When Jesus asks his Father to let this cup pass from him, he is using the language of the psalms, those songs that the Jews pray with and over so often. In Psalm 11, for instance, the psalmist speaks of the cup which God gives, which refers to the destiny which God gives/assigns each of us. To drink from the cup, then, is to accept your God-given destiny. Jesus knows that his destiny, his "Baptism," is to suffer and to die the agonizing death of crucifixion to save the human race. When, earlier, the mother of James and John asks Jesus if her sons can share in his glorious destiny, he asks her and the brothers "Can you drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?" This is Jesus' way of asking " Can you share in what I suffer before you share in my glory?"
Johann Ernst von Holst reflects on these words:
"No one can be a Christian without the cross. The closer we would be to the Lord, the deeper we have to go with him, outwardly and inwardly, into his suffering. That is essential. So let the Lord's question pierce deeply into your conscience, my soul: Can you, will you, drink his cup? Will you endure his baptism? Blessed are all who, through life and death, can humbly answer, 'Yes.'" (Source: "The Crucified Is My Love.")
How often do we avoid and evade suffering with Jesus because, like Peter, James, and John, we are "asleep" and so do not see the suffering Jesus? We have to keep watch, to wake up, and become alert and focused, so that we can be truly present to those in whom Jesus still suffers,- the agonized, fear-filled people in our lives and in the world.
St. Francis "woke up" when he allowed himself to really "see" the leper he was about to pass while on horseback. Before this, he had been so disgusted by lepers that he refused to look at lepers or go near their dwellings. That momentous day, he forced himself to dismount, to kiss the leper's hand, and to give him alms. Soon after, he went to a house where several lepers lived, entered, gave them all alms and kissed all their hands. At their touch, he realized what the Lord's words to him meant, that if he did God's will, what before had seemed bitter to him would now be sweetness and delight. Thus, he entered into the suffering of Jesus by entering into solidarity with the Jesus who suffered this dread disease.
In his book "Pilgrimage: My Search for the Real Pope Francis," Mark Shriver talks about this modern Francis and his interaction with a modern leper:
"I opened an email and saw a picture that startled me: the Pope hugging a man with a face so pocked and distorted with sores and growths that all I could do was stare, repulsed. I snapped out of it after thirty seconds. What kind of Catholic are you?" I scolded myself. Red-faced, even with no one there to witness my sin, I turned back, looking at the sores and growths and then at the Pope embracing the man and pulling him to his chest. How does he do that? There's no way I could touch the man. I stared and stared, almost unable to breathe.
"Then, after what seemed like an hour, I smiled.
"I couldn't see Francis' face, but I felt as if he were smiling at me, smiling straight through to my soul."
These two men named Francis, through their prayer, through their willing what the Father wills for them, through their drinking the cup of their destiny, and embracing their share of the suffering of Jesus, have launched themselves into the mystery of Jesus' fathomless, merciful love:
"What has the cross given to those who have gazed upon it or touched it? What has it left in each one of us? It gives us a treasure no one else can give: the certainty of the unshakable love which God has for us....The cross of Christ invites us to allow ourselves to be smitten by his love, teaching us always to look upon others with mercy and tenderness, especially those who suffer, who are in need of help, who need a word or a concrete action." (Pope Francis, "Meditations on the Stations.")
None of us today is likely to encounter anyone who is being ignored and avoided because he has leprosy. But Mother Teresa, who also saw Jesus in everyone she met, gives us another way to keep watch with the suffering Jesus:
"The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis, but rather the feeling of being unwanted."
Today, our entire culture is "groomed" by the elites to try to emulate perfection, an unattainable, painful goal. If you cannot be as handsome/beautiful, thin, well-groomed, moneyed, or popular as the elites demand, you are unwanted. If we are awake, if we keep watch, we truly see the pain which surrounds us.
Who has not heard of or experienced the horror of "fat-shaming," or online bullying, or the terrible cattiness that passes for conversation on Facebook? Who has not encountered people who feel unwanted, whose families ignore them or insult them? Who does not know someone who is out of a job, or has a part-time job, uses Food Stamps, and feels disgraced? Who does not know someone of a different race or religion or social class or sexual orientation who is hurting and fearful inside because of being wounded by cruel, unthinking attitudes and comments? Who does not know a lonely, awkward teen? A lonely widow or widower? Who has not heard of the suffering of immigrants, refugees, veterans, or the homeless? The fear-filled, agonized, suffering Jesus is close to us, so close, yet how often do we pass them by, if not on horseback, at least in our cars, or in our conversations?
Wake up. Look around you. Who in your own household may be crying secret tears of loneliness? Who desires your listening ear, your loving embrace? So often the face we "see" the least is the one we see the most.
"Ask Jesus what he wants of you, and be brave," Pope Francis exhorts us. If we are brave, we hear Jesus asking us "Can you keep watch with me? Can you drink the cup of suffering which you will experience if you come near to me in my suffering? Can you take the risk to leave your comfort zone, even if it's inconvenient, and frightening, and reach out to me in my most distressing disguise? Can you love even more the ones you live with? Can you let your heart be pierced by mercy for the love of me?"