”But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ …” [Matthew 11:16-17].
Folks in and around Jerusalem during the first century A.D., like folks who live today, were surrounded by choices. Some chose to accommodate the Roman authorities by keeping their heads down and paying their taxes. Others took jobs collecting those taxes. Some devoted their lives to theological study and to Yahweh; others rarely graced the Temple or synagogue, devoting their lives instead to Bacchus, the Roman god of wine. And, as we see in the gospels, some were fishermen, struggling with the natural order to earn a few denarii.
As we move to the Gospel appointed for this Sunday, July 5 [Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 — Proper 9(14), Year A], we see that the folks in and around Palestine even had a choice of prophets. On the one hand, there was John the Baptist. As we know, John specialized in being a burr under the saddle. He often maintained some autonomous space out in the desert wilderness, dressed not in soft robes [see Matthew 11:8], but in camel hair and a leather belt [Matthew 3:4]. Oh, and he had a strange diet: locusts and wild honey. The Bible doesn’t tell us how he “gathered” the wild honey; I bet that could get painful. By the time we get to this week’s lesson, John has been imprisoned for his lack of cooperation with the authorities. We know that later Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee, will have John’s head on a platter [Matthew 14].
If one didn’t like John the Baptist, who would eat and drink with no one, there was another choice: Jesus. Indeed, Jesus ate and drank with everyone! Notice what some said about Jesus: He’s a “glutton and a drunkard,” a friend of tax collectors and sinners! Might they have had a not-so-subtle Scripture reference in mind? After all, in Deuteronomy 21:20-23 another “stubborn and rebellious” son is mentioned. “He is a glutton and a drunkard” [v. 20b]. According to the Deuteronomy text, all the men of the town were told to kill the son; the evil must be purged from among them.
Speaking to those around him (and to us?), Jesus asked to what he might compare “this generation” [Mt. 11:16]. He added,
It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another. “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn” [Mt. 11:16b-17].
In other words, Jesus offered the joy of a wedding and “this generation” said no. Conversely, John offered the funeral dirge and similarly, they turned it down. The problem, says Jesus, is they listen to neither; they’d prefer their own way. He adds an interesting additional point: “Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds” [Mt. 11:19b]. Jesus’ own deeds had been described to John’s disciples earlier in the chapter: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” [Mt. 11:5]. The Wisdom of God is vindicated by the actions and love of Christ.
Omitting Matthew 11:20-24, the Lectionary selection continues with a beautiful prayer offered by our Lord [vs. 25-27]. It then moves on to the intimately familiar, soothing assurance treasured by so many of us, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” [Mt. 11:28]. And yet, Christ’s message seems somewhat contradictory, does it not? How are we to rest? We are to take His yoke upon us, and learn from Christ (again an unusual, continued Matthean reference to Wisdom). He concludes, “For my yoke is easy; and my burden is light” [Mt. 11:30].
Dance or dirge, idyllic rest or tiresome labor, what shall it be? If truth be told, many of us were looking for another way. We begin with what might be called our “natural self,” with its admixture of likes and dislikes, desires and dreads, fears and joy. We recognize that there are claims on this self that press in on us from every direction. We know that some of these forces are good and some are wrong. We try to do that which is good and avoid that which is wrong, yet we know we fall short, as did the apostle Paul who said, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” [Romans 7:15, ironically, part of this week’s Epistle reading].
C.S. Lewis notes that most of the time, when we’re attempting the right and avoiding the wrong, there is still a part of us that is hoping that when all the demands have been met, our natural self will still have some chance, some possibility, to get on with its own life and do what it wants to do, unfettered by the outside demands. As Lewis remarks, we are very much like the honest man paying his taxes. He pays them all right, but he does hope that there will be enough left over for him to live on. We hope this is the case because we are still taking our ordinary self as the starting point.
Lewis points out that as long as we think that way, one of two results will inevitably follow: Either we give up trying to do the good, or we become quite unhappy. He says we should recognize the truth of the matter, that if we keep on trying to meet all the demands made on our ordinary self, there will not be enough left to live on. The more one obeys one’s conscience, the more one’s conscience demands of us. But Lewis is convinced that Christ has an answer for this.
The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says “Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work. I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked — the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours” [C.S. Lewis, from Mere Christianity, emphasis added].
Christ himself describes the Christian life as sometimes very hard, sometimes very easy. For example, in another later lesson, we’ll hear him say, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his Cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it …” [Matthew 16:24-25]. Wow, that sounds hard. One minute, it’s “Take up your Cross.” The next, he adds, “My yoke is easy and my burden light.”
The Christian life: is it hard or is it easy?
By now you know the answer: “Yes!”
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