Sermon for March 24th, 2024

Luke 19:28-40

28After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, 30saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” 32So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. 33As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” 34They said, “The Lord needs it.” 35Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. 36As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” 39Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 40He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

How to Steal a Donkey

• What do you call a donkey with only three legs? A wonky donkey.
• What do you call a donkey with three legs and a lazy eye? A winky wonky donkey.
• What do you call a donkey with three legs, and a lazy eye, breaking wind? A stinky winky wonky donkey.
• What do you call a donkey with three legs, a lazy eye, breaking wind, and wearing blue suede shoes? A honky tonky stinky winky wonky donkey.
• What do you call a donkey with three legs, a lazy eye, breaking wind, wearing blue suede shoes and playing the piano? A plinky-plonky, honky-tonky, stinky-winky wonky donkey.
• What do you call a donkey with three legs, a lazy eye, breaking wind, wearing blue suede shoes and playing piano while driving a truck? Just talented. Very talented.

Today is Palm Sunday—the day we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into the city of Jerusalem, when the crowds laid down palm branches in his path and hailed him as the long-awaited Messiah. This story appears (with slight variations) in all four gospels, although in the gospel of Luke (our passage today) there are actually no palm branches mentioned. Instead, people spread their coats on the ground in front of Jesus.

Countless sermons have been preached on this story through the years. I’ve preached on it several times, too. Usually these sermons focus on Jesus (not surprising—he is the star of the show, after all), or sometimes they focus on the meaning of the palm branches (short version: they can either symbolize peace…or a conquering war hero). Sometimes the Palm Sunday sermon will focus on the fickle crowd…. that shouts Hosanna and calls Jesus a King, but just a few days later turns against him and angrily calls for the Roman government to “crucify him!” Often the focus will be on the great irony (probably intentional) of how the King of Kings, the Son of God, rode into town not on a stately horse, but on a humble donkey, not decked out in sword and shield, but wearing a robe and sandals, not at the head of a mighty band of warriors, but leading fishermen, peasants, and the dregs of society.

Those are all great sermons…but they have been preached many, many times. Today, I want to focus on a much more neglected part of the story, a much more perplexing (and in my opinion, more humorous) part of the story—the part before the crowds, before the palm branches, and before the triumphal entry.

Today I want to talk about that time when Jesus told his disciples to go steal a donkey.

If you read the text, there’s really no way around this, other than to just ignore it (which is what most theologians seem to do). Jesus clearly tells two of his disciples (verse 30) “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here.”

A colt, in the Greek language of the New Testament is πῶλον, which can mean a young horse, a young donkey, or really any young four-legged animal. But most biblical scholars acknowledge this as a donkey, in part because two of the gospels (Matthew and John) connect this event to an Old Testament prophecy in the Book of Zechariah that says that the king (the messiah) will come riding into town on a חֲמ֔וֹר (hamor), and the Hebrew word חֲמ֔וֹר (hamor) definitely means donkey.

“Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here.”

So…maybe Jesus had already made prior arrangements with Enterprise-Rent-a-Donkey, or maybe he just used his Jesus-powers to poof a donkey into existence that didn’t belong to anyone…? But the next verse kind of works against that. Verse 31:

31If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ And then run really fast. I’m just kidding, Jesus didn’t say that last part. Or did he? You know, with a smile and a wink? The Bible may not record EVERYTHING Jesus said….

IF anyone asks you….just say this. The implication here is that IF no one asks you, just take it. Don’t try to find the owner, don’t ask around to see if maybe this is a free-community-usage donkey, don’t ask for permission…just do it. Don’t call attention to yourself. Act normal, like it’s yours. Nothing to see here, we’re just taking OUR donkey for a nice walk….

But clearly Jesus suspects that won’t happen, just like I suspect that if some random two guys walked up to your driveway and got into your car, you (or your neighbors) might say “uh, who are you and what are you doing?” What? Us? Oh…ummm…the Lord needs it.

That’s what Jesus tells his disciples to say: “The Lord needs it.” The gospel of Mark actually adds here “and will bring it back immediately.” As if that would somehow reassure the owner.

The Greek word Κύριος, which translates as “Lord” means something very specific to most of us, especially when we’re reading the Bible. It means Jesus, the Lord of Lords. But in 1st Century Israel, that wouldn’t have been obvious—in fact, Κύριος or Lord would have most likely referred to the owner of the house, the owner of the donkey. So this choice of words is just a little bit sneaky.

Jesus could have said, “tell them that Jesus, the carpenter from Nazareth needs it” but instead he says, effectively…If they ask you what you’re doing, just say that the owner needs it. Maybe Jesus, the son of God, the creator of the universe and all the animals is making a little play on words here (hey, I own everything, so technically I am the owner) but that’s probably not how the donkey’s actual owner would have perceived it.

In our passage today, when the two disciples go and do what Jesus told them to do, we read that the owners are the ones who confront them, saying “why are you untying it?” The disciples give their line, and…then they take the donkey. No response from the owners, perhaps because the disciples are crazy fast sprinters.

On the other hand, in the Gospel of Mark, it’s some bystanders who stop the disciples, and when they give their line, the bystanders (not the owners) “allow them to take it.” Later on, they got the award for worst neighbors of the year.

When the disciples finally bring the donkey to Jesus, we read in verse 35 that the first thing they do is throw their cloaks over it. Ostensibly, this is to make it more comfortable for Jesus to sit on the donkey. But I’ve always wondered if it’s because the owners were in hot pursuit, just running over the hill, saying “where’s our donkey, you thieves?” Donkey? What donkey? No donkey here! Oh that down there? That’s just our friend Judas, wearing two coats. Shhh… Don’t say anything, he’s kind of sensitive about his hairy ears.

So Jesus rides into Jerusalem…and history…on a stolen donkey. And we focus (rightfully so) on the palm branches, the Hosannas, the crowd, and all that happens in the climactic Holy Week that follows. As we should. But just this once, I wonder if there’s any lesson, any message for us in the story of the stolen donkey? I mean, it’s in all four gospels—it has to be there for a reason, right? If it weren’t important, gospel writers could have just said, “and Jesus acquired a donkey, upon which he rode into town” Why is the interaction, the conversation, the excuse, the manner of its acquisition important enough to include?

I have a couple of ideas.

1. Jesus was human, and funny, and mischievous, and the gospel writers (who were also human, and funny, and mischievous) wanted us to know that; they wanted to remember the Jesus who so often got them into trouble with a smile and the wink of an eye. If you’re bothered by the idea of the perfect Son of God stealing something, remember that he did a lot of things that “technically” broke the law in the eyes of the rulers of his day. And as I said before, “technically” he also owned ALL the donkeys, and he wrote ALL the rules. But there’s no denying that Jesus was unconventional. I think sometimes we try so hard to sanitize Jesus, emphasizing his divine, perfect, and sinless nature, that we end up sacrificing his real, authentic and human nature in the process. And the we act surprised when the world can’t seem to relate to him. Jesus was (and IS) truly the best of both worlds, of heaven and earth. We have to hold on to both of those things, even if we can’t quite explain how they work together.

2. Sometimes God takes things away from us…things we think God has no right to. He doesn’t ask permission, and he doesn’t always explain himself, at least not to our satisfaction. Maybe God (in the guise of fate, life or bad luck) “robbed” you of a dream or an opportunity you thought you had earned or worked hard for. Maybe God “stole” someone from your life, someone that you loved, too soon, and unfairly. What should our reaction be when that happens? We never get to see the reaction of the owner when his donkey is stolen, and that’s probably a good thing. He might have said a few choice words that he wouldn’t want recorded for all posterity. Neither would we in those moments.

When God takes something away from us, we don’t usually have the benefit of the grander picture. We only see the loss, the injustice, the broken rule or broken trust. But in the story of the stolen Donkey, and in all of God’s stories (which means all of our stories) there’s definitely a bigger picture. I like to imagine it went down this way—many, many years after that first Palm Sunday:

James and John, once timid young disciples…. now gray-haired old apostles, bold in their faith, having witnessed the resurrected Jesus, having experienced the power of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and having guided the faithful in the earliest days of the church.

James and John, who just may have been the two donkey thieves-in chief, are now sitting together in the corner of a busy room, gathered with other believers as their weekly service of worship is about to begin. Maybe it’s even Palm Sunday.

James says to John, “Hey John…do you remember how mad that guy was when we ran off with his donkey? John chuckles, and says, “Yeah, he was pretty pissed.”

“Well, don’t look now,” says James, “but I think that’s him sitting over there near the door.”

“No kidding—it IS him! You don’t think he’s still mad about that, do you? I don’t run as fast as I used to.”

“No, he’s been here a few times before. It took me awhile to figure out where I remembered him from.”

John and James continue to watch their old nemesis as the service begins, as the people sing and pray and break bread together. And then finally someone stands to tell the story… one of the younger disciples who has committed it to memory. It’s the story of Palm Sunday, and it all begins with the words of Jesus, the Messiah, saying “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here.”

The man raises an eyebrow at this, but then when he hears the part about the two disciples, and the line “Say that the Lord has need of it” a flash of recognition suddenly comes over his face. He’s putting two and two together. Then he shifts nervously in his seat, as though he’s worried about what might be told next. But the story moves on, back to Jesus, riding into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, of crowds waving palm branches and crying out “Hosanna!”

At just the right moment (maybe with a little prompting from their parents), the little children in the congregation cheer and wave their palm branches, re-enacting this precious memory that a few older ones in attendance might still remember with a mixture of wonder, regret, and love. And in the midst of the shouting, in the very back of the room, a tear rolls down the cheek of the man who lost his donkey all those years ago. His smile betrays a sadness mixed with pride. Now he knows the bigger picture. His loss was the entire world’s gain. And his gain, too.

James and John, those two old donkey thieves, watched knowingly from their corner of the room. Somewhere in the distant recesses of their memory, they could almost hear their friend, their savior, their Lord Jesus, laughing joyfully across the years.