Reading the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem – perhaps for the thousandth time – instead of just focussing on the palms and the shouts of the crowd, it also got me thinking about the significance of the donkey.
There are 94 donkeys mentioned in Scripture. Clearly, the most appropriate to the Gospel story is the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9, concerning the coming King: ‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’
Zechariah prophesies that Jesus, the Saviour and Redeemer, will be victorious through service, humility and sacrifice as opposed to the expectation of Messiah as triumphant warlord, setting Israel free by virtue of military might. This is hardly what they expected – but such is the magnetism of Jesus that they can’t help but shout their praises – ‘Hosanna’ – meaning ‘Save us’
But there are other donkey stories relevant to our understanding; two in particular; the story of Balaam and the Nativity image of Joseph and Mary on the road to Bethlehem.
Balaam is summoned by the wicked Moabite king Balak to curse Israel. He is prevented from so doing by his donkey, which refuses to pass the angel of the Lord on the road three times, and is cruelly beaten with sticks each time. But it is loyal to its master, and even speaks to him proclaiming the Word of the Lord to prevent him from a sinful act.
We all know the picture of the Holy family; although not in scripture, the image is enduring – the donkey carries the saviour of the world to be born incarnate, a human being.
And just as the donkey is a figure at the beginning of the Gospel story, so a donkey is present at its end.
Loyalty despite unjust punishment. Beast of burden. Humility. The attributes of a donkey. The same attributes of our Lord, the King of Kings.
When forests walked and fishes flew
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then, surely, I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening bray
And ears like errant wings—
The devil’s walking parody
Of all four-footed things:
The battered outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will;
Scourge, beat, deride me—I am dumb—
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour—
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout around my head
And palms about my feet.
G. K. Chesterton
