Year A – 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Matthew 11:25–30: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened”

After the missionary discourse (Matthew 10), we now find a narrative section (Matthew 11–12), following Matthew’s preferred literary method of alternating discourses and narratives.

This narrative section is marked by an atmosphere of mounting tension. Jesus realises that his message and his work are not understood: John the Baptist harbours doubts about his messiahship; the people behave capriciously like children; the towns around the lake, where he had performed so many miracles, do not repent; the scribes and Pharisees oppose him. Jesus thus finds himself facing failure and the prospect of defeat. This is the dramatic context of today’s Gospel passage.

The text is divided into three clearly distinct paragraphs: in the first, Jesus’ prayer of praise addressed to the Father; in the second, the close relationship between the Father and the Son; in the third, the relationship between Jesus and us, with the invitation to come to him.

The Greek passage opens in an unusual way: “At that time Jesus, answering, said…”. Yet no question has been asked beforehand. It is almost as though Jesus were responding to the question that this apparent failure raises about his mission. And what is his answer? “I praise you, Father!”

1. Jesus disappointed, but not discouraged

We may ask: why does Jesus, in this context of opposition and apparent failure, respond with a prayer of praise, with a kind of personal “Magnificat”?

The Lord does not lose heart or become discouraged, as perhaps we might have done. Although disappointed by the closed-mindedness and lack of faith of so many listeners who had witnessed his miracles, Jesus brings this situation into prayer, into dialogue with the Father. And he discovers that the Father continues to fulfil his plan of love not through the wise and learned, but through the little ones.

This is a very relevant situation today. We are witnessing the departure of many Christians and the marginalisation of the Christian faith in Western culture; we therefore ask what purpose the proclamation of the Gospel can serve in such a context. Perhaps we too are disappointed because God’s promises seem slow to be fulfilled. We have grown old in the hope of a renewed Church. The temptation towards resignation, discouragement and cynical pessimism is strong.

Yet Jesus invites us to have the courage to pray, so that we may discern where the Spirit is blowing from and where he is leading.

2. A new call for everyone: come, take, learn!

Jesus emerges from his encounter with the Father renewed in his awareness of his messianic mission: “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.” And he turns once more to the little ones—or rather, to everyone: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.”

Who are these weary and oppressed people? They are those who live under the yoke of the Law. In rabbinic tradition, the yoke was an image of the Law: the 613 precepts drawn from Scripture and the thousands of minor prescriptions that obliged people to “toe the line”.

The yoke evoked a condition of slavery, since it was generally slaves who used it to carry heavy loads (cf. Leviticus 26:13).

Jesus invites them to break that yoke and to come to him in order to find rest, that is, the rest promised by God to his people (cf. Hebrews 3–4). Immediately afterwards, however, he invites them to take his yoke and learn from him, who is “gentle and humble in heart”.

We can certainly learn from him, a teacher with a gentle and humble heart, who does not behave like the scribes and Pharisees, who “tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders” (Matthew 23:4). Yet we would not normally expect to associate a yoke with rest.

What, then, is this yoke of Jesus?

The yoke was a wooden instrument that joined two animals together in order to plough or pull a cart. Jesus’ yoke is the cross: the one he carried for us and, therefore, our cross, our yoke. Jesus becomes our Simon of Cyrene; he stands beside us. He is our companion, our… “spouse”!

Yes, because the Italian term coniuge (“spouse”) derives from the Latin coniux, formed from cum and iugum: it refers to someone joined to another under the same yoke, someone who shares the same destiny. This is also the origin of the verb “to conjugate”. It is therefore a nuptial image.

Jesus says: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Why is it easy? Because it is the yoke of love. Why is it light? Because he carries it with us.

Two temptations emerge in response to this invitation from Jesus.

The first is to want to break every yoke and every bond, including the “easy and light” yoke of love. Like the false prophet Hananiah, who broke the symbolic wooden yoke carried by Jeremiah, promising the people freedom and prosperity. The risk is that we may find ourselves with an iron yoke instead (cf. Jeremiah 28).

The second temptation is to place our trust in the yoke of laws in order to guarantee order and preserve power—in social, ecclesial, family or any other setting—thereby increasing weariness and oppression, while sacrificing solidarity and love.

Weekly reflection exercise

  • How do I react in the face of failure and disappointment?
  • Who is my “spouse” in carrying the cross: Christ or the new cultural messianism?
  • I want to thank you, Lord, for the gift of life. I read somewhere that human beings are angels with only one wing: they can fly only by remaining embraced. At times, in moments of intimacy, I dare to think, Lord, that you too have only one wing. You keep the other hidden: perhaps to make me understand that you do not wish to fly without me” (Don Tonino Bello).

Fr Manuel João Pereira Correia, MCCJ

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