The Last Supper and Gethsemane

            Beginning with the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the last week of Jesus's life was a crescendo of events designed to bring about his suffering and death. He overturned the moneychanger tables in the temple courts. He entered into some verbal sparring with the Jewish authorities and they, convinced that He needed to be stopped, conspired with Judas to take him privately, where the crowds that followed him would not see. But first, Jesus had His most important work to do. He turned the Passover meal into a new ordinance, the Sacrament, that would symbolize his body and blood. Then, he went to Gethsemane (the olive press) and, in a way that we cannot comprehend, took upon himself not only the sins of the world, but all of the ramifications of the existence of sin in the world. Neal Maxwell talks about what this means for those of us who stand in need of care: 

"Can we, even in the depths of disease, tell Him anything at all about suffering? In ways we cannot comprehend, our sicknesses and infirmities were borne by Him even before they were borne by us. The very weight of our combined sins caused Him to descend below all. We have never been nor will we be, in depths such as He has known. Thus His atonement made perfect his empathy and His mercy and His capacity to succor us, for which we can be everlastingly grateful as He tutors us in our trials. There was no ram in the thicket at Calvary to spare Him, this Friend of Abraham and Isaac…

         And when we feel so alone, can we presume to teach him who trod “the wine-press alone” anything at all about feeling forsaken?

         Should we seek to counsel Him in courage? Should we rush forth eagerly to show Him our press clippings and mortal medals – our scratches and bruises – as He bears His five special wounds?

         Indeed, we cannot teach Him anything! But we can listen to Him. We can love Him; we can honor Him; we can worship Him. We can keep His commandments, and we can feast upon His scriptures."                          Neal A. Maxwell, Even As I Am, pp. 116-119

In a remarkable vision, Elder Orson F. Whitney saw the events in the Garden of Gethsemane. Each of us is a witness of Gethsemane through the scriptures. Are we asleep, or will we watch with Him?

     Then came a marvelous manifestation, an admonition from a higher source, one impossible to ignore. It was a dream, or a vision in a dream, as I lay upon my bed in the little town of Columbia, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I seemed to be in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. I saw Him as plainly as ever I have seen anyone. Standing behind a tree in the foreground, I beheld Jesus, with Peter, James and John, as they came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, the Son of God passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed. It was the same prayer with which all Bible readers are familiar: “Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.”
     As He prayed the tears streamed down his face, which was toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I also wept, out of pure sympathy. My whole heart went out to him; I loved him with all my soul, and longed to be with him as I longed for nothing else.
     Presently He arose and walked to where those Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or impatience, asked them plaintively if they could not watch with him one hour. There He was, with the awful weight of the world’s sin upon his shoulders, with the pangs of every man, woman and child shooting through his sensitive soul—and they could not watch with him one poor hour!
      . . . All at once the circumstances seemed to change, the scene remaining just the same. Instead of before, it was after the crucifixion, and the Savior, with the three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into Heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran from behind the tree, fell at his feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.
      I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stopped, raised me up, and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real. I felt the very warmth of his body, as He held me in His arms and said in tenderest tones: “No, my son; these have finished their work; they can go with me; but you must stay and finish yours.” Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought him fervently: “Well, promise me that I will come to you at the last.” Smiling sweetly, He said: “That will depend entirely upon yourself.” I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.