“God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Cor. 5:19), and the Creator Himself was wearing the creature which was to be restored to the image of its Creator.
After the divinely-miraculous works had been performed, … Jesus, knowing that the time was now come for the fulfilment of His glorious Passion, said “my soul is sorrowful even unto death”.
And again: “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matt. 26:38-39).
And these words, expressing a certain fear, show His desire to heal the affection of our weakness by sharing them, and to check our fear of enduring pain by undergoing it.
In our nature, therefore, the Lord trembled with our fear, that He might fully clothe our weakness and our frailty with the completeness of His own strength.
For He had come into this world a rich and merciful merchant from the skies, and by a wondrous exchange had entered into a bargain of salvation with us, receiving ours and giving His – honour for insults, salvation for pain, life for death.
He, whom more than 12,000 of the angel-hosts might have served (see Matt. 26:53) for the annihilation of His persecutors, preferred to entertain our fears, rather than employ His own power.
And how much this humiliation conferred upon all the faithful, the most blessed Apostle Peter was the first to prove.
After the fierce blast of threatening cruelty had dismayed him, Peter quickly changed, and was restored to vigour, finding remedy from the great pattern, so that the suddenly-shaken member [of Christ’s mystical body] returned to the firmness of the head.
For the bond-servant could not be “greater than the Lord, nor the disciple greater than the master” (Matt. 10:24), and Peter could not have vanquished the trembling of human frailty had not the Vanquisher of death first feared.
The Lord, therefore, “looked back upon Peter” (Luke 22:61), and, amid the calumnies of priests, the falsehoods of witnesses, the injuries of those that scourged and spat upon Him, met His dismayed disciple with those eyes wherewith He had foreseen his dismay.
And the gaze of the Truth entered into Peter, on whose heart correction must be wrought, as if the Lord’s voice were making itself heard there, and saying:
“Where are you going, Peter? Why do you retire upon yourself? Turn to me, put your trust in me, follow me.
This is the time of my Passion; the hour of your suffering is not yet come. Why do you fear what you, too, shall overcome?
Let not the weakness, in which I share, confound you. I was fearful on your behalf. You should be confident of me.
Leo the Great (c.400-461): Sermon 54, 4-5.
The Garden of Gethsemane has always been one of my favorite Bible scenes: I could never understand why the Eastern Orthodox Church, for example, does not consider it a holy day. It is so significant, and yet it seems to receive little attention. I notice that Leo the Great–c.400-461–would probably be recognized as legitimate by the Orthodox. I will add Sermon 54 to my reading list. Thanks.
Thanks for your comment. I suppose that, in both East and West, the Gethsemane episode is observed liturgically as part of Holy Week, and is regarded as inseparable from that context.
The Eastern Orthodox Church definitely recognizes Leo as one of the Fathers (just as it recognizes Gregory the Great).
Maximus the Confessor (c.580-662) – one of the most important Fathers for Orthodox theology – places considerable emphasis on Gethsemane.
As the great expounder of the doctrine of Christ’s two wills – of his human will and his divine will acting in perfect synergy – Maximus naturally finds the story of the Garden of Gethsemae to be of tremendous theological significance.
A few years ago, I began to read some of the Popes’ writings, and I was blown away by Leo the Great. For me, he set the precedent for adding “the Great” to a Pope’s name (as in “JP2G”). What a contemplative Leo was, and this writing above shows even more what Christ willingly exchanged so that we might be both redeemed and sanctified.
Thanks for your comment. I agree with everything you say. I’ve been studying Leo for years – not just for this blog but also in an academic context – and, however well I think I know his sermons, each time I come back to them I find some wonderful and enlightening phrase or image or insight which I hadn’t previously noticed. He was, as you rightly say, a great contemplative.