Pilgrim adventures- Gethsemane
“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.” I had prayed the prayer probably 100 times, maybe 200, but this was different. I was sitting on a bench with ancient olive trees around me, looking at Jerusalem’s tan walls rising two stories high, defending the plaza where the Jewish temple once stood. I used the words that were penned by king David 3000 years ago, “Jerusalem is a well-built city; its seamless walls cannot be breached. All the tribes of Israel- the Lord’s people- make their pilgrimage here. They come to give thanks to the name of the Lord,” (Ps 122:3-4).
Each year, dating back to the generations following Moses in 1500 BC, the tribes of Israel would make their way from around the region of Canaan, an area about the size of Inyo County to the east of the Mediterranean Sea, up to the hilled city of Jerusalem in the center of the country. And now, so many millennia later, the pilgrims have diversified even further. Jewish refugees from Russia,
Iraq, Iran, Libya and dozes of other nations have come to Jerusalem to return to their ancestral home. Muslims come great distances to visit the Shrine of the Rock, with its captivating golden dome toping the cityscape like a lit candle on a cake.
And followers of the Jewish Messiah, Jesus, come from Brazil, America, France,
Tanzania, India, Korea, and all the corners of the Earth to see the spots where their savior was born, lived, died and was raised.
The orchard where I was sitting and praying was one such place. The Garden of Gethsemane. It was here, two thousand years ago, that Jesus was handed over to the roman soldiers by Judas, with a kiss, to be crucified. This was the garden of Jesus’ last prayers. It isn’t an English garden, lush and green, with cute trimmed hedges and large, colorful peonies. It is a Middle Eastern garden, mostly dirt, a few scattered flowers, and dozens of gnarled olive trees, their small leaves sage green, and their wrinkled trunks, full of personality, like druids frozen eons ago. In fact, some of the largest trunks, as wide as a full dining room table, date back to the time of Christ.
It was here, in this rustic olive orchard that Jesus threw himself down in agonized prayer. Usually, he would sneak away at night, or early in the morning, by himself, to share intimate and lifegiving communication with his Heavenly Father, but not this night. This night he grabbed his sleepy friends and said, ‘I need you to stay up with me.’ Why was this prayer different? What was he afraid of? What did he need defense from?
The word ‘Gethsemane’ means olive press. The Jewish olive press was a massive stone that would be placed on top of a stone pedestal. Between the stones was placed the crushed olive pulp, and hour by hour, as the stone pressed down on the olives, the precious olive oil would drip down and be collected in a basin below. This is a physical image of what was happening to Christ in the garden. His Father, God, asked him to place himself in the press. And as he courageously yielded to the Father’s will, the very weight of the world’s sins started to crush him, pressing out of him the exceedingly valuable courage, sacrifice, love, and even precious blood, that the world needed to cover their sins. As he prayed, his friends falling back asleep, his sweat was,
“like drops of blood falling to ground” (Lk 22:44).
In today’s world, we don’t think much of our sins, our pretense, our fears, our selfishness, our anger. We grade ourselves on a curve. ‘I’m doing better than most people.’
And we expect that if there is a God, he must be kind, and ready to accept us into heaven when we die. But God, in a garden outside the walls of Jerusalem, showed us a different, deeper, perspective on sin. He showed us that the consequences, the weight of sin, was enough to crush the world’s only perfect person. It was enough to rend the seamless relationship he had with His Heavenly Father. It was heavy enough to kill God.
If we can face this, without turning away, then it produces a soul that is broken and humble. We believe in our hearts, ‘I deserve what Christ endured.’ It should have been me in the garden, on the cross, not him. He didn’t deserve it, I did. And from that broken place, with our heads hanging down, the soil of our hearts are now ready to hear God’s most powerful words. “I did it because I love you. I was crushed, because I wanted to protect you from having to face the weight of your own sin. I was cast out, so that you could be brought in.” The garden can be the place we find both humility, and acceptance.
Together in the Journey,
Father Cam Lemons
(Father Cam Lemons serves at St. Timothy’s Anglican Church. Service is at 9 a.m. on Sunday at 700 Hobson St. in Bishop. He also serves at Trinity Memorial Anglican Church in Lone Pine. The service there is at noon at 220 N. Lakeview Road. For more information, go to StTimothysBishop.com.)