Gethsemane is synonymous with unutterable suffering, distress, mental torment and the prelude to a most cruel suffering and death. It was, in the case of Jesus, the culmination, before his death, of a perfect life lived in love, compassion and grace.
In the last couple of posts we have referred to Gethsemane as a type or picture of human desolation, abandonment and ruination – but the Gethsemane of Jesus was an experience of a different depth altogether. At one level Gethsemane assures us that whatever darkness or sorrow we are called upon to contemplate or experience, whatever mental agony we might face – there is one who has gone there before us. I also believe implicitly that the sufferer of Gethsemane suffers with us.
And yet, in the darkness and agony of Gethsemane there is still light, even in the case, of perhaps I should say, especially in the case of Jesus – hard although that is to believe.
Not long before the agony of the garden – the place of the oil press, literally and metaphorically, Jesus had celebrated a Passover meal with his disciples – the same passover meal which, for generations, had symbolised his soon coming suffering – the bread and the wine prefiguring his soon to be broken body and blood. At the end of the meal – as he knowingly faced the darkness and depth of Gethsemane and Golgotha – Jesus sang. Because we know the format of the Passover seder we know that the Psalms sung, often called the Hallel were Psalms 113-118. So the Psalm sung by Jesus as he contemplated Gethsemane and Golgotha was the last of these – Psalm 118. And it was with the promises of that Psalm ringing in his ears and heart that he walked out into the darkness of the garden.
In the circumstances Jesus was about to face this is an amazing Psalm – its words are full of meaning, promise, assurance and hope. We mention only a few –
Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good!
For His mercy endures forever.
I called on the Lord in distress;
The Lord answered me and set me in a broad place.
The Lord is on my side;
I will not fear.
What can man do to me?
The Lord is my strength and song,
And He has become my salvation.
I shall not die, but live,
And declare the works of the Lord.
I will praise You,
For You have answered me,
And have become my salvation.
The stone which the builders rejected
Has become the chief cornerstone.
This was the Lord’s doing;
It is marvellous in our eyes.
This is the day the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.
You are my God, and I will praise You;
You are my God, I will exalt You.
Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good!
For His mercy endures forever.
Cuban born Priest, Father Eduardo Barrios, notes – ‘Jesus addresses his heavenly Father with an Aramaic word, “Abba,” a filial expression alien to formal worship: “Abba, Father, you can do it all, take this cup away from me!” (Mk 14: 36).’
And yet it was his Abba who appears to have given no positive answer – no way of escape for the one he had earlier called ‘My beloved son.’ Nevertheless, as we noted in our previous post, Jesus could still say to his disciples – ‘You will be scattered, each to his own, and will leave Me alone. And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me.’ (John 16:32). Even in Gethsemane – even at Golgotha, even on the cross, and even in the absence of his Abba’a voice – Jesus knew that he was not alone and the Psalm he had so recently sung still held true –
I called on the Lord in distress;
The Lord answered me and set me in a broad place.
The Lord is on my side;
I will not fear.
What can man do to me?
The Lord is my strength and song,
And He has become my salvation.
I shall not die, but live,
And declare the works of the Lord.
As we move on from Gethsemane to Golgotha we fall, at least I do, in to a very real sense of unknowing. Theologians may try as they will to explain and dissect the meaning of the cross in their attempts to build systematic theologies and theories – but, as far as I can see they all, ultimately, fail. The cross and its meanings are many faceted and incredibly wonderful – but at its core it remains a mystery. I have broached this subject here before so won’t do it again. However, I am not alone here. The Orthodox academic, writer and Priest, Father Stephen Freeman writes – ‘There are not infrequent attempts to create an antinomy of the theology of the Cross and a theology of glory. It is a false distinction when we understand that Christ Crucified is the revelation of the glory of God.’
However, in the light of the relationship between The Father and The Son, and by extension his relationship with us, personally, I am convinced that at its most fundamental and mysterious level Jesus was never separated from his Abba. For the cross to mean anything, in the final analysis Abba himself hangs there too – with Him in Him – with us – in us. I do not subscribe to the modern theory and its hymnology which allege that ‘The Father turns His face away’. Put very simply Jesus assurance and assertion ‘I am not alone, because the Father is with Me’ precludes such a suggestion. A cursory reading of the Messianic Psalm, Psalm 22, from which Jesus is actually quoting as he cried out in dereliction from the cross, also confirms this – ‘For He has not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; Nor has He hidden His face from Him; But when He cried to Him, He heard.’
So what is the practical application of all of this – what does it meant for us? It is the ultimate assurance that His promise is true – ‘He will not leave you or forsake you.’ (Hebrews 13:5–6; Deuteronomy 31:6–8). So the Apostle Paul, a man who had more than his fair share of troubles, could say – ‘We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.’ (2 Corinthians 4: 8&9). It means that in the darkest of our valleys he is there – even in our hell he is there (Psalm 139) – he is never absent, never uninvolved – no matter how much our personal Gethsemane or Golgotha scream otherwise. And when we feel ourselves falling – we find ourselves ultimately held even closer. In all our distress and failure we are embraced in the blood soaked arms of crucified love.
Dear suffering Lamb! Thy bleeding wounds,
With cords of love divine,
Have drawn our willing hearts to Thee,
And linked our life with Thine.
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