This beautiful Advent hymn we just sang looks forward to the birth of savior, the one who will save us from sin and death, the one who will share our every load.
Share our every load. What does it mean for Christ to share our every load? A few years ago I was having a kitchen conversation with the 80+ year old mother of a dear friend. This woman, only about 5’ tall, was of strong, Scandinavian Lutheran stock. She was baking a pie for her friend’s birthday. Her eyes twinkled with joy. Yet I knew that she had endured the sorrow of her husband’s death and the inexplicable suicide of her grandson. As she was rolling out the pie-crust, she turned to me and said, “You know, I just couldn’t make it without Christ.”
Marie was yoked to Christ and Christ yoked to her. And together, they could pull the weight of this life and within it find true joy. Because, indeed, our Savior shares our every load.
Most of us city people have never yoked an ox to plow or even seen them working the fields, side by side. You see, one ox, however big and strong, would be incapable of the long, hard work of plowing an entire field. But by yoking two together, the power and strength of each is more than doubled. Their strength is harnessed. Under the yoke, the load is lightened and the work shared.
Now, I don’t want to romanticize this too much. It seems to me quite likely that if we were to ask an ox what he thought of the yoke, the answer might not be so rosy. Those of you who read the comics might remember an old Gary Larson “Far Side” cartoon in which two oxen in the field are whispering to one another. One says, out of the side of his mouth: “Hey man. As soon as we get back to the barn and he takes this thing off our necks, we’ll wait ‘til he’s out of sight, then we’ll make our break!”
The yoke of Christ is like that, too. The yoke of Christ harnesses us into a relationship that is both wonderful and burdensome. It relieves our load while at the same time placing new demands upon us. For to be yoked to Christ is to be yoked to his kingdom, to his values and priorities, to his ministry and mission. Yoked to him, we no longer live solely unto ourselves. We take on what he asks of us. With him, our work is to love God, with all our heart, mind, soul and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves. In our baptism, we become forever yoked to Christ. And that means that sometimes, he will ask us to do things, to say things, to speak up, to speak out, to witness, to give of ourselves—in ways that we would rather avoid.
It’s a two-way thing, this yoke of his. He is yoked to us, to share our every load. And that makes life possible. And we are yoked to him, to share in his life and in his death. And that gives life purpose and direction.
From time to time, I check out other church’s websites, you know, to see what the “competition” is up to. And to steal good ideas. I came across one the other day clearly designed for people who are new to church. People who don’t know or understand why we do what we do and say what we say in worship. It had a great section entitled: “Why Do Ministers Wear Funny Clothes?”
It’s a great question. And the fact of the matter is that everything up here, everything in our sanctuary, as well as what we ministers wear is designed intentionally to connect us to the long historical trajectory of the church, in all times and places, and also to teach us about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.
Sometime this Fall, I’ll set a date and pretend that I’m a docent of our sanctuary and give a tour of this worship space and talk about the meaning of the pulpit, the lectern, the table, the architecture. For today, let me say something about our outfits and why we wear what we wear, even in summer, when it’s hot.
The alb that we wear, Camille, Robert and I, the robe, is light in color to symbolize the light of Christ and the joy of resurrection. And what about these stoles we wear—this beautiful strips of silk in the colors of the season, worn across the neck and shoulders by elders and local pastors and across the chest by deacons?
These special garments, these vestments, connect us to the long history of church. When we put them on, we fall into line with all the priests and pastors across the whole history of the Christian church. As one pastor said: “when I put on these vestments, I am two thousand years old.” We put on these special clothes, you see, to remind ourselves first of all, and all of us gathered for worship, that we are part of the ancient worship assembly of faithful Christians. And when we put on these vestments, we remind ourselves of our responsibility to represent the Christian community in public preaching, in administering the sacraments and in service.
And the stole is the symbol of the yoke of Christ. It is the primary symbol of ordained ministry. Every time we put it on, we are reminded that we are yokefellows of Christ and servants of the congregation. The stole reminds us that we are yoked to all the saints who now pray for us and count on us to carry the story forward in our generation. It is an honor and privilege to wear this stole. And it is a burden of labor. Sometimes it is very, very heavy. And sometimes it is as light as this beautiful silk out of which it is made.
What a powerful scripture this is to ponder this morning on this first Sunday of July. All United Methodist ministers are appointed by our bishop one year at time, and that new appointment year begins July 1st each year. We all begin new appointments July 1st, whether we’re beginning Year 1 for Camille and Robert or Year 11 for me. And like all “New Year’s Celebrations,” it brings with it an opportunity to pause and reflect, to amend our ways, to set some new goals and resolutions and to commend the new year to God and God’s people.
Several weeks ago, I was privileged to participate in the Commencement ceremony at the Claremont School of Theology when Robert was awarded the Master of Divinity degree. The ceremony is something like a long litany shared by the faculty, the graduating students and the gathered congregation of family and friends. At one point, the People, that is the congregation, ask the graduates: “How will you serve?”
And they reply together in a beautiful and powerful response based on the covenant prayer of John Wesley which we are all to pray on New Year’s Day.
“How will you serve?” Hear how they replied. Their words guide the three of us into this new year of ministry with you.
“We would speak clearly and simply, ever seeking wisdom that surpasses that which we presently possess. We would recognize that the work we do individually is possible only through the support of the wider community, and thus will we ever recognize our debts of gratitude and service to persons and communities, known and unknown, to whom we hold ourselves accountable.
We pray: Eternal God, source and sustainer of life, you have called us to be partakers of this gracious covenant. We take upon ourselves with joy the yoke of obedience, and engage ourselves, for love of you, to seek and do your perfect will.
Put us to what you will; put us to doing. Put us to suffering. Let us be employed for you or laid aside for you, exalted for you or brought low for you; let us be full, let us be empty, let us have all things, let us have nothing; we freely yield all things to your pleasure and will, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
This day, as your pastors, appointed to serve with you in this new year, we freely take upon ourselves the yoke of Christ as symbolized by the stole we wear. Together with you, yoked to Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit, we pledge to serve you, to share your every load and your joy, and with you, to live as Christ’s disciples for the transformation of the world.
Amen.
© Patricia Farris, 2008. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution.
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"Take My Yolk Upon You"