that describes the essence of that relationship.

“See, your king shall come to you,” says the Lord, “meek, and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of an ass.”

Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem is an icon of the trust God wants from each of us. We face overwhelming odds in life, but when we rest in God, confident that, as the First Reading puts it, “He shall banish the chariot,” a symbol of power and will banish “the warrior’s bow,” a symbol of conflict. “His dominion shall be from sea to sea,” leaving no room for any other dominion — including my attempts to dominate at work, at home, or in whatever room I happen to be in at any given moment.

The little ones believe, with St. Paul in the Second Reading, that “the Spirit of God dwells in you,” and that “if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit … you will live.”

The little who “live in the spirit” look at the world, and say “bring it on.”

Fourth: Then the Gospel says just what the little ones will get out of this deal: The grand prize, supernatural rest.

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

Notice that Jesus does not simply come to all bringing peace. He comes to those “who labor,” and his rest comes with a “yoke” and a “burden.” He also expects a “humble heart” — and for us who are born into the family of Adam and Eve, humiliation is the only way to acquire a humble heart. In other words, Jesus gives us the recipe for peace and rest; the ingredients are bitter and preparing them requires surrender to the unknown and acceptance of the unpleasant.

But the reward is amazing. Just as those who stare at their phone don’t see the sunset, and those who stay inside don’t feel the breeze, those who always have to prove themselves never learn to know themselves, and those who look to the world for comfort will be restless forever. However those who do will see beauty, feel calm, experience peace, and rest deeply.

Fifth: At Mass, if we are little, we will hear Christ make the same exclamation again.

At the consecration of the Eucharist, the wise of the world see bread but we see Jesus because, “No one knows the Father except … anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” Then, as the congregation is called forward to communion, we who know him hear him say, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

He is the meek God on a donkey. He doesn’t loudly prove he is right. He doesn’t force himself on anyone. He doesn’t imperiously demand his way. He just quietly is who he is and invites us to follow.

Come, all you who are overworked, and he will yoke himself beside you.

Come, all you who are overburdened, and he will share your load.

Come, all you who have given up expecting the world to satisfy you.

Get in line with the “little ones” and you will meet Jesus. He is the God who comes to give us a break, not the God who comes to break us.

 

Image: Alamy

By Tom Hoopes