UNTIE THE DONKEY
Mark 11:1-11
....Go into the village ahead of you...and you will find tied there
a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it.
The most important week of the Christian year is upon us. Today we start the journey toward Easter. We line the aisles of our church as the Jews lined the road to Jerusalem, all of us waving leafy palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” It's a wonderful day.
But we know something today that the Jews of Jesus' day did not: this one day of triumph will morph into three days and nights of sorrow. Even as we celebrate this morning, we know that the shadow of the cross looms large behind the Temple; that the air of Jerusalem will be saturated with the breath of betrayal; and that Jesus was fully aware that he was riding into the majesty of “royal” suffering and death.
Knowing what we know, we still wave the palm branches and sing, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who cometh to bring us salvation!” Why? It is the gift of faithful paradox.
The paradox of our faith is as I have shared with you each year. In order to understand Easter, we must go through Good Friday. Jumping from Jesus' riding on, riding on in majesty one Sunday to Jesus' rising victoriously from the dead on the next Sunday, is a lie. This is the reason I so strongly urge each of you to attend the services on Thursday, Friday, and Sunday. It's not a burden; it is fulfillment.
Like it or not, scripture is full of truth; it doesn't leave out the hard and depressing and even the frightening stuff in between the triumphs of God. It's the stuff in the middle—Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Silent Saturday—that makes this entire week one complete faith story.
In order to experience the magnificent highs of Easter, we must expose ourselves to the desperate lows of Good Friday. In order to complete our participation in the frenzy of the “cheering, chanting, dizzy crowd,” we must gather quietly with Jesus in the upper room, communing for the very last time with our most intimate friends, knowing that our betrayer is among them. We must be humble enough to have the Lord wash our feet clean, wipe our tears away, and forgive us our sins against him.
I ask you today, are you ready to ride the beast of burden called Holy Week, or will you get to the empty tomb by some other way?
Jesus is asking us today through the living word of scripture to be his witnesses to the paradoxes of the faith: to spread our cloaks before him and then rip his robes from him; to raise our voices, singing hosannas in his name, and then to raise our fists against him and demand his condemnation—Crucify Him; to weep beneath his cross and rejoice in front of his empty tomb. To walk with him on the road to Emmaus and to take his message to all the world.
In all the world, Christians are known for living irrationally: “We love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. We forgive, as we have been forgiven. We renounce violence as a means of defending or securing or saving ourselves or those we love. We live out the ministry of reconciliation: NO MATTER WHAT.
Our faith makes little sense to the outside world—it may not even make sense to us, yet still we press on. We might be reluctant reconcilers, yet still we press on. At times we feel faint and exhausted and powerless; we are sick and grief-stricken; we are weary and weak, yet still we press on, remembering the words of Isaiah, “He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but (sing with me) those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength...(Isa 40:28-31).
The Lord will help us in His way; we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, but there is one thing we are having some trouble doing. We have some trouble trusting Jesus to know what he is doing with us. We trust more what he was doing with the disciples in his day than we trust what he is intending to do for us, and that's where the donkey comes in.
The disciples followed Jesus' instructions to the letter back “in the day.” Jesus said, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immedi-ately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, 'Why are you doing this?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately'” (Mk 11:2-3).
The disciples were successful. They untied the donkey and began to bring it back to Jesus. When they were asked what they thought they were doing, the two simply said, “The Lord needs it and will send it back immediately,” and the owners let the disciples take the colt.
What about us? We believe we are loved. We believe we are forgiven. We believe that God sent Jesus to save us from sin and death. We believe the promise of the gospel and we sing the songs of faith, so why are we so reluctant to do what he asks? Why do we hesitate to go into the village ahead of us and untie the donkey?
Everybody's got a donkey, my friends. It's extremely valuable;it's irreplaceable. It's the gift each of us is given—the purpose for which we are created. The Lord needs us every bit as much on this Palm Sunday as he did on the first Palm Sunday so very long ago.
But we have so many other “lords” pulling us in a hundred directions. We are so “dizzy” that might have trouble finding our way to the church, why would we ever want to walk over to Dover, untie a slow and smelly donkey and drag it back to town?
Because it is what the Lord has asked of us. The Lord needs us to do his work. And in the midst of all this, I am suggesting that the first work we can do is to agree to untie the donkey, liberate ourselves (and our church) to be the disciples—to be the Church—that Jesus needs to reach his beloved brothers and sisters: all of us caught in a world at war physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially.
Do not let your hearts be troubled! There is freedom for all of us, but first we have to untie that donkey.
Last November, I left my donkey tied in the distance, and I share it with you as intimate friends who are about to share the last supper with Jesus. (Tell story.)
When I say, “Untie your donkey, untie your colt”; I mean untie your life, untie your faith:let it ride on, ride on in majesty. Leaving your colt tied at the door is like leaving your heart there, too. Leaving the donkey tied up means that it will never be more than a beast of burden. Untying the donkey, untying our lives, means that we are free to be carriers of Christ, servants of grace, bringers of peace, vessels of hope, and children of God.
As we contemplate the week ahead—the bread and the wine, the cross and the grave—let us deeply consider Christ's claim upon our lives. Where are we all tied up in knots? What will untangle us so that we may be free to go not only into the next village but to the ends of the earth to bring the good news that Jesus lives? And because Jesus lives, we can face not only tomorrow, but every tomorrow no matter what it brings. We can face anything, for we are never alone—not in the Garden of Gethsemane, not on the cross at Calvary, and not in the tomb of Aremathea. We have our Savior and we have each other. Into our hands has been placed to power to untie the donkey and set people free for the love of Jesus Christ. In the midst of faith's new dimensions, my friends, ride on, ride on! I'm behind you all the way! Amen.
April 5, 2009
First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME
The Reverend Donna Lee Muise
