Poem by Mary Oliver
Reflection by Lorie Conway
On the outskirts of Jerusalem
the donkey waited.
Not especially brave, or filled with understanding,
he stood and waited.
How horses, turned out into the meadows,
leap with delight!
How doves, released from their cages,
clatter away, splashed with sunlight!
But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited.
Then he let himself be led away.
Then he let the stranger mount.
Never had he seen such crowds!
And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen.
Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.
I hope, finally, he felt brave.
I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him,
as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.
Mary Oliver’s poetry invites us to notice the often-overlooked details of a story. The gospels tell us about Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem on a donkey. Oliver shifts our attention away from the cheering crowds waving palm branches to the donkey—seemingly nothing more than an unremarkable mode of transportation. The donkey is not grand, not adorned for a parade, not necessarily courageous, and certainly not fit for a king.
Tied to a tree as usual, the donkey—waiting, watching, present—has a history of bearing burdens. And Jesus asked to borrow him. He did not borrow strength that would intimidate. He borrowed humility that would carry love.
As we move toward Holy Week, crowds still shout and competing certainties have no resolution. What does this overlooked beast of burden have to share with us? What if courage is not brilliance, but availability and willingness? What if faithfulness is simply lifting one dusty hoof and stepping forward, to bear love into noisy streets?
For more from presenter Lorie Conway, consider joining our upcoming retreat The Donkey and The Divine.