Jesus Rode a Donkey
They were coming from Jericho, traveling west, past Bethany and Bethphage, the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane, across the Kidron Valley, to enter Jerusalem on the east side of the city, the Temple side. The Jericho road was notoriously dangerous – it was the road Jesus chose as the setting of the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It stretches from Jericho, the lowest city below sea level lying almost 850 feet below sea level, 17-18 miles to Jerusalem, a city on a hill, 2500 feet above sea level. It’s steep – more steep than climbing stairs – for every foot you travel west from Jericho toward Jerusalem, you are rising in elevation 9 inches. When we went to the Holy Land, some of our luggage didn’t arrive with us, and the day we went to Jericho, it arrived in Jerusalem and had to be claimed at our hotel by a certain time that afternoon or we would have to wait and claim it the next morning. The bus driver was not happy to have with the reroute required – driving from Jericho to Jerusalem, and neither was the bus.
NT Wright describes the exhilaration of the moment they reached the top of the Mount of Olives and could see Jerusalem across the Kidron Valley saying, “Even if you were climbing that road every week on business, there would still be a sense of exhilaration, of delight and relief, when you got to the top….Now add to that anticipation and gladness the mood of Jesus’s followers as they came up the hill. It was Passover time” – the time to celebrate freedom, God’s saving acts for God’s people when they were slaves in Egypt – and the time to dream of freedom, God acting to save God’s people again, in a way that would last.
They must have been hot and tired when Jesus told two of them to run ahead and in the next town, you’ll find a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it, and if anyone tries to stop you, tell them “The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.” They always walked. They were nearly there. It might seem like an odd request, unless you were hoping for your dreams to come true this Passover.
Royalty’s mounts are animals that have never been ridden before. Mark and Luke use the word “colt” which can mean donkey or young horse, and Matthew uses the more specific word for “donkey.” As they untied it, no doubt the familiar words of the prophet Zechariah came to mind, “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Surely, they felt a surge of energy and excitement as they hurried back and laid their coats across the animal’s back for Jesus to climb on and ride into Jerusalem as its narrow, winding streets bustled with the influx of the faithful swelling the city’s occupants from around 40,000 to 240,000 people hopeful for this Passover to be the one on which the long-awaited Messiah would come.
The disciples weren’t the only ones anxious about the possibility of revolution at Passover, though. The first-century historian Josephus records that in the early years of the 1st century, there were three pretenders who claimed to be messiah and tried to mount revolutions to overthrow Rome – each time Rome responded to the outbreaks with swift, massive punishment, and each time the Jewish leaders collaborated with Rome in their efforts to put down the rebellion. With the level of unrest in the Jewish population, the massive number gathering, and the reason and meaning of the Festival of Passover, the Roman governor, Pontious Pilate, was anxious. So, he travelled to Jerusalem as well, from his seaside home in Caesarea on the Mediterranean Sea, coming from the east, he entered Jerusalem on the west side of the city through the city gates that were the “front door” of the city, in a calculated show of force. Pilate’s title and life depended on maintaining peace, Pax Romana. “So,” writes one of my seminary classmates, Terry Gau, “Pilate made the sixty-mile journey to Jerusalem, accompanied by hundreds of Roman troops, to remind the Jews that they may be God’s people, but Rome was still their master.” It was a show designed to awe and alarm, to demand respect and obedience.
Two processions, both filled with symbolism, entered Jerusalem. Pilate’s procession embodies the power, glory and violence of the empire that rules the world with promises to loyal subjects to keep them safe, preserve their faith, bless them with power and punish their enemies. Jesus’ procession embodies the kingdom of God, a kingdom defined by love and justice, faith and mercy, surrender and resurrection.
Dr. Dawn Ottoni-Wilhelm writes of Jesus’ entry into the city “Many of us are so familiar with this scene that we do not recognize the mix of irony, pathos, and mystery present in it” (196). “If we really want to know what kind of Messiah he is, we must look past the crowds, the parade, and the accolades…”(197).
As Jesus rides in, the crowd takes off their outer garments and spreads them on the road and cuts branches off trees and gathers grass and straw from the fields to wave as he passed. You don’t take off your only cloak and lay it down on a dusty, rocky path for a donkey to tromp on it for just anybody. And you don’t strip bare the foliage of the few trees there are and cut down grass and hay that is growing in the field in a country that is mostly desert for just anyone. The crowd greets Jesus like royalty. They are singing Psalm 118, Shelley read some of that Psalm this morning in the Call to Worship: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The crowd is shouting “Hosanna! Save us!”
But before the week ends, the crowd will be shouting “Crucify him!” and will choose to save Barabbas, an insurrectionist who had committed murder in an uprising against Rome.
Before the week ends, the one who was greeted with shouts of “Hosanna! Save us!” will be hanging on a cross with passersby shouting insults, saying, “You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” And the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocking him saying, “He saved others but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him.” But he will not save himself.
And before we struggle to shout “Crucify him!” with the crowds on Friday, and place ourselves in our minds eye never leaving the foot of the cross, we need to take a long, hard look at ourselves. In his book, What Will You Do with King Jesus?, James Harnish writes, “Is it possible that our world still knows better how to deal with a bandit, a murderer, and insurrectionist than it knows what to do with the Prince of Peace?…Is it possible that we would rather deal with raw power that rides on a stallion than with this one who comes on a donkey, with the weapons of love, patience, suffering and peace? Given the choice, isn’t it possible that we would take Barabbas, too?” When we place ourselves in the story, we are forced to examine our response to power and violence.
As he enters Jerusalem, Jesus is welcomed as a king with palm branches waving, yet he chose to ride a humble donkey with the cross his destination because he is the king not of the kingdom of David, but the kingdom of God.
So, who is this king?
One who comes not with military might mounted on steeds and clad in armor, but with a community of students made up of not the brightest and best, some fishermen and a tax collector.
One who welcomes children and requires that those who follow him leave behind everything they have and become vulnerable rather than bring it all to add to the common purse.
One who heals and refuses to place blame, no one sinned to cause the pain. One who forgives and refuses to cause shame; let the one without sin cast the first stone. One whose compassion refuses to be tamed; bread blessed and broken, take, and eat; the best wine, extravagant and abundant. One who calls us to pour out great love.
King Jesus comes not to change the powers and systems of this world but to transform them and us completely.
Everyone knew he was the king because of the donkey, on which no one had ridden before.
Corrie ten Boom, who was arrested with her family for sheltering Jews in their home during the German occupation and survived prison and then concentration camps, dedicated her life to helping Holocaust survivors and promoting forgiveness, was once asked in a press conference after receiving an honorary degree whether it was hard to remain humble with all of the acclaim she received. She answered the reporter, “Young man, when Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday on the back of a donkey, and everyone was waving palm branches and throwing garments in the road and singing praises, do you think that for one moment it ever entered the head of that donkey that any of that was for him? If I can be the donkey on which Jesus Christ rides in his glory, I give him all the praise and all the honor.”
Palm Sunday places us in the street – the excitement stirs us, mobilizes us, calls us to participate. We usually imagine ourselves waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” Before the week is out, take some time and imagine yourself as the donkey Jesus rode. How will your life bear Jesus in the world? By forming community with all kinds of people? By blessing the vulnerable? By refusing to blame or shame and instead offering healing and forgiveness? By your compassion? With extravagant, overflowing abundant love? How will your life embody the good news that Jesus is king?