“Something rather uncanny”
By Rev. Michael Stonhouse
Meditation – Friday, March 29, 2024
Psalm 22 (Forward, p. 60) CEV p. 567
The first time the ‘light dawned on me’ with regards to this psalm was when I was asked to do a meditation of the 4th Word from the Cross for a parish Good Friday service in St. Luke’s parish in Edmonton. To prepare for this, I was handed Ralph Dean’s little book, In the Light of the Cross, as a resource. There I learned that Jesus had uttered the first words from this psalm, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, while hanging on the Cross (see Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34).
This occurrence in the life of Jesus, even as shown forth in these few words, these opening words, struck me as incredibly revealing. Here was something more than mear loneliness or aloneness. Here was despair, dereliction, separation from God. Here was something that Jesus had never known prior to this moment. Here was something that we frail humans know all too well, but that Jesus had never experienced. Here He was truly separated, truly cut off from God. Here Jesus was bearing the curse, the punishment for our sin, and it was truly agonizing. He had ‘become sin who knew no sin’ (to quote Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:21.)
So, this is what it was like for Jesus, which got me off on further tangents. I wondered whether Jesus had been repeating this entire psalm from memory while hanging there? (This was highly possible, given that He’d probably committed hordes of Scripture to memory.) And so, did He use it to describe, or to express, just what He was going through at the time? And did He follow it all the way to its more triumphant and positive ending, as shown in verses 23-31)?
But perhaps even more interesting, and intriguing, is that some of the verses in between describe crucifixion in general, and Jesus’ crucifixion in particular, with uncanny accuracy and precision:
-the taunts He endured from the Cross, the exact words no less
(verses 7-8a).
-His being surrounded by viscious and powerful enemies (verses 12- 13; 16).
-the degradation, the enfeeblement, of the crucifixion itself (v. 14)
-His extreme thirst (verse 15).
-the soldiers gambling for His clothes (verse 28).
This begs yet another question: How could King David, living years previous to this—long before crucifixion existed or was known In Judaea, have known, and described crucifixion with such uncanny detail?
For me, there can only be two explanations. Either the gospel writers Matthew and Mark transposed these details artificially into their accounts to make it sound like a fulfilment, or else God, in His infinite wisdom and power, gave David such insight and foreknowledge. Indeed, this is exactly what Peter says about David in another context, where he says that David ‘being therefore a prophet…saw and spoke of…the Christ” (Acts 2:30f).
And, in rebuttal to the first explanation, would not Mark, being, as Eusebius described, ‘the memoirs of the apostle Peter’, have gotten it right? Anyway, I will opt for the God explanation. After all, if God be who we say He is, can He not reveal Himself, even in such uncanny and incredible ways? Can He not speak and reveal Himself to us, His creatures? Surely, He can. Anyway, that is the kind of God that I choose to love, follow, and obey.
One other uncanny thing: this psalm, while beginning with desperation and desolation, ends on an upbeat, positive note, a note of trust and confidence in God, and the next psalm, Psalm 23, carries on with this note of absolute confidence in God. Was this progression merely an ‘accident’ on the part of the compiler—or was God trying to enflame in us that hope and confidence in Himself, that same hope and confidence that we find in both the psalmist and in Jesus? I think so. Anyway, this is what I choose to believe. Amen.
Forward notes: “For he does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty...when they cry to him he hears them” (verse 23).
“Many asylum seekers along the US/Mexico border are in a state of waiting. They’ve traveled extensively to arrive at la frontera, with hopes of crossing over. They come from extreme poverty and violence. There’s little hope. God’s love is what remains.
“Having an outlet to tell their stories is vital for their spiritual well-being. Some people do this by sewing bordados, panels of embroidery depicting life’s twists and turns that often contain religious themes. These panels are shared so that others might know the plight of asylum seekers and witness that their main hope is in God.
“In similar manner, the Good Friday story has been shared throughout the ages. In Christ’s pain, he longs for the presence of the Living God but instead encounters death. Placing such confidence in God, while experiencing such horrific personal violence, brings us pause to tremble at Christ’s absolute confidence, even unto death.”
Moving Forward: “If you were to sew bordados, which scenes would you choose? How many would reflect your faith and reliance on God?”