By Archbishop Thomas Wenski - The Archdiocese of Miami
Archbishop Thomas Wenski preached this homily while celebrating Mass with archdiocesan high school students participating in Rise Up for a Revival, a youth celebration of the archdiocese’s 65th anniversary, Oct. 5, 2023, at St. Thomas University in Miami Gardens.
Jesus in the Gospel reading today tells us: "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me and you will find rest...My yoke is easy and my burden light."
Jesus was speaking to farmers. They might have been simple folk, but they probably understood what he was saying better than we might – since we don’t know too much about farming. Jesus is not speaking of egg yolks. The yoke Jesus was talking about was a wooden crosspiece that is fastened over the necks of two animals and attached to the plow or cart that they are to pull.
Take my yoke upon you…. It would seem that Jesus is asking us to shoulder a heavy burden. Sometimes, we might think of our religion like that: a burden. After all, it “demands” that we go to Mass on Sundays; and there seems to be a lot of rules and regulations, starting with those 10 Commandments. So, to take Jesus’ yoke upon ourselves might seem to be something really hard.
The Scripture commentators remind us that those who listened to Jesus understood the image here. Farmers would yoke together a stronger, more experienced ox with a younger and inexperienced one – so that the stronger would teach the weaker. Jesus invites us to "yoke" ourselves to him for he understands the weakness of our fallen human nature. His yoke is lighter – not because he demands less of us but because he bears more of the load for us. In that sense, instead of thinking that being a Catholic Christian is a burden – as some would believe – let us see it as a gift. A gift that brings us joy even in adversity.
Today, the Church celebrates the feast day of St. Faustina Kowalska, the first saint canonized in the 21st century. She is associated with the devotion to the Divine Mercy. The image of Jesus with rays of light shining from his heart towards us and the words written beneath the image, “Jesus, I trust in you,” was painted according to her directions.
Jesus invites us – and anyone who labors and is burdened – to “rest in him.” “Jesus, I trust in you” is the best way we can face down our fears, our anxieties, and our insecurities.
St. Faustina reminds us that God’s grace is always going to be more powerful than our disgrace whatever that disgrace might be. God is merciful – and trusting in that Mercy is what gives our hearts rest.
Mercy is not about denying sin or the seriousness of its consequences. If there is no such thing as sin, then mercy is just a rather empty and shallow sentimentality. Mercy to be mercy must always be "love in truth." But again, God's mercy is always greater than our sins. As someone once said, "Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future." Mercy opens that future for each one of us.
The language of God – the language he uses to communicate with us – is love in word and deed. The grammar of that language is mercy. "Learn from me," Jesus tells us. Our words and deeds must be expressed in that same language, using that same grammar.
To say that we are Christians is not to say that we are holier than everybody else. We Christians are certainly far from perfect. But while we might not be perfect, we are forgiven. So we do not define ourselves by our sins, nor should we define anyone else by their sins.
In the first reading, St. Paul prays that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, and that you be rooted and grounded in love.
So, trust in Jesus – and take his yoke upon yourselves. To yoke yourself to Jesus is not to burden you, for faith is a gift that allows us to find rest in the midst of a world in turmoil.
Jesus’ yoke is lighter – again, not because he demands less of us but because he bears more of the load for us. Yes, Jesus loves sinners – but not with a sentimental or saccharine kind of love that would enable denial; but with a love that is love in truth, a love that is stronger than sin. If Love names the sin, it does so not to damn the sinner but to call the sinner to conversion of heart and mind.
For the love that opened its arms on a cross of wood is love that believes that the sinner can be redeemed. And so, at every Mass, Jesus gives us a wonderful invitation: “Come to me and I will give you rest.”
