The Amusement Parks are now in full swing, literally, up and down the country. The beaches and waterfront promenades are ringing with the screams coming from the hurtling Roller Coasters. I find they have some irresistible magnetism about them those things. I’m not sure if I like or hate them. They’re alluringly awful, and I never seem to be able to enter one of those funfairs without finding myself at some point tied to this seat with my legs dangling, waiting in nervous apprehension for the whirling nightmare to begin, and thinking how on earth did I get myself into this? The one at Alton Towers is one of the cleverest and most technically advanced in the country and often I used to go to Alton Towers with kids from the local Catholic secondary school in Nottingham where I was the chaplain, and they loved to drag me onto this thing. As you wait in line for the torture to begin, which to add to the horror is a winding trail that descends lower and lower as you go, you pass notices written in Gothic script saying: “Your last chance to turn back”, then further on, “You have been warned,” and finally just to set your mind at ease before you take your seat, “Abandon all hope those who go beyond this point!”
No matter how sophisticated or wild the rides at amusement parks are, however, I’ve noticed that they don’t capture the longest queues, but rather the ponies and donkeys do. They provide a different type of ride. There is something eminently appealing to children about donkeys and ponies. They plod along, usually in a circle, and when one stops to relieve itself all the children scream with as much delight as those hurling through space a few hundred yards away on the Big Dipper. What’s the attraction here? I suppose it’s because the donkey is alive, and sitting on his or her back the child can feel the furry warmth beneath gently bobbing along. It’s easier to identify with a donkey or a pony if you’re a child, its simplicity and smallness obviously relates, also the fact that it eats and cries and has to go to the loo, just like the child does. They can pet the animal and there is often a very positive response to the caresses. They are quite unlike the tall mechanical sheen of the Roller Coaster.
In the ancient world the donkey, as far as transport goes, was simply an old banger. Asses and colts were ridden by those who couldn’t afford a horse or a camel. Therefore, to have the Saviour coming on a donkey says something profoundly important about His priorities, His purpose, and His vision – His Person. Jesus’ choice of entering Jerusalem on a donkey was specific and loaded. The donkey and He not only summed up the tactics of His previous three-year mission, they also set out the agenda for His approaching campaign for the capture of souls, in which you and I, of course, according to Him, have a uniquely significant part to play. What’s important in the text here is that it says that it is precisely in this manner of approach that He is victorious. “See now your king comes to you; He is victorious, He is triumphant, He is humble and riding on a donkey. He will banish chariots and horses.” It’s a different sort of victory isn’t it? It’s a different type of triumph. It’s certainly not one you would expect – it’s actually not one we would choose either if we’re honest.
Jesus is teaching that the way of humility and approachableness, typified in the simple character of the donkey, which He chooses as a vehicle to convey His presence, is far more powerful than the combative stance displayed by the horse. The humble approach is much more powerful because it is far more disarming. Children are more likely to understand this. The humility of the pony will for them far outlast the clever sophistication of the Roller Coaster in its appeal. Christianity proclaims that though our God is utterly transcendent, He is at the same time utterly accessible. The all-powerful One is also completely disarming. This is why for His approach He chose a donkey, He chose a stable, He chose bread and wine – most crucially it’s why He chose you and me. “You didn’t choose me, I chose you.” (John 15:16) He would never let us choose because it’s not likely that we would choose His way. We would choose something cleverer, something more sophisticated, more advanced – but in the end of course much less appealing and therefore much weaker. We would not choose a crucified God like Christ, that Paul acknowledges is a stumbling block for Jews and nonsense for Greeks. But the Christ whom he says is the power and wisdom of God. (1 Cor 1:23)
The accessibility of the donkey or pony, however, is very largely related to one’s own view of oneself. They demand that you are at ease with being smaller rather than greater. A certain amount of jettisoning of personal status is required. And this can be very hard of course. Coming to God, taking up the invitation to come, similarly requires a release of one’s pursuit of personal power. He is most accessible to those who have ceased to trust exclusively in the prevalent passion that’s all around us to run one’s own life. When He asks us to take our being overburdened to Him, what burden is He referring to? He is referring to our tendency to labour under the burden of wanting to mount a horse rather than a pony, which ultimately means a focussing on our own power rather than on His, trusting in a sophistication and ingenuity of our own imagining rather than on His poverty which He shares with us, and out of which He seeks to make us truly rich, which means truly disarming, truly persuasive, truly eloquent with regard to His mission of healing and saving the world, a task in which He has invited us to co-operate with Himself.
What is the lighter burden of His that He is asking us to take up? It’s the burden of His having chosen us for whom we are now, using who we are now, accepting and incorporating into His plan of working who we are now, today, here, this moment. It’s as simple and as disarming as that. He doesn’t want to work with who we might one day become, but with who we are now. He prefers, like the little child, the child in us, the donkey in us, the pony in us, rather than the shining war horse we might like to be carrying all before us in some impressive campaign, about which we might feel proud and honourable, but about which He will know nothing; and into which He is unlikely to have been invited. This is why the Eucharist is so central because here and now He takes not only the bread and wine, such simple disarming creatures, and over them says, “This is my Body, this is my Blood.” But He says precisely the same words over you and me, precisely as we are now. At Mass we receive Him not only in Himself but in each other, because the Head is inseparable from the Body, the Bridegroom is inseparable from the Bride, Christ is inseparable from His people. The exchange of the gift of Peace is a particular sign of this
The bottom line to all of this is the call He makes to us, the invitation to come to Him, by our acknowledging that the real truth is that He is in charge of my life, not me. He knows what is best for my life, not me. He knows infinitely better what is in me, what I am for, than I do myself. Of course, that’s a quieter humbler voice in the Amusement Park which is our present western culture. There are more strident voices all around us that speak about self-fulfilment, self-help, achieving one’s own goals, obtaining one’s own objectives, securing one’s own future; and they are burdensome in the extreme. They are strident voices shot through with competitiveness, greed, impatience, violence and stress. For the Christian disciple, one’s fulfilment, help, goal objective, security and future have all been taken into Christ. As Paul writes to the Corinthians, “He has become our wisdom, and our virtue, and our holiness, and our freedom.” (1 Cor 1:30)
We are called to rest in the unalterable truth that, as Peter and Paul discovered, and as we were thinking last week while reflecting on the outcome of their lives, our failures will not have the last word, but Christ’s love will. While we were still sinners, Paul writes, He died for us; while we are still sinners He also uses us. He is drawn like a child is drawn, to our need of Him, but only if we acknowledge it. “How blessed are those who know there need of God, the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.” (Matthew 5:3)
So if you get to the Amusement Park this summer, and I really hope you do, go onto the Roller Coaster by all means, if you dare, and yell at the top of your voice, but take a donkey ride too – that’s our true ride, our real home.
God bless you with His peace.
Juniper ofm
