No doubt most of you have heard of Fred Rogers. Ordained as a Presbyterian minister, Fred Rogers became a household name with his beloved PBS children’s TV show Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, a show that I myself remember watching when I was a little boy.
There’s a story about Mr. Rogers’ visit to a 14-year-old boy who lived in California. The boy suffered from cerebral palsy, a disease of the brain that interferes with motor movement and even with talking. In fact, this boy could communicate only by using a speech synthesizer on his computer.
Understandably, the boy had emotional problems. In fact, he would get so mad at himself that he beat himself with his own fists. He repeatedly told his mother that he didn’t want to live anymore.
But the boy always loved Mr. Rogers and watched him daily even at the rather advanced age of 14. Indeed, his mother believed that Mr. Rogers was the only bright light in her son’s life.
For this reason, she desperately wanted Mr. Rogers to come and see her son, but didn’t know how to make it happen.
But a little later, with the help of a children’s foundation, she was able to arrange for Mr. Rogers’ flight from Pittsburgh, where he lived, to California. Mr. Rogers agreed to meet her son.
On the day that Mr. Rogers arrived, the boy got so nervous that his symptoms acted up. He got so mad at himself that he began hitting himself again. His mother took him to another room and talked to him to calm him down.
Mr. Rogers didn’t leave though. He just waited patiently, until the boy came back. When the boy did return, Mr. Rogers spoke gently with him, and made his request: “I would like you to do something for me. Would you do something for me?”
On the computer, the boy communicated that yes, of course, he would do anything for Mr. Rogers.
Then Mr. Rogers said: “I would like you to pray for me. Would you pray for me?”
The boy was dumbfounded. No one ever asked him anything like this before. He had always been prayed for. Now Mr. Rogers no less was asking him to pray for him—Mr. Rogers!
At first, the boy said he wasn’t sure he could do it. But then he said, yes, he’d try.
And since that day, he kept Mr. Rogers in his prayers, and did not talk about wanting to die anymore, because Mr. Rogers needed him to pray for him!
Hearing of the story, a journalist complimented Mr. Rogers for being so wise—for knowing that asking this boy for his prayers would make him feel better about himself, about his life.
But Mr. Rogers turned to the journalist with a look of puzzlement and then of surprise. He then said: “Oh heavens no, Tom (the name of the journalist)! I didn’t ask for his prayers for his benefit. I asked for me. I asked him because I think that anyone who has gone through challenges like he has must be very close to God. I asked him, because I wanted his intercession.”
Mr. Rogers discloses here his insight into the ways of God, as they are portrayed here in our Gospel lesson. The powerful and influential people of Jesus’ day have rejected Jesus. He finds acceptance only among the “infants.” Some translations refer here to the “little people,” the people whom the powerful regard to be of no account.
Who are these people? The underclass, the uneducated, among whom especially in Jesus’ day can be counted women, Galileans, the poor people in the countryside, the lame, the crippled.
Jesus should have been discouraged; acceptance by a scant few among those on the social margins does not exactly constitute a ringing endorsement of his message and mission.
When authors, for example, want to enhance the value of their books, they ask the foremost experts in their fields to write a blurb, which then appears on the back cover. Jesus cannot do that.
But Jesus does not give vent to his frustration. Rather, he prays.
Parenthetically, this is a good reminder to us, too. When our efforts go unrewarded, when all that we are doing seems only to amount to banging our head against a brick wall, we should not react in anger and frustration. Instead, we should pause and direct our thoughts to God. We should refer all our activity to God, because only he can establish it.
“May the favor of the Lord rest on us. Establish the work of our hands, yea, establish the work of our hands,” reads the concluding verse of Psalm 90.
When Jesus pauses and directs his thoughts to God, he finds occasion, not to complain or lament to God, but to give thanks to him.
“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will” (Matt. 11:25-26).
Jesus sees in his activity, not rejection and failure, but the wisdom of God’s plan unfolding. God does not seek out and show himself to the powerful and influential, but to the little people.
The Apostle Paul reprises this theme in his First Letter to the Corinthians. “Think of what you were when you were called, my brothers and sisters. Not many of you were wise by human standards. Not many were influential. Not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of this world to shame the wise. God chose the weak things of this world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things and the despised things of this world—the things that are not to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him (1 Cor. 1:28-30).
Mr. Rogers found evidence of the work of God in that 14 year old boy with cerebral palsy. Should we not too? Have we realized that God seldom shows himself to the powerful and influential, that God seldom works among the loud opinion-makers and idea-brokers, but among the neglected and overlooked, whose voices are quiet? “God composes his kingdom out of an obscure flock” (Calvin).
To realize this requires a new way of looking at things. It requires unlearning much of what we have learned in this world. But this is what we have to do, if we are to acquire the sight to see the signs of God’s kingdom around us.
But how can we be sure that this is how God works? On the authority of God himself. Jesus makes a rather remarkable claim here. Jesus can speak authoritatively about his Father’s ways, because of the unique relationship that he enjoys with the Father as his only begotten Son. “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son.” This is a knowing from the side of God. It is a knowledge God has of himself, as Father of the Son, and Son of the Father. Jesus gestures here to the inner life of the Triune God.
But this is not a knowing that the Son keeps to himself. God sent his Son into the world so that we too may know God in the face of Jesus Christ. This is the summary of the Gospel. “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.”
This theologically profound statement has been described as a “Johannine bolt from the Matthean blue.” What does this mean here? Well, the language that Jesus is using here is much more reminiscent of John’s Gospel than Matthew’s. Consider, for example, John 1:18: “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”
Insofar as we understand and accept Jesus as the self-revelation of God, as God, we can understand the full import of the invitation that follows: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).
This is an open invitation to all, including even the powerful and influential. God is no respecter of persons. But what exactly is on offer here? It is rest. This doesn’t refer to the rest that comes from an afternoon nap, that comes from lying in a comfortable hammock on a lazy summer afternoon. It has a much broader meaning. It means peace, well-being, contentment—which we all want, but for which we spend much of our lives looking in all the wrong places.
The word in the Hebrew that captures the broader meaning of this word “rest” is “shalom.” It is what ancient Israel expected God to provide through the Davidic king.
On this subject, we read that when Solomon succeeded his father David to the throne, “the people of Judah and Israel were as numerous as the sand on the seashore; they ate, they drank, and they were happy” (1 Kings 4:20). And “during Solomon’s reign, Judah and Israel lived safely, every man under his own fig tree” (1 Kings 4:25).
These are images of blessing, abundance, peace, prosperity—in short, shalom.
But if you recall your Bible history, you will remember that it did not last. To finance his massive building projects, Solomon taxed the people heavily. Following his death, Israel appealed to his son Rehoboam, heir to his father’s throne, for relief from the heavy tax burden. “Your father made our yoke heavy. Now therefore lighten the hard service of your father and his heavy yoke that he placed on us, and we will serve you” (1 Kings 12:4).
Did you notice the language hear? It recurs in the answer that Rehoboam gave to the delegation sent from Israel: “if my father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke. My father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions” (1 Kings 12:11).
Their minds saturated with the scriptures, the early church fathers saw in these words a parallel to those of another king, the rightful heir to the throne of his father David, whose kingdom will reach to the ends of the earth and will last as long as the sun and moon endure.
Let us hear the words of this king again: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me. (You do not have to fear whips and scorpions from me) for I am gentle and humble of heart… My yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:29-30).
Of course, we have all heard these words as an invitation to find spiritual rest in Jesus. But it’s more than that. It’s an invitation to submit to his kingship, to acknowledge him as king. He is the wise and just and kind king to whose easy yoke people can submit and find rest for their souls.
This invitation still stands today. The Gospel continues to go out from the church today to invite those who hear it to submit to Jesus as king.
Secular culture tells us that religion is a personal preference. “That’s fine for you, if that is your preference”—as if the content of the claim “Jesus is king” signifies a mere private experience, which has no existence outside the minds of the faithful few who confess it.
But this has never been the intent of the church. As author Ken Myers puts it: “in the nature of things, Jesus really is King, and not just for people who acknowledge his reign. When at Christmas we enthusiastically sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come, let earth receive her King,” we should remember that kingship is not merely a private opinion, but the actual character of reality.”
Jesus is king. He just is, whether we want or believe him to be or not.
But let us always be found among those who willingly and joyfully submit to him.
The Lord knows the burdens we have in our lives.
He wants us to lay them down before him in exchange for his yoke, which is easy, for his burden, which is light.
He wants to give us rest. Submitting to him as king fulfills our great desire for peace, well-being, and contentment. This is what he offers.
So take home these words of Jesus, carry them in your hearts, and share them with your loved ones. They invite us to submit to Jesus so that he may give shalom to us and to everyone. Amen.