I wonder how many of you were like me on Tuesday morning, watching your news feed with dread as we waited for the latest Supreme Court decisions. That dread deepened with the announcement of the first decision; the constitutionality of states’ bans on trans athletes. Then another decision gutting campaign finance regulations, and finally, surprisingly upholding of birthright citizenship. 

This weekend as our nation celebrates the 250^th anniversary of its declaration of independence, the vision of a fully democratic, wildly diverse, union of people seems more distant than ever. Our hope of being a beacon of democracy and inclusion, a nation made stronger by the diversity of its people, is hanging on by a thread, only another Supreme Court decision, or arbitrary action by the president from being severed.

I mention this because I know it’s on all of our minds. Many of you may be wondering why there are no patriotic hymns in our order of service; after all, it’s the 4^th of July, our 250^th celebration, and many of us want to celebrate that. 

But just what would we be celebrating, and why would it be expected, or even appropriate, to acknowledge our nation’s founding in a service of Christian worship? Each year on the 4^th of July, I read Frederick Douglass’s brilliant speech: “What to the slave is the 4^th of July?” Today I wonder, “What to the refugee or immigrant is the 4^th of July?” What to the people languishing in ICE detention centers is the 4^th of July” “What to the LGBTQ+ community is the 4^th of July? And finally, what to the faithful follower of Jesus is the 4^th of July?

We’ve been hearing a lot about “Christian Nationalism” in recent years, and it’s important to note that there are many extreme versions of it—from the State of Texas requiring the reading of biblical texts in schools; the posting of the Ten Commandments in other states; or more extremely, claims that the US is a Christian nation, founded on Christian principles; and that those who aren’t Christian aren’t really American.  

In fact, Christian nationalism is embedded in almost all forms of American Christianity. Did you know that Independence Day is an official “holy day” in the Episcopal liturgical calendar? Technically, I’m obligated to hold a public service of worship on that day; although I’ve never done it, and none of the churches with which I’ve been associated have, either. Then there’s the “National Cathedral” official seat of the Episcopal Bishop of Washington, but also site of inauguration day prayer services, funerals of presidents and other prominent politicians, and other rituals of American Civil Religion. To what extent is the project of American empire supported, consciously and subconsciously by Christian imagery and Christian institutions, including, perhaps especially, the Episcopal Church, with its red, white, and blue shield? 

There’s a difference between the Christian Nationalism that has succumbed to the sin of idolatry and a true patriotism which honors our nation but is clear-eyed about both our failures as well as our successes; our weaknesses as well as our strengths, and calls us to strive for greater equality and justice.

Our gospel reading directs our attention elsewhere, to Jesus and to those who follow him. The last three Sundays we’ve read from chapter 10 which contains what scholars refer to as the second of Jesus’ five discourses in that gospel—lengthy compilations of Jesus’ teaching uninterrupted by questions or narrative episodes. The first discourse is the sermon on the mount. One of the key themes in Matthew is the presentation of Jesus as the new Moses and scholars see a parallel between Matthew’s five discourses and the five books of Moses.

The second discourse is called the missionary discourse. Jesus sends his disciples out to extend his ministry—to preach the Good News of the coming of God’s reign, and to heal the sick, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons. He gives them instructions on what to wear and what to take with them, what to do if they are rejected, and the like. 

Now in chapter 11, the emphasis shifts. The chapter begins with John the Baptist in prison, and sending some of his disciples to Jesus to ask him if Jesus is the one for whom they were waiting. That’s the background for the first section of today’s gospel reading. In it, Jesus criticizes the crowd for the way they responded to both John and himself. John was something of a dropout—he preached in the wilderness, dressed strangely and had an odd diet. Onlookers thought he might have been possessed by a demon. In the twenty-first century, he would probably be diagnosed as mentally ill. In the case of Jesus, because he spent time with tax collectors and sinners, he was regarded as a drunkard and glutton.

Jesus’ question, “What did you come out into the wilderness to see?” is as pertinent today as it was in the first century. We have our expectations, assumptions about how God acts in the world, and what God’s will is. Those expectations can lead us to ignore or overlook the ways God is working in the world and in our lives, and who God is using as God’s messengers. And in our polarized society, in all the noise of that polarization, we need to be reminded that God may be speaking and working in ways that we don’t immediately recognize or want to acknowledge. 

Among the assumptions that burden us is the assumption that following Jesus is difficult. There are good reasons for such an assumption, sayings like, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” 

But today we hear something very different. The last verses we heard are words of invitation and consolation. I repeat them almost every Sunday at the early service. They are among the so-called “comfortable words” sentences of scripture read or recited after the confession of sin and before moving into the Eucharist. In the liturgical context, they are intended to remind us of God’s love, mercy, and grace. And that’s a lovely use of them.

In their scriptural context, they show another dimension of discipleship. Yes, following Jesus can be difficult. It has consequences. But at its heart, discipleship is about relationship. The word we translate as discipleship has at its root the Greek word for to learn. In the gospels as in other religious traditions, to learn from a religious teacher, to follow a religious teacher, is first and foremost about relationship, about being together. When Jesus called his disciples, he told them, “Come, I will make you fishers of people.” Now he tells them, “Come, all you that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

That’s an invitation we need, a reminder we desperately need in our busy lives and noisy world. We are overwhelmed by so many things. We may be anxious, fearful, angry. Jesus invites us to come to him with all of that, with our worries and concerns, our burdens. He invites us to find rest in him.

Let’s not immediately think about the “rest” Jesus offers as a day off from work or a vacation. Rather, “rest” is a loaded theological term, it draws us back to creation, to God’s final act of creation, when God rested, created the Sabbath day and blessed it. 

Above all, in this context, there is a connection between “rest” and the relationship of disciple and teacher—disciple and Jesus. At the very end of Matthew, Jesus promises his continued presence with his disciples, “And lo, I will be with you always.” Here, Jesus explicates the meaning of that presence. It’s not just “being with” him. It is opening ourselves to the transformative power of that presence, to find in Jesus’ ongoing presence with us rest for our souls. 

It is also to make that same invitation to others. In Matthew 9, Jesus looked on the crowd and “he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” The world we live in, the city we live in is full of people in desperate need. Can we speak Jesus’ words to them, “Come unto him, all you that are weary and heavy-laden, and he will give you rest?”