Today’s first reading includes one of the more painfully honest moments in Moses’ leadership journey: “I cannot carry all these people by myself, for they are too heavy for me.”
We don’t get the grand miracles, the parting of seas, or thunder from Sinai. No, today we get Moses at his wit’s end, exhausted, frustrated, and frankly, ready to resign. This might be the first recorded case of clergy or leadership burnout. This might be the most relatable passage in all of Scripture for anyone who's ever had to lead a group trip, a parish committee, or even wrangle hungry kids at dinnertime.
The Israelites are in the wilderness, and what are they doing? Complaining. Loudly. “We remember the fish we ate in Egypt… the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic!” It's like someone handed them a review for their time of slavery in Egypt: “Two stars, poor working conditions, terrible boss, but the food was great.”
They’re nostalgic for oppression, simply because the food there had better sauce and seasoning.
Meanwhile, Moses is stuck in the world’s longest camping trip, with no end in sight, no map, and people who are cranky because the divine menu doesn’t include leeks and onions. So Moses vents. He cries to God: “Why have You laid the burden of all these people on me? Did I give birth to them? Am I their mother? If this is how you’re going to treat me, just kill me now!” Moses is ready to resign.
That’s not filtered, polished prayer. That’s raw, blistered honesty. And that’s precisely why I love it because it reminds us that even the most outstanding leaders, even the most faithful prophets, can reach breaking points.
It reminds me of something a young teacher once told me after her first year teaching kindergarten. She said, “I thought teaching was about reading and writing. I didn’t realize it also meant tying shoes, wiping tears, breaking up crayon-related arguments, and surviving snack-time negotiations worthy of international diplomacy.” She smiled and added that one day she hid in the supply closet and prayed, ‘Lord, this one’s going to take more than a Master’s degree.”
And God responded with help. The school gave her a mentoring teacher, an understanding principal, and a note from a student that simply said, “Thank you for always listening, even when we were a lot of trouble.”
That’s what Moses discovers, too. In the very next verses, God instructs him to gather seventy elders, to share the spirit that’s been placed on him. Moses doesn’t need to be the solo savior. God does not call us to burn out in isolation. He calls us to lean, to share, to receive.
That truth glows especially bright on this feast of Saint John Mary Vianney. Here was a parish priest in a tiny village who carried unimaginable spiritual weight: hearing confessions for sixteen hours a day, battling discouragement, praying with tears. But his strength was not his own. It came from prayer, from knowing his poverty and letting grace do the heavy lifting.
So, if today you feel overwhelmed by people, ministry, work, sickness, or life itself, you're in good company. Even Moses asked to clock out early. Here's the good news: God doesn’t remove the burden. He multiplies grace, and people who can share the burden.
The weight may be heavy, but when we carry it with God and one another, it becomes a holy burden worth bearing. God doesn’t expect you to be the hero of the journey, but only to admit when you’re tired and let Him send the help He’s already prepared.