July 9

Zechariah 9:9-12; Psalm 145: 8-15; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

I'm torn.  I try to write about the Sunday readings each week, and these are perfectly good, but they aren’t where my heart is.  After my retreat, I experience Matthew as too prosaic, too ordinary.  But that’s a sign of how ungrounded such moments can make us.  I want the mountaintop, but I live here in the valley.  I’m reminded of the Buddhist saying: “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.  After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”  A bit of grounding is just what I need.

Once I’m grounded I can see that Matthew actually links the mountain and the valley quite nicely.  He’s talking about the most daily activities, eating and drinking and being together, but he (and his critics) are clear that these activities are always full of meaning beyond the food or drink or particular people.  Context matters, meaning matters.  Here these daily activities, and the way we do them, are signs of God’s dream for the universe.  In that dream our lives here are not a “vale of tears” or a testing, but are a chance to draw near to the God who wants to draw near to us.  The point is not to measure up to a purity code, but to know God’s desire and live it by loving and welcoming one another.

This sounds clear, and welcome, but we do get so confused!  This is not just a matter of intellectual confusion; it’s about the impulses in us that don’t align themselves with our truest desires.  As Paul describes so well, and as every addict knows, we can “know” the good and still find ourselves choosing the bad.  And, so often, as we try to suppress the bad we find it strengthened and overpowering.  Truly, we need a gentle yoke.  I need a gentle yoke.

The Episcopal collect for today says that God has “taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor.”  And, it reminds us that this is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and not just something we can will.  God knows (and many others know), I can't do it well on my own!  Loving God, on the mountain and in the valley; loving my neighbor, in the valley through action and on the mountain in prayer: this is the work of a lifetime.

The glow has worn off.  I’m back in the valley.  But I have the memory of the mountain, and I have access to it through daily prayer and meditation.  Each day I take up the yoke as best I can, and I experience more joy than I could every expect or deserve.  May it be so for you as well.