There is a feeling that resembles embarrassment when we hear the Gospel story about Jesus making his triumphal entry into the holy city of Jerusalem riding on an ass. We feel pride because he is our king. We feel obliged to join the crowd in laying down our coats onto the ground, to make a path for him. We feel compelled by the nobility of Christ and we to this day carry palm branches in our hands at church and symbolically wave them before our King, or fold them into neat little crosses or other patterns. We even manage to make an attempt at the "Hosanna" when the choir leads us in a sometimes rather off key song of praise, remembering that holy day, remembering the day that our Lord, the King, came riding into Jerusalem. But on an ass? Wait a minute. Certainly the founder of Christianity deserves something more than an ass to make his grand entrance on the religious stage of the world. Please, get the man a horse, or even an elephant. Anything but the ass. It's just embarrassing. And yet, every Palm Sunday, we find Jesus quite content with this lowly beast of burden, and he rides in with his head high, and accepts the formal praises of that perfidious crowd.
But, while most of us are indeed concerned with the dignity of Christ, and our best instincts tell us that he deserves a more noble animal to ride in on that great day, it may do us some good to change perspective. For while we will quickly label Jesus' act as one of humility in order that all the churchmen nod their heads and the good sisters smile with approval, we often fail to label the ass's act with something like nobility, or exaltation. In fact, we don't label the ass at all. We try and stay away from referring to the smelly thing. Our quickest explanation of the embarrassing scene has all to do with explaining it with a reference to the deference of Christ. But I find it an equally important explanation to reference the ass.
For in all of human history, or should I say, in all of ass history, I don’t think the ass has had a more magnificent moment than that moment. And no other animal can claim what he can claim. The horse has carried some of the greatest heros, and the greatest warriors, from Cleopatra to Napolean, from kings to cavalry. But the horse has nothing on the ass. Elephants have seated the greatest Persian royalties, and have felt the weight of the mighty Huns, even perhaps Atila himself. But the elephants never had as great a day as this. The humble ass became noble that day, and for once looked with pride at his fellow animals. It was the day God mounted his back, and for a few brief moments in history, he became the greatest of the beasts.
Jesus is perhaps teaching us many things on Palm Sunday, but a forgotten lesson might be that he exalts those who exalt him. He says as much in the Gospel, but this is an example of this teaching through his actions. We have many examples of Christ’s humility, and we need not belabor that point. But let us take this lesson of exaltation as we observe the ass on his greatest day, and recall the dignity of what it means to be a bearer of Christ. If we are chosen, it is not necessarily because we may be fit for the job, or because of our grandeur, or because of our size. It may just be because God knew we were tethered to a pole somewhere, and we were in need of a task. The task of bearing God on one’s back sounds too grand, but Jesus assures us that this is just what he desires from the least of us. And in the process, he brings us a higher dignity than our nature alone achieves.
I do not know what the owner of that ancient ass named his beast. But I like to guess what Jesus may have called him. I imagine the untold moment during that glorious ride into Jerusalem when Christ himself, amidst the cries of the excited crowd, and the blast of trumpets before him, leaned down to the ear of his chosen carter and whispered, with a smile, the first instance of the noble name, saying gently,“That a boy, Christopher.”
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