How can your yoke be easier?
In our Gospel today (Matthew 11:25-30), Jesus tenderly invites us:
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
Take note: Our Lord does not promise to relieve us of every load. But he does assure us that the burden he gives is light. How can the Lord’s yoke be easy?
We may be tempted to equate “yoke” only with trial and tribulation, but what if we expand our interpretation and see it also as discipleship and our God-given vocations?
In biblical times, yokes were carefully crafted for each ox. Carpenters meticulously measured an animal’s height, shoulder width, and neck size, then chose branches bent in a way that matched its body. Steaming the wood and carving fine adjustments helped ensure a better fit. No two yokes were alike; each was fashioned to suit the ox that bore it.
In the same way, the call to follow Christ is never one?size?fits?all. Each of us is given a yoke unique to our personalities, our strengths, and even our weaknesses. Our yoke is our daily labor, and when we find and embrace our mission, it also becomes our rest. This is one sign you have discovered your vocation, the particular way you are meant to be a disciple of Jesus—when the work that you spend your energy on also energizes you, when what you pour your life into also gives you life.
In first-century Palestine, yokes were often made from sycamore or oak. Sycamore had the rare combination of being light yet strong while oak was prized for its durability and resistance to splitting. The sycamore mentioned in Scripture bore figs, which were a staple food for the poor, and its low and wide-spreading branches connected it to the theme of accessibility. It was, after all, the tree Zacchaeus climbed to “gain access” to Jesus. The oak, on the other hand, provided shade for sacred spaces. It was under an oak tree where God appeared to Abraham.
Going deeper into vocation, other signs you have found your true yoke are when it bears fruit not only for those closest to you but also for those in the margins, and when your efforts create spaces for others to encounter the Divine.
The carpenter may have fashioned the yoke just for you, but what also helps it fit better is your constant pulling. You shape the yoke, and the yoke also shapes you. Finding your true yoke and settling in it is what helps make it easy. When you discover the vocation that rests around your neck and shoulders just right, you pull the plow with effort but also with purpose.
But vocation is never static. Your mission in life is not once-and-for-all. Over time, the body of the ox changes. Sometimes the yoke needs some minor adjustments; perhaps a leather strap wrapped around a curve will prevent chafing and provide more comfort. But sometimes, you just need a new yoke. Just when you think you finally have things figured out, circumstances shift, and you are back to searching for your life’s meaning again.
What can help make this burden light?
“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me….” For the longest time, I had imagined this scene with God as the farmer giving me a yoke. But ancient Israelites plowed differently than Filipinos. Here, one carabao might prepare the field. In Jesus’ culture though, there were two oxen: a stronger, seasoned ox and a younger, less experienced ox. They were yoked together so that the latter can learn from the former.
Perhaps, the better way to envision Jesus’ words is to see him not as the farmer but as the other ox. What can really make the yoke easier is knowing you are not pulling alone. There is always that stronger ox who accompanies and teaches the less experienced ox. (And so, whatever happens, it will be oks na oks.)
What is your current yoke? Have you found your true yoke? Can you trust that you do not bear it alone?
Your prayer assignment this week:
We have been listening to R.E.M. songs last week and the week before. One last R.E.M. song for you…
We are never alone. We are yoked with God. And we are also yoked with community. Pulling the load together doesn’t only mean depending on the help of others. It also means accepting the responsibility that others depend on us. We are yoked to help make things easier for us. But we are also yoked to help others navigate their difficulties.
In the video of “Everybody Hurts," the band members are stuck in traffic with a multitude. The camera pans from one person to another, all stuck in their hidden pain, and their hurts appear on the screen as subtitles: “Nobody can see me.” “Silence is a stone in my mouth.” “How’m I gonna do this?”
But at the end of the video, people step out of their cars and begin to walk. There are many ways to interpret this, but I’d like to think they have finally started moving on. What helped them? The song’s answer: “If you feel like you're alone / No, no, no, you are not alone.”
For bonus points:
Running at the Ateneo Art Gallery until July 18 is Geloy Concepcion’s "Things You Wanted to Say But Never Did," a collection that features photographs and letters of people’s hurts: “I feel like everyone is just waiting for me to mess up again.” “I am a bully because I was poor and got beaten when I was small.” “I wish I could erase people’s memories of me.”
The staff tell me visitors come as soon as the gallery opens to read the letters. Sometimes, they leave their letters, too. And many times, they leave with tears in their eyes—not because they have been assaulted by a trauma dump, but because they hear echoes of their own story. Everybody hurts. And it is cathartic to know that even if our problems remain unsolved, we are not alone. And the yoke becomes just a bit easier.
Fr. Francis teaches Theology, Education and Scripture at both the Ateneo de Manila University and Loyola School of Theology. As a classroom teacher, he is first and foremost a student. As a professor, he sees himself primarily as a pastor.
