Donkeys

 

This year we journeyed through Easter in our church services with Matthew’s Gospel.

 

I’ve mentioned here before something about the similarities and differences between the four Gospels which we have in our New Testament, and some of the theories about their relationships.

 

In my opinion, all four gospels are harmonizable and complementary. The early Christians who first collected these four Gospels together obviously thought so. But even if some of the Gospel writers knew one another’s works, they each provide a somewhat independent witness to Jesus. They don’t read like police notebooks which have been carefully cooked up to tell an agreed story. Their harmony is sometimes that of different eyewitnesses who notice, mention or emphasise different things. They each write with a purpose and an agenda.  

 

All four Gospel writers tell us of Jesus’ so-called Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (Matthew 21; Mark 11; Luke 19; John 12). All four Gospels tell us that Jesus rode on a donkey. Mark and Luke say the donkey was a “colt” “which no one had ever ridden”. What’s the point of this detail? Does it suggest Jesus’ uniqueness: he alone rides on this donkey? I know nothing about horses and so on, but presumably riding a donkey that no one has ever ridden may not be easy. The colt needs to be broken in and trained. Jesus seems to have no problems. Does this point to Jesus’ rule over creation? Jesus is the new and better Adam, to whom the creatures readily submit. Just as the wind and the waves obey Jesus, does the young donkey do better than many of the religious leaders and recognise his Maker? Jesus is the King even of unruly colts.

 

Matthew alone tells us in fact there were two donkeys: a she-ass with her colt. Some sceptical readers have cried, “Ah! A contradiction! Come on! Was there one donkey or were there two?” Of course, saying there were two donkeys includes saying there was one! Talking about one donkey doesn’t exclude the fact that there were two. If the other Gospel writers knew of both donkeys, perhaps they didn’t think it worth mentioning. They simplify the tale. Perhaps they also emphasise Jesus’ power and control by only mentioning the previously unridden donkey. A couple of parishioners have pointed out to me that if you are going to ride on a previously unridden donkey it makes sense to take its mother with it. Both animals are likely to be much happier with sticking together, apparently.

 

Some sceptical scholars have said that Matthew was misreading Old Testament prophecy. Zechariah had spoken of the king coming to his people “gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” One can’t really ride two donkeys at once. Not without getting into a mess, anyway. And Hebrew poetry loves what’s called parallelism: saying the same thing – or similar, or contrasting things – twice or more. This parallelism is like our rhyming, a “rhyming” of ideas. Some people say Matthew has misread Zechariah. Zech is speaking of one donkey, a foal, poetically. Matt has missed the point and assumed there must be two donkeys, so that’s what he put in. Unfortunately this theory falls down, in my view, because it assumes Matthew is stupid and we are cleverer. I’m sure Matthew knew what he was doing.

 

A donkey is not a war horse. Jesus comes humble and gentle and riding on a donkey.

 

But Old Testament kings did ride on donkeys at times. But Jesus’ humility is especially emphasised by his riding on a colt. Jesus is a striking combination of kingly authority and of peace, humility, gentleness and service. Jesus shows, as the modern hymn has it, “meekness and majesty, manhood and deity.” He is the king, but the servant king who has come to die.  

 

Perhaps it’s worth having more than one Gospel. And worth reading them closely, attending to their details and their differences, as well as to their powerful and profound agreement. Donkeys, even foals, speak to us still today.