Bearing Each Other's Burdens (Gal 6:1-5)

A Different Way Than the Empire’s Way

In the fourth century, Christianity went from being a persecuted faith to becoming the official religion of the Roman Empire. You would think that was a good thing. No more persecution, right? But curiously, this moment inspired a mass exodus of Christ-followers from the cities to the desert. At the very moment that the Roman Empire accepted Christianity, many Christ-followers rejected the Roman Empire and fled into the wilderness. Why? Because they could see that the empire’s way was not the way of Christ. If they lived as citizens of the empire, they would risk compromising their faith. Many early Christ-followers rejected the class system of Roman society, welcoming slaves and foreigners and the poor as equals, but as citizens they would be expected to honor the class system and uphold it. Many early Christ-followers rejected violence, but now they would be expected to enlist in the Roman army and take up the sword.

This mass exodus of Christ-followers to the wilderness resulted in a fascinating grassroots movement. Its participants developed such a reputation that they came to be known as “the Desert Fathers and Mothers.” The Desert Fathers and Mothers bore witness to the way of Christ in a revolutionary, countercultural manner. And although they aspired to holiness and the kingdom of God, they were anything but pretentious. Rather, they were humble, painstakingly honest about their condition, and often surprisingly humorous.

Ammonas Condemns the Accusers and Saves the Condemned

I was reminded of the Desert Fathers and Mothers when I read this week’s scripture, where Paul instructs the Galatians to restore sinners “in a spirit of gentleness.” I must confess, scriptures like this one make me anxious because they acknowledge the reality of confrontation. Generally, when I sense that someone else may be caught up in a particular sin, in something that is unhealthy to themselves or others, I would prefer to ignore the situation or to cast judgment on it safely from afar. In either case, I would prefer to keep my distance. The church has historically behaved in a similar manner. Today, we have only to open the newspaper to read the story of another cover-up, where a church was afraid of addressing situations of abuse, often perpetrated by its own leaders. On the other hand, the church has often exercised a heavy hand of judgment against its enemies, quick to blame and shame the people with whom it disagrees. In either case, it has kept a safe distance from the situation and avoided any genuine efforts at restoration.

Thankfully, though, there are followers of Christ who have actually put into practice the countercultural manner of confrontation and restoration that Paul is preaching here. There are examples for us to consider. The Desert Fathers and Mothers give us one of those examples. Ancient Rome had an honor-shame culture, much like our own today. It judged people according to the merit of their actions and punished them accordingly. But the Desert Fathers and Mothers followed Christ and exemplified another way. When the Desert Father Ammonas learned that a fellow monk “of evil reputation” had received a woman visitor for illicit purposes, he dropped in on him. Now, several others were already there, pointing the finger and accusing the monk of wrongdoing. Ammonas knew that their accusations were accurate. In fact, he could tell that the woman was in the room with the monk, but hiding in a large cask. The story goes that he kept this a secret “for the sake of God.” In fact, he sat on the cask and then commanded the rest of the room to be searched. When no woman was found, Ammonas reprimanded the accusers, saying, “May God forgive you!” After they left, however, he turned to his fellow monk, and said, “Brother, be on your guard.”[1]

Care, Not Condemnation

By the standards of our culture, Ammonas has it all backwards. He does not rebuke the man who is guilty of sexual sin. Instead, he rebukes the accusers—even though their accusation is correct! He condemns the self-righteous accusers and saves the condemned. Ammonas knows his fellow monk has done wrong, but he does not point the finger. He does not judge him or give him unsolicited advice. He only expresses concern for him: “Brother, be on your guard.”

One of the curiosities of today’s scripture is the way that Paul begins by talking about a “transgression” but later speaks in terms of “burdens.” In today’s culture, wrongdoing is understood fundamentally in terms of crime and punishment. You do the crime, you serve the time. But Paul says that when we detect a brother or sister in a transgression, we should “bear [their] burdens” (6:2). In other words, Paul understands wrongdoing as a burden, a wound, as an affliction. First and foremost, it requires care, not condemnation.

Care, Not Control

To bear a burden is simply to feel its weight. What is heavy for someone else, becomes heavy for us. Bearing a burden, however, does not mean controlling it or becoming personally responsible for it. When Paul says, “Take care that you yourselves are not tempted,” the context of the letter suggests that he is referring to the temptation to judge and manage someone else’s life. At the end of today’s scripture, Paul talks about taking responsibility for our “own work” and concludes by saying, “All must carry their own loads” (6:5). Here, again, Paul seems to be advising against our kneejerk instinct to manage other people’s lives for them. I don’t know about you, but I can relate to that instinct. When someone else is uncomfortable or not doing well, I become uncomfortable too. I want to help them, but really it’s because I want to feel better myself. I want to be in control. But Paul says that when another person is lost and hurting, our responsibility is not to control them. It’s to care for them.

I think, again, Ammonas provides a good example. He does not judge his fellow monk or exclude him or try to fix him. He has compassion for him, but he does not try to control him or change him. (My dad is fond of telling me that the only person you can change…is a person who wears diapers.) Ammonas merely invites his fellow monk to be honest with himself and with God—who is the only one who can truly heal and restore a person anyway.

What Is Healing Our World

Today’s scripture is an uncomfortable message for our world, and perhaps for that very reason a necessary one. Because our world gravitates to the comfort of two extremes. Either it takes a hands-off, laissez-faire approach to sin, letting people living their own lives and quietly suffer the consequences; or it takes a hands-on, judgmental approach, naming and blaming and shaming people, excluding them without any sympathy or effort toward restoration. Either way, it says, “Not my problem!”

What it would look like if we, as followers of Christ, bore witness to a different way? What if we saw the sin of the world as a deep wound? What if instead of condemning or trying to control all the wrong we saw, we got close enough to feel the wound ourselves and to show care for it? What if we, like Ammonas, gently guarded the dignity of others even as we pointed them to God? What if we trusted in the healing and restoring power of God’s love? What would that look like?

One of the healthiest spiritual traditions in the modern, western world that I know is the twelve-step tradition, and I think it gives us a helpful glimpse of this countercultural way of compassion. For on the one hand, it acknowledges the woundedness of our world. It understands that hurtful behavior is but the symptom of a spiritual disease, and it is quick to offer its sympathy and care. On the other hand, it discourages taking the moral inventory of anyone other than ourselves. It acknowledges that we are not the ultimate agents of healing. We are responsible to care for others, but not to control them.

For what is ultimately healing the world is not our condemnation or our control of crime or consequence, but God’s love. As Paul says in today’s scripture, by bearing each other’s burdens, we fulfill the law of Christ. And the law of Christ, which he cited in last week’s scripture, is simple: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (5:14).

Prayer

God who is rich in mercy,
Who cares for us
In whatever condition we are in—
Embolden us to bear witness
To your revolutionary manner of care
In our own relationships.
Where we see wrongdoing around us,
Help us to see more deeply the wounds
From which it springs.
. . .
Help us to bear others’ burdens
And make space for your healing love. In Christ, who bears our stripes. Amen.

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[1] Benedicta Ward, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian, 2003), 27-28.