When the Only Son of God suffered and died
on a hill outside Jerusalem
almost 2,000 years ago, everything changed.

The last words of Jesus

By Paul Niskansen

“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” This is not my favorite word from the cross. It is not what I want to hear Jesus saying in the last moments of his life. I much prefer to hear his words of comfort and reassurance: “This day you will be with me in paradise,” or “Father, forgive them.” I would rather hear Jesus’ words of trust: “Into your hands I commend my spirit,” than his cry of anguish and desolation.

I’m sure that I’m not alone in feeling this way. I think that perhaps many people are uncomfortable with this word that sounds somehow scandalous. I think at times we try to tiptoe around the harsh reality contained in these words. We try to convince ourselves that Jesus cannot really mean what it sounds like he is saying. I have heard preachers and scripture scholars blandly smooth over this troubling word. “Jesus is quoting Psalm 22,” they remind us, “It begins with this cry of despair, but ends on a note of faith in God. Jesus’ cry is really an expression of trust in God.”

Let me clearly state for the record that I do not believe that. I do believe that Jesus had total faith in his Father. But that is not what he is expressing here. Jesus, like the Psalmist before him, is honestly expressing the utter anguish in his soul. He truly felt abandoned by God, dying alone, with no consolation.

When we think of what Jesus suffered, it is often the physical sufferings that come to mind. The images of his suffering before us every Good Friday are vivid––the scourging at the pillar, the crowning with thorns, the way of the cross, and the crucifixion. Yet, the physical suffering his body endured does not tell the whole story of what Jesus suffered. The psychological suffering he endured adds to the picture—cruel betrayal and abandonment by his closest friends and followers, humiliation and insults from the soldiers, the crowds, and even from those crucified with him. But I believe the greatest suffering Jesus endured must have been the spiritual emptiness, the feeling that even God had left him, as he hung dying between heaven and earth. This was his darkest night of the spirit: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Why indeed? Why did the Father of Jesus withdraw into silence at his moment of greatest need? Why did Jesus have to suffer so? How often do we ask the same question about our own suffering? Why? I believe that the mystery of the suffering of Jesus in body, mind, and spirit is closely related to the mystery of the Incarnation—it is part of our human nature which the Son of God took on.

A renowned historian, when asked to sum up the whole of human history in just three words said: “Born, suffer, die.” When then asked to sum up all of history in a single word, he replied: “Suffer.” This may seem an overly pessimistic view of reality. It certainly is not the whole story. God has created the world full of beauty and splendor, joy and wonder. Yet, if we look about us, if we look in our own hearts, the words of the historian do ring true. Suffering is all around us. It is often deep within us. It is a part of being human—the common lot of all who are born into this world.

We have all, in one way or another suffered in our lives. Through our own fault, through the fault of others, and even for no apparent reason. Suffering is a mystery that touches every person who has ever lived. When our God, in his infinite love, humbled himself to become a man, to be like us in all things but sin, he took on our human nature in all its weakness, with all its suffering. He knows our every pain—physical, emotional, and spiritual. As the Letter to the Hebrews states:

He had to become like his brothers in every way, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest before God on their behalf. . . . Since he was himself tested through what he suffered, he is able to help those who are tempted.

And further on it adds:

We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weakness, but one who was tempted in every way that we are, yet never sinned. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and favor and to find help in time of need.

On the cross on Good Friday, we see, then, the full depth of the Incarnation. The Son of God took on our humanity in all its weakness, with all its suffering. But Jesus did not suffer just for the sake of suffering. He took upon himself all of our pain and sorrow and our wounded human nature to transform a broken world. If Jesus were just another holy man, only a prophet, or merely the founder of a religion, Good Friday would have no sense. His suffering and death would be nothing but a tragic mistake—his cry from the cross nothing more than a pathetic admission of failure. Nothing would change, and our own suffering would be meaningless.

But when the Only Son of God, the Word made flesh, suffered and died on a hill outside Jerusalem almost 2000 years ago, everything changed. It certainly was not what people were expecting. The Messiah of Israel did not establish a visible kingdom of peace, where pain and suffering are no more. Jesus did not take us out of our world with all its pain and suffering. Rather, he entered into our world . . . fully . . . completely . . . to the end.

The best argument for atheism—in fact, the only argument for atheism that holds any water at all—is the suffering of the innocent. How could God, who is all-good and all-powerful, allow such evil to exist? There is of course a certain answer to this in human free will. God has given us the freedom to choose good or evil, life or death. And sadly we have chosen and we continue to choose poorly. But there is an even deeper answer to the atheist’s objections. It is the Incarnation. It is Emmanuel, God-with-us. It is the unfathomable and astonishing love of God who gave his only Son to be with us, not only at selected moments, not only when things are going well, but always—even in our darkest night.

Suffering is a mystery we will never fully understand. We have all suffered at some point in our lives, and we will all continue to suffer—physically, mentally, and spiritually. Yet, ever since that first Good Friday, we no longer suffer alone. Our God has shown us how totally committed he is to us. Nailed to the cross, he is inseparably united to us.

HE WILL NOT LEAVE US!

Perhaps at the darkest, lowest point in our lives, we may find ourselves crying out as Jesus did: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” We may see or feel no consolation. We may feel utterly abandoned and alone. Yet, we can have sure knowledge of this one truth: OUR GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE US!

There is a song I’m sure most Catholics are familiar with, a song whose words are based on the scriptures. In this song are the following lines: “If you stand before the power of hell, and death is at your side, know that I am with you through it all!” KNOW THAT I AM WITH YOU THROUGH IT ALL! I believe that this is the profound message that lies at the heart of Jesus’ cry of desolation. The Son of God held nothing back when he became a man. He knows intimately our every sorrow and our every pain. He is God-with-us even when we feel like God has abandoned us. Christ came into our world of suffering. He did not come to take us out of this world; rather, he sends us, just as he was sent, into the world. He himself promised us: “You will suffer in the world, but take courage, I have overcome the world!”

Dr. Paul Niskansen studied religion and theology at Seattle University (B.A.) and the Teresianum in Rome (S.T.B.) He received his Ph.D. in biblical studies from Graduate Theological Union where he currently teaches in both Old and New Testaments. He lives in Berkeley with his wife, Erin, and their son Adam. This is his first article in HPR.