In the song “Mama told me there’d be days like this”, I keep replaying the line in my head, “When you don’t get betrayed by that old Judas kiss”. This morning I read quite a bit about Jesus and the Garden of Gethsemane. I pondered on the photograph I have that my grandfather took of the oldest Olive tree there when he visited that place and how my own grandfather sat beneath it and found himself in awe of the notion that this could have been the very tree Jesus prayed under. The word “Gethsemane” literally means ‘oil press’. It reflects upon what happens there among the olive trees. It was not simply a garden but a working facility. The olives were placed into a press where intense pressure was applied to retrieve the oil. This process was repeated over and over until the only thing left was the dregs… what remained after all the good oil was extracted leaving only the most bitter parts that should be discarded. The worst of the worst if you will. Why am I mentioning the Olive tree and the oil press… and Gethsemane. In theological terms, Gethsemane has a much bigger meaning. I love to stumble upon knowledge that is new to me and how sometimes it finds me right where and when I need it to. Gethsemane. Meaning to feel such immense pressure… Or to experience great mental, psychological or spiritual suffering. It’s not just a place. It is — a part of human existence. The part of the human experience that Our Lord endured. His “Gethsemane”. Where he cried and felt the anguish of the betrayal by one he so closely trusted. Jesus KNEW he was about to be betrayed. Even with the knowledge, he still felt the very human emotion of sorrow. Sadness. So to the point of grief that even knowing death was coming he continued to suffer the pain . Our Savior felt the pain of betrayal. I feel so small and insignificant when reading about Jesus and Judas and Gethsemane. But I know that the pain I have felt is real. I know that Jesus has felt the pain and understands what is in my heart. And reading the passages this morning were meant for my heart today. I have tried every single day to reconcile what has happened in my life since my Judas kissed my cheek. That was more than 3 years ago. It began a constant river of emotion and grief that was a direct attack on me, my life and those who surrounded me. It became relentless. So much so that the only reprieve for my soul would be distance. It stopped the daily wounds but never the chronic attacks. They only became worse and more intent. With much more conspiracy, planning and plotting, it seemed as if there was no conscience left and lies became “truths” and friends became enemies. Family became strangers and some even— enemies. Again. My belief was just don’t engage and keep the peace I’d found in my life. But that wasn’t enough. The attacks kept coming. Usually when I least expected it and always with something I had not even considered. The degree of malevolent behavior was unbelievable. I still could not understand what I had done to deserve this abuse. I did not retaliate. I simply remained on my side of the line that was drawn, not by me I will add, in the proverbial sand. Even when I did reach out, the sting would come back to me ten fold. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. There was no clear resolution. So my grief would ebb and flow until I could find some way to make a peace with it. And then the day came that my Judas would depart this Earth. Left with no explanation or reconciliation for the great divide he alone had created between us and in my life. I had grieved him long before he was gone. But the explanation still haunts me. The divide has remained and perhaps forever will. The destruction left in his wake is immeasurable. The destruction of what once was a family… multiple families now left in crumbles… at least from my point of view. I am only left wondering why. Was there a bag of coins in it for him? Was he hoping I would be tried and convicted of crimes I did not commit? Honestly, I actually was. Tried amongst an unknown jury. Convicted by those who never chose to confront me with my “crimes”. So I sit with it daily. It endures in my mind and resurfaces throughout each day. There are some I have resolved myself to letting go. There are a few… very few… I have not. I struggle with the understanding of why and how this could happen at a point in life when things like this should not happen. I think in my heart I have the belief that we have endured so much in life to this point… have we not learned the big lessons? What have we learned if not that time is short and life is about learning and growing. Then I was just reminded by someone dear that no matter where we are in life, the devil does remain constant. We are never exempt from his devices just because we think we have learned. Oh on the contrary. The more we think we learn the more he persists. Another fact of the human experiment. Why should life ever become so beautiful that we are free from the devil himself. The better life feels, the harder he shall try. To invade our thoughts. To control the narrative. To cast the doubts. To waiver your faith. When it all seems to have unraveled and runs pouring through your fingers, he waits for you to give up. To give in. To agree that somehow how you failed. That somehow you have been slighted. But it is then when we must realize, it is through these dark Gethsemanies – we must search for God. I have prayed over and over… “Lord, whatever is your will, please help me accept it”. Is that the same as saying “Please take this cup from me”?
Luke 22:42″‘Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.'” Also a plea from the Garden of Gethsemane.
I find that I do fight with the devil more than I realize. I continue to have bouts of intense anger. Insufferable frustration. I have also become very grateful to wake each day anew. Somewhat softening those edges around my heart that still cut and bleed. I expect there are aspects of this life that we will never understand. Maybe it is not meant for us to understand. And therein lies the finale to every day… it is where your faith awaits. Even though my Judas is gone from here, what he has done remains. I am still struggling with the things he left done and undone. Watching what he has done to my father’s life’s work has been extremely difficult. But once again, I was reminded by a sweet friend that it is not my will but His. My friend pulled me aside and said after much thought he asked me to “Just forgive him”… my Judas, that he was referring to. And my friend was right. I’m still working on the anger but forgiven him, I have. This has been an extraordinary battle that I never expected but should have. We are all still human and can be still led astray. I am thankful today for Gethsemane. For finding the knowledge given to me that I needed today. Maybe if you are feeling an internal struggle you can also find your Gethsemane where the golden oil is the thing you savor from the pressure and the dregs are the things you leave behind. And remember, the harder something is to understand, the greater the hold to your faith is what is being asked of you in…The Garden… of FAITH. JCH+
The actual photo from The Garden of Gethsemane by Carl O. Bolton , my grandfather and
