Twentieth meditation. The Garden of Olives

First point.

Contemplate the God of majesty entering at night the Garden of Olives. He becomes pale, sadness oppresses Him. " Ah! " He exclaims, " My soul is sorrowful even unto death! " Prostrated in prayer, He says to His eternal Father: " Father, if it be possible let this chalice pass away, yet not My will, but Thine be done! " Three times He repeats the same prayer with such anguish and energy that a bloody sweat covers Him.

Second point.

What is it that has drawn this sadness of death from the Soul of life? Doubtless, it is love which has loaded Him with the sins of men and which wishes for their sake to experience the fear and dread of the inferior part of the soul. What dost Thou say, O my Jesus — that Thy soul is sorrowful even unto death? Alas! was it not Thou who once said to the apostles, that Thou hadst a great desire to be baptized with the baptism of Thy Passion? Yes, those were Thine own words. But, as St. Augustine remarks, having been created by power and authority, Thou didst wish to ransom us in weakness and suffering.

Third point.

Reflect that the eternal Father heard His Son for His reverence, says St. Paul; and as to the Benjamin of His Heart, He sent Him the cup of torments by one of His angelic servants. Our sweet Jesus then received the chalice so lovingly that He resolved to drink it even to the dregs, and to allow neither affronts nor confusion nor sorrow to overcome Him. To this end, He went Himself to meet His enemies.

Affections.

O Jesus! afflicted even unto death, what can I say to Thee? Eve tasted in the garden the sweetness of the fruit; but as for Thee, my Redeemer, love made Thee taste the bitterness of the pain due to her vain pleasure. Ah, what great secrets are enclosed in that garden! Dear Spouse, when Thou wast sorrowful and afflicted, Thou wast far away from Thy most intimate friends; but when I undergo the slightest annoyance, I run to creatures for sympathy. Thou didst address Thyself to Thy Father with such resignation and perseverance, that Thou didst sweat blood; but I cannot watch even one hour with Thee. I weary of prayer, my resignation is only by halves. Henceforth, O Lord, I shall adopt Thy language: "Not my will, O Father, but Thine be done!"

O Jesus, love stronger than death loaded Thee in the garden with sorrows, with my sins, with my infidelities, with my resistance to Thy graces, and love made Thee grieve over my wretchedness! My sweet Jesus, if such apprehensions could exist in the inferior part of Thy soul whilst contemplating death, what should I think, criminal that I am, on beholding Thee, O King of innocence? Ah, I should be convinced that Thy death acquired life for Thy children, as Thy weakness obtained strength for them.

O creatures! prevent not my drinking the chalice of afflictions that my heavenly Father sends me, for I desire to render myself conformable to Jesus suffering!

THE GARDEN OF OLIVES. Ill

Take, O humble Jesus, take this chalice that the Father sends Thee. Ah, my soul! what is it that the Father sends to His Son? Consolation? No, rather an increase of torments. Was it not His consolation to do in all things the will of His Father? This it was that strengthened Him, so that instead of retarding Him, He goes forward to meet His sufferings. O creatures! whoever you may be, do not prevent me from accepting the chalice that my Father offers me*