Tucked away in the midst of the grand drama of Holy Week, full of dramatic events – the triumphal entry, the last supper, arrest, trial and crucifixion – is one much quieter, deeply human moment, almost tucked away in the garden of Gethsemane.
After he has shared the supper with his disciples, Jesus waits for the soldiers. He waits for betrayal and for arrest. Jesus takes himself a little distance from his friends, throws himself to the ground and three time he prays ‘let this cup pass from me’ adding but ‘let your will be done’. (Matthew 26:36– 46) In this moment, we see in agony and obedience, the beauty of the humanity and the divinity of Jesus Christ. The Word made flesh.
The reality of the cross was starkly plain before Jesus’ eyes. Yes, there was the hope of resurrection overcoming death, but nonetheless, it demanded of the fully human Jesus the courage not to run away, to stay and say ‘My Father, your will be done’.
We, of course, know the story, we know that the death of Jesus Christ on the cross and his burial is not the end but rather the great saving work that brings him and us to Easter morning, to the stone rolled back and dawning light of the resurrection. And yet still, as disciples of Jesus Christ, courage is demanded of us too. It is very tempting to ask that the cup might also pass us by, that we might jump straight from the Last Supper to resurrection. However, to discover anew the true depth of the reality of the new life Jesus promises, requires of us the willingness to say ‘yes’, as Jesus says ‘yes’, to the cross. To say ‘yes’ to walking with Jesus through the darkness, to plumb the depths of despair and even abandonment, that the true majesty of the resurrection with its overwhelming power, might be made ours also.
This invitation will be extended to us again this Palm Sunday to ‘go with Jesus in faith and love so that, united with him in his sufferings, we may share his risen life’. This is an invitation extended to us in the context of an anxious and fearful world, a world of war and strife, of suffering and hunger, the context of our own struggles of loss and pain. It is not an invitation to walk away from or avoid the reality of this pain and separation, but rather to take this with us on our journey and to discover again that even amid the darkness is the promise of life. The resurrection is our sure ground for hope and we know that darkness will turn to light.
The invitation to walk with Jesus requires our courage. The courage to hold firm to the sure promise of hope. This knowledge wonderfully gives us the courage to make our ‘yes’ with Jesus… to say, ‘your will be done’.
May this Holy Week be a blessing to you, that entering the way of the cross with Jesus, you may find life indeed.




Tucked away in the midst of the grand drama of Holy Week, full of dramatic events – the triumphal entry, the last supper, arrest, trial and crucifixion – is one much quieter, deeply human moment, almost tucked away in the garden of Gethsemane.