What makes us able to connect with God?
Jesus doesn’t say, Come to me when you have everything handled and under control. … The faithful lower themselves in order not to be captive. They yield in order to remain free …
Jesus doesn’t say, Come to me when you have everything under control and everything is in order. He says, Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened. That is: Come to me when your life is in shambles. Come to me when you are swamped by problems with no solutions. Come to me when there seems to be no way out.
Come to me A medieval spiritual master, Nicholas of Lyra (+1349), imagines Jesus saying, “Come, you who are shut out, to me, the gate of truth. Come, you who are ill, to me, the remedy of salvation. Come, you who are stranded, to me, the safe harbor.” Another great of the Middle Ages, Nicholas of Gorran (+1295) wrote: “How admirable is the regard our God has for us. He invites foes, he urges the guilty, he attracts the ungrateful.”
The key is to continue what we began at Christmas: to come to Jesus — O come, let us adore him! Coming to Jesus means coming away from our own stale thoughts, our doubts, our pessimism. “The closer a being is to God,” says St. Thomas Aquinas, “the farther away it is from nothingness.” So we just have to get close to Jesus. We have to come to him, with our powerlessness, our nothingness, our need.
Gentle and humble
But why would we? Humility was not a virtue in the ethics of ancient Greece and Rome, which linked humility with failure and shame. Yet humility is what Jesus puts before us to attract us. Why? Because authentic humility “is what makes a human being capable of God” (St. Thomas Aquinas). Which is why we find it so appealing when we discover humility in others.
St. Ambrose reflects on this: “Jesus did not say, Learn of me because I am mighty; he did not say, Learn of me because I am glorious. He said, Learn of me because I am humble, for that is something we can copy.” There is something irresistibly unique about humility. “Humility is the refusal to exist apart from God” (Simone Weil). That existence is what Jesus is inviting us to. He does so by way of mildness, gentleness. Why is gentleness so important? As the Catholic philosopher Louis Lavelle (+1951) explains:
Gentleness is active good will towards other people, not only for what they are, but for what they could be. It enables us to see many possibilities. Gentleness enables us to accept all the laws of our human condition, and in doing so, to rise above them. He who rebels against these laws shows how deeply he hates them and is their slave, but he who accepts them in a spirit of gentleness goes through them, and fills them with light. Of these laws also it must be said that their yoke is easy and their burden light. True gentleness is so thoughtful, so discreet, and so active that, when we meet it, we are always amazed that it can do us so much good, while at the same time seemingly giving us nothing.
Take my yoke Why would we ever want to be “yoked”? The word for “yoke” actually has the same roots as the word for “spouse.” Christ’s invitation Take my yoke upon you is the promise of a unique union, an intimacy, a bonding in love leading to the greatest personal fulfillment and fruitfulness.
But the yoke is not forced. It is something we freely take upon ourselves.
This light yoke, which we are not obliged to accept, we must desire, we must embrace, through an act of free will constantly renewed. The faithful humble themselves in order not to be enslaved. They surrender in order to stay free (François Mauriac).
Jesus’ yoke is easy and his burden light because “he who bears mercy and carries love does not know how to get tired” (St. Peter Chrysologus), and when God loads us with his tender mercies, we are “so overwhelmed with his benefits, that we are unable to feel any other burden” (St. Bernard).
What would we do in moments of crisis without these comforting words of Jesus: You will find rest. St. Bernard puts it all in perspective: “The world cries out, I will disappoint you; the flesh cries out, I will kill you. Christ cries out, I will refresh you. To whom will you go?”
Comments