My Lenten practice began in March, and now on the twentieth of April, with the end approaching, there’ve been no epiphanies—disappointing. But maybe my eyes have been closed and my soul protected from the truths I say I want to hear but resist listening to. God, you know I’ve tried, don’t you?
My expectation for Lenten-lightning and thunder claps of spiritual awareness hasn’t been occurring. But surprising to me, and annoyingly so, I became obsessed with a minor aspect of the Lenten-Easter narrative. What caught my attention, interrupted my sleep, slipped into mind while listening to clients, disrupted my enjoyment of a new baseball season, broke into my exercise regimen, and popped up in each of the forty-four journal entries I’ve written, is the donkey Jesus rode when he entered the city of Jerusalem.
You’d think that during Lent my focus would be on the Paschal Mystery—the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus—but it’s been on the never-been-ridden donkey, or ass, Jesus mounted for his entry into Jerusalem. Forty-four days of donkey distractions, images, scribblings, wasting time wondering about whether the equine was thirsty, needed straw, or had any awareness of history being turned upside-down and inside-out by the man it carried through the Eastern Gate over strewn cloaks, robes and palm fronds.
Half-hearted research into the theological significance of Jesus’ choice of transportation—fulfillment of prophesy—didn’t halt the fixation I had with the donkey. Each day I asked the serious questions Frederick Buechner proposed, and as I wrestled with them, wrote responses in my Lenten journal, the bit-playing donkey kept appearing: I believe in God, Divinity (Jesus) on a donkey too! When I look in the mirror to view what I like and deplore, I sometimes saw a likeable ass! If this was the last day of my life, riding on a donkey would not be on my “to-do” list. But everywhere I looked the donkey appeared.
On Palm Sunday, after finishing my journal entry which included “…this donkey obsession is asinine.” I sat back, took a deep breath, and asked: What now, God?
Nothing.
Convinced that my serious Lenten endeavors required complex, brilliant epiphanies I was missing the obvious.
The red pen I’d used moments before drew my attention, and I reopened the journal to randomly write whatever came to mind: KEEP IT SIMPLE, I wrote in capital letters.
And there it was, my Lenten lesson, the one my braying [simple] donkey had been wanting me to see.
Resist overthinking, suffocating analysis and flagellations, lighten up, and listen patiently even as you wrestle to hear “…both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become.” And, I agree with Buechner as he ends his query with: “It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.”
Mounted on a donkey, he entered Jerusalem.
by 
I know something about the journey your final Lenten post took before arriving this evening in my email as a donkey. It is interesting to see the post’s final form. We could all do more listening, and without the expectation of epiphanies or spiritual thunderclaps. We need to be quiet and patient in order to hear that still small voice of God. Remember Kim’s timed one minute of silence during her sermons in Lent. The message heard ought to be both more simple and more mysterious than we can conjure up on our own.
I certainly haven’t figured out how to pray. I know, but resist your directive: Keep it simple, and keep listening. Thanks for sharing your journey, particularly because I know it wasn’t easy or straightforward. And you got jilted in the process.
Ted,
Thank you for posting your thoughts. Finding the simple in the midst and mist of the complex is difficult. Comforting to know I’m in good company, thank you!
Roger
I am reminded somehow of Jimmy Carters inauguration. I remember him dismounting his mustang in favor of walking hand in hand with Roselyn toward the capital. The most powerful man in the world demonstrating his humility and I am sure he counted every step.
Funny what comes to mind when reading text. Quite different than hearing spoken words.
The last sentence of “The Business With the Donkey” is “Mounted on a donkey, he entered Jerusalem” and I would add…..Not as a conqueror but as a savior.
Larry,
Thank you for this comment, and reminder–saving trumps conquering.
Roger
Your “……both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become” reminds me of a simple truth I have learned in recent years: acceptance of what is and what is not. It comes and goes like the gentle waves along the shore. Helping me find faith that God is with us always in all ways. Lenten lessons leading to Easter epiphanies…….mysterious, miraculous, magical…….alleluia and amen!
Colette,
Thank you for reading and offering this comment. The great magical, miraculous, and mysterious Easter epiphany is celebrated once a year, but as you state, occurs in the “gentle waves along the shore,” and does so “always in all ways.”
Roger
I love donkeys, their large rabbit like ears, teeth and cuteness. Such humble creatures, laden down with the burdens horses are not able to carry. They carry the load for others, like our Lord did. He took the sins of the world on his shoulders willingly dying for us on the cross. Thank you for your focus on this holiest of holidays.
Jo Anne,
Thank you for reading and commenting–love the ears, teeth, and “cuteness” phrase. The prophesy piece notwithstanding, Jesus new how to make an entrance for the ages.
Roger
I admit this post is a favorite of mine, and I’ve read them all! Wishing you, the humble donkey, and all your blog readers a happy spring, a wonderful Easter Day and/or Passover.
Herta,
Thank you for reading my posts and commenting on this one. And to you and family I wish “…a happy spring, a wonderful Easter Day and/or Passover.
Roger
My thoughts this Easter have been focused on the Notre Dame Cathedral while yours, Roger, have been focused on the donkey. Mine on grandiosity and yours on humility! But even the grand structures that are intended to bring glory to God are predicated upon a stone mason placing a single stone in 1163. And 182 years later: Voila! Jesus had the ability to elevate the simple elements of basic humanity and transform them into something glorious. So they rescued the alleged crown of thorns from the rubble. I am surprised someone didn’t have the foresight to embalm that donkey for posterity. The point for me is that all our human endeavors to praise God and experience His presence in our lives are necessarily humble. That is the only port of entry that the Spirit has to gain access. Through our frail efforts at compassion the Kingdom comes. I am not sure we should look beyond these love transactions to find some “brilliant epiphanies.” The simple acts themselves contain all we need of inspiration. We leave to God the effort to weave them into some majestic tapestry, if God wishes. But for me, I have learned to love the fragmented strands of compassion, perhaps because that is all I have to offer. The cathedral that I hoped to build has fallen in upon itself. All I have is rubble, with some relics of devotion buried within.
Bill,
Thank you for reading and sharing these thoughts with us. The core of my faith is often buried in the rubble of the need for brilliant, shaking-to-the-core epiphanies, and when searching for them I miss the humble truth that simple acts open us to take in and experience the presence of the Divine Mystery.
Roger
From a friend,
Loved this blog, especially your red pen writing out in capital letters “KEEP IT SIMPLE.” Less is more, as they say. Here’s to a less cluttered life for each of us.