At whose house did Jesus celebrate the Last Supper? Good question. No one knows. Said Jesus to two of his disciples: “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, ‘The teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.’” And that ‘certain man’ opened his house and made it available for the most solemn meal that has ever graced any tablecloth in this world.

Who owned the donkey upon which Jesus rode into Jerusalem? Good question. No one knows. Jesus sent some of his disciples to fetch it, and as they were untying it, their actions were questioned by the owner. But that person was soon pacified with the answer, “The Lord needs it”, and readily gave his lowly beasts to be used in the most joyous procession that has ever weaved its way through this world.

Funny isn’t it. Two heroes of the Faith whose acts of obedience are known, but whose names are not. Anonymity, generosity and charity, in perfect harmony. And O to be more like them – to glory in quietness, than to hunger for a name. Some musicians penned a song with a chorus that went this way: “I’m just a nobody, trying to tell everybody, about Somebody, who saved my soul…. And if they all forget my name, well that’s alright with me; I’m living for world to know nobody but Jesus.” And may it ever be alright with me.