The Groan in the Garden
©ETHSEMANE, which had so often invited Jesus to its shady groves,
and where nature held communion with nature’s God, and voice of
prayer had mingled with the perfume of bursting bloom, was now to
become a wailing place, where agony should dethrone comforting
joy, and where invocation and praise-offering should give place to prayer of
lamentation.
The crisis — grim, ghastly, overpowering, — was at hand, and Christ sought the seclusion of Gethsemane in which to strengthen His soul against the hour of His supreme suflfering. Peaceful garden, still as a sleeping babe, scarcely a zephyr stirring leaf of olive, branch of fig, or twig of pomegranate, while the round moon throws down her silvery stairway as if bidding all the world to mount into the skies. Into this quiet retreat Jesus and the eleven entered, as voice of hallelujah reached their ears, borne on the still night-air from worshipers in Jerusalem; the song of the psalm singer, “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name give glory, for Thy mercy and for Thy truth’s sake.” And, “Blessed be He that cometh in the name of Jehovah.” Strange words were these now, though sung at the concasion of the Passover feast, for, instead of giving glory to God, the priests wre coming to execute His Son, to condemn His mercy, to stifle truth. Jesus listened until the song was finished, then turning to His disciples He bade eight, of them remain by the gate, while with Peter, John and James He went a little further towards the deeper shades. Here He paused, and with a look of grieving He said to them, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death; tarry ye here and watch with Me.” Now see Him turning slowly away, and retiring alone a short distance, to the bending bow of an olive tree under which the shadows lie deepest. My God! Mark Him now, as in agony He drops down and falls on His face, and tears fill His eyes, and intense suffering wrinkles His brow, and appalling grief quivers on His lips. Oh, hear His prayer, rolling up from His immaculate soul and filling all the heavens with grief, “Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee. O, My Father, if Thou be willing, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not My will, but Thine be done.” God not only hears that prayer, but all the eternal hosts fall down in sorrow, and all heaven is in lamentation; and out from that bright land where other grief is unknown came speeding a winged
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messenger, a celestial comforter, bearing words of encouragement; but His is a grief which even angels may not assuage. Again see Jesus in prayer, with yet more earnest supplication, and see how His anguish has started the bloody sweat upon His forehead, falling, drop by drop, upon the ground, precious sacrifice for sinful men. Oh, can it be, can it be, that this is Jesus, who gathered fragrance from the frankincense brought to His cradle, and from lilies that flung their sweetness into His sermons, and from the box of alabaster that broke at His feet? Is this Jesus, the comforter at Bethany, the resurrector at Nain, the oculist at Bethsaida? Is this the Christ, whose frown is the storm, whose smile is the sunlight, the spring morning His breath, the thunder His voice, the ocean a drop on the tip of His finger, heaven a sparkle on the bosom of His love, the universe the flying dust of His chariot wheel? Is this Christ, who is able to heal a heart-break, or hush a tempest, or drown a world, or flood immensity with His glory? Ay, it is He, the I^ord of earth and heaven; He who had dwelt in the palaces of eternity, and to whom all worlds owed allegiance! Yes, it is our Lord sufiering all torments of which His human nature is capable.
After an hour of soulful prayer, Jesus rises and goes to the three disciples whom He had set to watch, but they, overcome with sorrow, had fallen asleep. He first rouses Peter, that most fervidly earnest one, of whom He asked, not in spirit of complaining, “Couldst not thou watch one hour?” and to the others He addressed a like question, saying, “Why sleep ye? Rise, watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
After thus arousing and counselling them, Jesus went away again and prayed as before, but returning a second time He found the three disciples still sleeping, and awakening them He retired for a third time, and yet again returned to find them in deep slumber. Poor souls, it had been a week of excitement with them, in which fear and grief had kept a mastery of their senses, until exhausted, they could endure no more. Sleep had dropped down like a curtain to hide from them the anxieties which had come, and which were increasing; therefore said Jesus, “Sleep on now, and take your rest for a little while. You could do nothing to aid Me; the hour is come when I shall be betrayed into the hands of- sinners.” But soon He again disturbed them, saying, “Rise up; let us go; behold, he that betrayeth Me is at hand.”
What was the Cup of Bitterness?
If Jesus was sent into the world to be made a sacrifice for our sins; if, in the divine economy, it was ordained from the beginning that He should suffer and make expiation for the transgressions of all nations and all generations; and if in Him were the attributes of a God, why did He agonize when the hour of fulfillment of his mission was at hand?
In Jesus, as before explained, there was the dual nature of man and God, He being the link which bound the human to the spiritual, thus being a mediator between mankind and God. Having been sent as an example to man, His human nature had predominance for the time over his spiritual nature, otherwise those whom He taught would have been less able to comprehend Him. In His acts He exhibited the power of a God, but in His teachings and examples His human
ANCIENT OLIVE TREES IN THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.
attributes showed most conspicuously, and hence He was subject to and alike sensible to human pleasures and sufferings.
But why did God, the Father, accept His Son as a sacrifice for the sins of the world? Christ and God being one, did God share the agony with Christ, and if so how? An incident of history will best answer these questions.
Story of the Captain’s only Child.
A captain set sail across the Atlantic with his ship heavily laden with valuable merchandise. He had a large crew of men of different nationalities picked up from among the many sailors who resort to the wharves of great seaport cities, seeking engagements. This captain had a son, a bright boy of a dozen years.
with blue eyes, and tender looks, and affectionate ways, ever obedient, devoted to his father, and faithful to any duty entrusted to him. It would be a strange father who did not love such a son, and it would be stranger still if his affections were not increased by the fact that he was an only child. Our love is like our senses: If we lose an eye the other receives additional strength; if one of our arms be cut off the other becomes abnormally developed; if we lose hearing in one ear the other grows more acute, and thus it is that nature compensates somewhat for such losses. The same law of re-enforcement applies to our affections: If a man have many children he loves them all, but the man who has only one child is more devoted to it, he loves it with a deeper intensity than if his love were distributed among several.
Well, this captain loved his only son with such attachment and fervidness that he was miserable when the boy was out of his sight, he was always fearful lest some harm should come to him.
The voyage had not been entirely propitious at the start, but when the ship was not far from the coast of the country to which she was sailing a storm arose. The wind first came beating up from the south, and dark clouds rolled up in the west, and as they boiled and grew more ominous the batteries of heaven opened fire, turning cloud into blaze and dazzling flash and thundering roar. The captain saw that a gale would follow, which might develop into a dangerous storm, and he made haste to prepare for it. The sails were furled, save the main-course retained to give the ship steerage way; the jib and main, and the studding sail and the square-sail booms were secured, the hatches were batted down, and the ship made ready to run with bare poles before the wind. Soon the storm struck her with such force that a landsman on board would have thought the ship doomed. With stroke of wind came dash of wave; and while the ratlines and the stays rattled like hail on a window-pane, the great billows dashed up in mad endeavor to rend and engulf; higher and higher came the waves, fiercer and fiercer grew the winds, the thunder pealed louder, the lightning flashed faster and more blinding, and the rain beat down in torrential flow. Oh, it was a terrible storm, and nothing but a strong ship could weather it. After hours of battling, the horror of the situation was a thousand times increased by the discovery that the ship’s timbers were sprung by the irresistible impact of tremendous waves, and she was making water rapidly.” To the pumps! To the pumps!” Every man of that crew must now do his duty, it is a work against death, human power opposing element of wind and wave, with darkness coming on. But labor, as they might, the water gained steadily in the hold and the mad billows rolled up and over in greater fury. What is that noise roaring like thunder in pulsation above the howling of furious blast and madly impetuous surge? Breakers! Breakers! Heave the anchor! But it will not hold. Eire the gun! But it cannot be heard.
THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN. — Drawn by Dore.
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Send up the rockets! Alas, who shall touch them off in the sea that is now running over as well as under? Who will carry a distress signal to the peak of the main royal yard — the peak halliards are blown away with the main royal yard! Who will go up? No one volunteers; it is an undertaking that seems to involve certain death, and though death is striding the deck, better to meet him there than away up among the topmost yard arms. Every face is pinched with fear, every breath is stilled to hear a word of encouragement. Presently a thin voice pours itself into the captain’s ear: “Father, I will go up.” See the tears rush into his eyes, and where there was boldness and determination before, see now an emotion which wrings that father’s heart. But time is precious, beyond the hurtling clouds lies heaven; beyond the storm lies the sunshine.” My brave boy, here is the distress signal, carry it up; when my beloved child is willing to make such a sacrifice, God is not far off.” The child seizes it in a firm hand and mounts to the maintop, “Oh, father, the wind blows so hard.” “lyook up, my son, and go on,” and the child climbs to the main cap. “Oh, father, it is so dark that I cannot see you.” “Look up, my son, and go on.” And still upward the fear-beset boy climbs until his feet are on the cross-trees. “Oh, father, my limbs are weak and I am almost blown off.” “Look up, my son, and go on.” With nerveless grasp the heroic child still ascends until he reaches the main royal yard, where the main royal mast has been broken off by the force of the wind wrestling with the pennant. And there he fixes the signal. What a shout went up from the crew. Brave boy, a hero among a million, all the world must know of that act, generations must not forget it. But the father is silent, his heart seems to have been frozen by the icy terror that was upon him from the moment that his beloved and only child left the deck to clinjb the ratlines and the topmost mast, until God delivered him safely into his arms again. See the answering signal from the shore. Now the life-boats put out; closer and closer they draw, while the foundering ship moves swiftly towards the rocks. Boom! It is the glad sound of the gun that fires the lifeline. It struck, and, God be praised, it is made fast. Saved. Yes, through the heroism of that boy, the idol of a father, the whole crew is saved. What though the ship be lost, shall our gladn&ss be less? No, it shall be all the greater, for now we know that the crew also would have been lost but for the sacrifice alike of father and only child.
The Arrest of Jesus.
When Judas went out of the supper room he repaired quickly to the high-priest and with him completed arrangements for arresting Christ. Caiaphas sent to the tower of Antonia and secured the services of a squad of Roman soldiers, while other members of the Sanhedrim enlisted a multitude — we know not how many — of the mobocratic spirits who were ready to undertake any enterprise that ‘VVHV SLKKP VK?”
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promised them a small reward. They went well prepared to resist any defence which might be made by the followers of Jesus, for they were armed with spearsand staves and other weapons. They also took with them torches and lanterns, for though the moon was at the full, the shades of Gethsemane were deep, and if Jesus should tr>’ to escape by hiding, lights would be necessary in prosecuting a search. Judas led the armed crowd into the garden where he knew Jesus often resorted, promising to approach Him in the guise of friendship and at the proper time betray Him to the officers by a kiss.
Jesus had seen the moving lanterns as they flashed through the trees and vines, and knew that His enemies were approaching, and He moved forward to where lay the sleeping disciples, whom He aroused, and made ready to receive the coming crowd. Judas being in the van, was first to address our lyord, saying, “Master, Master,” in a tone of affected friendship, and then, drawing near enough, kissed Him on the cheek. To the first salutation Jesus replied in a manner which seems to indicate that He did not know the traitorous motive of Judas, for He replied,” Friend, wherefore art thou come?” but when the kiss was given, there was to Jesus an apparently sudden revealment of the purpose, and He hurtfully asked, “Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?”
Whom Seek Ye?
The salutation of Judas brought the officers forward, whom Jesus accosted: with the inquiry, “Whom seek ye?” They answered, “Jesus of Nazareth.” “I am He,” was the fearless reply, uttered with a majesty that well became aking of earth and of heaven. “I am He; what would ye? If ye come to arrest or to kill Me, behold, here I am; do what you will.” The officers were not only amazed by the boldness of His acknowledgment, but were for the moment overcome with fear. Did they believe that He was the Messiah, and that they were in danger of being destroyed, as were the fifties sent to arrest Elijah, by an indignant God? Struck with terror, the crowd fell to the ground, and Jesus might have gone out of their presence without any effort made to stay Him, but He would not now set aside the cup prepared for Him. And again- assuring them that He was Jesus whom they sought. He submitted to arrest. As an officer, named Malchus, a chief servant of Caiaphas, laid hand upon Him, Peter was so wrought up by the indignity thus put upon his Master, that, whipping out his sword, he struck violently at the officer, who avoided the fatal blow intended, but suffered the loss of an ear. Jesus reproved this exhibition of rashness in the fervid Peter, saying, “Put up again thy sword into its place; for all they that take the sword shall perish by the sword;” and with a touch He healed the wound. But. Jesus could not well repress the scorn He felt for the outrage which His enemies, had come to inflict upon Him, through the mad envy and prejudice of ecclesiastical.
bigotry. He asked them why they came in such force of arms to bind Him, as though He was a thief who had fled from justice; why they would thus invade His privacy when He had been daily preaching in the synagogues, and being so
THE KISS OK BiCTRAVAl. — Drawn by IJida.
publicly before them that they might at any and more seemly time and occasion have arrested Him. But while He was thus talking, the officers were binding Him, and the disciples seeing Him now completely within the power of His enemies, they began to think of their own safety, and escaped, save Peter and John, who did not wholly abandon Him, but followed the procession, keeping well in the rear, back to the city. As they walked along, a young man, with only a linen cloth to cover his nakedness, was drawn by some motive to follow the crowd, and was rudely seized by one of the officers, but he escaped, leaving his single garment in the hands of the man who would take him. Tradition says this young man was Mark, but with no other reason than that the incident is only recorded by that Gospel writer.
Jesus Before Caiaphas.
Though it was after the middle watch of the night, Jesus was taken at once to the palace of the high-priest, or rather to the high-priests, for Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, was acting jointly in the office with Caiaphas. Eate as the hour was, there was such excitement, anxieties, and doubtless jubilations of the priests over His arrest, that when Jesus was brought into the court of the palace, Annas began at once to question Him, asking about His disciples, who they were, what devotion they had shown, where they were from; and then he would know something about His doctrine. Jesus did not remain silent, but spoke boldly, saying, “Why, I have spoken openly to all the world; I have had no secret motives; all My teachings have been imparted in the synagogues before large audiences of the Jews. Why, therefore, do you ask Me such questions, when you might have answer from any of the thousands who have heard Me.” The freeness of His speech, and His refusal to cringe in a spirit of abjection to the high-priest, was resented by one of the subservient minions of Annas, who gave Jesus a blow with the palm of His hand, at the same time asking, like a rowdy, “Answerest Thou the high-priest so?” The pale cheek of Jesus took on the flush of pain, and He said, “If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou Me?”
The Denial of Peter.
When the procession passed into the palace, John, who was evidently that other disciple, unnamed, went in with the crowd, but Peter, who had followed at some distance in the rear, when he came to the door was refused admittance, or else stood hesitating to make his desire for entrance known. John soon discovered his absence and going out obtained permission of the woman who guarded the door for Peter to enter. Both must therefore have been present when our Eord suffered the outrage of a blow from the hand of a guard, and this showed them that there was now no longer hope that Jesus would use His heavenly-given power to avert one tittle of the suffering which He had declared to them would be visited upon Him. Despair and grief filled their breasts, they realized that the inevitable was humiliation, outrage, condemnation and crucifixion. It were well if they escaped like punishments.
The open court in which Jesus and the crowd stood was very large, and the
morning hours
having come it
grew so cold that
a fire was started, around
which the assemblage gathered and sat
down, Peter being among the
rest. As they
were warming
themselves the
porteress came
in, and as Annas
doubtless desired identification of the strangers that had
followed Jesus,
she pointed to
Peter and said
to the officers,
” This man was
with Jesus of
Nazareth,” and
directly to him,
“Art thou not
one of this man’s
disciples?”
Peter had occasion for a double fear, because he was not only under sus- Tvpicai, jkwish maiukn. — l-Vom The O’/n’s/iau Herald.
picion by reason of his being a disciple, but he was liable to punishment for having made an attack upon Malchus. He was now wholly within the power of his enemies, the officers of the law, and hence we ma well excuse him for first giving an ambiguous answer, and afterwards declaring that he even did not know Jesus. But his answer, made as it was under circumstances which may well give him pardon for his denial, nevertheless sorely troubled his conscience; He rose up and went out, but as he passed through the door and out onto the porch the cock crew. Here he stopped, desiring yet to linger as near Jesus as it was prudent, but was soon accosted by another woman, who accused him before all the servants that were there of being a disciple, but again Peter denied, with an oath, that he had any knowledge of Jesus.
About an hour afterward a kinsman of Malchus approached Peter, saying, “Did I not see thee in the garden with Him? “ajid several other servants, who had been among those who arrested Jesus, crowded around him, each presenting proof that Peter was one of the disciples, one of them saying,” Surely thou art one of them; for thou art a Galilean, as thy speech plainly shows thee to be.” Then seeing that he was certainly exposed unless some awful expedient be adopted, Peter began to swear and curse, and otherwise to demean himself so unlike the reverent spirited disciples, that he diverted the strong suspicion directed against him. But as he was thus manifesting a sinful nature which he really did not possess, giving voice to imprecations and to emphatic denials of the accusings of the servants, Peter heard the cock crow again, and was startled by the appearance of Jesus as He was being led out of the court, who, as He passed by, cast a halfreproachful look upon the miserable disciple. On the instant Peter’s tongue lost its cunning as he recalled the warning and prediction of Christ. The enormity of his sin rose up before him in a cloud of self-condemnation. He saw as by a flash how truly Jesus had measured his single-devotedness and how weak was the faith which he had asseverated and believed was invincible under the ordeal of any test. Hemorse overwhelmed him and he went out of the court weeping bitterly.