The First Station: Jesus in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane

The Bible is sometimes a strange document. I’ve often wondered what it would look like if we had an editor who could rid it of inconsistencies and had a better grasp of writing effective prose. If I was such an editor, I’d certainly make several changes. And one of the first would concern the Garden of Gethsemane.

     In this passage, we’re eavesdropping on Jesus as he prays in the Garden. We hear the odd soundbite, which gives the impression of Jesus talking to God, maybe arguing, about the task ahead. There’s a delicacy about it and almost a reticence. The prose is sparse and says almost nothing. It’s almost as if Jesus is asking God in a polite way to reconsider. But if we look at a parallel passage that’s usually avoided because it’s not in the Gospels at all but is embedded in the Letter to the Hebrews. Hebrews 5:7 says, ‘During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.’

     Taken together, these verses invite us to change our vision of Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. He’s not so much praying as pleading. Jesus is imploring God with every grain of his spiritual life to release him. He feels sick with dread … but dread of what?

     Jesus knew what death by crucifixion was like — we know for example that the Romans sometimes forced the common people to look at their countryfolk being crucified, to witness the agony, because it cowed them into submission. Bullies are always the same.

     Jesus’ dread could be a fear of death, but I don’t think so because the Gospels always show him as a courageous man: we see him facing demons, cleansing the Temples, and standing in the prow of a tiny sinking boat and stopping a life-threatening storm.

     Jesus’ agony in the Garden is different because it’s a spiritual battle. His life is so bound up with his relationship with God that it is his life. And he knows that ‘the cup’ he is about to drink will be so infect his soul with sin — your sin and mind — that the relationship will stop as effectively as a car crash. That’s why he’s shouting into the freezing night air on a barren hillside. He knows the imminent spiritual pain of his loss will be greater than the physical pain of crucifixion.

     The Bible is sometimes a strange document. But this much is clear: the story here is big and very, very painful. And we’re being invited to share this journey.