Palm Sunday: the Donkey
There are too many beautiful theological aspects of Palm Sunday to mention during a homily or a bulletin column, so that’s why I never try! This time of year, the goal of the preacher is to spur on the faith of parishioners with short tidbits, not grand sweeping declarations. I hope and even presume that you are engaging with the story of the Paschal Mystery (Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ) during these days, whether through the Scriptures, the Rosary, the Stations of the Cross, or even movies like The Passion of the Christ. On this Palm Sunday, I’d like to point your attention to one little-noticed character of the day: the donkey.
The donkey is given no name, no lineage, no physical description. He’s just a regular ol’ donkey, with very little beyond that. So there’s a first lesson to be drawn: Jesus takes the ordinary for his extraordinary purposes. He does the same with us, ordinary as we often are. St. Josemaria Escrivá used to keep a small figurine of a donkey on his desk. As he corresponded with bishops, priests, and dignitaries around the world, he reminded himself of what he called “Pure mathematics: Josemaria=mangy donkey.” For as important as we believe ourselves to be, we are humble servants of a wonderful King, and we should be happy to do our small part to further his Kingdom.
There is one descriptor of this donkey given: he was a young colt “upon whom no one had ever sat”. Much could be made of the symbols of the purity and wholeness of this colt who represents Christ untouched by sin and whole in his person. A young colt could also be difficult to ride, and so Christ the King of Peace tames the wild beast with ease as a sign of his dominion over creatures and his ability to teach and train us, his most stubborn creatures. Finally, riding in on a young colt instead of a warhorse is a sign of Christ’s peace and humility: he comes, not to wage war or conquer lands, but to bring peace by conquering the Devil through his surrender on the Cross. All these reflections can come by looking at the simple pack animal Christ used to announce his coming kingdom. G.K. Chesterton, the prominent English Catholic writer from the early 20th century, penned this poem to our special donkey:
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, 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 about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
