The Yoke of the Kingdom

Shema Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad. Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.

So begins the Shema, the prayer that devout Jews pray each morning and each evening, day after day, world without end.

I’m not Jewish. I suppose, in a sense, this prayer should have no great meaning in my spiritual life, but on certain occasions and in particular seasons, it doggedly hounds my steps—and today is one of those days.

There are three parts, but it’s the first (Deut. 6:4-9) that sticks with me. To paraphrase:

Hear this (and make it real in your life). The Lord is one. Sovereign. Just as He is one, love Him with all your heart—soul—might—everything. Imprint these words on the deepest part of your being—make them the truest part of your existence. Teach them, and speak of them, and think of them in all that you do. Don’t give future generations the opportunity to forget. And let these words be so much a part of your world that they show up even in the external elements of your life (your home, your clothing, etc.).

(Admittedly, a loose translation for the sake of emphasis. You get the point.)

The rabbis call this first part of the Shema the taking on of the yoke of the malchut shamayim, the kingdom of heaven. It is not something that is lightly done. Some find it necessary to close their eyes as they pray this part of the prayer. Most, if not all, advocate cultivating of a certain state of the heart and mind that is focused fully toward God before uttering the words. Why? Because it’s that important. It’s the daily choice: You are my God, and I will be counted among Your people.

As I said before, I’m not Jewish. But something about this seems so right. So natural. There are moments when this prayer feels closer than anything else my lips might knowingly wish to whisper.

Shema Yisrael….

Yet what does it mean to take on the yoke of the kingdom? I’ve seldom found much identification with the yoke image, truth be told. It appears in my mind’s eye as a blistering summer day, a man dripping with sweat, and two dirty, brown oxen, shouldering the burden of a plough as it rips through dry and cracking earth. Not particularly enticing.

And the kingdom? Is it as heavy as the plough, dragging through the untamed ground? And where is it? Here? Somewhere else? Not to mention the exhausting debate in theological circles between the “already” and the “not yet.”

Sifre Deuteronomy tells us, “Receive upon yourselves the kingdom of heaven and reconcile yourselves one with the other in the fear of heaven and conduct yourselves toward one another in loving kindness” (323). I like this because it makes the kingdom seem like a practical thing—something I can be part of.

God’s people, doing God’s will in the earth. Helping. Loving. This is the work of the kingdom.

To take up this yoke is to choose each day whom you will serve. In a sense, I almost don’t think it matters whether you’re Jewish or Catholic or Protestant—the act is the same.

One God. One kingdom. The submission of your life to the work of God in the earth (as it is in heaven).

Shema Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad. V’ahavta eit Adonai elohecha b'chawl l'vav'cha, u'vchawl nafsh'cha, uv'chawl m'odecha.

With all that I am, let it be.