The Sorrowful Mysteries are by far my favourite mysteries of the Rosary. It’s not that I’m morbid or enjoy sadness. Rather, they’re my favourite because (in the Sorrowful Mysteries, in particular) the humanity of Jesus is emphasised. What do I mean by this?

I’ll grant that the humanity of Jesus is present in the other mysteries as well, and this is a fact because, believe it or not, Jesus is a human being. Arguably, Jesus is more human than any of us because (according to some patristic writers, like Athanasius) we are made logikos (rational) in the image of the Logos (“the Word,” cf. John 1). This is what it means for us to be made in the image and likeness of God, except that we cut ourselves off from this destiny through sinning while Christ—who is sinless, though he shares our human nature—does not. At any rate, the point is that he is as man was intended to be. As Pilate said: Ecce homo (John 19:5), meaning, “Behold the man!” So it is that Christ is said to be human after he was “incarnate of the Virgin Mary”.

Nevertheless, there are times when we don’t fully appreciate Jesus for who he is. For instance, usually around this time of year we’re all talking about how Jesus “suffered death and was buried” for us before he “rose again on the third day, in accordance with the scriptures”. Obviously, we all know it sucked: we know it was painful, that crucifixion is among the most horrible ways to die, etc. However, when we talk about his passion and death, there’s this scene at the start that, while it is talked about, is often overlooked in my view. I’m speaking, of course, about the agony in the garden.

[H]e said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.’ And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.’

Matthew 26:38–39

What’s so incredible about this scene in the garden of Gethsemane? Jesus knows the fate that awaits him—indeed, he prophesies his death many times in the Gospels—but wants nothing to do with it. He describes himself as “deeply grieved,” which is entirely understandable. If any of us were to know the hour of our death—never mind our manner of death—we might be deeply grieved as well! And by God, if that’s not one of the most human things Jesus says in the Gospels. He’s not at all removed from his suffering, just as none of us who suffer (when we suffer) are.

He goes on, saying: “yet not what I want but what you want.” His (human) will is in perfect concert with the divine will in the proper manner, namely being led by it. Obedience to God’s will, which works for the good: this is the way he shows us. “Thy will be done,” he teaches us to pray. Nevertheless, no one is smiling about it all of the time, not even Jesus. Like us, he understands how difficult it is to carry out of the will of God, except that he does so perfectly, and even unto a horrible, torturous death. He unites God and man.

The next time life’s got you down in the dumps, just remember: even God has had shit days. Especially him; and that’s not to mention that he didn’t deserve it whatsoever. Jesus was innocent of sin, after all. I think that’s what is so incredible about all of this: God gets it! More than “getting it,” God has experienced suffering that he didn’t want to undergo. (If that doesn’t make sense, it’s because Trinitarian theology is an antinomous minefield.) Nowhere else is that put more plainly into words than in the agony in the garden, and that’s why it is my favourite mystery of the Rosary. He is the God who weeps.