Reflections on “Keeping Watch” in The Garden
Maundy Thursday 2008
By Erin Leigh (Locher) Reeff

The concept of “keeping watch” in the Garden all night is one that I have always thought of as inspiring and even romantic. When 4:30 a.m. rolled around and my alarm went off this morning the reality was neither inspiring nor romantic. I got out of bed, considered going to church in my pajamas, my Mother’s face flashed before me and her famous words, “God doesn’t care what you look like...but I do!” echoed in my head. I promptly put on lounge pants, a fleece pull-over and shearling boots. It was snowing. As I made the short drive to church, I passed one car, saw another set of oncoming headlights and a third car at a distant red light. I couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, were going to sit “watch” in a Garden somewhere. I also couldn’t help but think this was a little absurd: it’s 4:30 a.m., it’s snowing, I’m driving to church to sit in a chapel for a half an hour. Why? Because we’re better than those Disciples! We won’t let Jesus down, we won’t leave him alone, we won’t fall asleep...we’re going to sit and stay awake for a whole half an hour! The truth is we’re no better; we just know how the story ends. If they had, I’m certain the outcome would have been different. Picture it; at the Last Supper, Jesus says, “Friends, on your way out, please sign up for a half an hour time slot to come sit with me in the Garden before I’m taken away to be horribly crucified. There are only a few spots left and it’s only a half an hour of your time.” The Disciples go running out to sign up for the “good times”. Approaching the ridiculous, and in retrospect, I should have had a cup of coffee before I left the house! In an effort to be positive; I admitted to myself I was looking forward to the solace, peace and quiet, and was welcoming the time to reflect. Upon approaching the church, there was one car in the lot. I parked, climbed the few steps to the chapel door and entered. Whew! There was someone there still keeping watch. I glanced at my watch to see I was actually 10 minutes early. Good. I didn’t want anyone to have to stay over their “allotted time” on my behalf.

The chapel was dimly lit with one floor lamp in the comer and scattered votive candles which gave the room a welcoming and warm glow. The only sound was the water flowing from the stone garden fountain and the occasional creaking from the building as the wind whipped outside, otherwise, the silence was deafening. The tulips, azaleas, daffodils and assorted other spring flowers, plants and trees were in bloom and beautifully placed in a natural cascade across the far comer of the room just as they may be found in a “real” garden, but most noticeable was the fragrant bouquet which filled the entire room from the hyacinths. You couldn’t help but breathe it in. It was such a blissful sight and in drastic contrast to the dark sky, blowing wind and wet falling snow outside this early morning...and not at all like the stark, sullen and dark Garden of Gethsemane I envisioned, or, more accurately, what the entertainment industry had created for me. I chose a chair and sat down and was taking it all in when my attention turned to the memorial bronze plaques on the wall which housed the ashes of parishioners gone before. All but two, I personally had known. I thought it was fitting that they were here in the Garden and at peace. I began to think of my Dad who would be interred into the courtyard columbarium garden once his plaque was completed and a date determined, but sometime very soon. I was overtaken with emotions and I needed to refocus in order to keep my composure. When I did, an unexpected anxiety came over me....What was the protocol? There must be some sort of protocol. I’m Episcopalian…there is always a protocol! What do I do now that I’m here? There’s no bulletin, no ushers, no acolytes, no priests, no deacon, no organist, no reader, no one but me and the Garden and a half an hour. A whole half of an hour. Two minutes with conditioner in my hair seems to take forever, so a whole half hour would seem like eternity. As I pondered “what to do” for a couple of minutes another parishioner came in. Wait! This is my time slot! Thankfully, I realized I needed an attitude adjustment and I embraced the reality that it was truly wonderful someone else came to sit in the Garden. They, too, wanted to meditate or pray or maybe just “be” in the Garden. I knelt down to pray.

I began with my usual “stock” set of prayers for myself, people I know and love, supplemented with those of recent events, mostly surrounding my Dad’s death, concerns which have affected friends and family and eventually moved on to the more distant “big picture” type prayers for humankind in general. But, mostly, just thanking God for all the blessings in my life even during this overwhelming time of sorrow. My flow of consciousness brought me to what tonight meant for Christians; all the events of that day in the garden and what was to come. As I knelt there, I started thinking about how scared Jesus must have been knowing what was to come...and it made me sad. Was my Dad scared when he died? I had created a comfort in my mind that he wasn’t...1 chose to believe he was ready and happy and willing to put down his drill, follow the white light and go with Jesus. He didn’t have to be scared, because of tonight and Jesus’ sacrifice. Well, that’s what they taught me over all these years anyway. I went over and lit a candle for my Dad on the “Catholic Candle Rack”, a phrase he had coined some time ago. I knelt down next to it to pray. Picking up the Book of Common Prayer. I knew exactly where I would go...Psalm 23. I read is slowly taking in each verse, meditating on it’s purest of meaning and prayed along the way. When done, I closed the book and noticed the time...1 had fulfilled my “allotted time” commitment. Actually I had gone a little over. A couple came in and inside I cheered, not because “my time” was done, but with the hope they would also have an “experience” in the Garden.

Before leaving the Chapel I looked around again, it seemed the glow was a little brighter and the silence not so deafening. The room had not physically changed, but something had... I had. On the scent of the hyacinth I had “breathed in” the Holy Spirit and when I exhaled it did not leave me. I left the Chapel. The dark sky, whipping wind and falling snow wasn’t as oppressive as when I entered. It seemed beautiful. A beautiful part of God’s creation and a gift.

I drove home filled with the Peace of the Holy Spirit in me and I realized I had a new reality, something profound: Jesus is not requesting that we sit with Him in His Garden to be there during His time of strife, while scared, praying to His father, and trying to keep His faith...He is actually offering to sit with us in our garden...during our time of strife, when we are scared and praying to God, trying to keep our faith. He went to the Garden and He took on the fear of death so we don’t have to. I finally, and honestly, not only believed, but knew, my Dad wasn’t scared.

The concept and reality of “keeping watch” in the Garden had become one and it is much, much more inspiring that I had ever imagined.

As a side note and suggestion: the major hair care companies should change their directions to: Shampoo, Rinse, Condition, PRAY, and repeat as necessary. Satisfaction would, then, be truly guaranteed!