CHAPTER LVII. GETHSEMANE-THE AGONY AND THE ARREST. "Non mortem horruit simpliciter ... peccata vero nostra, quorum onus illi erat impositum, suâ ingente mole eum premebant."-CALVIN (ad Matt. xxvi. 37). THEIR way led them through one of the city gatesprobably that which then corresponded to the present gate of St. Stephen-down the steep sides of the ravine, across the wady of the Kidron,1 which lay a hundred feet below, and up the green and quiet slope beyond it. To one who has visited the scene at that very season of the 1 The reading of St. John, répa тoû xeiμáßßov tŵv kédρwu (xviii. 1; &, D, TOû Kédρov), is probably no more than a curious instance of the Grecising of a Hebrew name, just as the brook Kishon is in 1 Kings xviii. 40 called xeiμaßßos Koσv (of the Ivies): cf. LXX., 2 Sam. xv. 23; Jos. Antt. ix. 7, § 3. Wo do not hear of any cedars there, but even if Tv Kédpwv be the true reading, the word may have been surfrappé by the Evangelist himself; TOû kedpúv is, however, the most probable reading. The Kidron is a ravine rather than a brook. No water runs in it except occasionally, after unusually heavy rains. Nor can we see any special significance-any "pathetic fallacy "-in the name Kidron, as though it meant (Stier vii. 220) “the dark brook in the deep valley," with allusion to David's humiliation (1 Kings xv. 13), and idolatrous abominations (2 Kings xxiii. 4, &c.), and the fact that it was a kind of sewer for the Temple refuse. "There," says Stier, "surrounded by such memorials and typical allusions, the Lord descends into the dust of humiliation and anguish, as His glorification had taken place upon the top of the mountain." This attempt to see more in the words of the Gospel than they can fairly be supposed to convey would soon lead to all the elaborate mysticism and trifling of Rabbinic exegesis. u year and at that very hour of the night—who has felt the solemn hush of the silence even at this short distance from the city wall-who has seen the deep shadows flung by the great boles of the ancient olivetrees, and the chequering of light that falls on the sward through their moonlight-silvered leaves, it is more easy to realise the awe which crept over those few Galilæans, as in almost unbroken silence, with something perhaps of secrecy, and with a weight of mysterious dread brooding over their spirits, they followed Him, who with bowed head and sorrowing heart walked before them to His willing doom.1 We are told but of one incident in that last and memorable walk through the midnight to the familiar Garden of Gethsemane. It was a last warning to the disciples in general, to St. Peter in particular. It may be that the dimness, the silence, the desertion of their position, the dull echo of their footsteps, the stealthy aspect which their movements wore, the agonising sense that treachery was even now at work, was beginning already to produce an icy chill of cowardice in their hearts; sadly did Jesus turn and say to them that on that very night they should all be offended in Him-all find their connection with Him a stumbling-block in their path—and the old prophecy should be fulfilled, "I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered abroad." And yet, in spite of all, as a shepherd would He go before them, leading the way to Galilee ?3 They all repudiated the possibility of such an abandonment of their Lord, and Peter, touched 1 Luke xxii. 39. Matt. xxvi, 31-35; Mark xiv. 27-31. already by this apparent distrust of His stability, haunted perhaps by some dread lest Jesus felt any doubt of him, was loudest and most emphatic in his denial. Even if all should be offended, yet never would he be offended. Was it a secret misgiving in his own heart which made nis asseveration so prominent and so strong? Not even the repetition of the former warning, that, ere the cock should crow, he would thrice have denied his Lord, could shake him from his positive assertion that even the necessity of death itself should never drive him to such a sin. And Jesus only listened in mournful silence to vows which should so soon be scattered into air. So they came to Gethsemane, which is about half a mile from the city walls. It was a garden or orchard1 marked probably by some slight enclosure; and as it had been a place of frequent resort for Jesus and His followers, we may assume that it belonged to some friendly owner. The name Gethsemane means "the oil-press," and doubtless it was so called from a press to crush the olives yielded by the countless trees from which the hill derives its designation. Any one who has rested at noonday in the gardens of En-gannim or Nazareth in spring, and can recall the pleasant shade yielded by the interlaced branches of olive and pomegranate, and fig and myrtle, may easily imagine what kind of spot it was. The traditional site, venerable and beautiful as it is from the age and size of the grey gnarled olive-trees, of which one is still known as the Tree of the Agony, is perhaps, too public-being, as it always must have been, at the angle formed by the two paths which lead over the summit and shoulder of Olivet to be regarded as the actual spot. It was more 1 Kŷwos (John xviii. 1); xwpíov (Matt. xxvi. 36). probably one of the secluded hollows at no great distance from it which witnessed that scene of awful and pathetic mystery.1 But although the exact spot cannot be determined with certainty, the general position of Gethsemane is clear, and then as now the chequering moonlight, the grey leaves, the dark brown trunks, the soft greensward, the ravine with Olivet towering over it to the eastward and Jerusalem to the west, must have been the main external features of a place which must be regarded with undying interest while Time shall be, as the place where the Saviour of mankind entered alone into the Valley of the Shadow. Jesus knew that the awful hour of His deepest humiliation had arrived-that from this moment till the utterance of that great cry with which He expired, nothing remained for Him on earth but the torture of physical pain and the poignancy of mental anguish. All that the human frame can tolerate of suffering was to be heaped upon His shrinking body; every misery that cruel and crushing insult can inflict was to weigh heavy on His soul; and in this torment of body and agony of soul even the high and radiant serenity of His divine spirit was to suffer a short but terrible eclipse. Pain in its acutest sting, shame in its most overwhelming brutality, all the burden of the sin and mystery of man's I had the deep and memorable happiness of being able to see Gethsemane with two friends, unaccompanied by any guide, late at night and under the full glow of the Paschal moon, on the night of April 14th, 1870. It is usually argued that the eight old time-hallowed olive-trees cannot reach back to the time of Christ, because Titus cut down the trees all round the city. This argument is not decisive; but still it is more probable that these trees are only the successors and descendants of those which have always given its name to the sacred hill. It is quite certain that Gethsemane must have been near this spot, and the tradition which fixes the site is very old. existence in its apostacy and fall-this was what He must now face in all its most inexplicable accumulation. But one thing remained before the actual struggle, the veritable agony, began. He had to brace His body, to nerve His soul, to calm His spirit by prayer and solitude to meet that hour in which all that is evil in the Power of Evil should wreak its worst upon the Innocent and Holy. And He must face that hour alone: no human eye must witness, except through the twilight and shadow, the depth of His suffering. Yet He would have gladly shared their sympathy; it helped Him in this hour of darkness to feel that they were near, and that those were nearest who loved Him best. "Stay here,” He said to the majority, "while I go there and pray." Leaving them to sleep on the damp grass, each wrapped in his outer garment, He took with Him Peter and James and John, and went about a stone'sthrow farther. It was well that Peter should face all that was involved in allegiance to Christ: it was well that James and John should know what was that cup which they had desired pre-eminently to drink. But soon even the society of these chosen and trusted ones was more than He could bear. A grief beyond utterance, a struggle beyond endurance, a horror of great darkness, a giddiness and stupefaction of soul overmastered Him, as with the sinking swoon of an anticipated death.1 It was a tumult of emotion which none must see. "My soul," He said, "is full of anguish, even unto death. 1 Matt. xxvi. 37, ἤρξατο λυπεῖσθαι καὶ ἀδημονεῖν ; Mark xiv. 33, ἐκθαμβεῖσθαι. Cf. Job xviii. 20 (Aqu., ¿dnuovhσovσiv); Ps. cxvi. 11. See Pearson, On the Creed, Art. iv. n. The derivation may be from à ônuéw, "I am carried away from myself; or, perhaps more probably, from adñoa, "to loathe." It is remarkable that this verse (Matt. xxvi. 38), and John xi. 27, are the only passages where Jesus used the word ʊx of Himself. |