The Power of Gethsemane

In preparation for Shiloh's Bible @ Boston's series, I am comparing the Gospel Crucifixion narratives, beginning with the Passover meal and Jesus' establishment of a new religious ritual. Several events occur during that fateful meal that portend the danger that is to come for Jesus and his followers. After the meal, the troupe heads out together for the Garden of Gethsemane. It is what happens there that speaks loudest to me this Lenten season of Jesus' profound faith and willingness to pursue God's will, at all costs.

After the meal, the disciples sing a hymn with Jesus and go out to the Mount of Olives, to a garden there, as was Jesus' custom, according to Luke's account. At Gethsemane, Jesus asks his disciples to wait and to watch. He takes with him Peter and James and John, and they depart from the others. Jesus encourages his closest disciples to pray, "that they might not enter into temptation." Jesus removes himself a short distance and prays.

He prays something like this: Father, if it is possible, I pray that you remove this cup from me. Let this hour pass. Yet, let not just what I will to be done. But let what you will be done.

Years ago, I read a great, insightful novel about the plight that Jesus, and we, face. It was entitled "The Last Temptation of Christ," by Nikos Kazantzakis. In the final moments of the narrative, Jesus hangs, in agony, on the Cross. He whispers the pathos of the moment, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" In the moment that follows, Kazantzakis writes Jesus envisioning a life that might have been, a life that could have been, a life of human contentment and practical pleasures. At the same time, Jesus realizes that his act of sacrifice is not being accomplished for himself, but for the benefit of every person who has, does and will live. It is about them. It is not about Jesus. In the next instant, Jesus sees the wonderful value of his ministry and gives voice to his acceptance of that mission by stating, "It is finished." Jesus breathes his last and dies.

No one, it seems to me, desires suffering and death. If a person exhibits any form of sanity, his or her first impulse is to remain alive and well. In his Gethsemane prayer, Jesus articulates for faithful people throughout time the mantra of sacrificial ministry. "Please, Lord, do not ask me to do this. It's very painful. Yet, if it be your will, then I will do as you ask."

Can we feel the depth of Jesus' struggle? Do we simply write off his suffering as being somehow covered up in his divinity? Do we ignore the pain and the emptiness of Jesus' calling because we call him The Son of Man?

It is sad, I think, that we do. For, if we were to feel Jesus' struggle, we might much better be able to understand our calling. See now, the point of Lent is not just Jesus. It is not just about his journey to the sacrifice of the Cross. It is also about ours. It is about human tendency to turn away from the sacrifice, to a life of human need and desire, to human benefits and practical applications, to longevity and selfishness. Lent encompasses each and every calling, highlighting for each the cost of discipleship and apostleship.

Lent is a spiritual discipline, to pray in order that we not enter into the temptation that lies between "Why have you forsaken me" and "It is finished." Three times there in the garden, Jesus returns to his disciples, only to find them sleeping. "Could you not remain awake for even one hour?" he asks them. "Nevertheless, rise, my betrayer is at hand." He says. "So the Son of Man is placed into the hands of sinners."

We weep for the arrested Jesus because we feel our own faithfulness being tested. The disciples, we are told, scattered, like sheep whose shepherd is struck. They would not enter into Jesus' suffering and death. They remained safe and secure, though frightened. We stand, with them, on the periphery of Jesus' sacrificial ministry. We stand, isolated from our own.

Lord, even if it costs us everything, do your will in us and through us.

See you at Bible @ Boston's, each Wednesday in Lent, 6:00 - 7:00 p.m. at Boston's Bistro and Pub.