I know I am about a week off schedule, but the following story is a look at Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem from a slightly different perspective. I hope you enjoy it.
We stood outside the house, my mother and I, watching busy people go about their busy day. So much …Busy-ness, I don’t understand it. I’d much rather stay here and let the sun warm my face, feel the breeze brush my back, even entertain the tickling critters flitting about the yard.
I barely noticed when the two strangers approached the house. There was a lot of rigorous negotiation, the men shouting, “He Needs them! HE NEEDS them!” Before I knew it, I was being shuffled down the road in the hands of the strangers. Who was “He”? I couldn’t imagine what all the fuss was about, and what it had to do with me.
It wasn’t more than an hour of walking before we came into town. There were hundreds of them, swarming the market stalls, speaking into each other’s ears, shouting across the stone plaza. It was overwhelming! Dazed, I was guided towards the center of a small cluster of men. They seemed pleased to see me. One of them even looked me in the eye, and kissed my forehead. I liked him.
Suddenly, I felt the weight of thick blankets being dumped on my back. Then the Man-I-Liked hopped on as well! I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, but nobody paid heed. They were too busy shouting at me, stomping their feet around me, throwing things on the ground in front of me. There was nothing to do but walk forward. I was being led again through the crowds, into the city where even more people joined in the…celebration? They didn’t seem angry. Were they cheering me on? What had I done? I felt a nervous shudder ripple down my spine. Then a hand pets my back. The heavy man was comforting me. I liked him.
The people continued to roar around me, shouting something at me! I could almost make it out:”King”? “David”? ”Son of David,” I heard one man shout. “Hosanna!” cried another. But I’m no King. I’m certainly not a Son of David either. How confusing…
At that moment, one word pierced through the cacophony, and I understood; “Messiah!” Messiah…They were celebrating the Messiah. I was not the Messiah, but the Man-I-Liked was the Messiah. The” Son of David” they cried. The Son of David is on my back! I’m carrying the Messiah!
Why me? I’m just a donkey…not even a fully grown donkey at that. Why did the Messiah, the King choose me?
They led me further into Jerusalem, me carrying the Messiah on my back. The crowds swelled even more, tossing branches and cloth on the ground. The air thundered with the bellowing cheers of men, women and children who danced and celebrated the appearance of their King; the Man-I-Liked who was on my back! I could’ve sworn the stones I shuffled across were going to break out in song at any second. Even the Sun blessed the jubilee with dancing rays of warmth and golden light. Today was the greatest day of my life. I would be famous! I carried the King! The Son of David sat on my back while I walked into the city. Everybody would know who I am, and what I’d done.
I, the simple young donkey, was chosen to carry the King. He chose ME…me.
I felt another Kiss on my forehead…
We all, like that little colt, carry the image of Christ. Rejoice!