Part 16 (1/2)

The scene under these trees has been spoken of by almost all, if not by all, as a strange struggle. With a great variety of explanations men have wondered why He agonized so. It _was_ a strange struggle, and ever will be, not understood, strange to angels and to men and to demons. It is strange to angels of the upper world, for they do not know, and cannot, the terrific meaning of sin as did Jesus. It is strange to all other men except Jesus, for we do not know the meaning of purity as Jesus did. And it was strange to demons, for in the event of the morrow sin was working out a new degree of itself, a new superlative, in its final attack on Jesus. Sin was trying to strangle G.o.d. Even demons stared.

Purity refined beyond what angels knew, and sin coa.r.s.ened beyond what demons knew were coming together. Purity's finest and sin's coa.r.s.est were coming together in the closest touch thus far, in this Man under those old brown-barked gray-leaved, gnarly trees. The shock of such extremes meeting would be terrific. It _was_ terrific here under the trees. It was yet more so on the morrow. Here was the cross in antic.i.p.ation. Calvary was in Gethsemane.

Man never will understand the depth of Gethsemane. We are incapable of sympathizing with Jesus here. Yet it is true that as the Holy Spirit within a man increases the purity, and the horror of sin, there comes an increasing sense of sympathy with Him, and an increasing appreciation that we cannot go into the depths of what He knew here. In the best of us sin is ingrained. Jesus was wholly free from taint or twist of sin. He knew it only in others. Now He, the pure One, purity personified, was coming into _closest_ contact with sin, and sin at its worst. He had been in contact with sin in _others_. He had seen its cruel ravages and been indignant against it.

Now, on the morrow, He is to know sin by a horrid intimacy of contact, and sin at a new worst. He was yielding to its tightest hold. Sin at its ugliest would stretch out its long, bony arms and gaunt hands, and fold Him to itself in closest embrace and hold Him there. And He was allowing this, that so when sin's worst was done, He might seize it by the throat and strangle it. He would put death to death. Yet so terrific is the struggle that He must accept in Himself that which He thereby destroys.

This is the agony of Gethsemane. It may be told, but not understood. Only one as pure as He could understand, and then only under circ.u.mstances that never will come again.

The horror of this contact with sin is intensified clear out of our reach by this: it meant _separation from His Father_. The Father was the life of Jesus. The Father's presence and approving smile were His suns.h.i.+ne. From the earliest consciousness revealed to us was that consciousness of His _Father_. Only let that smile be seen, that voice heard, that presence felt by this One so sensitive to it, and all was well. No suffering counted. The Father's presence tipped the scales clear down against every hurting thing.

_But_--now on the morrow that would be changed. The Father's face be--hidden--His presence _not_ felt. That was the climax of all to Jesus.

Do you say it was for a short time only? In minutes y-e-s. As though experiences were ever told by the clock! What bulky measurements of time we have! Will we never get away from the clocks in telling time? No clock ever can tick out the length to Jesus of that time the Father's face was hidden. This hiding of the Father's face was the climax of suffering to Jesus.

<u>Alone.</u>

It was a very full evening for Jesus. In the upper room of a friend's house they meet for the eating of the Pa.s.sover meal. There is the great act of was.h.i.+ng His disciples' feet, the eating of the old Hebrew prophetic meal, the going out of Judas into the night of his dark purpose, the new simple memorial meal. Then come those long quiet talks, in which Jesus speaks out the very heart of His heart, and that marvellous prayer so simple and so bottomless.

Very likely He is talking, as they move quietly along the Jerusalem streets, out of the gate leading toward the Kedron brook, and then over the brook toward the enclosed spot, full of the great old olive trees. The moon is at the full. This is one of His favorite praying places. He is going off for a bit of prayer. _So_ He approaches this great crisis. There is a friendly word spoken to these men that they be keenly alert, and _pray_, lest they yield to temptation. It is significant, this word about temptation. Then into the woods He goes, the disciples being left among the trees, while He goes in farther with the inner three, then farther yet, quite alone. Intense longing for fellows.h.i.+p mingles with intense longing to be alone. He would have a warm hand-touch, yet they cannot help Him here, and may do something to jar.

Now He is on His knees, now p.r.o.ne, full length, on His face. The agony is upon Him. s.n.a.t.c.hes of His prayer are caught by the wondering three ere sleep dulls their senses. ”My Father--if it be possible--_let--this--cup--pa.s.s_--from--me--Yet--_Thy--will_--be done.”

The words used to tell of His mental distress are so intense that the translators are puzzled to find English words strong enough to put in their place. A frenzy of fright, a nightmare horror, a gripping chill seizes Him with a terrible clutch. It is as though some foul, poisonous gas is filling the air and filling His nostrils and steadily choking His gasping breath. The dust of death is getting into His throat. The strain of spirit is so great that the life tether almost slips its hold. And angels come, with awe stricken faces, to minister. Even after that, some of the life, that on the morrow is to be freely spilled out, now reddens the ground. The earth is beginning to feel the fertilizing that by and by is to bring it a new life.

By and by the mood quiets, the calm returns and deepens. The changed prayer reveals the victory: ”My Father, if this cup _can_not pa.s.s away except I drink it--if only through this experience can Thy great love-plan for the race be worked out--Thy--will”--slowly, distinctly, with the throbbing of His heart and the iron of His will in them, come the words--”Thy--will--be--done.” In between times He returns to the drowsy disciples with the earnest advice again about being awake, and alert, and praying because of temptation near by.

And gentle reproach mingles in the special word spoken to Peter. ”Simon, are you sleeping? Could you not be watching with me _one hour_?” Yes, this was Simon now, the old Simon. Jesus' new Peter was again slipping from view. Then the great love of His heart excuses their conduct. What masterly control in the midst of unutterable agitation! Back again for a last bit of prayer, and then He turns His face with a great calm breathing all through those deep lines of suffering, and with steady step turns toward the cross.

Calvary: Victory

<u>Yielding to Arrest.</u>

It is probably close to midnight when Jesus steps out from among the trees to meet the crowds headed by the traitor. He knew they were coming, and quietly goes to meet them. There is a great rabble that the chief priests had drummed up, a city rabble with Roman soldiers, some of the chief priests' circle, and in the lead of all, Judas. Judas keeps up the pretense of friends.h.i.+p, and, advancing ahead of his crowd, greets Jesus with the usual kiss. Jesus dispels the deception at once with His question of reproach, ”Betrayest thou with a _kiss_?” d.a.m.nable enough to betray, but to use love's token in hate's work made it so much worse. Then He yields to Judas' lips. It was the beginning of the indignities He was to suffer that night. Jesus quietly adds, ”Friend, do what you have planned.

Let there be no more shamming.” But Judas' work is done. The silver secured under his belt is earned. He drops back into the crowd.

Jesus steps out into the clear moonlight, and faces the crowd pressing eagerly up. His is the one masterly, majestic presence. Quietly He asks, ”Whom are you hunting for?” Back comes the reply, ”Jesus of Nazareth.”

Jesus at once replies, ”I am He.” Again, that strange power of Jesus'

presence is felt, but now more marked than ever before. The crowd falls backward and down to the ground. Soldiers, priests, crowds, Judas lying p.r.o.ne before Jesus! Again the question and the answer, and then the word spoken on behalf of His followers. This manifestation of power is _for others_ this time.

Recovering themselves, the crowds press forward. The bewildered Peter makes an awkward stroke with a sword he had secured and cuts off the right ear of a man in the front of the crowd. Jesus gently stops the movement with a word. The Father would even then send twelve legions of angels if He were but to give the word. But He was not giving words of that sort, but doing what the Father wished. With a word of apology for His impetuous follower, the man's ear is restored with a touch. Surely _he_ never forgot Jesus.

The leaders, now satisfied that Jesus will not use His power on His own behalf, seize Him and begin to bind His hands. As He yields to their touch, Jesus, looking into the faces of the Jewish leaders, said, ”You hunt me and treat me as though I were a common robber. I have never tried to get away from you. But now for a while things are in your control, the control of the powers of night.”