One of the classic images of the Old West is that of the gnarled, grubby gold miner trudging through the creek-beds, canyons, and mountain passes with his trusty, heavy-laden donkey by his side. Miners didn't use horses because they were not sure footed enough to traverse the rough terrain, the narrow, winding trails, the slippery creek-side stones. After all, a successful miner had a donkey loaded with the most valuable cargo in the universe: gold dust and gold nuggets. Such treasure could only be trusted to donkeys.
Today tourists can relive some of the experience of donkey travel when they take the long trail ride down into the base of the Grand Canyon. I used to think that the donkey was used because his smaller feet and shorter legs made him more stable on the trail; or that some innate intelligence made these creatures more capable of picking out the best track to follow.
Almost the exact opposite is the case. Far from being cautious and too reticent to go near the steep edges of the canyon trail, the Grand Canyon donkeys often horrify their passengers by walking as close to the edge as possible. Instead of hugging the protected side of the track, the donkeys nimbly traipse down the canyon right along the very edge of the precipice, their passengers teetering and terrified on their backs.
It seems that donkeys feel safest and most secure when they can clearly see where the edge is, where the greatest danger lies. What un-nerves a donkey is knowing an edge is near, but not being able to see it and so gauge the best path to take.
In today's gospel text it's easy to get swept up in the celebration of Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. Who doesn't love a parade? But doesn't it seem odd that Jesus would walk 90 miles from Galilee to Bethphage and then secure a donkey for the final two miles to Jerusalem? If you're going to borrow a donkey shouldn't you borrow one which comes with unlimited mileage? Maybe hay had risen to more than $4 a bale! And the donkey wasn't secured because Jesus' feet were tired, walking to Jerusalem. Instead, Matthew seems intent to record all the careful planning of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, and by citing the royal acclamations of Zechariah 9:9 he brings all the expectations of the Messianic King to this dramatic scene we know as Palm Sunday. "Your King comes to you, triumphant and victorious is He, humble and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey."
So Matthew tells how Jesus specifically instructs two disciples to appropriate for Him a very particular mount, a young donkey and even carefully notes the colt's mother, a donkey, and includes her in the procession. Matthew doesn't want anyone to misread the identity of Jesus' mount and suppose that this colt was some young, high-spirited horse, a far more obvious noble steed, or a stallion outfitted for battle.
And just like Small-town Founder's Day parades, or Carmel's July 4th parade, or the Big Apple's own Easter Bonnet parade, there is an awakened sense of community, of being patriotic, or ushering in the Spring season of new life. And so we the church often "re-create"--bringing the past into the present so that it might influence and impact our future. The problem with most of our Palm Sunday parades, like that first joyous parade into the Holy City, is that it is a parade into the sanctuary, and not out into the world. Have you ever noticed how parades never seem to have any momentous grand finale. They just sort of peter out.
In Matthew's Gospel, when Jesus reached the Temple, He dismounted, entered the Temple courtyard, and in a rage, drove out the money changers and dove sellers. But the crowds who seemed to be so supportive and excited about His presence have disappeared. There is no mention of all those who had just been shouting "Hosanna!" and waving palm branches. The procession simply evaporated. These Palm Sunday people disappear before they can become Good Friday and Easter Morning people. The adoring crowds who accompany Jesus into Jerusalem may be those who throng Him but don't throne Him. They, in fact, abandon Him once the parade is past.
The church often processes with palms and songs at the beginning of worship on this one Sunday a year. But where does it go from there? Does all our marching have a destination? If all we do is leave our praise in this place, leave at the conclusion of our worship just to hunker down and hide our identity as Christ-followers, then we too are abandoning Jesus the moment He dismounts. How can we justify going back to life as usual when we have just shouted in the arrival of our King, our Messiah, our Savior? Shouldn't we become true participants in the longest running parade in history - the Jesus parade that goes out into the world?
The chief difference between those who throng Him and those who throne Him is this: those who throne Him wave palm branches and sing hosannas in good times and bad, in the midst of sorrows as well as celebrations, on Good Friday as well as No-Name Saturday and Easter morning. The essence of a parade is a party atmosphere and party spirit. Can your spirit party even when everything around you is falling down and coming apart? Can you trust and obey Jesus enough to party through the jeers as well as the cheers?
Against all the hoopla and hosannas, I believe Matthew is careful to emphasize an almost seemingly discordant note in this celebratory theme. It seems to me that Matthew wants readers to be perfectly aware of the incongruity between the crowd's shouts, the royal processional, and the humble, simple beast of burden upon which Jesus rode.
Donkeys were work horses. Donkeys were the common pack animals used by hard working laborers, landowners, and merchants alike. More exotic, long distance travel and rich transport caravans employed the more demanding, expensive, and haughty camels decked out in sumptuous velvets, to carry big loads. The donkey was a much simpler, less impressive worker. It accomplished the most mundane of daily tasks in small villages and inside the big cities as well. Gray, substantial, and subservient, donkeys were a necessary, but unexceptional part of first-century life.
The donkey is clearly Jesus' own choice of mount for His entrance into Jerusalem. Riding on that humble beast, Jesus both inhabited the words of Zechariah's prophecy and illustrated the dual nature of His messianic identity:
He was King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
But he was also servant of servants, a work horse, helper of helpers.
While He was ushered into Jerusalem with a royal processional, He rode on the steed of the simplest peasant. The back of a donkey doesn't put one up above the heads of others. In fact, sitting on the short-legged beasts put the rider pretty much at face-to-face level with a standing crowd. Jesus couldn't impressively ride through a crowd mounted on a donkey. He could only ride in the midst of the crowd, being as much a part of the crush as were all the others.
Church tradition tells us (though none of the gospels report it) that this wasn't Jesus' first donkey ride. Matthew's text doesn't detail how Joseph traveled with Mary to Egypt and back to Nazareth again. Nor does Luke's gospel describe how Mary and Joseph journeyed to Bethlehem. But all of us have in our heads the picture of a pregnant Mary perched on the back of a sturdy donkey. Our mind's eye puts her back on that beast for the escape to Egypt and the homeward trek to Nazareth after Herod had died. The church has long suggested that in honor of the donkey's humble service to Jesus, the animal was rewarded with a permanent "sign of the cross," for most donkeys do show a distinctive black cross pattern across their sturdy shoulders. Despite this lip service from church tradition, the donkey still remains far beyond the pale of glory. Little girls don't dream of riding across summer fields on a little donkey. The Kentucky Derby doesn't blow the herald horn for a herd of dinky donkeys to race around the track. And everyone from Shakespeare to Pinocchio knows that fools and dolts are depicted as donkeys. Of course, the donkey's other common name says it all: a donkey is just an . . . well, you know what that word is.
Yet if the mission of the church is to carry Christ into the world, then each of us is called to be a donkey. There's no particular glory in being a donkey. There's only long trails, steep roads, heavy loads, and little or no recognition for a completed job.
But look at what we're carrying. The King of Kings. The Prince of Peace. The Lion of the Tribe of Judah, and the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
You and I are called to be a donkey. Donkeys are known for strong backs and sure feet. Donkeys carry a lot of burdens, and they carry their loads along pathways that are too treacherous for others to walk.
Of course, donkeys are known for one other characteristic: they can be stubborn, obstinate, stiff-necked. From the days of the Hebrews in the wilderness, God's people themselves have often been identified as "stiff-necked" (Exodus 32:9; 34:9). Perhaps this same stiff-necked quality added to Jesus' choice of the donkey, a stubborn little steed with a mind of its own, even though it would work hard and long. Sound familiar? If we're honest, do we not need the Lord of the universe riding us, reigning us in-so to speak-from time to time, and re-directing our lives to guide us into the ways of peace and abundant living?
So I end this morning with a question: Will you be a donkey?
Will you carry Christ? Wherever He goes? However He goes.
Will you be a donkey?
Will you walk across the room? Will you walk cliffs? Will you not be afraid of the edges and the extremes? Will you be cliff-walkers who journey the edges between this world and the next, between hate and love, between war and peace? Will you be a donkey?
Will you be humble enough to be a beast of burden? To carry the burdens of others? To carry your cross?
Finally, will you be a donkey? Will you shout with joy and praise God, welcoming the divine's presence with "Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord." Will youjoin the Longest Running Parade in History by keeping the party going and the parade moving in good times and bad. Will you throne Christ as head of your life come what may, no matter what?
Join the Jesus parade, and you celebrate. You party. You wave your hands and dance for joy-not just when life is going your way-but even when that Perfect Storm called Good Friday hits with all it's might because we not only know, but we proclaim the outcome with our lives! That's Donkey Business!...being the Heart, Hands, and Voice of Christ! Amen!!!!
