The Poet Thinks About the Donkey
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 meadow,
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
When Jesus rides the humble donkey into Jerusalem, the people enthusiastically celebrate and honor him as King. They lay palm branches and cloaks down in front of him, like a royal procession, shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! The King of Israel!" (John 12:13) Jesus willingly allows himself to be revealed in this way, but knows the hearts of people. Many that are cheering now, will be shouting for his death soon. The days of Holy Week lie ahead. There is no going back.
Our theme for this week is "Reveal." God's presence is being revealed all around us, especially in spring, when new life bursts forth in abundance. But it also arrives in times of sorrow and pain. However, we can be so busy and distracted, that we do not notice the Holy right in front of us. Or we look for God in the places and ways we think God should appear, and miss the sweet, small ways Love draws close to us.
The following is passage is written by Barbara Brown Taylor and shared in Richard Rohr's daily meditation this past week. In it, she speaks about our too-easy tendency to miss the revelations of God.
Taylor writes:
"People encounter God under shady oak trees, on riverbanks, at the tops of mountains, and in long stretches of barren wilderness. God shows up in whirlwinds, starry skies, burning bushes, and perfect strangers. When people want to know more about God, the son of God tells them to pay attention to the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, to women kneading bread and workers lining up for their pay.
Taylor goes on to admit how easy it is to miss these ever-available encounters with God:
According to the Talmud, every blade of grass has its own angel bending over it, whispering, “Grow, grow.”
How does one learn to see and hear such angels?
If there is a switch to flip, I have never found it... Most of my visions of the divine have happened while I was busy doing something else. I did nothing to make them happen…. I play no apparent part in their genesis. My only part is to decide how I will respond, since there is plenty I can do to make them go away, namely: 1) I can figure that I have had too much caffeine again; 2) I can remind myself that visions are not true in the same way that taxes and the evening news are true; or 3) I can return my attention to everything I need to get done today. These are only a few of the things I can do to talk myself out of living in the House of God.
Or I can set a little altar, in the world or in my heart. I can stop what I am doing long enough to see where I am, who I am there with, and how awesome the place is. I can flag one more gate to heaven—one more patch of ordinary earth with ladder marks on it—where the divine traffic is heavy -- when I notice it and even when I do not. I can see it for once, instead of walking right past it, maybe even setting a stone or saying a blessing before I move on to wherever I am due next.
Human beings may separate things into as many piles as we wish—separating spirit from flesh, sacred from secular, church from world. But we should not be surprised when God does not recognize the distinctions we make between the two. Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars."
Unveil My Eyes by Salt of the Sound
Unveil my eyes to see your face
That I may recognize your grace
And all these plans you have for me
use them to set me free
For reflection:
What are some of the ways you talk yourself out of "living in the House of God?
Where have you noticed the revelation of God's presence? Where were you? What did you notice? How did you respond?
How might you set an altar in your heart - or in the world - to remind you to pause long enough to notice the wonders around you? How could you mark those places of holy encounter?
“When our eyes are graced with wonder,
the world reveals its wonders to us.
There are people who see only dullness in the world
and that is because their eyes have already been dulled.
So much depends on how we look at things.
The quality of our looking determines what we come to see.”
John O'Donohue
Resources:
Mary Oliver, "The Poet Thinks About the Donkey," Thirst, Boston MA: Beacon Press, 2006.
Barbara Brown Taylor, Waking Up to God, Center for Action and Contemplation Daily Meditations, March 21, 2024. (https://cac.org/daily-meditations/waking-up-to-god/)
John O'Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2004.
Wow, thanks, Donna. This was powerful.