Lent 2 Sunday 25th of February
Jesus rides on a donkey part 2.
Now, in the days that had led to this day, he had said other uncomfortable things as well. He had taken the Twelve to one side and said to them, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death.’
These words had spread like wildfire through the camp. Some just didn’t believe it. Others said, ‘So why go to Jerusalem?’ Others slunk into the shadows, concocting their own plans, either messianic fantasies about Jesus in which he showed people who he really was, blowing them away with some fantastic show of supernatural power, or political revolution, the people rising up and making him king and the Romans forced out the door.
Being asked to fetch a donkey fitted neither picture.
His quirky use of the word ‘Father’ to describe God suddenly jarred with them. How could God be Father? Many people winced at the intimacy and bravado of such a description for God. But Jesus seemed to get away with it, because with him there was such an intimacy with God; and if there wasn’t, well how did all these things occur?
But if God is Father, then Jesus is a son. And if Jesus tells me to call God ‘Father’, then I am a brother and a sister too.
They knew this, but they didn’t really know where it led.
So the two of them went into the village. They found it just as Jesus had said.
As they were untying the animals, a few bystanders questioned them. A theft seemed to be taking place under their noses, and they were sure they should do something. But the two of them said what Jesus had told them to say, and the people shrugged and went back to their business. Isn’t it always so?
They led the animals back to Jesus, pleased that they had done the job well. He looked at them and smiled. This was something he often did: smiled. It made a difference, especially when the clouds of doubt and confusion engulfed them.
They smiled back. Not saying anything, just throwing their cloaks over the animal for a saddle and handing him the reins.
He took them and turned to everyone else as if to say, it’s time to go now. And so the little pilgrimage continued, the day getting hotter, the levels of anticipation rising.
For Jesus, this was a calculated move. None of them understood this. How could they? They didn’t understand him. But he reckoned there would be enough people in the crowd who would. It might take a little time. But like a small spark in the dry grass could devour a forest, so it would only take one person to make the connection and the word would spread. Not his word this time, but the words of the Scripture that would come to life and take flesh in him and in the things he did. He would steer a path between the religious and the political fanatics who flanked him and goaded him.
His plan was decisive and humble. It had to be both. The crowds needed–even with help – to come to their own conclusion; and he still needed to be meek. There was no other way for the earth to be inherited. For those who had eyes to see, his actions and their meaning would be plain; and for those who didn’t, well, this might open them.
And walking again towards Jerusalem, surrounded again by laughter and intrigue, he didn’t know exactly how this would work out in the days that lay ahead of him, and that was hard. Everyone seemed to think he could see into tomorrow. But all he could see was what he had to do. He knew it was of God; that God had called him to this hour. But he didn’t know where it would end, except in confrontation and vindication: ‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and . . . riding on a donkey.’
And so he rode the colt towards Jerusalem. As he rode along, other people came out, and some of them began to spread their cloaks on the road. They chattered to one another about what this entry into Jerusalem might mean, and the gossip spread through the crowd. This is what the prophet foretold. This is how the king arrives.
And others built upon it. Like all good stories, it spread and grew with the telling. He may look meek and gentle. But kings come to sit upon thrones and to establish kingdoms. That is what he is coming to do.
From the path into Jerusalem down by the Mount of Olives the crowds were getting larger and stronger, more confident and more vocal. Some went ahead of him singing and shouting. Others followed him. Right at the front, a young man turned cartwheels and another walked on his hands. Tearing down branches from the trees, the crowds laid these in his path, along with their cloaks. Children waved palms. Everyone sang lustily and praised God joyfully, shouting out the deeds of power they had seen, and whipping each other into a frenzy so that they would expect more. ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!’ they shouted. ‘Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven.’ And then, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David. Hosanna in the highest heaven!’