Stay Awake With Me.

I can’t help but think the women were awake. First, they would not have had as much to drink at the Passover meal. Instead, they would have been negotiating with merchants for last-minute items, preparing the food, shooing away animals, soothing children who were awake past their bedtimes, and finally clearing away the debris of the meal and sweeping the borrowed space. Perhaps they came to the olive grove late, walking by themselves along the Kidron Valley in the moonlight.

By then it may have been too late to convince Jesus to rouse himself and walk with haste across the Mount of Olives toward the desert. By then Jesus may have already thrown himself to the ground in agony, sweating blood, weeping in mortal torment. Perhaps this was part of Jesus’ plan. He had to face alone the coming contest with evil. Even Judas knew the women would stay behind to clean up. He knew the women would not obediently have let Jesus pray alone in danger, but would have argued with him to stop fussing and get a move on.

Nevertheless, the women and common sense remained in Jerusalem until too late, leaving Jesus alone in his agony. Was it the kind of death he was going to die? He’s not about to drink hemlock surrounded by admiring friends hanging on his every word. He faces the most obscenely cruel torture perfected over centuries by the cleverest people on earth, devised to maximize terror not only for the victim but also for the populace.

Seven last words? Barely able to breathe, he will have just enough air to stay alive and

suffer. Did he believe he would redeem humanity by the offering of his body, by the shedding of his blood? Did he believe he would harrow hell and rise from the dead? Or did he sense the silence of God and wonder whether his mission had been yet one more messianic illusion? “Let this hour pass from me. Remove this cup from me.” In these prayers, did he mean his death or something even more torturous, dangerous, difficult, and mysterious? “Sit here while I pray . . . remain here, and keep awake.”

A writer called, Padre Pio writes, “How many hearts in the course of the centuries have responded generously to your invitation? . . . May this multitude of souls, then, in this supreme hour, be a comfort to you, who, better than the disciples, share with you the distress of your heart.” (When a friend suffers in agony, it is enough to be present and say nothing. And so, we do. And so today we watch and wait.

 So, today in the dark hours of Gethsemane, we watch and pray. Let us see more clearly in the present moment. Prod us to hold our tongue, to admit our fault, to make peace before it is too late. Awaken us to the needs of others, to the need for justice, and to the possibilities to love and serve in the moment, so that we do not need a rooster to tell us the truth too late. Be Thou my vision, Lord, so that we may live in the hope of Easter dawn, to awaken with joy rather than regret.