Jesus was talking to his disciples when up rode a priest, mounted on a donkey. “Rabbi,” said the priest respectfully to Jesus, “tell me how to serve God and my church.”
The disciples were confused. “How can the priest ask such an absurd question,” they wondered. “Surely he is serving God as a priest? Surely working diligently for the good of his church is a great way of serving God.”
Jesus could see the priest was a good man who wanted to do what was right in the eyes of God. “The donkey you are riding on,” Jesus said, “whom is it serving carrying you about your business?”
“Me, of course,” said the priest.
“Correct,” Jesus replied. “Be as the donkey.”
“Be as the donkey?” the priest was astonished. “Why would you have me, a man and a priest be as a donkey? What choice does the donkey have? Either it serves me or I beat it. It is bound to do my bidding.”
“Just so,” replied Jesus. “Be as the donkey, if you wish to serve God. Serve the master who is truly your master – who has complete power and control over you – who can and will beat you, starve you if necessary, if you are stubborn, or reward you, if he be so inclined.”
“But where can I find such a master?” the priest asked, downhearted. “As a priest I am responsible for the lives of others, but sometimes my superiors and I are compelled to bow to the civil authorities.”
“Yes, you see your donkey is more fortunate than you. It has a true master. It is able to serve you with all its heart, and whatever it does for your good, it does for God. Can you say the same about your priestly service?”
“It’s not so simple rabbi. You have to be practical. You have to understand that in the real world we sometimes have to compromise the good of our people for the good of our church, or even the good of the civil authorities who see us as an extension of their officialdom.”
“So learn from the donkey.”
“Learn from the donkey? How can I learn from a donkey that is dumb, that has no brain?”
“Well, you have a brain, do you not, but it gives you no advantage whatsoever – it merely complicates things and prevents you from truly serving God. Though you are kind and humble, your brain, your intellect is not.”
“My brain, my intellect is my servant, is it not, master?”
“Were that so it would truly serve you, whereas it appears that you serve it.”
“How so?”
“Because instead of seeing what is obvious, your brain assumes superiority over the humble donkey and so you fail to learn the lesson the donkey is teaching you.”
“But what lesson – how can the donkey, my servant, teach me a lesson?”
“True, the donkey is your servant, but remember, in serving you faithfully and humbly it is serving God, is it not?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“Then the donkey is first and foremost God’s servant, and as such it is, far from being your servant, a teacher with a lesson waiting to be learnt by you.”
“You mean the donkey is my master?”
“Master, servant, what difference does it make? In the eyes of God all is one – except true service – that is the greatest.”
“Indeed!”
“And your donkey has no reason to question its service – it is doing what it can, what it must, what it needs in order to experience God’s beneficence.”
“You mean to say even a donkey can experience God’s beneficence?”
“How your brain ties knots in the clear, threads of simple knowledge! The problem is not the donkey or the donkey’s relationship with God, is it?”
“Er…”
“The problem is yours. You are the one with the question, because you feel, you suspect, you know that you at times are obliged to compromise your integrity, to do things which are not necessarily pleasing in the eyes of God, in the name of service, in the name of obedience, and yet you, unlike the donkey, have been given the ability to think for yourself, have been given the precious gift of a conscience, have been given free will and the ability, no – the necessity to choose between right and wrong.”
“But I could lose my job, or worse still, jeopardise the delicate political balance which keeps the church safe from the wrath of our king.”
“You could indeed, or you could jeopardise the only thing you’re truly responsible for…”
“Er…?”
“You could jeopardise the perfect harmony existing between yourself and God.”
!!! “Dear master, I cannot possibly claim to have perfect harmony existing between myself and God.”
“More fool you, for in that case you have a great, great deal to learn from your humble donkey who may have a very small brain, I accept, but who has a clear conscience which, I think you’ll agree, is rather better than surplus intellect.”
“So my intellect, as you put it, is more a curse than a blessing?”
“That’s entirely up to you. My disciples here – simple men, aren’t they? Rather closer to your donkey than to your sophisticated, well-educated priesthood, would you not agree?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know.”
“You’re being disingenuous. In this small matter your mind is an open book. Don’t imagine I’m criticising you – merely stating the obvious, and why? Because you asked.”
“No, you’re right of course. I’m not proud of myself. Yes, it’s true I can hardly help looking down on less educated men.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“What can I do? With a family to feed I can hardly upset the apple cart by ignoring the requirements of my superiors.”
“In that case, God in his mercy can provide another way.”
“He can?”
“Of course. God, in his mercy, can always find another way to open doors for good people who wish to serve him more completely.”
“And what, if you don’t mind telling me, will that be?”
“I don’t mind telling you in the least, but God prefers these things to be revealed in their own good time, so practice the discipline of patient watchfulness and when the day comes, you shall recall this conversation and know what to do.”
And the priest went away on his donkey, back to his parish church where he continued to serve various masters, until a year or two later a great pestilence visited that land and smote many of the great and mighty. Suddenly the priest found himself in a completely different landscape – in which he had to make many great decisions relying on God and no one else, decisions which theoretically risked his life, the lives of his family and all who looked to him for guidance, but these decisions he made with a clear heart and joy, knowing that the teacher by name of Jesus had foretold this moment, and that this was, in fact, God’s gift to him, God’s great chance for him to become the humble donkey he’d always yearned to be, to finally step out of his learnedness and serve God his master with all his heart, all his soul, all his being. Amen
Did the story end well? Did the priest survive the great pestilence? Was he punished by the civil authorities for his decisions? Jesus doesn’t answer these questions – for they are merely the product of idle curiosity, and do not lead any of us closer to the simple truth which, after all, being “simple” and “truth” is God’s dominion and utterly, utterly incomprehensible to the intellect.
The end
The disciples were confused. “How can the priest ask such an absurd question,” they wondered. “Surely he is serving God as a priest? Surely working diligently for the good of his church is a great way of serving God.”
Jesus could see the priest was a good man who wanted to do what was right in the eyes of God. “The donkey you are riding on,” Jesus said, “whom is it serving carrying you about your business?”
“Me, of course,” said the priest.
“Correct,” Jesus replied. “Be as the donkey.”
“Be as the donkey?” the priest was astonished. “Why would you have me, a man and a priest be as a donkey? What choice does the donkey have? Either it serves me or I beat it. It is bound to do my bidding.”
“Just so,” replied Jesus. “Be as the donkey, if you wish to serve God. Serve the master who is truly your master – who has complete power and control over you – who can and will beat you, starve you if necessary, if you are stubborn, or reward you, if he be so inclined.”
“But where can I find such a master?” the priest asked, downhearted. “As a priest I am responsible for the lives of others, but sometimes my superiors and I are compelled to bow to the civil authorities.”
“Yes, you see your donkey is more fortunate than you. It has a true master. It is able to serve you with all its heart, and whatever it does for your good, it does for God. Can you say the same about your priestly service?”
“It’s not so simple rabbi. You have to be practical. You have to understand that in the real world we sometimes have to compromise the good of our people for the good of our church, or even the good of the civil authorities who see us as an extension of their officialdom.”
“So learn from the donkey.”
“Learn from the donkey? How can I learn from a donkey that is dumb, that has no brain?”
“Well, you have a brain, do you not, but it gives you no advantage whatsoever – it merely complicates things and prevents you from truly serving God. Though you are kind and humble, your brain, your intellect is not.”
“My brain, my intellect is my servant, is it not, master?”
“Were that so it would truly serve you, whereas it appears that you serve it.”
“How so?”
“Because instead of seeing what is obvious, your brain assumes superiority over the humble donkey and so you fail to learn the lesson the donkey is teaching you.”
“But what lesson – how can the donkey, my servant, teach me a lesson?”
“True, the donkey is your servant, but remember, in serving you faithfully and humbly it is serving God, is it not?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“Then the donkey is first and foremost God’s servant, and as such it is, far from being your servant, a teacher with a lesson waiting to be learnt by you.”
“You mean the donkey is my master?”
“Master, servant, what difference does it make? In the eyes of God all is one – except true service – that is the greatest.”
“Indeed!”
“And your donkey has no reason to question its service – it is doing what it can, what it must, what it needs in order to experience God’s beneficence.”
“You mean to say even a donkey can experience God’s beneficence?”
“How your brain ties knots in the clear, threads of simple knowledge! The problem is not the donkey or the donkey’s relationship with God, is it?”
“Er…”
“The problem is yours. You are the one with the question, because you feel, you suspect, you know that you at times are obliged to compromise your integrity, to do things which are not necessarily pleasing in the eyes of God, in the name of service, in the name of obedience, and yet you, unlike the donkey, have been given the ability to think for yourself, have been given the precious gift of a conscience, have been given free will and the ability, no – the necessity to choose between right and wrong.”
“But I could lose my job, or worse still, jeopardise the delicate political balance which keeps the church safe from the wrath of our king.”
“You could indeed, or you could jeopardise the only thing you’re truly responsible for…”
“Er…?”
“You could jeopardise the perfect harmony existing between yourself and God.”
!!! “Dear master, I cannot possibly claim to have perfect harmony existing between myself and God.”
“More fool you, for in that case you have a great, great deal to learn from your humble donkey who may have a very small brain, I accept, but who has a clear conscience which, I think you’ll agree, is rather better than surplus intellect.”
“So my intellect, as you put it, is more a curse than a blessing?”
“That’s entirely up to you. My disciples here – simple men, aren’t they? Rather closer to your donkey than to your sophisticated, well-educated priesthood, would you not agree?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know.”
“You’re being disingenuous. In this small matter your mind is an open book. Don’t imagine I’m criticising you – merely stating the obvious, and why? Because you asked.”
“No, you’re right of course. I’m not proud of myself. Yes, it’s true I can hardly help looking down on less educated men.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“What can I do? With a family to feed I can hardly upset the apple cart by ignoring the requirements of my superiors.”
“In that case, God in his mercy can provide another way.”
“He can?”
“Of course. God, in his mercy, can always find another way to open doors for good people who wish to serve him more completely.”
“And what, if you don’t mind telling me, will that be?”
“I don’t mind telling you in the least, but God prefers these things to be revealed in their own good time, so practice the discipline of patient watchfulness and when the day comes, you shall recall this conversation and know what to do.”
And the priest went away on his donkey, back to his parish church where he continued to serve various masters, until a year or two later a great pestilence visited that land and smote many of the great and mighty. Suddenly the priest found himself in a completely different landscape – in which he had to make many great decisions relying on God and no one else, decisions which theoretically risked his life, the lives of his family and all who looked to him for guidance, but these decisions he made with a clear heart and joy, knowing that the teacher by name of Jesus had foretold this moment, and that this was, in fact, God’s gift to him, God’s great chance for him to become the humble donkey he’d always yearned to be, to finally step out of his learnedness and serve God his master with all his heart, all his soul, all his being. Amen
Did the story end well? Did the priest survive the great pestilence? Was he punished by the civil authorities for his decisions? Jesus doesn’t answer these questions – for they are merely the product of idle curiosity, and do not lead any of us closer to the simple truth which, after all, being “simple” and “truth” is God’s dominion and utterly, utterly incomprehensible to the intellect.
The end
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
ReplyDeleteSince thou, created to be awed by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burthen like an ass!