'Don't fall asleep'...The Loneliness of Jesus (a sermon)

It can be very hard to stay awake if you are really tired. If what your body is telling you is that you really need to be asleep then it is very difficult to over-ride that by using reason. I don’t know if you have ever felt sleepy while driving: it’s a very frightening experience, isn’t it? You open the windows to let the air rush over your face; you find the most discordant music you can and play it at jumbo jet levels; you pinch yourself and you try to talk to the other people in the car. But still, your eyelids droop, and still you catch yourself drifting out of consciousness, barely aware of what you are doing. Even though we know rationally the consequences of napping while in charge of a speeding automobile are deadly for ourselves and for others, the imperatives of the body command us; and we tend to respond.

Part of being human is this ongoing struggle with the weakness of our flesh. We cannot escape the needs of our physical natures, or pretend that somehow our rational capacity will always override our appetites. Our intentions may be noble or profound; but somehow the weakness of our flesh tends to result in compromises that disappoint us or worse. Not that the need for sleep is sinful any more than our desires for food or sex or water or reality TV are as fundamental human appetites.

In this serieshave been trying to understand who we are as human beings theologically speaking. But we have taken an unusual tack, admittedly; seeing Christ as the human being par excellence, we have honed in on the moment of crisis in his life, the point at which his humanness seemed to collide most directly with his mission: the scene in the garden of Gethsemane. First we spoke of the horror of Jesus in this story, his terrible confrontation with the meaning of his own mission. This man was true human being, tested to the limit, knowing himself the frailty of a bodily existence, with its tears and tremors. And then we saw how this true human responded to this extreme situation in prayer and obedience. Obedience to the Father is proper for humankind, we learn; and prayer to God is likewise the reaction of the real man to the extremity of a situation like this.

But we have still only considered the story in two of its three dimensions.

The perspective we have missed so far is the perspective of the disciples who were with Jesus in the garden and who witnessed his agony. Or who would have, if they could have stayed awake. For the disciples, it had been an alarming evening to say the least: Jesus had predicted to them that one of their number would betray him, to which they all answered “surely, not I?” (14:19-20). But Jesus had gone on to say:

“You will all fall away…for it is written: ‘I will strike the shepherd and the sheep will be scattered.” (14:27)

And then he had predicted that Peter, even Peter! would deny him three times that very night. “But Peter insisted emphatically “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the others said the same.” (14:31) They had all the best intentions in the world as they entered the Garden of the olive-oil press, or Gethsemane.

And entering the garden, Jesus tells them to “sit here, while I pray”. Jesus seeks for a quieter spot and so takes along with him Peter, James and John, the trio he had selected as his chief witnesses: they had witnessed the raising of Jairus’ daughter; they had witnessed the transfiguration and heard the voice of God; and with Andrew they had heard Jesus talk of the signs of the end of the age, in chapter 13: it was they who had heard Jesus deliver his eschatological imperatives, (13:35ff) “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back - whether in the evening or at midnight or when the rooster crows or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: “Watch!” This trio had also had their moments of pride: Peter’s rebuke of Jesus at Caesarea, and James and John’s request for the best seats in the eschatological dinner table.

And now to them comes the instruction “Remain here and keep awake”, or “keep watch” (14:34), as Jesus moves a little further on and falls on his face in desperate prayer to his Father. Why are they to watch? What are they to watch for? Are they to be sentries to alert Jesus to the approach of his capturers? Perhaps, on this literal level that makes sense: but the command so strongly echoes the commands of chapter 13 to watch for the coming of the Son of Man that we are meant to hear this as a testing for the disciples of their capacity to this other “watching” too.

And it is a test that they fail badly, isn’t it? Jesus returning to his disciples, found them sleeping. “Simon” says Jesus “are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour?” Evidently not - it had been a busy day and so Peter and the others had nodded off, unable to stop themselves though they heard the direct command of Jesus to stay awake and watch. Not a lot of watching was going on at all.

And so Jesus delivers this lesson: “Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (14:38). The echoes of the Lord’s Prayer in this passage are fascinating: Jesus prays “Abba, Father”, and that his will be done; and now, they are to pray not come to the time of testing. Of course, the time of testing is just round the corner. But here is a lesson in discipleship: stay awake, and pray. Be alert to the possibility of NOT doing what God wills, but what you will instead; of choosing the weakness of your flesh over the intentions of your spirit, so to speak. Jesus knows that the only way to meet this terrible trial is to keep awake and call on God.

“Could you not keep watch for one hour?” No he could not; and neither could the others. Again and again he was to find them sleeping: “because their eyes were heavy”; and from embarrassment and shame, caught like rabbits in the headlights of their own disobedience, they did not know what to say to him. Entering the garden with all the devotion to service of their Lord, they fall asleep at the very moment they ought to be most alert and calling on God to deliver them.

And so it is no surprise, with disciples such as these, that we find Jesus deserted, betrayed and denied. Remarkably, Peter denies him three times, pretending dishonestly that he has no first-hand knowledge of Jesus, for fear perhaps of sharing the same fate as Jesus. So much for taking up your cross and following Jesus.

Of course Judas’ betrayal is as one of Jesus closest circle: his is not a denial of Jesus but an acknowledgement of him by a kiss.

And the disciples as group dishonoured themselves in the crucial moment by fleeing from the armed mob that had come to capture him. This included even the mysterious streaker of 14:51, who fled naked: perhaps, people have suggested, this is the author, too ashamed to add his own name to his disgrace. The disciples lose their nerve: they fall into an unruly mob. In contrast, Jesus faces his trial and death with calm composure, having expressed his fears to God in prayer.

"This desertion means that in this moment Jesus is utterly alone. It is not self-evident that he should be alone at this point. He had called his disciples to be his apostles, the foundation of his community in the world. He had made his cause theirs. He himself would be there in their midst, as he says in Matthew. It was perfectly possible that the disciples might have been crucified along with him. But, though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. The flight of disciples and the denial of Peter show just how weak it is. Though he asked them to watch and pray with him, they could not do it; and just at the crucial moment they dozed. While the saviour wept, the Church slept! Though the Christian community could say, yes, we were there, in the Garden of tears, alongside the saviour, it could never say its behaviour at that moment was honourable or that it contributed to the work of Jesus in even a supporting role at this point. No: Jesus is utterly alone in his prayer in the garden and his going to the cross." (K. Barth)


This is an important rebuke to any sense of ecclesiastical triumphalism, any sense in which churches might think of themselves as contributing to the work of Christ. Of late we have seen the impressive grandeur of a particular church on display in the pageantry of the late Pope’s funeral and the selection of his successor. And according to one commentator favourable to Benedict XVI, “the church is in good hands”. The church is certainly not in good hands if it is in any hands but those of Jesus its Lord. How Benedict’s supposed predecessor behave when it came to the crunch? But we too are frequently guilty of this pretension: that by our activity and relentless pragmatism we may somehow think we share Jesus’ burden, or repeat his work. The danger of success in church-building may be that we forget that the church was forged in a terrible failure of its own nerve: and that only the saviour went forward at the vital moment. In our current environment of planning and planting and building and leading and vision-statement creating we must take great care not to think we ever supplant or contribute to what Jesus did for us once for all. This is blasphemy of the highest order, but it is a real temptation for us in the culture we inhabit.

And so it was Jesus who watched and prayed in their place. They left him in frightful loneliness, asleep when it most mattered: and he did it for us, willing to obey God, though he full knew the horror of what was to come. As one writer puts it, “if there is anything which brings out clearly this simple “for us” as the content of the Gospel, then it is this aspect of the event in Gethsemane, in which the act of God in Jesus Christ had absolutely nothing to correspond to it in the existence of those who believe in him. They could not watch with him even one hour. He alone watched and prayed in their place.”

And so: Stay Awake! Keep Watch! Pray lest you fall into temptation! Following Jesus is about being on your guard and, because the flesh is weak, praying for God’s help. We ought not to be found dozing at the wheel in our lives of faith, but rather found alert and prepared. We need to recognise our body’s weaknesses and our dependence on God for mastery of them. Obedience to God, which is what liberates human beings to be themselves, is a hard road to follow, and full of pot-holes. And yet someone has gone there for us.

Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.

Jerry Springer the Opera and Taking Offence

Christians and other religious people seem to be known for their willingness to take offence. That's what religious people are, by and large: people who get offended about cartoons in newspapers on behalf of their divinities.

Recently in the UK there has been a stage show produced called Jerry Springer the Opera. It is a vile piece and not really that good - I saw some of it when it was shown on the BBC. It has a gay Jesus among other things, and some incredibly bad language. It has some satirical component to it I suppose, but it isn't that funny and it isn't that clever. Of course, with a piece like this which religious people are offended about, the liberal commentators blather on about what a great work of art it is, and how important it is that it be shown etc. The issue of censorship is bandied about as if it is the greatest cause in the universe etc. Of course, the possibility of SELF-censorship on the grounds of offending a large number of people and whether that might be a good thing to freely choose to do is never discussed, because we only discuss these things in terms of LAW (it is worse in the UK even than OZ in this area).

But is the right Christian response to get outraged and to protest? Certainly that is the right Muslim response, it seems... But Christians are not those who assert their rights in this way. Surely we don't want to participate in the protest/victimhood discourse that is so harmful to our community? Surely we can speak about the hurt and the (more to the point) the terrible danger of blasphemy without using the same gestures that people use to get a public hearing these days? I think it actually damages the cause of the gospel when we pose as another protest group in society that is making noise for its own space...

Honourable Death?

You might be - must be - familiar with this terrible image, if not because you have seen then because you have imagined, or dreamt it. A man in an office one morning, faced with the alternative of dying at the hands of the terrorists or dying at his own hand, chooses to take his own life. He jumps. This photo has been read as a symbol of the ultimate act of defiance against terror: they may take our lives, but they may never take our freedom. It is death with honour, in other words.

The ancient world knew this kind of rhetoric as it applied to death. For the Romans, victory was important. But if you couldn't have victory, then death with honour was just as glorious. So noble suicide was a way of rescuing dignity from defeat. It was an act of will when none seemed available: like choosing to jump rather than be burned. Lucan tells the story of the noble-souled Volteius and his men, who committed mass suicide rather than face death at the hands of their enemies who surrounded them. This kind of death meant that they would live on in glorious memory rather than be forgotten.

I think this ancient honour ethic of death is at work in the contemporary world. The 'euthanasia' debate appeals to the common feeling that illness and suffering that we can't control demean us as human beings. To at least take this final step out of our own volition removes us from the grasp of the cancer (for example).

The early Christian martyrologies also use the language of honour. They are full of militaristic imagery: they become soldiers of Christ, fighting a battle against the enemy, and so on. And the voluntaristic aspect is not entirely absent: it is important to show that the martyr chooses to die for Christ. But there is a difference: many of the Fathers wrote against the practice of Christians actively seeking martyrdom (which evidently was a problem as it is today) and nowhere was suicide given as an option nor practiced, and certainly not celebrated as glorious.

What is the difference? Well, I think the WILL issue is key. That is, the martyr does exercise her will, but she does so in obedience to the will of God. The great Bishop and Martyr Polycarp said ‘Blessed and noble are all martyrdoms that happen according to the will of God. For we should act with discretion leaving the power over all events to God.’ This is the vital difference... The honour that the martyr gets is not in an exercise of what free will remains, but in joining her will to the will of God, and so praising and honouring God himself. Further of course the difference is that, whereas the Romans had only statues to memorialise the honourable death, Christians looked forward to resurrection bodies - glorious and honourable bodies, radiant with the glory of God.

A great martyr once said: “I shall be a convincing Christian only when the world sees me no more” (Ignatius of Antioch). Contrast this with the pagan longing for honour and fame...

mike carlton

Well, back from holidays: Cornwall is wonderful!

Here's something that has been sitting on my chest for a while.

Sydney journalist and talk-back radio host Mike Carlton has for a couple of years lampooned the Jensens in his Sydney Morning Herald column on a Saturday. His satire is based on Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers and takes the form of a mock parish newsletter. It would be amusing if we were not the target! I have wondered long and hard how to respond. Carlton is impervious to letters, of course and refuses to meet up to discuss it. Somehow, humanising your targets takes the fun out of tearing them down in public, doesn't it?

The premise of the entire lampoon is the charge of nepotism that Herald journalist Kelly Burke aired some time ago. The source of the charge was Rev John Cornish, the former head of Anglicans Together. He grumpily commented in this way on the appointment of my uncle as Dean of St Andrew's Cathedral and then my mother as a member of a women's ministry committee and my appointment to Moore College. I rang up John Cornish and asked him what evidence he had about my appointment to suggest that it was nepotistic. Of course, he had none, but that did not mean that he issued any kind of public apology - nor has he since. My mother's position is not a job at all, but membership of a committee on which several other women sit, and she receives no payment. My uncle - who is widely regarded as one of the more successful rectors in Sydney in the 80s and 90s to say the least - was not the first person asked to be the Dean, but in any case would have deserved consideration on merit alone. (Cornish's gripe was with his churchmanship). In any case, no-one who knew anything about it saw the Dean's job as anything but an extremely difficult task with little thanks. Anyhow, it doesn't matter now: Cornish's slur has gained a life of its own, and appears everywhere in its distorted form as fact. I hope he is happy.

This is what is galling about Carlton's method. He is an 'opinion' writer. His business is not to report but to comment on the news. He evidently has not the time for his own research or fact checking. All he does is read the SMH and go from there. And that's the problem! As anyone with first hand experience knows, the SMH is notorious for publishing inaccuracies and perpetuating myth. Carlton's fatuous comments are then built on this. It is ignorance by convenience because the facts would get in the way of his satire. He refuses to speak with any of us face to face because it would spoil the fun.

A recent example: the Herald published a distorted, incomplete and one-sided account of an upcoming defamation suit against an Anglican rector, and linked it bizarrely to the women's ordination debate. Because it was a lawsuit, it was impossible to respond to the inaccuracies at all. And yet Carlton has the temerity to use this as material for his latest squib, further cementing in the public's mind the orginal distortions perpetrated by the paper.

I have to say that it hurts to read it. I don't say that we ought to be spared criticism but it is hard when it is based on such baloney. It is hard when you meet people whose view of me and my family has been coloured by this. And it is hard when Carlton is in such a position of power and a far larger platform for expressing his views than we have. Where is the right of reply?

What comforts me? Well, Carlton's attacks on the Howard government (of which I am no fan) seem to be wildly out of touch with most Australians. He is one of those baby boomer journalists who think they invented sliced bread and that their opinions are self-evidently true - and yet can't see how out of touch they are with most people. I also have to remember that the journalist's ravings are like the wind: here today but wrapping paper tomorrow. And also, I remember that a few barbs from the likes of Carlton are nothing compared to what Christians face in the Sudan right now.