Donkeys don’t live easy lives, believe me. I was born in a stable on the outskirts of Jerusalem and I’ve never had much to call my own: just hay, a bit of water, and a corner to sleep in.

I’m not complaining. I’m just a donkey, a very ordinary donkey. There’s nothing special about me but my ears, which are a bit larger than other donkeys. People are clever, birds can fly, fireflies light up the night, and I… I have big ears, I’m easily startled, and I’m afraid of storms.

A bad way to start a story, I know. But the story I’m going to tell you isn’t really about me. At least, it’s not only about me. This is the story of the day God trusted me.

It was a day like any other. I entertained myself watching the sunlight filter through the cracks in the roof of the stable, while my mother dozed beside me. Then Shmuel, my owner, walked in with two young men and pointed at me.

“Here they are,” he said. “This donkey was born a year ago but hasn’t yet been put to work as a pack animal.”

The young men looked at me. I liked them: they didn’t seem rich, but their eyes were thoughtful and kind. As a donkey, you learn to assess the hardness of a master’s hand very quickly.

A couple of hours later I found myself outside the city, brushed and adorned for the first time in my life. They put dark purple cloth on my back. I’d never felt so elegant. I might have believed I was special if I didn’t see a beautiful horse passing through the city gate just then. Its glossy skin and lone mane reminded me that I was still a donkey with big ears and silly dreams.

My new owners went away for a time while I grazed, tied to a fig tree. They returned around noon with a new group of people. One of them caught my attention. He was dressed like the others, in a simple seamless tunic, dark red in color, with a belt around the waist. He was tall, with dark hair and a beard and a straight nose that harmonized his profile.

Don’t judge my description: donkeys are observant by nature, and there was something about that man that made him hard to forget.

He came up to me and gently petted my back.

“Did you have any trouble finding him?” he asked the young men who’d fetched me from the stable.

“No, Jesus. We found everything just like you said.”

So his name was Jesus. Now that he was right beside me, I could see a light in his eyes that didn’t seem like a reflection of the midday sun. It was like he carried it within.

He crouched and whispered to me: “Very well, little donkey. I’m glad to have you for this day.”

I was surprised. What could Jesus need from me? I’d never worked because my legs were too weak. My former owner was probably glad to be rid of me, because a donkey that can’t carry a load isn’t much use to anyone.

But Jesus mounted me easily. One of his companions held my reins with one hand. “Should we go?” he asked, and Jesus must have nodded, because we started moving.

As I walked, I wondered what was going on. There were crowds lining the streets as we entered Jerusalem, and I don’t mean to complain, but donkeys aren’t the most elegant, refined, or beautiful animals. If donkeys could blush, I would have.

Men and women, children and elders and everything in between, greeted us. Many of them had palm branches in their hands as they shouted, sang, and praised God.

“Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” a group called. Across the way, someone else shouted, “Blessed is the Son of David!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Who was this Jesus? I started daydreaming about kings, emperors, and wise men from other countries. Then we came across the horse I’d seen before, and there was envy in his eyes. I puffed out my chest and brayed: the people were cheering for me, not the horse.

My skin must be shining in the sunlight, I thought, and my gait was smooth and noble. The people probably marveled at my beauty as I passed. They sang praises and threw flowers and palms. I brayed again, proudly.

Then a light caught my eye. There was a fountain at the intersection ahead, and its water reflected the sun. I looked at it sideways and gulped.

My skin didn’t shine, and I walked as awkwardly as ever. The young man with the reins was still smiling, but he was walking beside an ugly donkey, not a beautiful animal. I was humiliated.

The people were there for Jesus. They didn’t care about me and probably wouldn’t notice if I were a horse, mule, or camel instead of a donkey. I hung my head, ashamed, and didn’t lift my gaze the rest of the way.

After what felt like an endless walk, the group stopped and Jesus dismounted. I didn’t lift my head. I felt certain that he had noticed my humiliation. He was probably annoyed that I’d tried to steal his glory. He would probably never use me again.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with sadness.

Jesus gently caressed my forehead. “John,” he told the young man, “take him to Mark’s house and give him something to drink and space to graze in peace.”

Then, in a low voice, he said, “Thank you.” I flattened my ears. Jesus smiled. “It’s okay. You let me do it, and you have nothing to worry about. As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

He took the blanket from my back and handed it to John, who was still holding the reins. I let him lead me away, but I looked back one more time at Jesus of Nazareth. There was affection in his eyes, along with a bit of fear and sadness. I couldn’t help wondering what lay in his heart. I could never have imagined what would happen in Jerusalem over the next few days.