Here are understandings colliding. Judas has turned to the shadows, and in the shadows of the garden the disciples clash their swords. Jesus now shines, aware and understanding turns aside both kiss and wound. He speaks as Lord and God and yet is going to his appalling horror: the vale of death and utter dereliction in an unnatural midnight.
Come furtive vermin: crabs and woodlice creeping over stones in the sweating torchlight of a deserted night. Now is their hour, the authority of the dark; the nameless, gnawed by fear and loathing, shall also have their moment. The disciples like salamanders scatter and Jesus is bound because he now refuses to resist. How you come! he says, jabbing at their fears with words exact.
Worse than a horror of darkness now must come on you, son of Abraham, for that was brightly numinous. Comes a horror of nothing at all through which you too must pass, great Lord and mighty King!