As I reread the biblical accounts of the Triumphal Entry in preparation for Palm Sunday, a familiar detail struck me more particularly this year - the donkey. Hold off for a moment on the “it takes one to know one, Dan” jokes that I know are on the tip of your tongue…
Jesus was very particular about his mode of transportation, telling the disciples to retrieve a specific foal preordained to be waiting for him. As he rode slowly into Jerusalem on a donkey just as Solomon did on his day of enthronement (1 Kings 1:33), the moment was rife with symbolism and prophetic fulfillment. Matthew specifically references Zechariah’s prophecy: “Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden (Zech 9:9).’”
If I’m honest, I am more of a warhorse kind of guy. Where there is injustice, I desire decisive action. I get why Peter cut off the servant’s ear. I’d love to see Jesus ride into Jerusalem like Gandalf on Shadowfax, crashing into the lines of those who oppose him. But the day of Jesus on a white horse, although coming, must wait. Palm Sunday is a day of lowliness. A day of humility. A day for a plodding, stubborn donkey who will stay the course.
On Palm Sunday, a day when the curses of men hide just behind the praises they pronounce, Jesus proclaims his Kingdom not with a battle cry, but with quietness. He does not capitalize on the fickleness of the crowd for his own gain. He does not try to lead the masses by stately form or charismatic personality; there are no rousing speeches here. This is a day epitomized by a donkey who simply lowers his head and faithfully bears the burden he was chosen for as he carries his master to the place where he will do the same for us all.
There is a time for clashing swords, an hour of woe and of shattered shields, but more often there is a call for us to gently put on the yoke of Christ and stubbornly amble towards the cross where the Lord’s work will be accomplished. To the donkey, the shouts of praise around him, the political rally he was trudging through, the waving branches, the cacophony of sound, the sodden cloaks underfoot, were only potential distractions. His job was simple no matter what is happening around him - be obedient to the one who held his bridle.
Most Merciful God,
May our lives and ministries be like that of the donkey, humbling carrying the Gospel of Jesus as we walk unnoticed but relentlessly faithful, steady and undistracted, eyes forward on the cross, and may we, like that ancient donkey, be chosen to play a pivotal role in the story of Redemptive History. Amen.