As Jesus is preparing to enter Jerusalem, Mark reports . . .

As Jesus is preparing to enter Jerusalem, Mark reports that he dispatched two of his disciples to go and fetch a colt.  It seems like a rather mundane detail in the otherwise exciting story of Jesus being welcomed into the Holy City with palm branches and loud Hosannas, but surprisingly, over half of Mark’s Palm Sunday narrative is devoted to the acquisition of this animal—where to find it, what kind of colt to seek, what to do, and what to say if anybody asks.

While no one can know for certain what these two disciples were thinking, they likely envisioned something far more noble—especially on this historic day—than being assigned “donkey duty.”  Here Jesus is about to make his grand entrance, and they are engaged in the ignominious task of trying, like a couple of horse thieves, to wrestle an untamed, and no doubt unwieldy, animal up the slopes of the Mount of Olives.  They were probably grumbling to themselves, “We left a promising fishing business to do this?”

In the Presbyterian denomination, when elders and deacons (and even ministers) are ordained, they are asked, “Will you seek to serve these people with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love?”  Language such as that conjures up the image of doing something breathtaking, something awe inspiring, something life changing.  But from what I’ve experienced, serving with “energy, intelligence, imagination, and love” often boils down to straightening the hymnals before worship,  replacing the light bulbs in the restrooms, and visiting people in the nursing home who aren’t even sure who you are (and likely won’t remember your visit two minutes after you’ve left).  But who is to say that these mundane and seemingly insignificant acts are not also a part of doing the work of the Lord.

In Mark’s Gospel, the twelve disciples are sent out to proclaim the Good News, to cast out demons, to heal the sick, and to teach with authority.  It’s all exciting stuff, to be sure.  But perhaps, by sharing this story of two disciples being assigned donkey duty, Mark wants us to realize that the Lord’s work is not limited to the grand and extraordinary.  Sometimes the most powerful acts of ministry occur in ways that most folks will never notice.  But of course, God does!  And in the end, isn’t that what really matters?  It is the Lord’s work, not ours, that ultimately counts—even if that means slopping around in the muck and mire of some stable trying to corral a donkey for Jesus.