Palm Sunday A (Matthew 21:1-11, 27:11-54)

In the gospel of Matthew, two animals wait — a donkey tied, and a colt with her. They do not choose the moment. They do not know the full story. They simply wait, bound, until the disciples come and say, "The Lord has need of them."​

For 130 years, St. Agnes has been something like that donkey — faithful, present, tied to this corner of Little Falls, waiting to carry Jesus wherever he needed to go. A humble beast of burden, not the destination herself, but the means of getting there. And that is no small thing. That is, in fact, everything.

But consider what the donkey was asked to carry Jesus toward. The road that began with palm branches and shouts of Hosanna did not end in a parade. It wound through betrayal, through a borrowed upper room, through the garden of Gethsemane, and up the hill of Golgotha. If we are honest, the donkey's role was to carry Jesus to the cross. What an unbearable calling that would be — if the cross were the final word.

It is not.

The donkey did not carry Jesus to death. She carried him to resurrection. Every step on that road, even the painful ones, even the ones that seemed to lead only to loss, were steps toward the empty tomb. The destination was always life — abundant, uncontainable, victorious life.

As St. Agnes concludes her ministry, it may feel like we are nearing the end of the road. And in some ways, we are. There is real grief in that. A community of faith that has baptized children, buried the beloved, broken bread, and proclaimed good news for 130 years deserves to be mourned well. We should not rush past the loss.

But we began this reflection on Palm Sunday for a reason. Palm Sunday is not the ending — it is the beginning of Holy Week, the week that only makes sense in light of Easter morning. We who have gathered here, who have been formed here, who have been loved and challenged and sent out from here — we have not been carrying Jesus toward a grave. We have been carrying him toward resurrection.

Perhaps we have felt, in recent years, like a donkey tied — waiting, uncertain, sensing that something was ending without knowing what might begin. But the Lord has need of us still. And the word being spoken over this community today is the same word spoken at the tomb: untied. Released. Sent forward.

We do not leave this place empty. We carry Jesus with us — into our homes, our neighborhoods, our next communities of faith, our next acts of service and love. The ministry of St. Agnes is not buried here. It is scattered, like seed, like the disciples who left Jerusalem carrying the resurrection they had witnessed.

The donkey's work was never about the donkey. It was always about who she carried, and where that journey led.

Go, then, as people untied. Carry the risen Christ with you. And trust that the road ahead — however uncertain, however new — leads not to an ending, but to resurrection.