What makes us feel weary and heavy-laden? Many answers come to mind! It might be the physical weariness brought by sickness or age, or the emotional burden of grief or anxiety, or perhaps the strain of trying to make ends meet.

Meanwhile there’s another weariness, so insidiously ever present we often hardly notice it, that can grind its way to our very soul: the weariness of living in a ‘never-enough’ kind of culture. White noise around us constantly tries to persuade us that we need to have more, own more, eat more, make more profit. These ‘never-enoughs’ distort our relationships with others. We become competitive. We fear our online profile isn’t cool enough, our phone or car not up-to-the-minute enough, our clothes not fashionable enough. Yet the more we have or the more we buy, the more it seems we can’t keep up. We wind up feeling weary and exhausted because ultimately, the things we crave disappoint us. They fail to satisfy our deepest longings.

Perhaps our own generation is not so very different from the one Jesus was describing in today’s Gospel reading. Just like Jesus’ picture of children in the marketplace, today’s preachers of ‘never-enough’ are incessantly piping at us, urging us to dance to their tune and pointing the finger at us if we don’t join in.

‘Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden’, Jesus says. There were good reasons why Jesus’ listeners might have felt weary and heavy-laden. The land of Israel had been occupied by the Romans for decades. The Roman Empire imposed crippling taxes to fund its political and military ambitions, and its desire for wealth was insatiable. Compelled to meet the demands of Roman rule, workers never satisfied their masters and were under constant pressure to produce more. Meanwhile, the demands imposed by institutional religion and its elites made many feel as if they had never done enough to satisfy the requirements of the Law.

‘Come’, Jesus says, ‘and I will give you rest.’ The idea of ‘rest’ here does not refer to a cup of cocoa before bedtime! For his Jewish listeners, Jesus’ reference to ‘rest’ would have connotations of the Sabbath. Centuries before, as slaves in Egypt, God’s people had been pawns in the Pharaoh’s uncontrollable appetite for wealth. The more they worked the more demands were made of them and they were forced to produce ever more bricks to build ever more storehouses to contain ever more grain. But God delivered them from slavery and made a covenant with them. The people were to demonstrate their relationship with God by keeping ten key commandments, the fourth of which was to observe the Sabbath. This wasn’t a day of comatose inactivity but a pro-active moment to remember what ultimately satisfies the soul: loving covenant relationships with God and with others. On the seventh day of the week, not just an elite but all – including slaves and refugees – were to rest as God had done on the seventh day of creation. They were to interrupt trading and refocus their priorities, nurture family and celebrate community.

Jesus is the very embodiment of Sabbath rest. As Sabbath observance was for all, so Jesus’ invitation is offered to all. As we come to him, we re-align our priorities with his. We are drawn into a relationship with God, made possible through Jesus’ own intimate relationship with God. Jesus himself affirms it: ‘No-one knows the Father but the Son, and those to whom the Son may choose to reveal him.’

Then: ‘Learn from me’, Jesus says. In other words, he calls us to be his disciples. This is not an invitation to put our feet up! On the contrary, discipleship is strenuous. It demands a lifetime of commitment, patience, sacrifice and perseverance. But the point is this: discipleship deeply satisfies. It leaves us hungry for more, yes, but in a good way. That’s why it’s not a burden. Our souls can be at rest.

And that rest that Jesus gives us brings transformation. Instead of increasingly resembling the proud Pharaohs of this world with their insatiable demands, disciples face in a different direction and begin to resemble Jesus in all his gentleness and humility.

So: today’s Gospel reading leaves us with profound questions. What are our fundamental priorities and what do we truly long for? Shall we hunger for the things which fail to satisfy, or shall we be hungry for God’s justice? Shall we choose weariness, or the rest Jesus offers?