“…
TO A PLACE CALLED GETHSEMANE”
Rev. James
Clubine
Holy Week
Service - Tuesday, March 18, 2008
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
Mark 14:32-42
Text: Mark 14:32 They went to a place called Gethsemane;
and he said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’
Introduction
They had all promised to be there for him. The disciples, that is, for Jesus. In that upper room as Jesus was preparing them for
the way things were about to unfold and Peter stood up and swore never to desert him. Jesus in foresight responded that he would deny him
before the next day dawned. But Peter insisted vehemently that he would not deny him. Mark adds; ‘And all of them said the same.’
We often hear that said of
someone or to someone. “You were always
there for me” or “I’ll be there for you” and in these statements we
speak of our willingness to stand with someone, to be a support, someone who can be called
on to show up when the chips are down. “Don’t
worry Jesus we’ll be there for you”, the disciples were sure they could and
would.
Later that same evening ‘they went to a
place called Gethsemane.’ It is here
that Jesus asks them to just be here for him. He
needs their presence and encouragement. This
seems one of the few times he needs something from them – mostly the gospel accounts
tell us of what Jesus is doing for others; and he said to his disciples, ‘Sit here
while I pray.’ He wants someone close as
he prays, not to do anything, just to be there. I
know it does not approximate the magnitude of what our Lord is facing but we may relate to
a moment like when we are facing a surgery or recovering from an illness and to open our
eyes and see a loved one sitting there – somehow there presence enables us. As he goes a little further to pray he takes with
him Peter, James and John – these three who he is particularly close with.
A place called Gethsemane.
For three years he has spoken to us, preached, taught, exhorted, and
instructed us. And then there had been this
wonderful last couple of days, along with many others before, when Jesus has dedicated so
much personal time with only these disciples. In
John’s gospel a large portion is dedicated to the conversation on that last evening
(5 chapters of the 21). They, and we, were the
ones who were once directly addressed but here in the garden we are rendered bystanders,
overhearers of a conversation deep in the heart of the Trinity.
To Peter, James and John he had said; ‘I am deeply
grieved, even to death: remain here, and keep awake.’
The enormity of what is coming upon Jesus is overwhelming him. Have you ever been so consumed with the anguish of
something and you can’t really think of what a loved one present with you can do for
you, so you just say; just stay here. Jesus’
word to his disciples here has that sound and feel – ‘remain here and keep
awake.’
I have heard of people dying from a broken heart. We know the interwoven relationship of our physical
heart and the heart of our being such that the overwhelming of emotions can stop the
heart. Perhaps you have been in one of those
moments when the pain of your inner heart felt as though your very life were threatened. This is what Jesus is experiencing – “I
am deeply grieved, even to death” – and it becomes quite evident; ‘and
going a little further, he threw himself on the ground and prayed.’
In this place called Gethsemane you can hear the
desperation in his voice as he prays. He begs
the one he calls his father; “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove
this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.” Can we really appreciate the terror that is in
Jesus heart as he begs and begs for something different and clings desperately to his
resolve to submit to the will of the Father? So
deep is the anguish it is a prayer that he continues to pray over and over. Have you ever begged for something? I mean really
begged. Most of the things I begged for were
more of the pestering variety so I could get what I wanted.
As I listen in on this prayer of Jesus – his cry is in a different
league entirely. This is the cry of a broken
heart asking the one he knows loves him and the one he loves for a different outcome. “Please, let us not go down this road”
– a road he sees is fracturing their relationship.
Imagine, if you can, what it was like for the one Jesus
calls ‘my Father’ to hear this prayer – to have to insist that that there
is no other road. I know how hard it is to
resist the begging of my children when they asked for things that either I couldn’t
give them or were not in their best interest. To
the child is feels ever so mean, for the parent we want to give them what they want even
when we know better. And who among us can say
no to a grandchild?
I cannot imagine what it is like for the Father to
remain silent and by that silence insist on the course of action. To answer ‘no’ to the continued prayer of
the Son, the one of whom he said in the voice; This my son, the beloved, with whom I am
well pleased. This course of action is tearing
them apart – a course that will culminate in a few hours when Jesus will cry –
‘My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.’
It is hard for us to hear such pleading and to watch, what appears to us,
the inaction of the Father to do anything about it. We
can’t even stand to listen to a child beg for candy from a parent in a grocery aisle
for long.
As we listen in on this conversation deep in the heart
of the Trinity, what was it like for the Spirit of God who must support the Son in his
obedience to the Father on a course that is ripping them asunder? The point is – I
don’t think we have any way to know what this is like for the Triune God – and
the thing that makes it so very difficult to embrace is the idea that this is all for our
sakes – ‘and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.’
And where are the disciples as this drama is unfolding? Not once, but three times Jesus turns from his
praying to find the help of those who would all be there for him - ‘and he came and
found them sleeping.’ To be fair, it was a long day and how could they possibly grasp
the enormity of what was taking place. Is this
not a picture of humanity – unaware of our need while God is working our redemption
out for us – God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.
Humanity asleep to the enormity of our sin –
unaware of the desperation of our plight, not cognoscente of what Paul calls the utter
sinfulness of sin. Here is our Saviour
wrestling with the magnitude of the agony that will be his for our sakes as our iniquity
is laid on him and humanity’s response is to question whether things are really that
bad. To be fair, we cannot appreciate it
because we are in our sin – like the person living their entire life in a prison cell
never knowing what freedom really is like.
Friends, I know of no words to describe the sinfulness
of sin – to explain how is it that the price that needs to be paid is the death of
Jesus – to put us in touch with the reason why ‘this cup could not pass from
him.’
With respect to that I would say that we get a glimpse
of how dreadful it is to be left in our sin by watching this great agony of Jesus as he
prays for another way. To listen in on the
conversation between the Father and the Son shows us that they think everything is at
sake, for our sakes, on staying the course to the cross.
We may not be able to explain why it must be so, yet we can see that it is
so, in the agonizing cry of our Saviour in prayer, as we come again to a place called Gethsemane. .
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