In the Garden

Last night at St. John's Maundy Thursday Worship and Agape meal, we embodied the story of Jesus' last night with his disciples. We shared in a meal and communion, remembering the last supper. We washed one another's feet, remembering how Jesus became the servant washing the feet of those he loved, telling them that they were to serve one another. Then we processed outside into the sanctuary where the Eucharistic elements, representing Christ were placed in an altar space created to be the garden. We read the story of how Jesus moved away from his disciples to pray, asking them to stay awake with him. And we read his desperate prayer: ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.’

In these moments, I thought about the people I have loved who have been lost in death. I thought of my grandmother and my mentor Dari Gibbs. I thought of my friend Lori, who has recently been moved to hospice care. And I felt I was there with Jesus and his friends. I understood their grief and fear and love in a way I never have before.

Lori's husband recently shared about her move into hospice care and this time of goodbyes. He wrote, "My sense is that the miracle will come – not as we hoped, but by the grace of God – when God opens His arms and welcomes Lori home. Then she will be set free from the pain and the struggles that have been so much a part of her life for the past few years. She is a woman of great faith, and there is absolutely no doubt that when she leaves us, she goes to God. I’m so grateful to God to have had the time. I think of those who suddenly lose someone they love, and I think that must be so much more difficult. Lori and I, as well as our children, have had the time to speak from our hearts about what we hold in the depths of our hearts."

So, I sat in the garden with Jesus, and I thought of Lori. I felt amazed and blessed by the miracle of having time with the ones we love before they go. How it is both beautiful and heart-breaking at once. I understood Jesus' prayer in a new way. No longer did I think he feared the physical pain that was to come. But instead his anguish arose out of leaving these friends who he adored, the people who were a part of himself. He prayed, not out of doubt, but out of grief and love, wishing only that there could be more time. More time to laugh and tell stories around a dinner table, more time to share dreams and fears, more time to teach and question, more time to hold one another.

This holy week is an invitation for us to stay awake. To be fully present with Christ and with those around us who we love. This time in the garden is a time to share our hope and our grief. A chance to realize how very blessed we are to be together in community. Today, I am remembering the deep truth that every moment we share is a miracle.