Co-missioners,

Here are some seasonal musings emerging from a rich conversation at the delightful Zoom-based text study group organized by David Kukelhan et al. I give full credit to the members of that group for any original or amusing insights in this peace. 

A very blessed and inspiring Holy Week to you all! 

Peace & joy, 
Co-editor Robin Lütjohann 
for the Crossings Community

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Jackasses for Jesus 

by Robin Lütjohann 

Palmesel, Schwaben, Ende 14. Jahrhundert; Lindenholz mit späteren Fassungen aus Veringendorf (heute zu Veringenstadt, Kreis Sigmaringen)
Württembergisches Landesmuseum Stuttgart
(English – Palm donkey, Swabia, late 14th century; lime wood with later polychromy (or coatings) from Veringendorf (now part of Veringenstadt, Sigmaringen district)
Württemberg State Museum Stuttgart (Landesmuseum Württemberg))
From Wikimedia Commons

There’s lots of Christian talk about “following Jesus” these days, and the ghastly neo-English term “discipleship” has become part of mainstream Christianese vocabulary. These words place the emphasis on what we do, not what Christ does. It’s telling that they have become especially popular in the last 100 years, in which US-America’s revivalist brand of Christianity has expanded exponentially.  

But I want to argue that our identity as Christians is not primarily that we are “followers” or “disciples” (Gk. mathetai, meaning “students”) of Christ, as if he were to us merely a leader or teacher. To be sure, he is that and we are that. But much more importantly: Christ is our LORD, the incarnate God who has become crucified and was raised for our redemption, and we now live in him and through him! We can be “followers” and “students” of so many people and things. E.g., I am a “follower” of various Instagram influencers, and I am a “student” of my very patient tax advisor who translates the IRS’s gibberish for me. OK. That’s nice. But doesn’t the extraordinary and mindblowing reality of the Gospel of Jesus Christ demand a more fitting designation than merely being his “follower” or “student”?  

Yes, it certainly does. And maybe that’s why the word mathetes (disciple) is found mostly in the gospels but not in the epistles of the New Testament. The word is appropriate to the way the apostles first encounter Jesus, as a rabbi (which means “teacher”) who says to them “follow me!” But eventually they learn that he is much more than that, and they begin to describe him and themselves differently.   

To be sure, Luke continues to use mathetes in the Book of Acts descriptively, but it is almost never the designation used by the disciples about themselves! Instead, they say, “we are witnesses” and eventually, in Antioch, they get a new name: “Christians” — named after the One who claimed them. That’s the one that stuck.  

Remarkably, Paul nowhere uses the word “disciple” in any of his writings! Instead, he prefers to speak of us as “saints / holy ones (hagioi)” — meaning, those who have been made holy by the Gospel — or “siblings” (adelphoi) or “the Body of Christ” or he speaks of us being “in Christ”. All of which are ways of speaking not primarily of something we do but someone we are! Of who we have become because of Christ! This trend continued in the early church.   

Much later, “believer” would become the preferred term of Luther and his fellow-reformers. And “Christ-truster” was Ed Schroeder’s translation of the same.  

Might I suggest another term?   

We are JACKASSES of the Lord! :)  

Preparing for last Sunday’s readings in conversation with a text study group, someone reminded me of G.K. Chesterton’s poem The Donkey, which puts us in the perspective of an animal ordinarily so ill-regarded and disrespected, yet in the moment of Palm Sunday, amazingly dignified. The ending of the poem goes like this: 
“Fools! For I also had my hour; 
One far fierce hour and sweet: 
There was a shout about my ears, 
And palms before my feet.” 

That donkey, awkward, stubborn, and unimpressive in the eyes of humans, suddenly finds itself carrying the Lord of glory.  

And so do we.   

We too aren’t especially grand or graceful or slick most of the time. We’re not always very convincing as bearers of Christ (christophoroi). And often enough, we too are as stubborn and reluctant to obey him as any donkey.   

And yet, on our backs he rides into the world! Not by our choice or achievement but because, like the animal in the story, we have been unbound by Christ and brought into his service. Through Baptism, we become his. In Holy Communion, he gives himself to us, even inhabits us. And we, together, become his Body, his living presence, carrying him out into the streets, into our homes and workplaces, into all the ordinary places of life.  

This is a word for all of us right now and perhaps especially for the preachers, educators, Sunday School volunteers, and parents out there, who seek to convey the meaning of this Holy Week to their own mathetai — who are called to speak God’s Word to raise the dead from their necrotic slumber, and who might well feel unequal to the task! Amidst the stress of so tall an order, let us remember that God managed to speak even through Balaam’s ass (Num. 22; 2 Pet). And, as Isaiah (1:3) reminds us, one thing jackasses have going for them is that at least they know their master’s crib — and so do you, dear fellow jackass! You may not always be the most eloquent or elegant of God’s creatures and teachers, but you certainly know who God is (Jesus) and where God is to be found (gospel and sacraments). So, you have all you need.   

From Canva

And, as one of my colleagues in the text study pointed out, the curious detail in Matthew’s telling of the Passion has something to teach us as well: Taking Zechariah 9:9 more literally than the other gospel-writers, Matthew describes Jesus riding not just on one animal, but on two at the same time (Matthew 21:7). I’ve never quite understood how that’s possible, and it seems like a somewhat ridiculous image. But I guess it makes symbolic sense insofar as none of us carries Christ solo. Just as he first sent his disciples out in groups of two, he also sends us Christ-trusters out as a community. He gives us to one another as his Body. We bear him together, sometimes leaning on each other, sometimes carrying each other, but never totally alone.  

So be encouraged, dear fellow jackasses of the Lord! Your hour has come to carry Jesus. But not to worry: he has taken the reins and knows where we’re going.