The Jesus we see in the Garden of Gethsemane is not the Jesus we are used to. We are more familiar with a gentle Jesus, as he tells His disciples to “let the little children come to me” or teaches His disciples how to pray. We are pretty comfortable with hearing the challenging teacher, who tells such insightful stories, and who faces down a bloodthirsty crowd by telling them, “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.” By now, we expect to see a powerful Jesus who turns water into wine, stills the storm and feeds the five thousand. By now, we expect to hear Jesus boldly calling out demons by name and telling them to get lost. On this Thursday night, we may be surprised to see Jesus so upset, so intensely burdened in prayer that his sweat was like blood. Are we not surprised to hear Jesus pray, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me...”?
On the other hand, the disciples that we see that night are exactly what we are expecting. Jesus says, “One of you will betray me,” and they all ask, “Surely it’s not me, is it?” Jesus says, “You will all desert me tonight,” and Peter says, “I would even die for you!” Jesus says, “Stay awake and pray with me,” as Jesus prays for his very life…and they all fall asleep. Oh yes, we expect the disciples to be clueless, though we are still shocked that one of his closest followers would betray him. We expect the disciples to want to do their best, and if they come up short on loyalty, courage and sleep, well…we understand. We understand the disciples’ responses, because they in some ways mirror our own responses, don’t they? Jesus says someone will betray me, and we say, “Not me…uh uh…not me,” but we often betray our faith for comfort. And how often do we desert the One Who could be our Lord and Savior because we are afraid or confused? When things are easy, we are quick to say like Peter, “I would even die for you,” but when push comes to shove…well, sorry Lord. And we are so easily distracted and exhausted by the news or our gadgets or our plans, that we forget to keep watch and pray. When we are honest with ourselves, we understand the disciples’ responses, because they could be our responses. Sometimes they are our responses. We, too, have failed Jesus.
The Jesus we see in the Garden is not what we are used to, not what we are comfortable with, and certainly not what we expected…but maybe just the Jesus we need. The Jesus we find in the Garden is battling with God, with Himself and with the forces of darkness that are arrayed against Him. Of all the moments of His life to this point, this must be the hardest—asked by God to face a brutal and painful death, living with fear and despair, betrayed and abandoned by His friends. But in this hardest moment, we see true victory achieved as Jesus suffers. Because Jesus suffered in the Garden, when we battle with God and ourselves and the forces of darkness, we know Jesus is with us. And that changes everything. In his book, Breathing Underwater: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, Richard Rohr writes, “Many of the happiest and most peaceful people I know love a God who walks with crucified people, and thus reveals and ‘redeems’ their plight as his own. For them, Jesus is not observing human suffering from a distance, but is somehow in human suffering with us and for us.”[1] Because Jesus won that battle, with Him on our side, we know we can battle and have victory. But there’s something even more mysterious at work in the Garden—Jesus shows us that the road to true holiness runs through deep suffering. Rohr asks, “Would any of us even learn to love at all if it was not demanded of us, taken from us, and called forth by human tears and earthly tragedy? Is suffering necessary to teach us how to love and care for one another?”[2] The short answer is…yes! So if we struggle to find meaning in our own pain, we would do well to gaze long and hard at the Jesus we see struggling in the Garden. In the end, Jesus prays, “Not my will, but yours be done,” and He finds peace that will carry Him through the rest of the night and that next awful day. Watching how Jesus endured the shadows, even a centurion could see that “Truly this is the Son of God.” May Jesus’ struggle and His Presence, give us the grace to endure, and to pray to our heavenly Father, “Not my will, but yours be done.”
[1]Richard Rohr, Breathing Underwater: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps (2011), p. 122.
[2]ibid. p. 123.