Naked and Afraid

Toward the end of his gospel, in the penultimate scene where Jesus is arrested in the garden, Mark includes an oddly out-of-place incident, one that seems more appropriate to an Adam Sandler or Melissa MaCarthy movie. Jesus and his disciples have retreated to the Garden of Gethsemane. His earnest prayers to be delivered from the cross have been answered with silence. The three disciples closest to him, Peter, James and John, have slumbered through his struggle.

As he awakens them the third time, another disciple, Judas, appears, followed closely by an armed squad of the Temple guard. It is dark in the garden. Whatever light the moon provides is reflected back to the heavens by the foliage that canopies Jesus’ sanctuary. But Judas has traveled with their target for three years; he does not need light to find Jesus. Going at once to Jesus, he greets him; “Rabbi.” And kisses him.

Hard-handed men manhandle Jesus into submission. One of the faithful swings a sword narrowly missing the neck of the High Priest’s servant. An ear falls to the ground. Outnumbered, unfamiliar with fighting, unaccustomed to bloodshed, the courage of even the bravest disciple falters. They all flee the garden leaving Jesus in the hands of his captors. The scene is tense with betrayal, violence and fear.

Then Mark pens this: A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind.

For centuries, commentators, scholars and Bible students have wondered who this unfortunate young man might be. Some have suggested John, the beloved apostle. Others think he might have been a guest at the Passover meal. Most speculate that the young man is none other than Mark himself.

More curious, however, is why Mark would include this clownish aside in an otherwise serious scene. He is not one to waste words, his being the shortest of the four gospels. He includes only four of Jesus’ parables, preferring action to talk. And he does not spend a single syllable telling us about Jesus’ miraculous birth. Yet he has ink for a moment of ill-timed slapstick?

There are other indecencies like this in scripture. Noah, inebriated and undressed in his tent. Saul, slain in the spirit, exposed and prophesying. And the church in Laodicea, self-sufficient, impressed with itself but dressed in the emperor’s clothes.

There is, though, something uniquely familiar about this incident in Mark. A garden. Deception. Nakedness and fear. We have been here before, a long, long time ago. “I heard you in the garden,” said Adam, “and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” Maybe Mark isn’t trying to be funny at all.

Adam, Eve and Mark’s young man all lived the bad dream people sometimes sweat through – showing up in a public place in nothing but what the good Lord gave them. Various interpretations of that common dream theme have been offered, but you don’t need an expert to explain it. It’s about the fear of having all our faults and failings exposed. It’s about being vulnerable. Full frontal shame – the thing that makes you want to run and hide. Like Adam and Eve and the man in Mark. And us.

Much of what we do and say and how we live is a desperate running for cover. We hide behind expensive possessions or impressive positions or practiced pretense. We disguise our faults behind social media masks. We camouflage our sin in the shade of good deeds or doctrinal precision or busywork at church. And none of it, as faithful as it makes us seem, is any more befitting than the fig leaf aprons Adam and Eve stitched together.

In Genesis 3:21, after he found them hiding in humiliation, the Lord God . . . clothed them. In Revelation 3:18, John promised a scantily clad church that God himself would give them white clothes to cover their shame. If God can weave a universe out of nothing – if He can outfit an autumn mountainside in an exquisite tapestry of color – if He can knit together a human in a mother’s womb – do we doubt His ability to clothe us, cover us with His own tailor made righteousness?

We have to stop hiding – from God and from each other. It is easy to be intimidated by people all decked out in the latest religious fashions. Unless what they are wearing was designed by God, it is a cheap knock off. And if the clothes that cover their shame come from God, they don’t have anything to brag about anyway. On his deathbed, Luther said we are all mere beggars telling other beggars where to find bread. He was right. We are also, every one of us, the young man in the garden, fleeing naked and afraid.