Not Forsaken

Crucifixion (c. 1665) [detail] by Gabriël Metsu

“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” The question of the psalmist today is one that we can relate to in any suffering or trial, but perhaps especially right now. Outside of wartime, it’s rare that there’s some particular crisis which gives so much common cause for pain and sorrow. And yet that’s what our world faces in the corona virus.

That question of Psalm 22 is heard again in the Gospel: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It’s certainly easy to see why Jesus is crying out. He had entered into Jerusalem just a few days before, acclaimed as the Messiah, the son of David, the rightful king of Israel. And only a few days later, betrayed and abandoned by his closest friends, he hangs now upon a cross – almost completely alone, certainly in agony, waiting for his death. It seems like “forsaken” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

And yet, is Jesus really forsaken? Is he really alone? This One who said, “He who sent me is with me; He has not left me alone because I always do the things that please him.” (Jn 8:29)? This One who said, “The hour has come - Father, glorify your Son that he may glorify you?” (Jn 17:1)? Could it be that, in this case, the appearance doesn’t tell the whole story?

That is indeed what the Church believes. When Jesus cries out, he does so not because he feels as if his Father has forgotten about him, or turned his back on him, but because as the Incarnate Son of God he is uniting himself to all of the sorrows of history, all of the pain and dysfunction of the human heart, all of the burden and isolation that comes from human sinfulness. He unites himself to it, and he puts it all to death, there on the Cross, and in doing so redeems us from it. Rather than be abandoned by his Father, he was at that moment carrying out the very purpose for which he had been sent. And at the deepest level of his soul, even in the midst of his suffering, that brought him joy.

The Church Fathers taught that while the Gospels only tell us Jesus spoke the first two lines of Psalm 22, it is very likely he would have gone on to recite the whole thing. That psalm that begins so starkly – with a cry of abandonment – in the end concludes by proclaiming God’s fidelity: "future generations will be told about the Lord, and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn." (Ps 22:30b-31a). And after all, that is what we are commemorating this week, is it not? The reason we call this week “Holy” – the reason we remember at all that agonizing death 2000 years ago – is because we believe that that suffering was not meaningless but the very means by which sin is taken away, the very manner of deliverance from death for us and for all peoples of all times. And when his Son rose again after three days in the tomb, God showed us that our sufferings also can have value. Even in the most dire of straits, they are not meaningless, unseen and unheard by God – no, they too can be part of our redemption wrought in Christ. If we unite ourselves to him in what we suffer, then we too can find hope, and yes even joy, in knowing that we are accomplishing – somehow – the Father’s will.

So friends, in this difficult time, let us not think that God has forsaken us. Instead, let us be aware of how God is sustaining us in what we do, and what we suffer, helping us to unite ourselves anew to his Son, giving meaning to what – apart from him – might feel meaningless. In suffering, we too can feel the closeness of God’s presence; we too can grasp the nearness of heavenly glory.