Jesus’ Invitation

28 “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” 

The last three verses of the chapter contain many echoes of the invitation of Jesus Ben Sira (Sir 51:23–27; cf. also Sir 6:24–31) for men to come and learn from him and take up wisdom’s yoke, so that they may find rest. No doubt Jesus and his hearers knew and valued this book, but Jesus’ invitation reveals a higher authority: it is his own yoke that he offers, and he himself gives the rest which Ben Sira had to win by his ‘little labors’.

The word labor (kopiao) is translated literally. But there is also a figurative sense beyond “to be engaged in hard work, implying difficulties and trouble.” The figurative sense means “to become emotionally fatigued and discouraged,” e.g., “to give up, to lose heart” [EDNT 2:307]. We hear that in other places when the same word (kopiao) is translated as “weary” – Come to me, all you who are weary. The invitation to rest is not just for the physically tired but also those whose emotional energies are spent.

In its own way the invitation to rest in these verses spell out that this is the result of the unique relationship of the Father and the Son.  Just as only God knows Wisdom (Wis 8:4; 9:1-18), so only the Father knows the Son.  Just as only Wisdom makes known the divine mysteries (Wis 9:1-18, 10:10), so Jesus is the revealer of God’s hidden truths. As the personified divine Wisdom calls people to take up her yoke and find rest (Sir 51:23-30; Prov 1:20-23; 8:1-36), so Jesus extends the same invitation. For Matthew, Jesus is not the messenger of Wisdom, but is identified with the heavenly Wisdom of God; he speaks not only for Wisdom, but as the divine Wisdom.

The yoke was sometimes in the Old Testament a symbol of oppression (Isa. 9:4; 58:6; Jer. 27–28), but was also used in a good sense of the service of God (Jer. 2:20; Lam. 3:27). Later it came to be used commonly in Jewish writings for obedience to the law—the ‘yoke of the law’ is one every Jew should be proud to carry. Such a yoke should not be oppressive, for after all the function of a yoke (the sort worn by humans) is to make a burden easier to carry. But through the seemingly arbitrary demands of Pharisaic legalism and the uncertainties of ever-proliferating rabbinic case law the law had itself become a burden, and a new yoke was needed to lighten the load. Jesus’ yoke is easy (chrēstos normally means ‘good’, ‘kind’ – and perhaps in a play on words chrestos is only one letter different from christos = “Christ”), not because it makes lighter demands, but because it represents entering into a disciple-relationship (learn from me) with one who is meek and humble of heart (cf. 2 Cor 10:1). The words echo the description of God’s servant in Isaiah 42:2–3; 53:1–2, and especially the words of Zechariah 9:9 which Matthew will pick up again at 21:4–5. It is also the character Jesus expects, and creates, in his disciples (5:3ff.)

You will find rest for your selves is an echo of the Hebrew text of Jeremiah 6:16 (lxx), where it is the offer of God to those who follow his way; Jesus now issues the invitation in his own name!


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Jesus’ Declaration

27 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. 

It is important to note that Jesus is not depicted as a religious genius who has discovered the divine mysteries. Simply put, Jesus is the beloved Son who is on intimate terms with the Father.  It is the divine initiative of the Father who has given all things (v.27) to the Son.  This is not a message or a relationship that Matthew suddenly thrusts upon us as an assertion on the part of Jesus.  Matthew’s narrative has prepared the reader by means of preceding declarations about Jesus.

  • Immanuel, the Son miraculously born to Mary, signifies the unique saving presence of God with his people (1:23).
  • Matthew’s narrative of Jesus’ baptism mentions the pleasure the Father takes in the Son in words echoing Isaiah 42:1 (3:17; cf. 17:5).
  • Satan was unable to shake the Son from his resolve not to test the Father (4:1–11).
  • Jesus did miracles to show that the Father had given the Son of Man authority to forgive sins on the earth (9:6).
  • In times of persecution, the disciples must confess the Son if they wish the Son to confess them to the Father (10:32–33, 40).

But one would be hard pressed to speak of the Son in terms more exalted than those used in 11:27, which uncompromisingly yet elegantly says that saving knowledge of God the Father comes only through the selective revelation of Jesus, the exclusive mediator of salvation.

The exclusive communion between Father and Son is of the essence of their relationship. For anyone else to share in this knowledge, however, is a matter of revelation, and as such is not a natural right, but a matter of divine choice. Thus God’s sovereign initiative in revelation, set out in vv. 25–26, is applied specifically to our knowledge of God: it does not come naturally (see 1 Cor. 2:6–16 for a spelling out of this theme). It depends on God’s choice, or, more specifically, the Son’s choice. Thus Jesus unequivocally describes himself and his will as the key to humanity’s approach to the Father; there is no other.


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Comfort, Confirm or Change

Today’s readings for Mass continue the odd pairing: Amos and Matthew. Amos the fiery prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel during a time of prosperity for the elite, but not so much for the poor who did not participate in the prosperity and at the same time faced corrupt courts and dishonest business practices. At same time Amos is also critical of the empty religious observance: “I hate, I spurn your feasts… Let justice surge like water, and righteousness like an unfailing stream.” Meanwhile, Matthew continues his mission account: Jesus casting demons out of two possessed men, with the demons entering a herd of swine. One is about worship and justice; the other is an exorcism. Yet both readings ask the same penetrating question: What happens when the living God actually comes among us? Not surprisingly, the answer is that God’s presence always demands a decision.

Amos is preaching to people who are quite religious. They attend festivals, offer sacrifices, sing hymns, and keep the festivals as required by the Law. The problem is not that they have abandoned worship. The problem is that worship has become disconnected from life. Through the prophet Amos God says: “I hate, I spurn your feasts… I will not accept them.” God is rejecting worship that is externally correct but internally false because the same people who praise God in the Temple exploit the poor in the marketplace. That is why Amos concludes with perhaps his most famous words: “Let justice surge like water, and righteousness like an unfailing stream.” (Am 5:24). God desires worship that transforms the worshiper.

In the Gospel, Jesus arrives in Gentile territory. Immediately, the demons recognize him. The people are not so quick on the uptake. The demons cry out: “What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the appointed time?” (Mt 8:29) Notice the contrast. The demons cannot pretend Jesus is simply another traveling rabbi. His presence forces a confrontation. Something has to change.

After witnessing an extraordinary liberation, the restoration of two men who had been living among the tombs, the townspeople do not rejoice. As Matthew tells us: “The whole town came out to meet Jesus, and when they saw him they begged him to leave their district.” (v.34) Why? Matthew does not explicitly tell us. Perhaps they feared Jesus’ power. Perhaps they were upset over the economic loss of the swine. Perhaps they simply preferred the familiar to the disruptive presence of God. Whatever the reason, they choose comfort over conversion.

That is precisely Amos’ accusation. Israel wanted religion without transformation. The townspeople wanted life restored to normal without the unsettling presence of Jesus. In both readings, God’s presence exposes what people truly value. Amos asks: Do you love justice more than ritual? Matthew asks: Do you desire Christ more than comfort?

Both readings reject a faith that remains comfortable and unchanged: God is not satisfied with shallow religion. You cannot worship God while ignoring justice. You cannot encounter Jesus without making a choice. Neither reading presents God as simply making people feel comfortable. Instead, God disrupts, reveals, challenges and calls. This is often how grace works.

Which is more frightening? Two violent demoniacs living among the tombs or the possibility that Jesus might actually change my life? The townspeople apparently preferred the first. At least they knew how to live with it. The presence of Jesus meant everything might change.

Sometimes we are not so different.

The living God does not come merely to comfort us or to confirm us in our present way of life. He comes to reclaim us. And every encounter with him asks us to decide whether we will welcome that transformation or ask him, politely, to leave us alone.


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An Opening Prayer

25 At that time Jesus said in reply, “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 childlike.

These words are not a prayer of praise for the ignorant, as elsewhere Matthew regards wisdom and understanding as positive attributes of the disciples themselves (7:24-27; 13:51;23:34; 25:1-13).  Rather Matthew affirms that those who recognize Jesus do not do so on the basis of superior religious status or individual intelligence, but by revelation, as the gift of God to those who are open and unpretentious. The childlike have no real basis for claiming knowledge of God, yet they are the very ones to whom the divine revelation is given as a gift of the Father’s gracious will (v.26).

In the larger context of Matthew’s narrative, one should not fail to grasp that even in the ongoing revelation of God taking place in their midst, there are still those who fail to understand/accept. John the Baptist, who had baptized Jesus, knew his own unworthiness, and had heard the heavenly voice did not understand. There were those whose predetermined criteria (cf. 11:16-19) did not accept the revelation. Towns where Jesus had given a testimony of words and actions did not accept the revelation.  Nor did the scholars and the wise, who could explain much, but could not explain the revelation in their midst (11:25a).  There is a reversal unfolding.


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