Donkey Detail

Philippians 2: 5 – 11

Mark 11: 1 – 11

 

The gospel of Mark was the first of the four gospels to be written.  According to scholars of the Bible, both Matthew and Luke drew on Mark when they wrote their gospels.  The gospel of Mark is also the most concise.  Mark is not wordy.  He doesn’t use a lot of descriptive language.  He goes right to the heart of the matter, using as few words as possible.  That’s why it’s puzzling that, in our gospel for today, Mark spends so much time telling us how those two disciples arranged for the colt to carry Jesus into Jerusalem.

 

Mark tells us in detail the directions Jesus gives about what kind of animal to look for, and where to find it.  He even has Jesus telling the disciples what to say if somebody asks why they’re taking the animal.  Mark spends more time on these directions than he does describing Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem.  He tells us more about a mundane task than about Jesus’ moment of glory as he rides into the holy city.

 

It was a mundane task to go and fetch the animal that Christian tradition remembers as a donkey.  Surely those two disciples – maybe it was James and John – surely they imagined for themselves a more glamorous role than the role of go-fer.  Being on what preacher Tom Long calls “donkey detail” was not what they had in mind when they left their father’s fishing business to follow Jesus (Long, “Donkey Fetchers,” The Christian Century, April 4, 2006).

 

If those two disciples were James and John, we know they had grander things in mind.  Just a short time before this, James and John had been talking about their dreams of being with Jesus in glory.  They had asked him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory”  (10: 37).

 

The disciples had dreams of glory.  Not long ago it had seemed those dreams would be fulfilled, when Jesus sent them out to heal the sick and preach the gospel.  He gave them authority over unclean spirits and the power to cast out demons (Mark 6: 6b – 13).  Those must have been exciting days.  They must have felt on fire with the gospel.  They must have been thrilled to be commissioned for this ministry, and thrilled to sense God’s power pulsing through them.  When they returned to Galilee, they no doubt boasted a little to their friends and families about the great deeds they had accomplished.

 

But now, as they approach Jerusalem, it looks like they’re just errand boys.  They’re back to the ordinary tasks that took up most of their days as disciples.  Tasks like getting the boat ready when it was time to cross the Sea of Galilee: checking the lines, mending the sails, making sure the oars and oarlocks were in good repair.  Tasks like picking up the leftovers after Jesus fed the multitude.  Washing out the water jars after the wedding in the village of Cana, after Jesus had turned the water in those jars to wine.  Now, as Jesus prepares to enter the holy city, they’re given another mundane job to do.

 

The disciples spent a lot of time attending to the mundane parts of Jesus’ ministry.  A lot of their time was spent not on moments of glory, but on menial jobs.  A lot of their energy was spent setting up and cleaning up and making sure Jesus had the support he needed.  They spent a lot of energy to make sure Jesus’ ministry would thrive.  They supported his ministry of amazing healings and extraordinary preaching by doing ordinary tasks.  In those simple ways, they helped Jesus share the good news of the Kingdom of God.

 

Do you ever feel as if things haven’t changed all that much?  Do you ever feel as if a lot of mundane tasks have to be done to support  ministry in Jesus’ name?  Have you ever felt that way as you folded letters and stuffed envelopes to be mailed for the church stewardship campaign?  Or maybe you wondered something like that as you stood at the sink in the church kitchen, cleaning up after fellowship time.  Following Jesus often feels less like a path to glory and more like being a go-fer.  Picking up soda and hot dog buns for the Flea Market.  Putting out salt by the entryway in the winter, so AA can meet in the evening.

 

Following Jesus is often not a path to glory, but a series of what Tom Long calls  “routine and inglorious [chores].”  Scraping wax off the candlesticks after the Christmas Eve service.  Washing the tablecloth when grape juice gets spilled at communion.  Loading up the car with boxes of spaghetti and cereal and cans of soup to deliver to the food pantry.

 

When you and I sign up to follow Jesus, we sign on to some mundane and inglorious tasks.  Because following Jesus means doing some pretty menial things.  We may have to change our expectations. Following Jesus is not about our own glory.  It’s about service.  Following Jesus is about doing what is needed, to share the love of God where that love is needed most.

 

Students in training for ministry in the United Church of Christ are required to complete a unit of study called Clinical Pastoral Education.  For most of us, this means working in a hospital, under the supervision of the Director of Pastoral Care.  In my case, it meant serving as a student chaplain at Holy Family Hospital in Methuen.  I had high expectations for my service as student chaplain in the hospital.  I imagined myself reading scripture to patients, sharing my thoughts about the Bible and listening to theirs.  But I soon discovered that patients in the hospital, for the most part, didn’t want to talk about theology.  Instead, over and over again, patients asked me to do very simple things.  They would ask, “Would you please help me fix this pillow so I can sit up better?”  Or, they would say, “My water pitcher is empty.  Would you mind filling it up for me?”

 

For the most part, patients weren’t interested in my knowledge of theology.  What they needed at that moment was a simple act of comfort: the puffed-up pillow, the extra blanket, the touch of my hand on their hand.

 

I was reminded how important simple acts of comfort can be toward the end of my father’s life.  My father, at the age of ninety-three, had developed pneumonia. He was admitted to the hospital.  His mind was still strong, but he was unable to swallow.  The doctors said he was not likely to recover.  My father was calm.  He was a man of deep faith.  He was not anxious about death.

 

I had always been close to my father.  We shared a lot of interests and when I was in high school, I spent many evenings talking with him about history and literature and faith.  When I got the news that he was in the hospital, fortunately, I was able to come the next day and visit with him.  As I sat by his bed, I expected he would want to reflect on a Bible passage as we had done many times before.  I had been ordained for about two years and I was looking forward to sharing with him the insights I had learned in seminary.  I picked up the Bible and read to him my favorite passage from the gospel of John.  It was the prologue, a passage he and I had talked about.  The passage begins, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”  (John 1:1).

 

When I finished reading the passage, I asked my father if he wanted me to go on.  No, he said, what he really wanted was for me to take one of little sponges on a stick that were on the table by the bed.  He asked me to put some water on it, and give it to him to help moisten his mouth because his mouth was dry.  What my father needed at that time was not lofty biblical reflection.  What he needed was someone to help him be more comfortable.  Putting water on a little sponge was not a glorious act.  It was a very ordinary task, an act of comfort.

 

Following Jesus is often about doing ordinary tasks.  It’s not about glory.  It’s about humility, doing what is needed.  Jesus himself was not looking for glory.  People in the early church remembered that.  They  celebrated his humility.  In our passage from Philippians, Paul writes, “Let this mind be in you that was also in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to [use to his] advantage, but… [took on the form of a servant].”

 

Jesus took on the form of a servant.  He humbled himself.  We see this humility in the animal he chose when it was time for him to enter the city of Jerusalem.   Jesus didn’t ride in on a horse.  Riding on a horse would have put him in a position of superiority over the people.  Riding on a horse was the kind of thing a conquering general would do.

 

Jesus knew that if he were on a horse, the faces of the people in the crowd would be about at the level of his feet.  But because he rode on a donkey, their faces were about at the level of his face.  As Paul writes, “Though he was in the form of God, [he] did not regard equality with God as something to [use to his advantage].”  Instead, he came in humility.  He came to serve.

 

“Let this mind be in you, that also was in Christ Jesus.  Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be [used to his own advantage], but took on the form of a servant.”

 

Sometimes following Jesus doesn’t feel like riding a road to glory.  Following Jesus can feel more like being a go-fer, a delivery service, a custodian or a cleaning lady.  When we sign up to follow Jesus, we sign on to some mundane and inglorious tasks.  We may have to change our expectations; we may have to tone down or even give up our dreams of glory.  Because following Jesus isn’t about seeking our own glory.  It’s about making known the love of God.  It’s about humility.  Following Jesus is about doing what is needed, to share the love of God where that love is needed most.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rev. Elva Merry Pawle

April 14, 2019

Lent 6  Palm Sunday