# Mysterious but Gentle Wisdom for July 4, 2026 July 05, 2026 To be at an evening Catholic Mass on July 4, 2026, was attend the Saturday vigil Mass for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time. As the priest for the Mass, I wore the vestments and stood in front. Of course, it was also to be at Mass on the 250th anniversary of the official signing of the Declaration of Independence. What’s a priest to do? I tried my best. I used the special prayers in the Roman Missal for July 4; I read excerpts from Pope Leo’s message to the American people read out in Philadelphia at a ceremony marking the signing of the Declaration; we sang God Bless America at the end of Mass. Had I been able to choose the readings of the day, I might have opted for dramatic Biblical stories that tell of the overthrow of tyrannical powers by people striving for freedom: the people of Israel crossing the Red Sea (Exodus 14); the Son of Man coming on clouds of glory for the Last Judgment (Matthew 25); scenes of cosmic battle and victory (Revelation 20). These would seem to measure up to the freedom-making of 1776 and the 250 years since then. But in the Catholic Church, the Sunday readings are more or less fixed, and so I stuck with the assigned readings, and turned especially to the Gospel passage, Matthew 11.25-30. The first part of the passage seems to promise a great and secret revelation:, ![Face of Jesus](/sites/g/files/omnuum2606/files/2026-07/Rembrandt%20Harmenszoon%20van%20Rijn-HeadChrist-c1648-50_0.jpg) "At that time Jesus said, 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. All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him." (25-27) But after this grand opening, the sequel, the mystery now revealed, is a simple invitation: "Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (28-30) Jesus seems to speak directly to the reader/listener: lay down the burden; do not be ashamed to be weary; seek rest, find rest. That is why I have come. The point may be that even on July 4, the Gospel can be very low-key, *especially* in very hard times when we think we need great changes. Matthew’s point requires that we recall all of Matthew 11, which summarizes a tough time in Jesus’ ministry. 1. John, imprisoned because he dared criticize the immorality of king Herod and soon to be beheaded, seems to doubt whether Jesus really the one to come. 2. Jesus replies that the blind see, the lame walk, the dead are raised. Does this satisfy John? No further response from John is mentioned. 3. Jesus praises John, pushing back again those who have contempt for John as an outsider, as a desert ascetic, not "one of us". 4. Jesus defends himself as well, against those who found John too marginal and extreme, while finding Jesus himself too ordinary, not an ascetic - but only "too ordinary". 5. He then warns these skeptics of the coming woe – the woeful judgment upon people who reject both models, John and Jesus, and refuse to listen to anything new said to them — as if believing in God leaves no room for listening to God. 6. He offers a prayer to his heavenly father regarding the wisdom that is revealed to few. 7. Then, finally, the words at the start of this essay, the invitation that seems addressed to everyone: "Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest..." But if we think about what Jesus is saying, it is radical testimony,, because it is about small changes, not big ones: The only qualification: being weary, bearing a heavy burden. ![Christ and the Poor](/sites/g/files/omnuum2606/files/2026-07/Rembrandt%20Harmenszoon%20van%20Rijn-Christstandsamong-1649_0.jpg) The focus is simple and intense: come to Jesus as you are, no conditions set except weariness and heavy burdens. Each person can be helped, refreshed, restored, one by one, one after the other, until all are well. The relief that is promised, the yoking — even scholars seem unclear as to what is meant — is perhaps a kind of union, a yoga, not a yoke of any sort? But in any case, Jesus' invitation seems hardly a plan to save the whole world; it is not even a plan confront the powers that persecute God’s people; he may be too low-key even for John. It is rather an invitation addressed to each person who is willing to listen, whoever is burdened, tired, down and out. He cures the blind, one by one, he heals lepers, one by one, the dead are raised, one by one. It is as if the whole world is crowding around the doorstep of Jesus, for him simply to touch each person, one by one. But there is a little more, all the more personal: "*Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart*, and you will find rest for your souls.” Learn from me, with me, Jesus is saying, to be gentle (like the gentle who inherit the earth in Matthew 5) and humble (putting aside worldly power and prestige): no fanfare, no pomp, no long speeches: just welcome those in need, bring them in, give them rest. So the reading turns out to fit July 4, this year at least. Signing the Declaration solidified a commitment, but left most of the work to be done, and after 250 years we are still called to keep doing it. As Pope Leo put it in his letter to Americans, “Defending human life also includes welcoming, protecting and assisting immigrants, whose hopes, sacrifices and contribution have formed part of the history of this country from its very beginning. In every generation, those who have arrived seeking freedom, opportunity and a place to belong have helped to shape the nation’s character. To receive them with compassion and generosity is not only an act of charity, but also a recognition of the dignity that belongs to every human person.” (Based on a homily preached at Our Lady of Sorrows, Sharon, MA, on July 4, 2026)