“God’s Yoke”
July 5, 2026
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
Here are my musings on God’s yoke. When I think of a yoke, I think of the overnight train to Chang Mai. I had the privilege of traveling with Princeton’s Glee Club to the Far East. We were travelling from Bangkok north. There was the excitement of traveling by train, overnight. Now, don’t think the Orient Express. We were travelling common coach. So at some time early in the evening, they transformed the seats into beds, and pulled down the top bunk, the window blinds were drawn and a curtain was all that separated you from the rest of the car!
I don’t remember if I slept at all. But I do remember that early in the morning, they reversed the process. The upper bunk was pushed back up, the seats were returned to upright positions, and they threw up the window blinds. What a sight! We were traveling along a rice paddy, and farmers were already in the “fields” which were basically bogs, for water was everywhere. They were using yoked water buffalo to put down furrows.
So when we talk about God’s yoke. That is the first thing that comes to my mind. That heavy wooden contraption. That thing that constrains one buffalo (or ox) from leaving the other. That symbol of being tied together, and domesticated. Is it any reason that we don’t often talk about God’s yoke. It doesn’t sound very nice. And yet Matthew has Jesus saying that “my yoke is easy.” What is he talking about?
When I think of a yoke, I think of the stole that I don each Sunday. I know that I have quite a few. Some are plain, and some are elaborate. Some were made just for me, some are part of a set. Some are just one color, some sport many colors. Wearing a stole isn’t just a way of saying “Hey, this is the pastor, or this is the leader” (although the stole in ancient Rome—called an orarium—was only worn by the powerful). It isn’t just part of the uniform. The stole is and has been the symbol of being “yoked” to Christ—and a reminder of being tied to the body of Christ, the church. Does that make the yoke light?
When I think of a yoke, I think of my mother and the stories I have heard about the year we spent in Germany when I was 2 and brother just days old. I was rambunctious to say the least. And Mom devised (long before they were common) a way of tethering me to her. The German housefraus were appalled. But it was the only way to keep me safe while having to also transport my brother while my father was away studying. Does accepting God’s yoke curtail your freedom?
In a minute I’m going to allow you to share what God’s yoke means to you. But here’s another thought. What if we thought not of a lowly yoke, put onto beasts of burden, but of a crown, placed on a king’s or queen’s head. From what I’ve heard, they are often incredibly heavy, even if they sparkle. They certainly are a sign of the relationship between a ruler and his or her community. And often they ask much of the one “who wears the crown.” Would God’s yoke feel different if we thought of it as a crown?
What is easy and light about any of this? Well, it would be one thing if this yoke were of servitude, of slavery. But I think that Jesus intended us to realize that we were yoked to him—yoked to God. That if the going gets rough, the one we are tied to can pick up all the slack, making it easier for us. I think that Jesus intended us to understand that we are invited into a shared responsibility for our world, and “many hands make light work.” And as far as God’s yoke diminishing our freedom, I guess we have to ask ourselves if we would want to do things that Jesus wouldn’t want us to do? Would we want that freedom?
What do you think?
Awesome God,
We are so honored that you want to be with us, side by side, working together, even if you do most of the pulling, even if you often carry us. Help us to see what it means to be yoked to you. May we think of it as a badge of honor, like a jewel encrusted crown. May we revel in the ties that bind us together and most especially bind us to you. And may we drink in the lessons it teaches us about how you want us to live—following you, remembering that you choose to be like us, you gave up ultimate freedom to be with us, in our world, in a body like ours. May we have open eyes to see how your yoke works this week. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.