"Come! Follow me!" Abruptly Jesus walked from the room, down the stairs, and into the dark street. The moon had just risen; it hung low over the Hill of Olives, blood-red in a black sky, giving almost no light. Jesus walked swiftly toward the city gate. The disciples glanced up and down each street they crossed, alert for any sign of soldiers.
It did not take them long to reach the foot of the Hill of Olives. Jesus did not go to their usual resting place. Instead, he led the eleven men toward his place of prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. They were panting for breath when Jesus entered a narrow gate through the stone wall that Judas had climbed over the night before.
The Garden was dark. Among the dense trees the moon could not be seen at all. During the week, the men had slept under clear skies; but now there was a damp chill that threatened a storm on the morrow. When Jesus stopped, his followers sank wearily on the ground.
"Wait here for me while I pray," said Jesus. A note of distress had crept into his voice. He turned to Peter, James, and John. "Come with me." They groped their way through the woods, their hands before them. Jesus stopped. "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Wait here and pray for me." The men had never known Jesus to be like this before; he was almost appealing to them for help. A short distance away Jesus knelt on the ground. The hard day, the meal, and the walk up the hill had made the fishermen drowsy, but they heard Jesus praying very earnestly. "O Father, thou canst do all things! If it be possible, spare me this suffering. Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done." They heard his voice no more.
Peter did not know how long he had slept when he was awakened by Jesus' shaking his shoulder. "Simon Peter! Are you sleeping? Couldn't you stay awake and pray with me even one hour?" James and John roused themselves. "Stay awake, all of you. Pray that you will not fail me now when I need you most! I know you want to be my true friends—but you have not the strength!"
Hard as the three men tried, they could not stay awake. Twice more Jesus came and aroused them. The last time Peter awoke the moon was high, but was almost hidden behind a cloud. He could make out the faint outline of the figure of Jesus standing beside him. A chilly wind had sprung up and rattled the leaves. The night wind carried a warning Peter could not understand. James and John slept heavily.
"Still resting?" said Jesus. The two men stirred and looked at Jesus, greatly ashamed. "Come! Get up! The hour has come when the Son of Man is to be betrayed into the hands of sinful men!" Through the black woods rang the sound of a sword clanging against a steel shin guard. Peter leaped to his feet. "James! John!"
Through the gnarled trees the men saw a sight that struck terror into their hearts: led by Roman soldiers, a mob carrying torches was advancing toward them. The yellow flames whipped in the wind and cast hideous twisting shadows as they came nearer the Garden.
"They must know we are here!" whispered James. "Come on! Let's get out of here!" The two fishermen fled into the darkness.
Torchlight glinted on spears and helmets. There was no sign of the other eight disciples. Peter stood rooted to the spot from which he had risen. Jesus watched calmly. Some in the noisy crowd carried clubs. The light from the flares struck through the trees and fell full on Jesus' face.