After the meal, Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane and said to the disciples, “Stay here while I go over there and pray.” Jesus took along Peter, James and John and started to feel grief and anguish. Then he said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death. Please, stay here, and stay awake with me.” Jesus went on a little further and fell prostrate in prayer: “Abba, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. But not what I want – what you want.” When Jesus returned to the disciples, he found them asleep. He said to Peter, “Could you not stay awake with me for even an hour? Be on guard, and pray that you may not undergo trial. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
Withdrawing a second time, Jesus prayed, “Abba, if this cup cannot pass me by without my drinking it, your will be done!” Once more Jesus returned and found the disciples asleep; they could not keep their eyes open. Jesus left them again, withdrew somewhat and prayed for a third time, saying the same words as before. Finally Jesus returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping? Still taking your rest? The hour is upon us – the Chosen One is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up! Let us be on our way! Look, my betrayer is here.”
While Jesus was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived – accompanied by a great crowd with swords and clubs. They had been sent by the chief priests and elders of the people. Judas had arranged to give them a signal.
“Whomever I embrace is the one,” he had said; “take hold of him.” He immediately went over to Jesus and said, “Shalom, Rabbi!” and embraced him. Jesus said to Judas, “Friend, just do what you are here to do!” At that moment, the crowd surrounded them, laid hands on Jesus and arrested him. Suddenly, one of those who accompanied Jesus drew a sword and slashed at the high priest’s attendant, cutting off an ear. Jesus said, “Put your sword back where it belongs. Those who live by the sword die by the sword. Do you not think I can call on God to provide over twelve legions of angels at a moment's notice? But then how would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen this way?” Then Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I a robber, that you have come armed with swords and clubs to arrest me? Every day I sat teaching in the Temple precincts, yet you never arrested me.” All this happened in fulfillment of the writings of the prophets. Then all the disciples deserted Jesus and fled.
REFLECTIONby James Walker
Waking from a nap during a TV rerun of the 1965 epic film, The Greatest Story Ever Told, my mother mumbled in sleepy horror, "Oh, phooey; I couldn't stay awake with Jesus, just like his disciples. ‘The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.’” I don't remember how I responded to my mother's dazed comment forty years ago — I suspect something smart and/or pious (fully capable of both in those teenage years) — but I do believe we have much to gain if we are able to stay awake with Jesus, in real time.
Once again our annual pilgrimage of Holy Week is upon us. How does the scene in the garden of Gethsemane speak to us today? Each year, I feel called to walk with Jesus into the valley of grief, betrayal and death. We know the story, even as it unfolds, like a familiar song.
My song is love unknown,
My savior’s love to me,
Love to the loveless shown
That they might lovely be.
O who am I
That for my sake
My Lord should take
Frail flesh, and die?
My savior’s love, so great that he feels all that I feel — joy, anxiety, peace, strength, vulnerability, despair. Jesus, clothed in my very human flesh, yet so centered and aligned in God’s love. Jesus shows me the way to live. In this sense, Jesus truly is my savior, the light of my salvation, my saving health. His life of service leads me on the path of abundant life.
And, here at the end of that magnificent life, as friends desert and betray him, as his confidants fall asleep and leave Jesus to his stark loneliness, as he prays to God that this moment would simply pass, Jesus remains steadfast to the life of love — even to execution on the cross.
He came from his blest throne
Salvation to bestow,
But men made strange, and none
The longed-for Christ would know.
But O my friend,
My friend indeed,
Who at my need
His life did spend.
My savior, my friend. Jesus is my companion, my God-in-flesh brother. I used to shy away from language such as this, fearing the mirror of my perceived wacky-fringe family. A personal relationship with Jesus the savior? “Not for me,” I would lie. For the truth is that my close companionship with Jesus has saved my life in the valleys of despair and alienation. It is this dearest of friendships that illuminates my daily path, and it is this cherished sweetness that I pray sings in my heart this week and through eternity.
Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine:
Never was love, dear King,
Never was grief like thine.
This is my friend,
In whose sweet praise
I all my days
Could gladly spend.
—Samuel Crossman (1624-1683)
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