Ep. 122: Gethsemane

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MATTHEW 26:30-56, MARK 14:26-52, LUKE 22:31-53, JOHN 18:1-11

Edersheim sets the scene:

‘The last teachings had been spoken, the last prayer had been offered and Jesus prepared to leave the city for the Mount of Olives. The streets still bustled, lamps were still lit from homes on the way and everywhere were the preparations for going up to the Temple, the gates of which were thrown open at midnight. Passing out by the gate north of the Temple, we descend into a lonely part of the Kidron valley, at that season swelled into a winter torrent. Crossing it, we turn somewhat to the left, where the road leads towards Olivet. Not many steps farther we turn aside from the road to the right and reach what tradition has since earliest times pointed out as ‘Gethsemane’ the ‘Oil-press.’ It was a small enclosed property, ‘a garden’ in the Eastern sense, where probably, amidst a variety of fruit trees and flowering shrubs, was a lowly and quiet summer-retreat connected with the olive press.’

It was here that the Lord addressed himself first to the disciples generally. It had been foretold of old that the Shepherd would be smitten and the sheep scattered. Did this prophecy of his suffering fill the mind of the Saviour? Such Old Testament thoughts concerned him, when, as the Lamb of God. He went to the slaughter.

They had now reached the entrance of Gethsemane. It may have been that it led through the building with the oil press and that the eight Apostles were left there as he went onwards and prayed. The other three - Peter, James and John - companions before of his glory, both when he raised the daughter of Jairus and on the Mount of Transfiguration - he took with him further. As if in that last contest his human soul craved for the presence of those who stood nearest him and loved him best.

And now all of a sudden, the cold flood broke over him. Within these few moments. He had passed from the calmness of assured victory into the anguish of the contest. Increasingly, with every step forward. He became full of sorrow and desolate. He told them of the deep sorrow of his soul even unto death and asked them to stay there to watch with him. Jesus went forward to enter the contest with prayer. They only saw the beginning of the battle, they only heard the first words in that hour of agony. For, as was the case on the Mount of Transfiguration, irresistible sleep crept over them. Jesus was now well and truly alone.

Edersheim stirs us up:

‘But what was the cause of this sorrow unto death of the Lord Jesus Christ? Not fear, either of bodily or mental suffering, but death. Man’s nature, created of God immortal, shrinks from the dissolution of the bond that binds body to soul. Yet to fallen man death is not by any means fully death, for he is born with the taste of it in his soul. Not so Christ. It was the Unfallen Man dying; it was he, who had no experience of it, tasting death and that not for himself but for every man, emptying the cup to its bitter dregs. It was the Christ undergoing death by man and for man; the Incarnate God, the God-Man, submitting himself vicariously to the deepest humiliation and paying the utmost penalty, death. His going into Death was his final conflict with Satan for man and on his behalf. By submitting to it he took away the power of death.’

Alone must the Saviour enter in this final contest, as in his first conflict with the Evil One in the Temptation in the wilderness. With great agony of soul. He now began to take upon himself the sins of the world and in taking, dealt with them. We may learn from this account of what passed, when, ‘with strong crying and tears to him that was able to save him from death,’ he ‘offered up prayers and supplications.’

And now, on his knees prostrate on the ground, prostrate on his face, began his agony. His very words bear witness to it. It is the only time, so far as recorded in the Gospels when he addressed God with the personal pronoun, my Father.

The object of the prayer was, that, if it were possible, the hour might pass away from him. The subject of the prayer was that the cup itself might pass away, yet always with the limitation, that not his will but the Father’s might be done. The petition of Christ, therefore, was subject not only to the will of the Father but also to his own will that the Father’s will might be done. We are here in full view of the deepest mystery of our faith, the two Natures in One Person.

It was in this extreme agony of his soul almost unto death, that the Angel appeared (as in the Temptation in the wilderness) to ‘strengthen’ and support his body and soul. And so, the conflict went on, with increasing earnestness of prayer, in that terrible hour. For the appearance of the Angel must have indicated to him, that the cup could not pass away. And at the close of that hour, the disciples would have seen the terrible toll, as his sweat, mingled with blood, fell in great drops on the ground.

And when the Saviour returned to the three. He found them in deep sleep. While he lay in prayer, they lay in sleep. The conflict had been decided virtually but not finally when the Saviour went back to the three sleeping disciples. He now returned to complete it, though both the attitude in which he prayed (no longer prostrate) and the wording of his prayer indicate how near it was to perfect victory. And once more, on his return to them. He found them in a state of doziness, and they didn’t know how to answer him. Yet a third time he left them to pray as before. And now he returned victoriously. After three assaults had the tempter left him in the wilderness; after the threefold conflict in the garden. He was vanquished.

Jesus emerged triumphantly. The hour had come when the Son of Man was to be betrayed into the hands of sinners. A very brief period of rest soon broken by the call of Jesus to rise and go to where the other eight had been left, at the entrance of the garden - to go forward and meet the band which was coming under the guidance of the betrayer. And while he was speaking, the heavy tramp of many men and the light of lanterns and torches indicated the approach of Judas and his band. During the hours that had passed all had been prepared. The scene was now set for the next stage in the drama.

Later on, when, according to arrangement, he appeared at the High Priestly palace, or more probably at that of Annas, who seems to have had the direction of affairs, the Jewish leaders first communicated with the Roman garrison. By their own admission, they no longer possessed the power of pronouncing a capital sentence. Because of this fact (so fully confirmed in the Gospels), it was clear that the Sanhedrin had sought formally to pronounce on Jesus what, admittedly, they had not the power to execute.

Nor, indeed, did they, when appealing to Pilate, plead that they had pronounced sentence of death, but only that they had a law by which Jesus should die. The Sanhedrin, not possessing the power of the sword, had, of course, no way of carrying this out. The Temple guard under their officers served merely for policing purposes and were neither regularly armed nor trained. Neither would the Romans have tolerated a regular armed Jewish force in Jerusalem. We can now understand the progress of events.

In the fortress of Antonia, close to the Temple and connected with it by two stairs, lay the Roman garrison. During the Feast, the Temple itself was guarded by an armed cohort, consisting of from 400 to 600 men, to prevent or quell any tumult among the numerous pilgrims. It would be to the captain of this cohort that the Chief Priests and leaders of the Pharisees would, in the first place, apply for an armed guard to arrest Jesus, on the grounds that it might lead to a popular uprising. This band was led not by a Centurion, but by a Chiliarch, which, as there were no intermediate grades in the Roman army, must represent one of the six tribunes attached to each legion.

This Roman detachment, armed with swords and ‘staves’ was accompanied by servants from the High Priest’s Palace and other Jewish officers, to direct the arrest of Jesus. They bore torches and lamps placed on the top of poles, to prevent any possible concealment. Having joined them, Judas proceeded on his errand. A signal by which to recognise Jesus seemed necessary with so large a band and where escape or resistance might be apprehended. It was - terrible to say - none other than a kiss. As soon as the act was done, the guard was to seize and lead him safely away.

We thus picture to ourselves the succession of events. As the band reached the garden, Judas went somewhat in advance of them and reached Jesus just as he had roused the three and was preparing to go and meet his captors. He saluted him, ‘Hail, Rabbi,’ so as to be heard by the rest and not only kissed but covered him with kisses, kissed him repeatedly, loudly, effusively. The Saviour submitted to the indignity, not stopping, but only saying as he passed on; ‘friend, do that for which you are here’.

Leaving the traitor and ignoring the signal which he had given them, Jesus advanced to the band and asked them, ‘Whom do you seek?’ To the brief spoken, perhaps somewhat contemptuous, ‘Jesus the Nazarene,’ he replied with infinite calmness and majesty, ‘I am he.’ But his appearance and calmness were too overpowering in its effects on those ignorant soldiers, who perhaps were most reluctant in the work they had in hand. The closest of them fell backwards to the ground.

But Christ’s hour had come. They laid hands on Jesus and took him. Then Peter, seeing what was coming, drew the sword which he carried and struck at Malchus, the servant of the High Priest - perhaps the Jewish leader of the band - cutting off his ear. But Jesus immediately restrained all such violence and rebuked all outward violence and pointed to the fact how easily he might have commanded Angelic legions. He touched the ear of Malchus and healed him.

Their leaders now bound Jesus. It was to this last, most undeserved and uncalled for indignity that Jesus replied by asking them, why they had come against him as against a robber - one of those wild, murderous Sicarii? Had he not all that week been daily in the Temple teaching? Why not then seize him? But this ‘hour’ of theirs that had come, and ‘the power of darkness’ - this also had been foretold in Scripture! And as the ranks of the armed men now closed around the bound Messiah, none dared to stay with him, in case they also should be bound as resisting authority. So, they all forsook him and fled. But there was one there who didn’t flee but remained, a deeply interested onlooker. When the soldiers had come to seek Jesus in the upper chamber of his home, Mark, roused from sleep, had hastily cast about him the loose linen garment that lay by his bedside and followed the armed band to see what would come of it. He now lingered in the rear and followed as they led Jesus away, never imagining that they would attempt to lay hold of him since he had not been with the disciples nor yet in the garden. But they had noticed him. They attempted to grab him, when, disengaging himself from their grasp, he left his upper garment in their hands and fled. So ended the first scene in the terrible drama of that night.

This is an extract from the book, Jesus : Life and Times, available for £12 here (Finalist for Academic Book of the year at 2023 CRT awards)