How quickly in this life we find fortunes reversed! This time of the year we may find ourselves some Sunday afternoon basking in warm weather in the 70s. The sun may be shining with forsythia, daffodils and hyacinth in full bloom. Yet within days winter may return with a blast of icy wind and snow, and the daffodils and hyacinth may be broken in half by the cold.
This time of year, when the Christian world celebrates Palm Sunday, we celebrate the triumphant entry of Jesus Christ into the city of Jerusalem prior to the high holiday, the Passover feast. He entered from the east of the city, on the road from Bethany and Bethphage just below the Mount of Olives . He approached the city on the colt of an ass, as prophesied by Zechariah, and a multitude of his disciples followed him into the city toward the temple. “And when he was come nigh, even now at the descent of the Mount of Olives , the whole multitude of disciples began to rejoice . . . .” Luke 19:37.
Yet how quickly fortunes may change. A week later, this same multitude of disciples followed him out of the city – “and there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him, but Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves . . . for if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?” Luke 23:27.
The week before, when the multitude rejoiced, they praised God with a loud voice saying, “Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord.” John 12:13. The following week, Roman soldiers stripped him of his clothing and “put on him a scarlet robe, and when they had platted a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand and they bowed the knee before him and mocked him, saying Hail, King of the Jews!” Matthew 27:29.
How quickly fortunes change. The week before, the multitude had laid down their own clothing before him in the road and “cut down branches off the trees, and strawed them in the way,” Mark 11:8 The following week, he instead was strapped to the branches of a tree and his own clothing was laid down before his people at the foot of that cross.
The week before, he taught the people daily in the temple, and told them in a parable that their great King would some day come “and before him shall be gathered all nations, and he shall separate them as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats, and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on his left.” Matthew 25:33. That following week their great King was lifted on a cross and “then were there two thieves crucified with him, one on the right hand, and another on the left,” as though there and then he were beginning the fulfillment of his own parable. Matthew 27:38.
How quickly fortunes can reverse – this is one of the lessons of Gethsemane , the Cross, and the Garden Tomb. In the abstract we refer to the story as the Atonement and the Resurrection, but I like to think of the essential, critical details, Gethsemane , the Cross and the Garden Tomb. It has been called the greatest story ever told. It is a story full of irony and, indeed, the ironies occur throughout.
Irony in Gethsemane
After the Savior instituted the sacrament at the celebration of the Passover, and he took occasion to transform that ritual into the symbols of a new testament, he and his disciples “sang a hymn and went out into the mount of Olives.” Matthew 26:30. This is just east of the temple of the city. John tells us that he “went forth with his disciples over the brook Cedron, where was a garden.” John 18:1. “And they came to a place which was named Gethsemane : and he said to his disciples, Sit ye here, while I shall pray . . . . And he taketh with him Peter and James and John, and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy and saith unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death: tarry ye here, and watch.” Mark 14:32. “And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” Luke 22:41.
The Atonement for the sins of humanity had begun in earnest. Mark's account tells us Jesus was “sore amazed”. The original Greek word means “astounded” or “astonished”. It suggests the initial experience of the Atonement caught him by surprise. Mark also says that he was “very heavy”. The Greek is a compound word meaning “deeply grieved” or “grieved on all sides.” Mark 14:33. He was pained at every turn, from every side. There was no relief. He was exceedingly sorrowful even unto death, as though that were the only escape from the experience. He had wept before at the tomb of Lazarus. He was acquainted with grief, but the experience in Gethsemane was something altogether different. He who had never sinned and had not known first hand the consequences of sins was now experiencing such sin and its consequence again and again and again. He was experiencing it vicariously for every single individual of the human family.
Each of us in our deepest grief knows how crushing an experience grief can be. But what if we had to know not only our own grief, but the grief of just one other person added on? I suspect such empathy would drive us instantly to insanity, or death – we could not sustain it. And Christ was given the burden of the whole human family. It is no wonder that the stress caused him to bleed at every pore.
Something very important to me personally occurred during this hour. Christ not only suffered for my sins. He prevailed over them. He did not simply feel my pain, but he conquered it. To me this is the very heart of the miracle. He fully identified with my emotional, spiritual and physical sickness, but he did not succumb to it. He did not react to it as I would have, as indeed I have typically with all my characteristic peevishness and defensiveness and arrogance and self-justification. In doing so he would have yielded to sin, to my own willful reactions. Instead, he maintained the integrity of his own love and thereby absorbed and absolved my sin.
Having fully immersed himself in my personality, he nevertheless maintained his own – it must have required the greatest self-discipline and courage. He suffered all of me, not only my sin, but my character flaws, my sorrow, my pain, my every negative experience, and he prevailed over it all, still sinless. He had already overcome the world for himself before he even entered into Gethsemane . When he left that garden, he had also overcome the world for me. As I adopt him, I adopt his victory over me.
And at that moment where were the disciples? “And he cometh and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, “Simon, sleepest thou? Couldest not thou watch one hour? Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak.” Mark14:38. The irony is overwhelming – the greatest single event of human history was well underway, and his closest friends were sleeping through it. I do not fault them – I do not believe any of us would have been any more attentive. But it is fitting to the irony of the story, that while the whole world was being healed, not a single soul was even aware.
The irony deepened. One of the twelve came with “a great multitude with swords and staves, from the chief priests” and greeted him with a kiss – a universal sign of affection was made to serve as the sign of betrayal. And then he was arrested. Christ had already declared his intention and surrendered to the will of the Father by assuming the sins of mankind. He now had to carry them vicariously to the cross as a final offering. He could have easily escaped the physical confinement. He told Peter “Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?” He did not need twelve apostles to defend him – he had at his beckoning twelve legions of angels. But how would the scriptures be fulfilled if he did not acquiesce?
Irony on the Cross
Ironies continued in the trials he endured before the Sanhedrin and others, but I will address the ironies of the Cross. Under the Mishnah of Jewish law, the death penalty could only be executed by strangulation, beheading, burning, or stoning, all relatively quick punishments, compared to crucifixion. Crucifixion instead was a common Roman punishment for slaves and the lowest criminals. Jesus was so completely rejected he did not even merit the death penalty of his own people. We do not know the kind of cross that was used, but it may have been the traditional Latin form because it would have provided a place for the superscription Pilate had written in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, “This is the King of the Jews.” Here is another irony. Christ himself had testified that in the mouth of two or three witnesses, every truth would be established. Here was sublime truth, written in three languages as though three separate testimonies to a single truth – this is the King.
As part of his punishment, Jesus was required to carry his cross from the Praetorium to Golgotha , but he faltered under its weight because of his previous suffering. It brings to mind another irony – the words he told Peter in Gethsemane – the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. The disciples had no real excuse for their weakness – they were merely sleepy. Christ on the other hand, was weakened by the ordeal in Gethsemane where he bled at every pore, and by the physical scourging, which was known to kill other men. From all this the Savior's flesh was truly weakened – he lacked the physical strength to carry his own cross, which only makes the willingness of his spirit all the more poignant. When any of us apply that scripture to ourselves, that we are spiritually willing but physically weak, we join Peter in the irony of that Garden moment. We no doubt overstate our situation – we are not really weak and not really willing, at least not like the Savior in his weakness and willingness when shouldering the weight of his own cross.
At the third hour, which would have been nine in the morning, the party arrived at Golgotha on Calvary . The gospel accounts are vivid and compelling in their rapidity. “And they crucified him.” Matthew 27:35. “And it was the third hour, and they crucified him.” Mark 15:25. “There they crucified him.” Luke 23:33. “And he . . . went forth into a place . . . called . . . Golgotha , where they crucified him.” John 19:18. In all four accounts it is written simply, concisely – “they crucified him”. There is no additional detail, no elaboration, and for good reason – that is left entirely to each of us individually to work upon our own empathy. We are allowed to envision it for ourselves and on our own enter into the world of his suffering.
The cross was not lifted high, perhaps only a foot or two from the ground. He was lifted up, as he had prophesied, but not so far removed that he could not draw all men to him and still be close to the humanity he was suffering for. He was also close still to the mockery and taunting – the same temptations that were hurled at him by Satan during the trial in the wilderness were hurled at him again – “if thou be the Son of God . . . .” Matthew 27:40.
The sublime cruelty of death on the cross is its consciousness. For hours the victim would hang without any relief into unconsciousness. There was no lapse into shock, but a prolonged, conscious realization that life was slowly slipping away. That is why a custom developed, of giving the condemned immediately before his execution a draught of wine medicated with some powerful opiate. As we read in Mark 15:22 – “they gave him to drink wine mingled with myrrh: but he received it not”. Elder McConkie calls this an act of “sublimest heroism”. The effect of the draught was to dull the nerves, to provide an anesthetic for the agony, but Christ nevertheless maintained complete consciousness throughout – the Atonement would be fully and completely wrought, untainted by a narcotic.
Christ spoke seven times from the cross, each utterance significant. A number of them were a continuation of his ministry to others, even in death, directed to individuals. The first was probably at the initial point of the crucifixion “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” Luke 23:34. This in all likelihood was directed to the Roman soldiers who crucified him, not the Sanhedrin or Caiaphas or Pilate or Herod. The soldiers had no choice but to carry out the sentence urged by the chief priests and allowed by Pilate. He was not asking to forgive their sins, but rather not to place the deed of the crucifixion on their head. The others, who had conspired in his death, would be subject to the consequences of that deed.
To a thief on the cross beside him he said, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:43. This was a word of hope and comfort – the criminal being encouraged for beginning the process of penance – he would receive the word of the gospel in the spirit world, where he could continue the process of discipleship.
To his mother, he said, “Woman, behold thy son” – referring to John the beloved disciple. And to John he said, “Behold, thy mother.” John 19:26-27. In this fashion, he provided for future needs of his grief-stricken mother at the last.
Thereafter, hanging on the cross for about three hours, when the “sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.” Mark 15:33. This would have been from noon until three in the afternoon. “And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Mark 15:34. Elder Talmadge has written that at this moment “the agony of Gethsemane returned, intensified beyond human power to endure. In that bitterest hour the dying Christ was alone, alone in most terrible reality. That the supreme sacrifice of the Son might be consummated in all its fullness, the Father seems to have withdrawn the support of His immediate Presence, leaving the Savior of men the glory of complete victory over the forces of sin and death.”
After this, the Atonement was complete. He had fulfilled his mission to all others and, for once, could finally think of himself. He said simply, not in complaint, but in acknowledgement of his ordeal, “I thirst.” John 19:28. The understatement was sublime – after all he had been through, all he said was, “I thirst.” There was nearby an earthen vessel containing posca, a mixture of vinegar and water, the common drink of Roman soldiers. A sponge was dipped in it and placed at the end of a stalk of hyssop to fulfill the prophecy “in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” Psalms 69:21.
“When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar,” as the last of the prophecies of his earthly ministry were being fulfilled, he said, “It is finished.” John 19:30. And then he uttered his last statement, the final prophecy concerning himself, and cried with a loud voice, a voice of utter and complete triumph, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Luke 23:46. This was an echo from Psalms 31:5 – “Into thine hand I commit my spirit; thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.” The Master died, with the Holy Scriptures in his heart and on his lips to the very last.
Irony Swallowed up in the Garden Tomb
With the approaching Sabbath, Jesus' body was quickly laid in a garden tomb. Three days later, in the emptiness of the tomb every previous irony was swallowed up. The Savior had absorbed it all and transformed it completely into unadulterated joy and triumph. Not a jot, not a mote, not a crumb of irony was left. What then evolved was pure joy.
And this is the real message of the greatest story ever told. What so often hurts and burdens us is saturated with irony – the sudden turn of events, the expected unfolding into the unexpected, the change in fortune, the loss, the disappointment, the sorrow – all this Christ overcame decidedly forever. No matter what happens to us here, we are met at the last with resurrection – our spirit and body reunited in a fullness of joy.
I like to think that the Savior's ordeal culminated in a single word. From the moment he walked into Gethsemane, to the hours on the cross, to the moment when the garden tomb was found empty, the Atonement was perfected and first revealed to humanity with the mention of a single word, the name “Mary”.
“But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping . . . she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou has laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni.” John 20:14
I believe this is the only way the resurrection could rightfully be first revealed. The name Mary could have been April, or Luann, or Kari, or Vanessa, or Virgie – it could have been any one of us. He chose to reveal himself first to a single individual and in that moment taught the world that the Atonement is utterly personal. He made it universal to all, but he did so by making it intimate to each one of us, as he did to Mary. It is universal one soul at a time. To my mind, it is utterly inevitable that the greatest story ever told should finally culminate and convey to the world in the sound of this single word, a person's name.
How quickly fortunes can change for the worse, and how quickly, on the other hand, fortunes can change for the better. In Luke, we read that by the end of the first Sunday after the crucifixion, just the third day after the Savior's death, he had appeared to Mary Magdalene at the Garden Tomb, and then to other women of Galilee, and he had appeared to Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus, and when these two returned to Jerusalem that evening to join the apostles, they were told that Christ had also appeared to Simon Peter. Three of these witnesses were identified by name, Mary, Cleopas, and Simon, and perhaps a dozen more were unnamed. And then Jesus suddenly stood in the midst of them, the apostles and others, and said “Peace be unto you.” Luke 24:36.
On that occasion, “he opened their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures, and said unto them, Thus it is written and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day.” Luke 24:45. And then he said to them, “And ye are witnesses of these things.” Luke 24:48.
What were they witnesses of? They were witnesses of Gethsemane , the Cross, and the Garden Tomb. I would propose that we be witnesses of these things also. It is such an easy invitation. Not only during the Easter season, but every day of our lives, we can join the company of the unnamed participants of that first Easter and our own “hearts can burn within us” while Christ [opens] to us the scriptures and we review daily how deepest irony was swallowed up in deepest joy at these three holiest of stations – Gethsemane, the Cross, and the Garden Tomb.
