The reading that
we have just heard is amongst the most powerful and moving images of Jesus that
we have. In it, we are allowed a brief insight into the frame of Jesus' mind
prior to his arrest and subsequent trial, humiliation and execution. His fear
is so real that it is tangible: it is so strong that we could almost be experiencing
it with him; and he makes no effort to hide this terrible, all-embracing fear
from his closest companions, instead choosing to openly confess it.
The language used is incredibly potent: we hear Jesus declare that he is sorrowful "even to the point of death"; in speaking of Judas he uses the term, "betrayer". The author, Mark, speaks of "fear" and "distress", and the whole scene is awash with haunting descriptions of this terrible time and events. If we think that this is bad, it is even more gruesome in Luke's Gospel, for Luke views this scene with the eyes of a doctor. He refers to Jesus' anguish being so complete and so severe that it causes him to sweat blood.
We are also allowed to see Jesus' true humanity. Knowing the terrible fate that awaited him, Jesus asked that God might "remove this cup" from him. I wonder how many of us have also entreated God to spare us those things that scare us? How many of us have asked God to "remove this cup" in times of trial, personal loss, exhaustion, weakness; in feelings of self-worthlessness, of uncertainty, pain, or despair? I certainly have, and, I suspect, I am not alone. But do we have the courage - or are we faithful enough - to add the final clause that Jesus used: "Yet may it be as you, not I, would want"?
I remember that many years ago, I had to lead a small group of young men in a time of meditation and prayer. As the theme for the evening, I had chosen the part of this Reading that focuses on Jesus' prayer and, especially, on his acceptance of God's will. We silently meditated on Jesus' words for some twenty minutes and then took turns quietly explaining to the others, what we had perceived through our meditation. One of our colleagues told us that he had often used Jesus' entreaty to spare him an awful ordeal - the impending death of his mother - but he had never found the courage, even in prayer, to submit fully - as Jesus had done - to God's will. His mother had died shortly after, and he grieved deeply for her loss. He went on to explain that it had only been during the quiet time of our meeting that he had finally permitted himself to think of his loss as God's will, and, with this came his own, final acceptance of that will. With this realisation, he said, came an inner calm that he had not known for a very long time, along with something closer to an understanding of why his mother had died so tragically young. I am sure that many of us could recount similar tales.
What's in a name?
At the garden of Gethsemane - which gets its name from the Hebrew for 'oil press' - Jesus exhorted his disciples to be vigilant in prayer. Yet, time and time again, he returned to them only to find them sleeping. You may have noticed in the Reading that Jesus' patience seems to have worn a little thin when he spoke to Peter, castigating him for having fallen asleep. Here Jesus uses grave words of rebuke, which, although applicable to all, are addressed directly to Peter.
We might ask why Jesus, at this time, would have elected to revert to Peter's original given name to address him. The name, Cephas, as given to Simon by Jesus, comes from the Aramaic version of the Greek, Peter, which has its roots in the word, petra, for 'rock'. As you are probably aware, Jesus gave the name Peter (Cephas) to Simon, saying to him, "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church."
Now we can begin to more clearly understand the dismay felt by Jesus in this most terrible time of trial when the one chosen as his 'rock', the very foundation on which the church was to be built, failed him by not staying awake and praying. Under the same circumstances, we might have thought, 'If this is the person entrusted to be the Earthly foundation of my church, there will soon be nothing left of it!' Jesus may have thought this - or something similar - when he returned to them the third time and, finding them still sleeping, declared that they could sleep on and rest. In this, we witness Jesus' knowledge of finality and the impending completeness of his life-bound ministry. The failure of those closest to him - Peter, James and John - to do as he asked of them, is absolute. Now the crisis is almost completely over, and the betrayer is near; now they might as well sleep. Jesus' words, though, should not be thought of as containing bitterness towards his disciples: but there is clearly a hint of irony, tempered with profound sadness.
Keeping awake in Jesus
The sleepy nature of the disciples, at a time when they ought to have remained awake and praying, is something that, I suspect, some of us here may have seen reflected in our own lives. From a personal perspective, there have certainly been times when I have failed Jesus: when I have forgotten or refused to pray; when I have turned away from him; when - even as an alleged modern-day disciple of his - I have failed to more than half-heartedly follow him. Perhaps Peter and the early disciples and followers of Jesus felt the same guilt, especially after his arrest, trial, humiliation and death.
As we know, many of these early Christians suffered horrific and brutal deaths at the hands of the many opponents of Christianity. Even Peter, who had so clearly failed the Lord at Gethsemane, followed Jesus to crucifixion - eventually. For Peter, the road to Jesus was often a difficult one to follow. After Jesus' death, Peter became the first missionary preacher, and the leader of the Jerusalem church. However, during Nero's persecutions of the early Christians, Peter was to be found fleeing, for fear of his own life. He then met with Jesus on the road and asked of the Lord, "Domine, quo vadis?" - or: "Lord, where are you going?" Jesus replied, "I am coming to be crucified again." Only then did Peter turn back to the city of Rome to face his martyrdom.
When Jesus addresses the disciples in the garden at Gethsemane, we ought to realise that he is addressing us, too. Along with Peter, James and John, he exhorts us to remain steadfast in prayer, ever aware that, without this most precious of gifts, we, too, are likely to succumb to the time when we are "put to the test." And the test, for us, will be all too clear: without giving ourselves to Jesus and to God in regular prayer, we are prone to being overcome by the sinful character of the world around us and the microcosm of our own desires; we will be severely tempted; we will fall under the weight of this temptation; we will come into profound sin, and we will fail not only ourselves, but our Lord, also.
If we allow this to happen, we align ourselves with Judas, for we will - just as surely as he did - betray Jesus. Judas used a kiss to eternally prove his disloyalty to the Lord: we would be using our very title - "Christian" - in a most blasphemous way, if we desist from regular and heartfelt prayer.
We openly proclaim that we love Jesus and choose to serve him and God. This very concept sets us "a race apart"; it ties us with the gentlest of bonds to our Saviour; it should mould and fashion our very lives, so that we always endeavour to become more like him: and, if we remain steadfast in prayer, it will, in our time, bring us into his eternal and glorious presence.
As we approach Easter, we are all aware that, at Calvary - or Golgotha, if you prefer the Hebrew - "the place of the skull", in English, we are nearing the time that Jesus, nailed to a cross, died to free us from our sins.
Jesus does not ask of us nor expect us to literally follow him to crucifixion, and few, if any, of us are ever likely to have the death of a martyr. But we must remain unfaltering, unswerving and utterly faithful in our devotion and our prayer lives, always praising God and seeking forgiveness for our sins, or one day, as did Peter, we may meet Jesus on the road, and find ourselves asking of him, "Lord, where are you going?" and he will once more reply, "I am coming to be crucified again."
Amen.
(John Stanway)
This sermon was first preached in the Metropolitan Community Church of Manchester. Click here for further information.