Why Jesus Rode a Donkey

Flowing manes. Slow motion hooves barely touching the ground. A close up carmel eye, fixed with precision on its goal. Dramatic music crescendoing as you see a rider lifting his weapon with the passion of his guttural cry. 

It’s the classic battle scene from any movie portraying a cavalry charge. There’s something about the power of horses in full gallop that provokes majesty, courage, conviction, and victory. Though now we have incredible cinematography and inspiring musicians who can evoke passion through a scene like this, men and women who lived thousands of years ago felt similarly. 

In ancient times, a warhorse was seen as security. Safety. An almost insurmountable advantage in warfare. Even more than that, a war horse provided an image of control and power. That’s why on Passover weekend, when Pontius Pilate was summoned to Jerusalem as the Roman prefect of Judea, he entered the city on a war horse. He would have been surrounded with heavily armed soldiers, banners, Roman insignia, and other cavalry. 

The meaning behind this intentional display of power would have been obvious to the Jews: Though they were celebrating God’s mighty deliverance when he freed them from Egypt, they should never expect to receive liberation from the Roman Empire in a likewise manner. And yet there were whispers of a man named Jesus who healed people, taught with intriguing parables, and challenged the Pharisees. Many believed he could be the Messiah, the very one to rise up and overthrow the oppressive Roman government. Perhaps while the Jews watched Pilate’s entry, they shifted their feet and lowered their eyes as their hope conflicted with their reality. 

Regardless of the power Pilate displayed upon his arrival to Jerusalem, the Jews’ hope carried them to another entrance to Jerusalem, where their would-be Savior was said to be entering the city. They grabbed palm branches and ran to the road, jostling each other for the chance to throw a branch or a cloak at his feet when he passed, trembling with the excitement of getting a glimpse of the one who would save them from tyranny and domination. Then he appeared! Surrounded not by other soldiers on horses, but by fishermen and women. Wearing not a crown or a royal robe, but a simple tunic. Riding not a war horse, but a donkey. 

The contrast between Pilate’s entry and Jesus’ would have been jarring, not only because of the prolonged hope that the Jews had cherished for centuries that their plight would be both heard and answered by their God, but also because Jesus did not enter the city like a conquering hero. Maybe some recognized the image of Zechariah 9:9 and felt giddy with the excitement of witnessing prophecy fulfilled. But I wonder if some felt a little disappointed, disillusioned, or dissatisfied that their champion didn’t enter the city on a war horse.

For some cultures in ancient antiquity, kings would commonly ride horses in times of war and donkeys or mules in times of peace (1 Kings 1:33). Jesus rode a donkey, his feet probably close to dragging the ground, the beast’s large ears bouncing as its head bobbed up and down. As the donkey trod the cloaks of hopeful, and perhaps confused, pilgrims, Jesus was telling them, once again, that he was who he said he was: he was their Messiah, but he was not who they thought he would be. He was not coming to overthrow Rome; he was coming to overthrow death, hell and the grave. He was not coming to lead a charge, but to die on a cross. He was not coming on a war horse, but a donkey.

Jesus chose to ride a donkey, a symbol of humility and service, rather than a horse, the symbol of majesty and strength. It’s who he was then, and it’s who he is now. God is ready to upset our expectations of who he is any time they don’t fully align with the reality of his infinite mystery and his unconditional goodness. But are we any more prepared to receive him on a donkey than the Jews shouting ‘Hosanna’ were? One week after his triumphant entry, they crucified him. Do we not do the same? We ask God to come riding in to save the day, but when he comes riding a donkey instead of a horse, we decide to take back the pen and write the story the way we think it should go.

The beauty of our Jesus paradigms being shattered is that he only allows the parts to shatter that are illusions. If you stay connected to him, he will rebuild your concept of who he is in a more beautiful way than you could have asked or imagined. Because in reality, aren’t you glad Jesus came on a donkey? Aren’t you glad that instead of coming to conquer Rome, he came to conquer sin? Aren’t you glad that instead of ushering in a Kingdom only for the Jews, he brought all of us Gentiles into his Kingdom, as well? Aren’t you glad that he gave the world a few more centuries to know and understand his heart through the picture of his son, so that fewer would perish? Aren’t you glad that Jesus isn’t always exactly who you think he is? If we would only let him finish writing the story, we wouldn’t trade his ending for anything this world could offer.

Jesus will come to Earth mounted on a war horse one day. He’ll come back with a sword coming out of his mouth and a tattoo on his leg, charging down the heavenly corridor to make every wrong right once again, to take away every tear, and to bring about an age with no more mourning (Revelation 19: 11-16, Revelation 21:4). But the donkey came before the war horse. The cross came before the cavalry. The upset of all people’s expectations came before the realization of all their hopes. So this Easter, remember Jesus’ donkey. Remember how he came. Remember what he did. Then boldly ask him which of your expectations need to be crucified in order to see him as he truly is.

“Shout and cheer, Daughter Zion!

Raise your voice, Daughter Jerusalem!

Your king is coming!

A good king who makes all things right,

A humble king riding a donkey, 

A mere colt of a donkey.

I’ve had it with war - no more chariots in Ephraim,

No more war horses in Jerusalem,

No more swords and spears, bows and arrows.

He will offer peace to the nations,

A peaceful rule worldwide,

From the four winds to the seven seas.”

-Zechariah 9:9-10 (MSG)

After searching for nearly a year for a secondhand donkey, I finally found one to grace my desk as a reminder to let God show me who He truly is.