gathering of the darkness...

Maundy Thursday. Tennebrae. "The Gathering of the Darkness"

And what could be more dark than the night in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Where You spent Your final night on earth.

Alone in the garden.

Well, You weren't actually alone. But it was as if You were. A couple of Your disciples, Your friends, were with You. But they couldn't stay awake while You drew away to pray.

You were so very deeply distressed and troubled--overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. And You did what You have taught us to do: You prayed. With all Your heart. With all Your soul. Until Your sweat fell like drops of blood.

You pleaded with Your Father--OUR Father-- to take away this terrible cup You were being asked to drink. This cup of suffering. This sacrifice You were being asked to make.

"Father," You prayed; "everything is possible for You. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what You will."

Even then You were bowing the will of Your flesh to the will of the Father. Even then You were thinking of me, loving me.

You prayed so very earnestly... while Your friends slept. While I slept.
And the darkness gathered...

And then, fully aware of the price You were about to pay, fully aware of the suffering You would endure, fully aware of the incredible agony You were walking toward, You rose from Your place of prayer, embraced the will of our Father, and set Your foot onto the way of the Cross.

You were betrayed...by a friend. Betrayed by me.
And the darkness gathered...

You were deserted...by those who vowed they would stay with You till the end. Deserted by me.
And the darkness gathered...

You were disowned...by one who loved You and whom You loved. Disowned by me.
And the darkness gathered...

All of this... all of this for me.
For me.
Before I even knew You.
Before I even loved You.

And the darkness gathered... in the shadow of the Cross.

The darkness gathered around the Light of the world...
as You walked the way of the Cross.

For me.

What wondrous love is this,O my soul! O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this
That caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse,
For my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse, for my soul.

~The Hesperian Harp, 1848, by Dr. William Hauser