Palm Sunday -- April 17, 2011
Matthew 21:1 – 11
As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”
This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”
The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”
The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”
The Gospels give account of Jesus entering Jerusalem for the last week of his life. All four record the event with language that includes strange allusions and veiled references. In Matthew’s version, there are allusions to an obscure passage in Zechariah (9:9) and to Psalm 118:25 – 26.
Matthew intended to show that Jesus fulfilled the Hebrew Scriptures, that he was the one anticipated who would come to bring freedom to the people.
Only this year have I noticed another piece of Matthew’s record that seems strange to me. When the disciples fetched the animal on which Jesus would ride into Jerusalem, they were given instructions to prepare two beasts of burden, one a mature donkey and the other a colt. Somehow all these years I’ve missed that detail.
In fact, after both animals had been secured, the disciples prepared both of them to be ridden into town. Matthew reported that after they prepared both animals, Jesus “sat on them.”
[Note: Some of the translations, wanting to help us with the fact that physically you can’t ride two animals at once (without trick-riding), clean up the translation, leaving less ambiguity. That’s what the translation above seems to do. It says simply that “they placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on.” Others, however, leave the ambiguity of Jesus riding two animals at once, saying, “Jesus sat on them,” using the plural “them” to indicate both animals.]
I’m grateful to my friend Peter Johns for an insight into the passage as a spiritual story. Peter took the image of “colt” to represent that which is wild and untamed, the undomesticated part of himself. “What,” he wondered, “would it mean to me if Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the untamed, wilder parts of my personality?”
That’s certainly not how we typically think of religious faith. We tend to think of faith as that which is tame, certain and nailed down. I can imagine that a colt, though, would be all over the place, bucking and lurching down the road.
I think Peter is probably onto something.
I took Peter’s insight into the untamed colt and thought about the donkey, the mature animal (probably the mother of the colt), who would be a steady pack animal, not speedy, but sure and reliable.
I wonder if Jesus also rides into Jerusalem on my steadiness, on my ordered life, on my reliability.
We generally want to put these two parts of ourselves at the extremes – our untamed creativity and our steady reliability – but what if Jesus brings them to one, and acknowledges that both live within us? What if both are the carriers of God’s grace?
To be sure, most of us spend our lives living out the script of one of these animals or the other, either full of imagination and creativity or well-ordered and full of structure. In reality, both live in each of us. We simply tend to cultivate one to the detriment of the other.
I’m wondering today if we can let Jesus ride on both, and if both can become carriers of God’s grace. It’s not “either-or,” but rather “both-and.”
As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”
This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”
The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”
The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”
The Gospels give account of Jesus entering Jerusalem for the last week of his life. All four record the event with language that includes strange allusions and veiled references. In Matthew’s version, there are allusions to an obscure passage in Zechariah (9:9) and to Psalm 118:25 – 26.
Matthew intended to show that Jesus fulfilled the Hebrew Scriptures, that he was the one anticipated who would come to bring freedom to the people.
Only this year have I noticed another piece of Matthew’s record that seems strange to me. When the disciples fetched the animal on which Jesus would ride into Jerusalem, they were given instructions to prepare two beasts of burden, one a mature donkey and the other a colt. Somehow all these years I’ve missed that detail.
In fact, after both animals had been secured, the disciples prepared both of them to be ridden into town. Matthew reported that after they prepared both animals, Jesus “sat on them.”
[Note: Some of the translations, wanting to help us with the fact that physically you can’t ride two animals at once (without trick-riding), clean up the translation, leaving less ambiguity. That’s what the translation above seems to do. It says simply that “they placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on.” Others, however, leave the ambiguity of Jesus riding two animals at once, saying, “Jesus sat on them,” using the plural “them” to indicate both animals.]
I’m grateful to my friend Peter Johns for an insight into the passage as a spiritual story. Peter took the image of “colt” to represent that which is wild and untamed, the undomesticated part of himself. “What,” he wondered, “would it mean to me if Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the untamed, wilder parts of my personality?”
That’s certainly not how we typically think of religious faith. We tend to think of faith as that which is tame, certain and nailed down. I can imagine that a colt, though, would be all over the place, bucking and lurching down the road.
I think Peter is probably onto something.
I took Peter’s insight into the untamed colt and thought about the donkey, the mature animal (probably the mother of the colt), who would be a steady pack animal, not speedy, but sure and reliable.
I wonder if Jesus also rides into Jerusalem on my steadiness, on my ordered life, on my reliability.
We generally want to put these two parts of ourselves at the extremes – our untamed creativity and our steady reliability – but what if Jesus brings them to one, and acknowledges that both live within us? What if both are the carriers of God’s grace?
To be sure, most of us spend our lives living out the script of one of these animals or the other, either full of imagination and creativity or well-ordered and full of structure. In reality, both live in each of us. We simply tend to cultivate one to the detriment of the other.
I’m wondering today if we can let Jesus ride on both, and if both can become carriers of God’s grace. It’s not “either-or,” but rather “both-and.”
yes to yours and peter's interpretation but also... the colt is our inner prodigal son; the donkey is the hardworking, ass of the older brother. we are both. no need to publish
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