Jesus and the eleven returned to the Mount of Olives where they had been camping in the Garden of Gethsemane during their stay in Jerusalem. Judas had gone his own way. He told his disciples to remain in the camp while he went up the mountian to pray. He allowed only Peter and John to walk with him up the rugged mountain trail. He spoke not a word to his companions as the climbed the path toward the summit. Everything had been said. The story had been told, now it must be lived.
Peter and John's minds were filled with questions they dared not ask. Their teachers mood had been so intense over the last week. Their previous trips to the Holy City and their stays in the garden had been filled with joy and excitement. Sure the Scribes and Pharisees had been bothersome but Jesus had been exuberant with wit and wisdom. Even their arrival last week had been filled with joy. The crowds had lined the streets laying palm leaves and singing hosannas. They had hailed him as their King and Messiah. That did not last long.
Ever since they arrived, Jesus had changed. His words were harsh and unyielding. He spoke more of death and hell, than of joy and paradise. Before he had tied the Pharisees in verbal knots at times rather amusingly. This time he confronted them with strength leaving no quarter. His speech had become hard and pointed much like John the Baptist had been. All the crowds had slowly abandoned him, even Judas had left, until now only the eleven remained.
Jesus left the two men to stand watch on the path as he climbed to the summit. It was late, and the day had been long. Both stood silent, consumed with their own thoughts. What would come next? Where would they go from here? They would both be glad to leave Jerusalem, perhaps return to Galilee. It had been a long week. Slowly they fell into slumber beside the path...
Jesus had climbed the last of the trail alone. He felt more alone now than he had in his whole life. The crowds had abandoned him, one of his own betrayed him, and the rest were wavering. He even began to feel a gulf forming between himself and his Father. Jesus cried out to heaven. His prayers poured forth so powerfully the tears streamed down his face, sweat poured off his brow, until there were no more tears, no more sweat, only blood oozing from his exhausted pores. Three times he returned to his companions for support and found them sleeping; three times he cried out to his Father to relieve him of his duty and destiny only to be left in silence as the gulf seemed to grow.
Having accepted his Fathers will over his own disires he returned to his sleeping companions and awoke them for the third time. Up the path came a contingent of temple guards led by Judas and followed by the nine men he had left in camp. Thus the Lamb was led away.