Palm Sunday -from the donkey's point of view

 

We, that is mum and I, are usually tethered at a village just outside of Jerusalem called Bethphage.  We are beasts of burden, so Mum tells me; she’s the donkey and I’m her foal, the colt.  I’m getting used to it, all the carrying, sometimes people more often hessian bags of grain or paniers of olives from the groves just below our master’s house. 

I’d seen this Jesus before, he’d been a guest of my master a few times and I saw his coming and going and lots of laughter and then serious silence indoors as they had a meal.  I think it’s because he’d seen me and mum a few times that he sent word that day that he needed us to take him into the city.

It was a bit out of the blue.  The day before, a Sabbath, we’d stayed tethered up from sunrise to sunset enjoying the warm spring air.  Today, Sunday, was meant to be a working day, the first day of our working week and I know we were needed down at the olive grove because the pickers were already there and soon there would be baskets to carry up to the barn.  But then we heard the voices, something about Jesus needing us and without a moments hesitation my master gave the go ahead and mum and I were led away.

We met up with Jesus and he sat astride me with mum walking alongside. Without a second thought we were off.  I could see the twisty road leading from just outside Bethphage up to the city.  His disciple friends, one or two had been to my master’s house with Jesus, followed on.  I thought it would be a quiet, sedate journey up to Jerusalem.  Pilgrims had been passing our farm for days now, all going up for Passover.  So, I thought nothing of it – Jesus needed a lift and I had been chosen to take him.

And then we turned the first corner and people stood by the track smiling.  Some waved and one person put down their shawl and I walked over it.  This was strange and like no carrying I’d ever done before.

Jesus patted me on my neck and calmly said walk on.  Round the next bend we met a couple of family groups, and these had cut some palm branches and were waving them as we passed.  They shouted Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. And someone called out hosanna and then everyone joined in calling it out too.

Halfway to Jerusalem and the momentum had picked up. More and more people stood by the trackside, they threw their shawls on the pathway, waved branches and shouted words of greeting.  Mum had developed a slow and steady pace, so I followed her lead.  It was exciting and I felt important.  No one ever takes notice of donkeys, but today we led the procession, and the cheering made us feel proud.

All the time my passenger, Jesus, calmly patted me and spoke words of gentle reassurance, so I never once felt scared. And I saw our owner out of the corner of my eye, he’d joined the procession and was even waving a palm branch as he went.

Once at the city wall we stopped.  There was now quite a crowd behind us, for some hadn’t just cheered from the roadside but joined in with the procession.

Jesus took mum and I and handed us back to our master, shaking his hand before entering the city.  And so, we were taken home, but this time the journey was quiet and predictable, no cheering and waving, and once again we became invisible beasts of burden, just part of the scenery, always there but never noticed.

Later that week I heard my master talk to some of Jesus’ friends, they now looked so worried and I wondered if something bad had happened to the one who sat astride me that Sunday.

Mum told me yesterday that Donkey folk lore has it that some years ago one of us took a lady who was expecting a baby to Bethlehem, a town not too far from here. Apparently, that donkey said, the night of the birth there was a bright star, angels singing and the strangest visit of some shepherds.

Seems to me us donkeys sometimes play a part in events that are important.  There’s more to us than simply pinning a tail on!  Because twice in history we had a walk on part in what, I sense, has become the greatest story ever told.