In the Garden

I will write each day about some aspect of Holy week, according to the Scriptural references that record Jesus’ last days on earth.   I will not interpret Jesus’s thoughts and action but will instead take the point of view of an observer to these singular events, puzzling, wondering and discovering insights that may illuminate our own walk through Holy Week.

Today’s scripture is Matthew 26:36-40. 

Then cometh Jesus with them unto a place called Gethsemane and saith unto his disciples, Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder. And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very heavy.  Then saith he unto them: My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. Tarry ye here and watch with me.  And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me:  Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou will.  And he cometh unto the disciples and findeth them asleep, and saith unto Peter, What, could ye not watch with me one hour?

Joan was suffering, having lost her young son to cancer. This child had been a neighbor and friend of Mary and a playmate to her own five-year-old. The recent loss was felt deeply by the entire neighborhood.  One afternoon, Mary went to call her little boy indoors for supper when he walked in the back door.  Where have you been? she questioned.  I’ve been with Joan, he answered.  I helped her today.   Mary wondered what a young child could possibly have done to help this grieving woman, when her son finished his story:  I sat beside her. We cried together.

Jesus’ time in the Garden followed a long day and a long week in which he was constantly surrounded by people.  He longed for a quiet respite to pray and grieve before the tumultuous and painful events ahead.  That evening, Jesus did not ask for insight or understanding from even his most intimate disciples.  It seems that the time for explanations and pledges of loyalty were over and efforts to bring the disciples into deep understanding of what was about to happen ceased.  Now, Jesus needed to pray and share his doubts and sorrow as well as his resolve.  He did not ask others to give him advice or problem-solve.  He just wanted them to tarry with him.

It’s a shame that tarry is one of those words (the dictionary calls it archaic) that has fallen out of common usage. We substitute the words wait and stay and even stop for tarry, but they don’t quite satisfy.  Tarrying means to linger, to be slow to depart, and to stay around a place or with someone for a while. When we tarry with someone, we accompany them; we are a companion to them. Our presence may be all that is needed.  I sense this about Jesus’ time in the garden.  Jesus needed to know that someone was nearby, alert and sensitive, someone whose loyalty and love he could count upon, despite Jesus’ own singular calling.  Even his rebuke speaks to this. In the garden that night, he did not ask for advice. He did not require clear understanding from his disciples. He just wanted to know someone was lingering and sharing His sorrow.

Like the grieving mother, I have felt this way.  I don’t always need someone to understand exactly what I am going through.  I just need them to tarry with me, to know that they are there, not impatiently (or patiently) waiting, but lingering for a while with me in my sorrow or grief, in my confusion or dismay, or in the throes of a decision.  Tarrying is love without words.  Tarrying needs only the language of Presence. 

I don’t add my own rebuke or pass judgement on sleepy disciples and less-than-faithful friends.  I have sometimes been the one who was insensitive to the depth of another’s grief; I have failed to pay attention even to a dear friend’s dilemma.  I have shown up, but have not always known what to do or what words to say.  I could instead have given the simple gift of my presence. That truly was all that was needed.  I have not always been as wise as a little five-year-old who knew the wisdom of tarrying, of lingering awhile and letting Love do the work that words cannot.  

There is something about gardens that invite us to tarry.  Perhaps that is why Jesus withdrew to Gethsemane to a quiet place.  He didn’t need someone to fix things or tell him things would soon be “all better.” He just needed someone to cry with him for a while in a peaceful place.  He also needed to linger a while in the Presence of God. He felt Love doing the work that words could not.  In that tarrying time, he found the courage and solace he sought. 

The gates to this garden (painted by another artist) open to one of my collages- a flower-rimmed garden path that invites the visitor to tarry a while. While we tarry, we accompany others, and are in turn accompanied by them.  Linger a while here and listen for the Voice so Sweet the Birds Hush their Singing.  (this phrase and the words below are from the old hymn In the Garden)

I come to the garden alone

While the dew is still on the roses

And the voice I hear,

Falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me

And He talks with me

And He tells me I am His own

And the joy we share

As we tarry there

None other has ever known.