On the night of the Last Supper after Jesus and the apostles sang, they went to the Garden of Gethsemani. I imagine that Jesus went to this garden for the comfort it would give him when humans slept in indifference. Perhaps Gethsemani was Jesus’ favorite garden, its olive trees supporting his back as he came there to prepare parables or rest after a hot afternoon of teaching. This was the last night that Jesus would come to this garden. Could he have been thinking:

Ah, Gethsemani! I will know the crush of the olive press as you have known it. I will know as you have often taught me what it is to be life poured out. I will miss you, your fragrance, your gnarled and twisted trunks, your sweet water, your rock on which I now pray. Prostrate, I cling to you. Oh, Gethsemani, support me as I pray, “Abba, Abba! I am afraid, afraid!”