Gethsemane

Mon, Feb 1, 2010

Gethsemane has overwhelmed me.

This morning as we fought our way to the top of the Mount of Olives for the second time in 12 hours, I was feeling depressed about Jerusalem and about having set my expectations high and then having had reality fall so sadly short of them. The night before we tried to use our GPS to get to “The Mount of Olives” not realizing that what we were really looking for had a more specific name. We managed to get ourselves to the top, but we were hopelessly lost and on the receiving end of a lot of honking as we tried to drive the wrong way down one way streets that weren’t marked (or at least not marked in a language we could read) and tried to struggle through little roads that were barely more than a goat track. The GPS was completely useless to us until we finally thought to turn off the “don’t cross the green line” feature, a feature apparently favored by many Israeli that steers them clear of towns and/or neighborhoods that are predominately Arab. Lots of routes popped up then, and we were able to beat our way back to our hotel.

So this morning when we did finally reach the lookout atop the Mount of Olives, I told myself I just had to let go of the notion that this place was any more holy than any other place. Then we went to Gethsemane, which is at the foot of the Mount, and I was overcome.  We stood in the small courtyard that held about 8 ancient olive trees and I read a sign that said, in part, “although I do not understand you Lord, I will always put my trust in you.” I began to weep and could not stop.  I thought of how lonely I have felt in Jerusalem and then I put it into perspective as I thought about Jesus praying in this garden alone. His sense of being completely on his own in this thing must have been so profound; the feeling of having been abandoned even by those who most loved him must have been excruciating.  I felt so blessed to be sharing this experience with Jeff and to know I have not been left alone to deal with my emotions.  It was overwhelming.  

Inside the small church, a private mass was being said for a group from Sri Lanka who were all gathered around the altar celebrating together.  As it approached communion time, Jeff and I went up and knelt at the communion rail, which served as the barrier between the group and us.  Their tour guide noticed me sobbing and came over to ask if we wanted communion.  All I could do was nod.  And he asked the priest to come over to us after their group had finished, and we received communion.  
I have never felt the Eucharist that deeply in my life.  I truly felt connected to the hearts of the others around us and to the sacrifice that had been made.  After mass, as we stood outside, a couple that had also taken communion with us came over and the man commented on seeing me overcome with emotion.  He said he had felt the same way when they visited the garden across the street, which is said to be the place where Judas betrayed Jesus (the spot we were at is said to be the place where Jesus prayed).  He was so kind and gentle.  I made some comment about being so out of control and he said no, no, I shouldn't be embarrassed. "It means the mass is inside you."  That really struck me.

And so I found God once again in Jerusalem. It happened when I stopped trying to control the experience. When I let go and let God…