Choosing Mud

My thoughts have revolved around mud for much of today.

Initially, I’ll lay blame for the mud on one of our canine neighbors, Jess. She came for a visit during yesterday’s rain. It’s fair to say that Jess has me wrapped around her paw. She bats those brown eyes at me…, and, well, a wet dog gets full access to the house. Yesterday was no different, but her paws were muddy! She was muddy! Even with sweeping and mopping, I suspect we’ll be finding traces of Jess’ visit for months to come.

As I tackled some of the muddy evidence earlier, another murky path came to mind – Jesus’ route into Jerusalem.

Today in church, children waved palmed branches, walking down the aisles of the carpeted sanctuary.

However, the path Jesus took doesn’t strike me as quite so neat.

As he makes his entrance, the Gospel of Matthew tells us: “A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.”

Jesus was being treated as a king. People were demonstrating their utmost respect for him. He wasn’t going to get splattered by mud or worse.

Even more, by laying down their cloaks, individuals were leaving themselves exposed without this traditionally protective and highly valued garment. In the Old Testament, the prophet Elijah leaves his cloak to his successor, Elisha. The cloak marked his identity.

The Old Testament also reminds us how highly regarded cloaks were. A poor man who owed someone was to offer his cloak as collateral, but it had to be given back to him at dusk for warmth and protection against the elements as he slept.

The cloak is a key to identity. It’s protective. It’s valuable.

The people were placing all that on the ground to make the way a little less muddy, a little gentler for Jesus as he road a donkey into Jerusalem.

I can’t help but wonder what shape the cloaks were in for those who retrieved them. Dirt and manure ground in seems quite likely – the kind you could wash repeatedly and still find hints of for a long time to come.

How did they react when they saw the stains?

Did traces remind them of a special day or did they see it through the darker lens of the days to come?

Did they flinch at the contrast of that Palm Sunday with Jesus’ trial a few days later when crowds called for the man they’d hailed as king on Sunday to be executed?

The more important questions, though, are the ones I put to myself. Will I make Jesus central to my identity? Will I put aside my fears and protective layers for the one I call savior? Will I put what’s valuable to me toward His service?

As we follow Jesus toward the cross this Holy Week, we need to consider those questions. Our responses will shape us as we approach the last supper, the foot washing, the garden, the betrayal, the trial, the execution, the tomb.

It’s my hope we’ll willingly put our cloaks down and, even more, with our identities invested in Him, we’ll enter the mud and muck of this life to help those who need us.

The photos with this post are from our pilgrimage to Israel-Palestine last November when we were able to look over Jerusalem and walk the path Jesus took into the city.