I sat there, it was not even a bench, on the edge of the concrete and metal fence surrounding the garden, my face pressed between two metal poles of the hedges. Lots of old olive trees permeate it. Not sure if the same trees were here 20 centuries hence. But I was told at least one tree was more or less about that time too. This was one of the places we visited during a Holy Land tour. It was a garden like no other. Because a holy man 2000 years ago knelt here, one agonizing night, and so this place is remembered and assuredly will be remembered through the end of time.
While I sat there, I thought about his agony in this place. It was strange that while I was meditating about his pain, I was at peace and rested within. I sensed the quietness, the stillness as if everything has stopped. They named it Garden of Gethsemane. In Hebrew, Gethsemane meant “olive press”. It is no coincidence. Extracting oil from olives involves the process of crushing the olives, grinding it, then putting pressure by means of pounding it with about 2000 pounds of concrete weight over the crushed olives. I have seen the olive presses used in Jesus time in one of our visits to the Nazareth Village. I think then the metaphor of his sacrifice is like the olive press.
And speaking of pain, I watched before the movie, “The Letters “. It is based on the life story of Mother Theresa of Calcutta, India. In the investigative process of her canonization, her state of mind and heart at the time of her noble ministry were revealed through the several personal letters she wrote and sent to her spiritual director-priest then. To the outside world, to all of us, she was an icon of a great servant of God, a paradigm of servanthood for his kingdom. Her mission of charity and hope for the poorest of the poor in India was remarkable and breathtaking. Nobody in his right mind could dismiss her work as a mere piety or secular philanthropy because her astuteness and zeal to serve selflessly was extraordinary, even unusual in the world’s standards. Nobody could deny himself to shed tears as he sees her dedication, how she gave her life and love for the impoverished people there. But still nobody knew then that this reluctant Nobel Prize awardee and canonized saint, had inner contradictions and conflict within herself. Her personal letters exposed her feelings and state of mind. She suffered severely of longing, aloneness and even sensed that God had abandoned her. She underwent grueling, prolonged and consistent darkness and pain in her spiritual life, in spite of, on the surface, her fiery love to serve the poor, the needy, the unloved, and the dregs of humanity.
I remember the time she died. It was also about the time when Princess Diana passed away. In that passing and funeral events, the princess had more media mileage than the poor nun. Of course, the world has a blind and perverse view of giving honor to a person. The world judges by neon lights, limelight and the stage where the person lived his/her life. The world chose to honor a celebrity princess and ignored a poor but committed nun who lived in the slums of Calcutta. But not to worry, though Princess Di was the princess of the world and among people then, Mother Theresa continue to be a crowned princess in heaven. For its part, the Vatican in its usual slowness conferred her sainthood. I guess this equalizes the stature. I don’t see in the future, heaven forbid, they shall canonize Princess Diana too.
In Saint Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, I sensed the great Apostle to the Gentiles had the same spiritual void, though difficult to discern and be certain. His admonitions to the Corinth believers, his doctrinal teachings or otherwise, had at the same time also reflect inner conflict and doubt in his heart. I detected rumblings in him. I sensed an undercurrent, a somewhat exasperation, a veiled pain. I really don’t know. But consider this revealing writing of his, in 1 Corinthians 15: 12- 18, 29-32, “But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? 13 If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. 14 And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. 15 More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. 16 For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. 17 And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. 18 Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. 19 If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. Xxx. Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them? 30 And as for us, why do we endanger ourselves every hour? 31 I face death every day—yes, just as surely as I boast about you in Christ Jesus our Lord. 32 If I fought wild beasts in Ephesus with no more than human hopes, what have I gained? If the dead are not raised, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.”
Or maybe the Corinthian church, which Paul built, was stubborn like fifth-graders, difficult to deal with and discipline. After all this is Corinth, a city noted for its widespread perdition. However, in his personal note, Paul asked the Lord three times to remove a thorn in the flesh that was given him. This “thorn” whatever it was, it was buffeting him, sowing pain and ordeal inside him.
But remarkably he did not lose sight of the reality that the Lord loved him dearly in spite of his past sins as he referred to himself as chief persecutor of Christians. He did not forget even for a moment that he had experienced the agape love bestowed to him by the Lord himself beginning at his Damascus Road encounter with him. And that is why Paul’s central mission was to show the same agape love to all.
The parallel sadness and pain, spiritual darkness, and loneliness both Paul and Mother Theresa had lived through bring me to the insightful knowledge that God intends to have his servants experience the same void so that they can serve him not through their own ability, resource and self-reliance but to serve him with the awareness that without God on their side, they cannot do anything. This consciousness prompted Paul to write, in Philippians 4: 11-13, “xxx I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
The Son of God who came here as a human being experienced also the same loneliness and inner conflict. We know and remember this in the episode in the Garden of Gethsemane where he asked his Heavenly Father not one but three times, in sweats of blood, to remove the cup of impending brutal suffering on the cross. His humanity was clearly manifested in the Garden.
And so while I reflected on what happened here in the garden as I sat there on the ledge of the fence, it became clear to me, in the spiritual sense, that to suffer is an absolute part of life. Pain is inevitable. Without it, it is not life at all. The reality of choices and our reaction to it can be twofold. Either we accept it as divine direction to go through it because it definitely contains value which we can treasure thereafter; Paul described it beautifully here: 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor 12:9-10).
Or one can hide the pain, bury and shove it to the ground as if nothing happened so one can go about his busyness. But nothing is learned from this. It does not teach one to grow into maturity. This is likened to the man in the parable of Jesus where a rich master about to travel away entrusted bags of gold to his servants where the third guy received one bag but buried it because he was scared of the master if he loses it. In so doing he did not increase its value. He learned nothing from it. It is maybe an oxymoron to equate pain as a treasure. But to a certain extent it is. We use our pain as lessons. It builds our character.
For me personally, my garden encounter has assured me that though pain shall come and go in my life, I no longer need to be afraid of it or be immobilized by it, but rather confront it as it comes whenever and wherever, with the assurance that the Lord took care of it 2000 years ago, and consequently freed me, and all of us who believe in him, in and by his saving grace.