14. Mark 14:35-36
And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”
“For you all things are possible.” These may just be among the six most excruciating words in the Bible. They express Jesus’ deep, almost secret hope. It’s deep because it comes from the very core of his being – that the road on which he has been set may diverge. That there may be another ending to his story than the one hurtling toward him. That there is away around, beyond, above or below the cross that looms before him. It is Jesus’ deep home.
Yet it is also almost secret. Sometimes we keep secrets because we don’t want other people to know – something we’ve done; something we want; someone we love. But sometimes we keep secrets because we don’t want ourselves to know. We don’t want ourselves to know or admit how deeply and desperately we hope for something to happen – or not to happen – because if we acknowledge it then the specter that our hope may not be realized is right there in front of us. If we keep denying our hope – if we keep it secret even from ourselves – we insulate ourselves from both the exquisite delight of contemplating receiving our heart’s desire and the terrible and painful possibility that our most fervent dream will forever elude us. And so we keep secrets even from ourselves.
But not tonight. Tonight Jesus shares his hopes, his dreams, his absolute need and fear and desire to the One for whom all things are possible. And perhaps only because he can name these things honestly and fully can he also then surrender: “Not what I want, but what you want.”
But here take note: Jesus is not surrendering simply to his fate, or his destiny, or whatever else we may want to call it. Jesus is surrendering to God, to his Father, Abba. And surrender is different than capitulation. He is not simply obeying his Father; he is surrendering himself to his Father’s mercy as well as his will.
“Not what I want, but what you want.” Certainly we can certainly read these words as the epitome of obedience and hold them up as standard and measurement. But what if, instead, we imagine them as the recognition that now that his hopes and fears have been said aloud, shared with his Father, he can surrender himself to the mercy and love of that Father. In a way, his words mimic his action: having thrown himself to the ground in honest prayer, he can now throw himself onto the mercy of the One for whom all things are possible. May we do likewise.
Prayer: Dear God, help us to trust you well enough that we might name for you our heart’s desire, and having named our hopes and fears, may we throw ourselves on your mercy, the mercy we see embodied in the figure of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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