“Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray.” – Matthew 14:22-23
“If you don’t come apart for a while, you will come apart after a while.” – Dallas Willard
This word “made” here is Greek anagkazo, “to constrain, to compel,” from a root word that means “necessity.” For Jesus at that moment, solitude was a necessity. And some compulsion was required to gain it: tensions and feelings were running high. Herod had just beheaded John the Baptist and was likely on the lookout for Jesus. A remarkably large crowd was present, likely because it was around the time of Passover. Jesus had just finished feeding them, the only miracle recorded in all four gospels, and they wanted to make him king, a prospect his disciples probably relished. Who knows what Jesus was feeling at that moment—the temptation of earthly glory? Tides of public and political momentum? Weariness? Unprocessed grief? All of the above?
This was a time when it would have made no natural or logistical sense to seek solitude. Yet Jesus insists on it immediately, dismissing the crowds despite the fervor of their adulation, dismissing the disciples despite the fact that it left him geographically stranded. He spent an extended portion of the night praying alone on a mountain.
When was the last time you were alone, really alone? When was the last time you went into the wilderness? David Brooks writes of the wilderness: “life is stripped of distractions. It is quiet. The topography demands discipline, simplicity, and fierce attention.”
There were certainly times (like nine verses ago) when Jesus gave up solitude to serve others. But he also goes to great lengths to seek it. How attune am I to promptings for retreat? How intentionally do I respond to that inner invitation or impulse?
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