…and [Jesus] began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them… (Mk. 14:33-34)
As we reflect this week on Christ’s death and resurrection, I often find myself thinking about Jesus in Gethsemane. This began several years ago, when I had some abdominal surgery to correct a kidney problem. The day of the surgery, I had a slight feeling of nervousness – like butterflies in my stomach. As the hour drew nearer, my attitude became much more solemn, and the anticipation of what was to come waxed alongside my anxiety. Even though I was a Christian at the time, and had all the prayer support, theology, and faith to know that I could face the operation with peace and confidence in God’s providence, my emotions we still high. I knew that some measure of pain and suffering awaited me.
As I’ve thought about that day, I feel like it was a taste – an infinitesimally small taste, mind you – of Jesus’ distress before he was crucified: There I was, surrounded by friends and family who I knew were behind me, and would not leave me. There Jesus was, surrounded by friends who would soon abandon him, thanks in part to a friend who sold him out. I was about to be given over to a staff of medical professionals who had spent countless hours of study and practice learning how to preserve and protect life, to ease suffering, to bring comfort, and to heal, all under the auspices of a government with laws regulating every last inch of my care to ensure its efficacy and safety for my good.* Jesus was about to be given over to a staff of professionals whose raison d’être was to torture and kill, to maximize suffering, and bring utter humiliation.
If I think about it from this angle, I can catch at least the trajectory of Jesus’ anguish, and again, in very small measure, appreciate his passion. My thoughts, of course, ignore the much greater mental anguish that Jesus endured, as he anticipated abandonment by the Father, and bearing the full brunt of his holy wrath. For this suffering, by God’s grace, I have no good example from my own life from which to imagine Jesus’ pain.
It is no joyful thing, but meditating on the Passion helps us appreciate the seriousness of sin, and the price Jesus paid to free us from it, and all while we were still sinners. Our own sense of thankfulness towards another is usually closely coupled to our appreciation of the price they paid to help us. Attempts to understand the depths of Jesus’ suffering can only deepen our gratitude for the glorious salvation we freely receive at his expense.
Amazing love! How can it be,
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
bmarchio
danny
Boston Bible Geeks 