A Word About … Modalities.
I got to thinking about that word the other day, modalities, as I was reading the Gospels contemplating Palm Sunday, and the Lord Jesus riding into Jerusalem on that donkey. I found myself thinking about how Jesus ‘got along,’ how he got from one place to another in his life.
Most of the time, He walked. His feet would’ve known every stone in the road, every muddy stretch between Cana and Jerusalem. No chariot. No camel, even. Just walking—with His disciples or surrounded by a crowd.
Then there were boats. A lot of Jesus’ ministry happened near the Sea of Galilee, and he hung around with fishermen. Sometimes, He’d push off from shore and stand in a bobbing boat to teach; But the bible also says he crossed to the other side, often in storms. Following Jesus didn’t always mean smooth sailing, that’s for sure.
There was one mode of transportation I hadn’t thought too much about.
Twice, he was simply carried along. His parents carried him as a baby into Egypt. And friends carried him from his death on the cross to a borrowed grave.
And of course, there was that donkey on Palm Sunday. Just one ride we know of, and it wasn’t flashy—it was humble. On that first Palm Sunday, he walk toward the outskirts of Jerusalem, until the ride showed up. A donkey. Maybe the very first donkey he had ever ridden. A lift into town. But it fulfilled an Old Testament prophecy, and it was important. “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they all would sing, on that first Palm Sunday.The Guest of Honor had arrived, his mode of travel prophesied hundreds of years before. Not a walk. Not a boat ride. Carried along by an innocent animal of burden.
Was He too tired to walk? No. It was not weariness, but that fulfillment of prophecy that dictated the modality of his entrance into the City of David. At thirty-three, was must have been exhausted from more than three years of public ministry, days spent trudging around God’s holy land, teaching God’s unholy people.
What must it have been like for Him, I wonder, riding in on a borrowed donkey. A humble mode of transportation for the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. The crowds would be loud. The hands of men, women, children waving palms with splayed leaves. Resolute as any sure thing. The Savior had arrived, still a young man, and yet, beyond the age of eternity.
Some days, I walk on familiar ground, like I’ve been this way before. Some days, I feel like I’m in a bobbing boat, — pushed out to sea and far away from any familiar shore, praying life’s storm calms down. Some days, I have need of someone else’s helping hand, because I simply don’t have the strength.
Jesus got around on this earth just fine. Sometimes he walked. Sometimes a boat ride. Once on that donkey. Twice in the arms of others. The meaning isn’t found in the modality. The meaning is in the journey.