Several hundred, some may say several thousand, years worth of anticipation hung in the air. It was thick like a summer humidity that sticks to you the second you step outside. You couldn’t avoid it. Not today. Not on Passover week.
There had been tons of men going around saying that they were the Messiah; saying that they were going to show Rome what’s what. So a messiah making his way to Jerusalem was about as common as a singer-songwriters making their way to Nashville.
But this guy was different. It wasn’t so much that he talked like he was the Messiah. Word had it that he tried to keep a lot of that talk and even tales of his miracles under wraps. But those miracles got out. Dead men walking, blind men seeing, and thousands fed with a lunch meant for a kid are difficult things to keep hush hush.
Even his name carried this great weight: Yeshua, which translates to Joshua, or, as the Greeks put it, Jesus. Sure tons of people gave their boys this name. What parent doesn’t want their child to be the redemption of his people. You have to name the kid to fit the bill. Poindexter isn’t going to quarterback the state championship team and Biff isn’t going to find the cure for cancer. Joshua, like Messiah talk, was nothing special. But it seemed special. At least with him.
All of this mixed with Passover week like a molotov cocktail. Jerusalem seemed like it could explode at any moment. Roman officials were squeamish enough with such an influx of these people they had underfoot. The last thing they wanted was for another revolution-driven Messiah-wannabe to take the religious devotion of the masses and turn it into a riot.
Word had it that this Jesus was coming into town on Sunday. All the pieces seemed to be moving into place. People began to line the streets. They put their coats on the ground to prepare the way. Some cut branches off the trees in order to wave them in adoration. There was confetti, music, laughter.
Someone yelled that he was just outside the gate. The anticipation reached fever pitch. Many of us had never seen him. We expected him to arrive like a king or a war hero. We expected him to be coming in on a mighty horse. We expected a display that would stir our souls; something that would let us know that the walls of Rome’s domination would come tumbling down.
What we got was a rabbi on a donkey.
Well...this is different.
Someone shouted “Hosanna” which means “Save!” and we all joined in. It wasn’t what we expected, but we weren’t quitters either. If we had to will this into an event fit for the Messiah, so be it. And the cries of praise went out as Jesus entered Jerusalem.
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest!”
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
Afterwards, everyone chattered excitedly about how blessed we were that the Messiah was finally here. Not too many people talked about the donkey incident. Powerful leaders were usually a bit eccentric anyway. I mean, look at Herod.
It was only a matter of time. It was Passover week. That had to mean something. And I think that many of us truly believed that this Jesus was the One.
As I stood amidst the trash of the parade, I wondered if we had all gotten worked up for nothing. I mean a donkey? What kind of show of power was that? When he came in, I saw a few Roman soldiers nearly fall over because they were laughing so hard. Either he wasn’t the Messiah...
...or there was something else.
When he passed by, I got the sense that he was making a point and not many of us were getting it. Yeshuamania was sweeping the city and he must have known a big fuss would be made when he hit town. What if the donkey was on purpose? What if he was saying that power wasn’t really power anymore?
It was like he was saying that war horses and kings, uprisings and domination weren’t going to get it done. But the world played by those rules of power. Those Roman soldiers knew how the game was played. The teachers of the Law knew too. I had a feeling that it was going to go badly for Jesus.
But I almost got the sense that he knew that too.
As I made my way home, I shook the glitter and confetti off my shoes. I wondered if salvation would ever come. My mind went back to that ridiculous image:
A rabbi on a donkey.
And I thought, “What if God really tried to pull it off that way?”
