The Death of God
What does it mean that the King of the Universe allowed himself to be executed like a criminal?
Matthew 27:32-56
Read the whole passage before anything else. Everything below exists to help you understand what you just read.
32As they came out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name, and they compelled him to go with them, that he might carry his cross.
33When they came to a place called “Golgotha”, that is to say, “The place of a skull,”
34they gave him sour wine to drink mixed with gall. When he had tasted it, he would not drink.
35When they had crucified him, they divided his clothing among them, casting lots,
36and they sat and watched him there.
37They set up over his head the accusation against him written, “THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS.”
38Then there were two robbers crucified with him, one on his right hand and one on the left.
39Those who passed by blasphemed him, wagging their heads
40and saying, “You who destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”
41Likewise the chief priests also mocking with the scribes, the Pharisees, and the elders, said,
42“He saved others, but he can’t save himself. If he is the King of Israel, let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him.
43He trusts in God. Let God deliver him now, if he wants him; for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”
44The robbers also who were crucified with him cast on him the same reproach.
45Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour.
46About the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lima sabachthani?” That is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
47Some of them who stood there, when they heard it, said, “This man is calling Elijah.”
48Immediately one of them ran and took a sponge, filled it with vinegar, put it on a reed, and gave him a drink.
49The rest said, “Let him be. Let’s see whether Elijah comes to save him.”
50Jesus cried again with a loud voice, and yielded up his spirit.
51Behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from the top to the bottom. The earth quaked and the rocks were split.
52The tombs were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised;
53and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection, they entered into the holy city and appeared to many.
54Now the centurion and those who were with him watching Jesus, when they saw the earthquake and the things that were done, were terrified, saying, “Truly this was the Son of God!”
55Many women were there watching from afar, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, serving him.
56Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.
What just happened?
Picture ancient Jerusalem in the early 30s CE. It's Passover, a time when the city swelled with pilgrims, and Roman authorities were on high alert for any unrest. Outside the city walls, near a rocky outcrop that looked like a skull – "Golgotha" – a procession moved slowly. Roman soldiers, grim and efficient, escorted three condemned men. One of them, exhausted from torture, stumbled under the weight of his cross-beam. A bystander, Simon from Cyrene, an unsuspecting pilgrim likely just entering the city, was conscripted to carry it for him. This was the routine, brutal march to a Roman crucifixion.
Crucifixion was Rome's ultimate deterrent, a public spectacle designed to terrorize. It was slow, agonizing, and humiliating. The condemned were stripped, nailed, and left to die of asphyxiation and shock, often taking days. For Jesus, this process was accelerated. After an unjust trial orchestrated by religious leaders and rubber-stamped by the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, he was scourged, mocked as a 'king,' and now, led to his execution. The inscription above his head, "THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS," was Pilate's sardonic jab at the Jewish authorities, a declaration of a charge that, in their eyes, he didn't deserve, but in Rome's, was a challenge to Caesar.
As the hours passed, the scene was a chaotic mix of morbid curiosity and open hostility. Crowds milled, some jeering, some watching in stunned silence. Religious leaders, who had orchestrated Jesus's death, continued their taunts, daring him to perform one last miracle. Soldiers gambled for his clothes, indifferent to the suffering above them. Even the other two criminals, crucified alongside him, joined the chorus of insults. But then, as midday approached, something shifted. The sun, usually blazing over the Judean hills, vanished. An unnatural darkness enveloped the entire land, an ominous shroud that lasted for three hours, signaling something profoundly abnormal about this particular execution.
The March to the Skull
Jesus, battered from his previous ordeal, couldn't carry the cross-beam alone. Roman soldiers, always pragmatic, grabbed Simon of Cyrene. Cyrene was a city in North Africa, suggesting Simon was likely a Jew from the diaspora, visiting Jerusalem for Passover. His forced participation highlights the brutal efficiency of Roman occupation – they didn't care who you were, only that their orders were followed. This moment, often overlooked, is a stark reminder of the physical toll on Jesus and the arbitrary power of the state.
Arriving at Golgotha, "The place of a skull," Jesus was offered sour wine mixed with gall. This was likely a crude painkiller, a sedative intended to dull the agony. Mark’s gospel mentions 'myrrh,' which was also known for its numbing properties. Jesus tasted it but "would not drink." This refusal is significant. He chose to face the full, unmitigated horror of what was coming, clear-headed and fully present. He wasn't seeking an escape from the pain, but rather, to endure it completely.
Crucified and Ridiculed
The act itself is described with chilling brevity: "When they had crucified him." Matthew doesn't dwell on the physical process, knowing his audience understood its brutality. The focus shifts to the immediate aftermath: the soldiers casting lots for his clothes, a detail that fulfills an ancient prophecy from Psalm 22. The inscription above his head, "THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS," was a final, mocking statement from Pilate, ironically proclaiming a truth that Rome failed to grasp.
The taunts came from all sides. Passersby wagged their heads, repeating accusations about destroying the temple. The religious leaders, the chief priests, scribes, and Pharisees, heaped scorn upon him: "He saved others, but he can't save himself." They challenged his claim to be the 'Son of God' and the 'King of Israel,' demanding a miraculous descent from the cross as proof. Even the two criminals crucified alongside him, broken and dying, joined in the verbal assault. This wasn't just physical torment; it was a psychological and spiritual assault, an attempt to utterly strip him of dignity and meaning.
Darkness, Death, and Aftershocks
From the sixth hour (noon) to the ninth hour (3 PM), an unsettling darkness fell over the land. This wasn't an eclipse; a full moon occurred during Passover, making an eclipse impossible. It was a supernatural phenomenon, a cosmic disruption marking the significance of what was unfolding. In the midst of this gloom, Jesus cried out, "Eli, Eli, lima sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" This isn't a cry of despair in the sense of losing faith, but a deeply human expression of the unfathomable agony of separation from God, a direct quote from Psalm 22, a psalm that ultimately speaks of vindication.
Then, with a "loud voice," Jesus "yielded up his spirit." He didn't simply expire; he actively gave up his life, an act of sovereign will. The immediate aftermath was cataclysmic: the heavy veil in the Jerusalem Temple, separating the most holy space, was torn "from top to bottom," signaling open access to God. Earthquakes rocked the ground, tombs opened, and bodies of "saints" were raised. These aren't just special effects; they are profound, symbolic events testifying to the cosmic significance of Jesus's death. The Roman centurion, a hardened soldier, saw it all and declared, "Truly this was the Son of God!" Even Rome's instruments of execution were forced to bear witness to a reality beyond their understanding. A group of women, loyal followers, watched from a distance, bearing quiet witness to the horror and the mystery.
What are we supposed to see?
This passage shows Jesus not as a passive victim, but as a King who willingly embraces the ultimate vulnerability. He allows himself to be stripped, mocked, and executed by the very people he created and came to save. His refusal of the painkiller, his deliberate cry from Psalm 22, and his 'yielding up' of his spirit all point to a conscious decision to fully experience the depths of human suffering and divine separation. This is not a failure of God's power, but a redefinition of it, demonstrating a love that goes beyond all human expectations of what power should look like.
The cosmic phenomena surrounding his death – the darkness, the torn temple veil, the earthquake, the opening of tombs – are not merely dramatic embellishments. They are God's immediate, emphatic commentary on the event. The tearing of the temple veil signifies the end of old barriers between humanity and God. The darkness highlights the profound nature of this moment, while the earthquake and resurrected bodies are God's signature on history, affirming that this death was not an ordinary execution but a pivotal, universe-altering event orchestrated by divine purpose.
- 1IDENTITY
Despite the humiliation, the taunts about him being 'King of the Jews' and 'Son of God' are affirmed by the cosmic events and the centurion's declaration. He is precisely who he claimed to be, even in death.
- 2WHAT HE VALUES
He values obedience to God's purpose and love for humanity more than self-preservation, dignity, or comfort, willingly enduring the cross to its bitter end.
- 3WHAT HE CONFRONTS
He confronts sin, death, and human injustice, enduring the full force of their consequence to break their power.
Where this sits in the whole Bible
Matthew 27:35 → Psalm 22:18
The soldiers casting lots for Jesus's clothes directly fulfills a specific prophecy made centuries earlier, emphasizing the intentionality and foreknowledge behind the crucifixion.
Matthew 27:46 → Psalm 22:1
Jesus's cry, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?', is the opening line of Psalm 22. This psalm, while beginning with deep lament, ultimately moves to trust and vindication, suggesting Jesus is speaking the entire psalm into existence and fulfilling its ultimate hope.
Matthew 27:51 → Hebrews 10:19-20
The tearing of the temple veil is directly connected in the New Testament to Jesus's body providing a new, living way for humanity to directly access God's presence, rather than through ritual and sacrifice.
The darkness, the earthquake, the torn veil, and the centurion's confession are not just signs; they are God's immediate, unmistakable witness to the cosmic significance of this one man's death.
Don't rush past this
The hardest thing in this passage is the raw, visceral cry of Jesus: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" This isn't a theological abstraction; it’s a direct, painful expression of feeling utterly abandoned by the one source of all life and comfort. For a moment, even the Son felt the chasm of separation from the Father, bearing the full weight of humanity's estrangement from God. This moment challenges any neat, tidy theological explanations and forces us to sit with the profound mystery and agony of the cross.
Another deeply uncomfortable element is the complete public humiliation and suffering of the King of the Universe. He doesn't descend with legions of angels; he dies, exposed and vulnerable, alongside common criminals. There's no heroic last-minute escape, no glorious rescue. His power, paradoxically, is demonstrated in his utter powerlessness according to human standards. This forces us to re-evaluate what power truly looks like and what it means for God to enter fully into human weakness and death.
Turn it inward
Three questions from this passage. Answer them or just sit with them — nothing here is required to finish the lesson.
God, this passage is hard to read. It makes me uncomfortable to see your Son suffer so deeply. Help me to understand the depth of his love in embracing this pain and humiliation. Give me the courage to face my own struggles with honesty, knowing that you entered fully into the human experience, even death, to be with us. Amen.
This week, when you encounter something difficult or humiliating, consider Jesus's refusal to numb his pain and his embrace of suffering. Rather than immediately seeking escape, ask yourself what it might mean to be fully present in that discomfort, trusting that even in the hardest moments, there can be profound purpose or growth.
History, language, objections and sources. None of it is needed to understand the passage.
How can Jesus be God and yet say 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' Doesn't this contradict his divinity or suggest he lost faith?
This is a profound question that has been debated for centuries. The traditional understanding, supported by scholars like N.T. Wright and John Stott, is that Jesus, while fully God, was also fully human. In his humanity, he experienced the full weight of human suffering and the separation from God that sin creates. When he uttered these words, he wasn't expressing a loss of faith or a split in the Trinity, but rather identifying completely with humanity's fallen state, taking upon himself the spiritual alienation from God. It's a quote from Psalm 22, a psalm that ultimately ends in praise and vindication, implying that Jesus is intentionally identifying with the suffering servant of the psalms, not expressing ultimate despair. It represents the pinnacle of his sacrificial identification with human brokenness.
Are the extraordinary events like the darkness, earthquake, and raising of saints literally true, or are they symbolic embellishments to emphasize the importance of Jesus's death?
Many New Testament scholars, including Craig Blomberg and Richard Bauckham, generally consider these events to be historical occurrences as described by Matthew, meant to underscore the cosmic significance of Jesus's death. The sudden darkness over the entire land and the earthquake are portrayed as objective phenomena witnessed by many, including the Roman centurion. The raising of 'saints' from tombs, appearing in Jerusalem *after* Jesus's resurrection, is presented as a miraculous consequence of Jesus's death and victory over death. While some might interpret them purely metaphorically, the narrative treats them as literal, tangible events that contributed to the awe and terror of those present, culminating in the centurion's confession. There is no external, non-biblical corroboration for these specific events, leading some to view them through a lens of faith rather than historical proof.
Why would God allow his Son, the King of the Universe, to die such a humiliating and painful death if he truly loved humanity?
This question goes to the heart of the Christian gospel. The core belief, articulated by countless theologians like C.S. Lewis and Timothy Keller, is that God allowed this death precisely *because* of his profound love for humanity. In Christian theology, humanity's rebellion against God created a chasm, and sin carried the consequence of spiritual death and separation from God. The cross is seen as God's way of bridging that chasm. Jesus, as the King, willingly subjected himself to the penalty for humanity's actions – not because he deserved it, but to absorb that penalty on behalf of everyone else. His humiliating death, therefore, isn't a sign of God's indifference, but the ultimate expression of his sacrificial love, demonstrating a justice that is perfectly intertwined with mercy, and providing a path to reconciliation with God that no other act could achieve.
The Temple Veil
The tearing of the Temple veil mentioned in Matthew 27:51 is a highly significant event. According to Josephus, the Jewish historian, and Mishnaic sources, there were two veils in the Jerusalem Temple. The outer one separated the Holy Place from the Court of the Priests, and the inner, much thicker one separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies (the innermost sanctuary, believed to be the dwelling place of God's presence). Only the High Priest was permitted to enter the Holy of Holies, and only once a year, on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).
Matthew’s description specifies it was torn "from the top to the bottom." This detail is crucial. If it had torn from the bottom up, it could be interpreted as an act of human vandalism or an accident. But torn from the top down suggests a divine act, emphasizing that God himself initiated the opening of access. This tearing was not just a symbolic gesture; it was a literal, physical event that profoundly impacted the religious practice and understanding of the Jewish people, signaling a radical shift in how humanity could approach God, no longer needing a High Priest or a physical sanctuary as the sole mediator.