Although it is night, four figures can be clearly made out beside a large olive tree. The full spring moon—the beautiful Easter moon—brightly illuminates the scene: a garden just beyond the Kidron Valley, east of Jerusalem. The light makes the leaves of the olive trees appear silvery. There, among the trees, stand four men; eight others have remained further back.
One of them stands out for his demeanor. He is dressed like the others; yet a grave and solemn majesty draws us to him. “My soul is sorrowful even to death” (Mt 26:38), he says. It is Jesus, the Nazarene, who “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38). It is not the glow of the night that makes his face pale, but dread and anguish. One can almost discern, like fine threads, the veins on his face—a familiar face, but now beaded with sweat, as if in the throes of a supreme effort. This is Christ Jesus, our Lamb and our Priest, who takes upon himself the sin of the world and offers himself as a sacrifice pleasing to the Father. In that divine and human face, on this night, both the evil of sin and the greatness of his love are revealed.
Before turning and walking a few meters ahead, he says to the three who are accompanying him: “Stay here and keep watch” (Mt 26:38). Seeing him walk away, we better understand the full meaning of his words: remain here while I confront evil. Like the shepherd who goes out to meet the wolf to protect his sheep (“If you are looking for me, let these men go” (Jn 18:8), he will say shortly afterward to those who come to arrest him). Jesus steps forward to face the power of evil with no defense.
Fear sets in, but his love is stronger than the dread: he takes upon himself all the wretchedness of humanity. Like David facing Goliath, he advances alone into battle. Confronting the weight of sin, he does not trust in human weapons, but in God: “I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel” (1 Sam 17:45). And so, without flinching, he goes to meet evil with the resolve of one who entrusts himself completely to the Father.
God always listens
“Stay here and keep watch.” Our Lord’s invitation continues to resound in their hearts. He goes out to confront evil, but he wants his own to accompany him with their prayer. On other occasions, he would withdraw to a secluded place, far from the crowd and the disciples, but now he wants to have his three specially beloved apostles close to him: Peter, James, and John.
Peter had assured him that he is willing to die for the Master; John and James, the sons of thunder, are filled with zeal. But now, seeing our Lord kneeling in a clearing in the garden, they sense their hearts faltering. They no longer feel strong, but rather bewildered and overwhelmed by what is happening. They have witnessed the miracles; they have beheld the glory of his divinity on Mount Tabor; and yet, they do not understand why he does not put an end to this hour. They might have thought: “He lacks no power. Why suffer so greatly?” Anxiety and weariness overcome them, and their love grows weak. Christ “found them asleep because of their sorrow” (Lk 22:45). It is not a peaceful sleep, nor mere physical exhaustion: it is a restless slumber, filled with confusion and the desire to flee. The apostles avoid facing the reality of the Cross. Their faith is still fragile, and they cannot withstand the hour of temptation. As on other occasions, when our Lord spoke to them about his passion, “they did not understand, and they were afraid to ask him” (Lk 9:45). Faced with danger, sadness takes hold, and they seek refuge in a sleep which, at its core, is a form of cowardice.
“Pray that you may not enter into temptation". —And Peter fell asleep. —And the other apostles. —And you, little friend, fell asleep…, and I too was another sleepyheaded Peter. Jesus, alone and sad, suffers and soaks the earth with his blood. Kneeling on the hard ground, He perseveres in prayer… He weeps for you… and for me: the weight of the sins of men overwhelms Him.”[1]
Faced with this scene, one understands the call to true contrition and the desire for a more steadfast interior life, rooted in constant, daily prayer. “Watch and pray so that you may not fall into temptation” is the exhortation Christ addresses to those who wish to follow him even in the hour of the Cross, in moments of difficulty or darkness.
This call to prayer does not imply that difficulties will disappear or that God will always spare us from suffering, just as he did not spare his Son from the Passion. But prayer brings a new certainty, for God does not remain indifferent to human suffering. “Problems are not always solved. Those who pray are not deluded: they know that many questions of life down here remain unresolved, with no way out; suffering will accompany us and, after one battle, others will await us. But if we are listened to, everything becomes more bearable.”[2] The worst thing that can happen is to suffer in abandonment, without anyone caring. Prayer saves us from this fate. For it can happen—and often does—that we do not understand God’s plans. But our cries do not remain lost here below: they rise up to the One who has the heart of a Father, and who himself weeps for every son and daughter who suffers and dies.
Perseverance in Christian life requires personal prayer, an intimate dialogue with God the Father. It is difficult to achieve unity of life when prayer becomes fragmented, diluted by the rush of daily life, or absorbed by the constant noise of the digital world. “Might you not be afraid, and so seek anonymity since you dare not speak with Christ face to face? You must see that there are many ways of ‘belittling’ meditation, even though you might say you are practicing it.”[3] Contemplative prayer, offered in the silence of our heart, enables us to welcome with vigilance the trials God allows and to accept them with the desire to console Christ.
Jesus’ combat
The scene now shifts to the place where Christ has gone to pray. The three sleeping apostles are left behind. Seeing what is happening, we feel an ardent desire to learn from our Lord the deepest meaning of prayer.
Our Lord prostrates himself once more on the ground and cries out, “Abba! Father” (Mk 14:36). In the midst of his agony, he turns to his Father with complete trust. His prayer is that of the Son who, in his agony, entrusts himself to the One he knows loves him. And at the same time, he expresses what he feels, pouring out his heart to him: “All things are possible for you; take this cup from me” (Mk 14:36). It is the plea of one who, faced with the prospect of extreme suffering, asks the Father to spare him from it. But Jesus does not pray to try to “twist” God’s will, but rather to align the entirety of his human will with that of his good and loving Father. That is why he adds right away: “Yet not as I will, but as you will” (Mark 14:36).
In the garden there is no rebellion, but rather a true inner struggle. Human nature, which shuns suffering, is freely led to accept what the Father wills. The agony described in the Gospels is not a pretense. Christ is truly man, and therefore he experiences fear in the face of pain and death. In his prayer, all that suffering is directed toward the self-giving he has freely accepted: to drink the cup of the Passion for the salvation of humanity.
In Gethsemane, Christ “brings the human will back to the unreserved ‘yes’ to God.” Thus Jesus tells us that it is only by conforming our own will to the divine will that human beings attain their true height, that they become ‘divine’; only by rising above ourselves, only in the ‘yes’ to God, is Adam's desire, and the desire of us all, made a reality: the desire to be completely free.”[4] In the midst of the darkness, his prayer reveals a total self-giving to the Father: with his intellect, with his will, and with his whole humanity.
A serene decision
Once again, Jesus approaches his disciples, and again he finds them asleep. But there is no time to react: “Behold, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is about to be handed over into the hands of sinners” (Mt 26:45).
When Judas arrives with the troops to arrest our Lord, it is Jesus who takes the initiative and voluntarily surrenders himself. He doesn’t hide, nor does he resist, for his entire life has been directed toward this moment. If at the beginning of the scene he appeared to be undergoing a trial, “now he is exultant in spirit, filled with strength and resolve. The anguish of the trial is now behind him. Amid his agony, victory is complete. The battle of prayer has ended in triumph.”[5] Intimate and trusting prayer, the certainty of being heard by his Father and complete love for his will have transformed sadness into a serene decision.
Christ knows that dramatic hours lie ahead. His death will be perceived by many as a failure. He himself, just a few minutes earlier, had asked his Father to spare him that cup; but now he embraces it fully, for through this path the mission for which he came will be fulfilled: the freeing of humanity from the slavery of sin. “In the middle of the night, when everything seems to be falling apart, Jesus shows that Christian hope is not evasion, but decision. This attitude is the result of profound prayer in which God is not asked to spare us from suffering, but rather to give us the strength to persevere in love, knowing that life offered freely for love cannot be taken away by anyone.”[6]
[1] St. Josemaría, Holy Rosary, First Sorrowful Mystery.
[2] Pope Francis, General Audience, October 14, 2020.
[3] St. Josemaría, Furrow, no. 456.
[4] Benedict XVI, General Audience, February 1, 2012.
[5] Bishop Javier Echevarría, Getsemaní, Planeta, Barcelona 2005, 245.
[6] Leo XIV, General Audience, August 27, 2025.