Skip to main content

Gettysburg and Gardens: Holy Week Thursday

One of my favorite movies is Remember the Titans. It follows the story of a black football coach hired at a newly integrated high school in Virginia. The year is 1971 and racial tensions are high. Half of his team is black and the other white. There is enough hatred to go around. Caught in the middle is Coach Boone, hoping football can cross the racial divide and unite a high school, if not a community. 

A key moment in that movie takes place during the team’s training camp where Coach Boone leads them on an early morning run to Gettysburg National Cemetery.

Gettysburg. 

Just that word alone evokes an emotional response. It takes the hearer back to Union and Confederate soldiers engaged in fraternal conflict. In an impassioned speech, Coach Boone makes the case that these young football players are still engaged in the same fight that happened there—Gettysburg—where fifty-thousand men killed their brothers with malice in their hearts. Something about that place, and Coach Boone’s speech invoking the history that made Gettysburg sacred, spurs these young black and white high school children to start playing like men. Eventually they went on to win a state championship. 

It is amazing how just a name can engender in our minds all sorts of responses. They can mysteriously transport us back to a faraway place to watch events unfold as if they were happening in front of us for the very first time.

Mark 14 gives us such a place. “Gethsemane” might not evoke the same emotion that "Gettysburg" does. But for anyone familiar with the Bible, “Garden” is laden with meaning. Jesus’ anguished prayer, the disciples’ sleep, Judas’ betrayal—it all happens in the Garden of Gethsemane. Maybe this is a random meaningless detail.

Then again, maybe not.

Something else happened once in a Garden long ago, and Mark is, in a way, taking us back there. We see the events of Genesis 3 unfold before our eyes. We see Eve, wrestling with a snake. We see an internal conflict brewing in her heart and mind. We see the agony—yes, that is the right word—of the emotional and psychological war being waged. Will she choose to remain faithful? Or will she submit to short-term pleasure and betray her first love?

Adam is there too; Eve does not bear all the blame. Will he fight alongside the one he loves, or will he “fall asleep,” so to speak, and eat the fruit too?

It all happened in a Garden: Setup. Betrayal. Failure. And the two of them fled, naked and ashamed. 

Mark brings us back to where it all started; to another Garden. In the same way Coach Boone invoked Gettysburg for the sake of his team, Mark invokes Eden for the sake of his readers. 

This time, it is Jesus wrestling with a snake. It is Jesus’ internal conflict brewing in his heart and mind. It is his agony—yes, that is the right word—of the ensuing emotional and psychological war being waged. 

In Eden, it was fruit they were to avoid but ate anyway. In Gethsemane, it is a cup Jesus must drink but hopes to be removed. The scene in this Garden takes us back to the scene in that Garden, and the tension ramps up now as then. Will Jesus drink the cup, or flee naked and ashamed? 

No! The author of life will drink the cup of death. He will not run and hide. He will not fall asleep. He will not betray. He will see it through to the end. There is still work for Jesus to do. Friday is still on the horizon; Sunday not far behind. The first triumph, the seed of more to come, happens here. Jesus’ victory in this garden begins to unravel the failure of that one.  

When our own temptation arises, when our own heart and mind wrestle in agony over a decision we would rather not make, may God give us the courage to remain awake, the strength to drink the cup set before us; may we find victory in our own gardens. May we never be numbered among those who leave our linens behind and run away naked and ashamed (Mark 14:52).

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Autism, Tylenol, and Homecoming

Last Saturday, my son went to Homecoming. He didn’t have a date, but he was far from alone. Eight special-ed students got into their suits with sloppily-knotted ties, their glittery dresses and freshly painted nails. They met at Chick-fil-a, throwing back waffle fries and lemonade like it was an open bar. Their parents forced them to pose in a hundred different locations for pictures, and they voiced their objection through smiles and gritted teeth.   We arrived to the venue a good thirty minutes before the dance was to start, while the DJ crew and decorations committee were still setting up. The Northview school administration (second to none in Ohio!) was kind enough to let them in early to take even more pictures. When their patience had run dry and they were no longer willing to stand for even just one more photo op, my son went to the DJ and made the first song request of the night: “Welcome to New York.” While the rest of Northview’s student body was filtering in, Matthew had...

Who do we blame? Lessons from a tiny piece of trash

For a brief moment early in my married life, I worked at a shoe store. My boss was a very even-keel kind of guy. He was jovial; “merry,” some might say. Only once did I see him really upset and it was over—of all things—a receipt.   Because random Thursdays in February don’t see a lot of foot traffic, it was a rather slow day in the store. So to test us, he casually dropped a paper receipt right in the main aisle—a small piece of trash visible from any angle in the store. Then he watched. Over the course of an 8-hour shift, as many as six different employees simply walked right over that receipt. We weren’t assisting customers or addressing some emergency. We were just tending a store that didn’t really need tending. Later that night, the boss laid into us for ignoring that small piece of trash. Broadly, it reflected a store that was unclean and unkempt. Narrowly, it reflected a retail staff that simply didn’t care.   And why? “It wasn’t my fault.” “I’m not the one who put it ...

An 8th Grader Gives a TED Talk

My daughter just recently had an assignment at school where students were required to give a “TED Talk.” The focus was deliberately vague—speak on something for which you are a bit of an expert (by 8th-grade standards, of course), some experience that had a profound impact on your life, or perhaps something you just find meaningful. The topics reflected the kinds of conversations that normally happen in the halls of a middle school:   "Why Baseball is the Greatest." "The Value of Studying Math." "Cafeteria Lunch Choices are Horrible." Some were rather surprising. One classmate spoke about his grandpa’s military service. Another questioned the morality of plastic grocery bags. Yet another spoke deeply about his Christian faith.   My daughter equally wanted to address something faith-based, but with a particular focus: her Papa’s experience with dementia. Since moving back to Ohio, she's had a front row seat to my dad’s very rapid cognitive decline. This...