Chasing the Rabbit

Chasing the Rabbit

Matthew 11:28-30

            I have some strange habits—not awful or antisocial, just strange.  Most of my friends know my strangeness, tolerate my strangeness, and, I suspect, some even appreciate my strangeness.  A few of my strange habits I keep to myself.  While my friends accept my strangeness, I’m not sure how they’d respond if they found out I was downright weird.

            When I’m walking the track at the athletic club I look for someone ahead of me who is moving slower than I am.  I make that person my “rabbit.” 

Some of you understand the term.  On tracks where greyhounds (dogs, not busses) race, there is a mechanical rabbit attached to the rail.  The dogs are trained to chase the rabbit.  It moves faster than they can, so their chase is futile.  It does get them to run their fastest, so it serves its purpose.

            The difference is that I choose a rabbit I can catch, pass, and try to catch again.  It may be strange, but it keeps me walking at a fast pace.  It’s helpful, and as far as I know, it’s harmless.

            Modern society has borrowed the expression chasing the rabbit from greyhound racing.  When someone overworks himself for a raise or a promotion, we say he’s “chasing the rabbit.”  When someone continues to run for higher and higher elected office, we say she’s “chasing the rabbit.”  Any time anyone seems to obsessively pursue a goal we use this expression.

            We don’t mean it kindly.  Comparing a person to an animal futilely chasing an unreachable goal is not a positive.  To say someone is running so singlemindedly that he/she has no time, energy or desire left for anything else is not a compliment.  We may be criticizing, or making fun of such a person, but we’re certainly not being complimentary.

            The world Jesus entered in the first century may not have had as many rabbits to chase as we have today, but overworking was still a problem.  Many people of Jesus’ day carried burdens they could not put down.  These burdens were placed on them by society.  The working poor found themselves overextended trying to provide for their families.  Those in professions considered unclean were expected to overextend themselves keeping every jot and tittle of the law.  Those whose illnesses or conditions caused them to be shunned by society overextended themselves just trying to live.  Even the rich and powerful overextended themselves trying to maintain or improve their position or their wealth.  They were the ones chasing the rabbit.

            Into this overworked, overextended, over-stressed world came Jesus, inviting all who could not find peace to come to him and rest.  You can hear him saying these words, his voice calm, his body language relaxed, his manner inviting, reassuring, welcoming.

            Jesus calls us the same way today—calls us to stop chasing our particular rabbit, lay down our unbearable burdens, and find rest in him.  Unfortunately, we have become so conditioned to our busyness that we find it difficult to respond—just as, I imagine, his listeners did. 

But what choice do we have?  It’s either pursue our goals slavishly and endlessly, always hoping the next raise, or the next position will satisfy our souls, or come to the one who promises soul-satisfying rest—and can deliver on that promise. 

It’s time we let the rabbit win.

            We won’t be out of work.  Elsewhere Jesus tells us to labor for the kingdom, and to lay up treasure in heaven.  We’ll still have plenty to do; but his yoke will be easy and our burdens will be lighter.