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| Fra Angelico: The CrucifixionThe Crucifixion, tempera painting by Fra Angelico, possibly c. 1440; in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. |
Linguistic and Textual Analysis
Matthew 27:46 reads: “And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’. In the Greek text, Matthew preserves Jesus’ words in a Semitic transliteration: Ἠλί, Ἠλί, λεμὰ σαβαχθανί. This corresponds to an Aramaic phrase; “Eli” (or Eloi in Mark 15:34) means “My God,” and “sabachthani” is the Aramaic verb šəḇaqtani meaning “you have forsaken/abandoned me. Notably, the Aramaic root šbq (“to leave, forsake”) is used here instead of Hebrew ʿzb (as in Psalm 22:1), confirming that Jesus spoke in the common Aramaic vernacular rather than classical Hebrew. Matthew then immediately provides a Greek translation of the phrase (“θεέ μου, θεέ μου, ἱνατί με ἐγκατέλιπες;”), which means exactly “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
There are minor textual differences between Matthew’s and Mark’s accounts. Matthew’s “Eli, Eli” (Ἠλί) appears in Mark as “Eloi, Eloi” (Ἐλωΐ), reflecting a slightly different dialect or transliteration of “My God”. Likewise, where Matthew’s Greek text has “lema” (λεμὰ, “why”), Mark uses “lama” (λαμά). These variations make no change in meaning – both forms are Semitic for “why” – but they show each Evangelist’s rendering of the original cry. Manuscripts of Matthew are consistent in this wording, though some early scribes likely harmonized spellings with Mark. The Greek translation Matthew supplies uses “ἱνατί” (“for what purpose/why”) for “why,” matching the Septuagint wording of Psalm 22, whereas Mark’s Gospel uses “εἰς τί” (“to what [end]”) – again, a stylistic difference without altering sense. Thus, no significant textual variants obscure the meaning; Jesus is quoting the first line of Psalm 22:1 in Aramaic, expressing the question, “Why have you forsaken me?” with all the authenticity of his mother tongue.
Key vocabulary highlights the tone of this verse. Matthew describes Jesus “crying out with a loud voice” (ἀνεβόησεν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ), emphasizing the intensity of the moment. The word “sabachthani” (“forsaken me”) carries the sense of being left behind or abandoned. Some scholars of Aramaic note that sabachthani can imply being abandoned for a purpose, not necessarily a hopeless, careless abandonment. In other words, Jesus’ use of this specific term may connote that he is left to suffer, but not that the Father has maliciously discarded Him. The Greek verb in Matthew’s translation, ἐγκατέλιπες (from egkataleípō), unequivocally means “to forsake, abandon, or leave behind.” There is no question that Jesus is voicing a feeling of abandonment; yet the nuance of sabachthani suggests a purposeful relinquishment rather than a broken relationship. This linguistic detail will inform theological interpretation, as it opens the possibility that Jesus experiences real forsakenness in some sense, while still addressing God as “My God,” implying an ongoing relationship even in desolation.
Historical and Cultural Background
The cry of Jesus in Matthew 27:46 must be understood against the backdrop of first-century Judean culture and Roman execution practices. Crucifixion was widely regarded as the most shameful and agonizing form of death in the ancient world. Roman orator Cicero famously called crucifixion “the most cruel and disgusting penalty; the worst of deaths”, and the Jewish historian Josephus described it as “the most wretched of deaths”. Victims of crucifixion typically suffered excruciating thirst, exposure, and gradual asphyxiation over many hours or even days. They often lapsed into semi-consciousness or shock; if they spoke, it might be to beg for mercy or curse their executioners. In this light, Jesus’ ability to cry out “with a loud voice” near the moment of death (around the ninth hour, about 3 p.m.) is striking. It underscores the deliberate, lucid nature of his utterance. Rather than incoherent agony or curses, his last intelligible words are a quotation of Scripture – a marked contrast to typical crucifixion scenes and a detail likely remembered vividly by witnesses.
From a Jewish perspective, Jesus’ words “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani” would immediately evoke Psalm 22, a well-known lament of David. In the Gospel narrative, bystanders react in an interesting way: “Some of them that stood there, when they heard it, said, ‘This man is calling for Elijah’” (Matt. 27:47). This reaction may seem perplexing, but it reflects the cultural milieu. The Aramaic “Eli” (my God) sounded like “Eliyahu” (Elijah) to their ears, and Jewish tradition expected Elijah to return in the end times (cf. Malachi 4:5). Thus, some onlookers wondered if Jesus was invoking Elijah to come rescue him. “Let us see whether Elijah comes to save him,” they said (27:49), showing a mix of mockery and apocalyptic hope. There was a popular belief that Elijah might appear to help the righteous in distress or herald the Messiah’s deliverance. The crowd’s comment, “Let be… let us see if Elijah will come,” may indicate a grim jest – as if to say, “If he’s truly God’s man, Elijah will intervene” – yet it also taps into genuine Jewish eschatological expectation. This underscores how Jesus’ crucifixion was interpreted by onlookers through the lens of their Scriptures and hopes: either Jesus was a failed messianic pretender (abandoned by God), or perhaps, in a dramatic twist, Elijah might validate him.
Additionally, Second Temple Jewish people would have been familiar with the type of prayer Jesus uttered. The opening line of Psalm 22 was a cry any pious Jew could appropriate in extreme anguish. In fact, later Jewish midrashim even imagine biblical heroes using Psalm 22 in dire straits (e.g. a rabbinic tradition claims Esther recited “My God, why have You forsaken me?” when she felt God’s Spirit depart before approaching the king). While that midrash dates centuries later, it highlights a Jewish understanding that the righteous might feel temporarily forsaken as a test. For Jesus to cry these words from the cross would signal to Jewish hearers that he identified with the righteous sufferer of the Scriptures. Yet, it was also a scandal: A crucified man quoting Scripture could be seen as a final act of devotion, but also, to skeptics, as proof that God had not delivered him. Earlier in Matthew 27, the mockers at the cross had taunted Jesus by ironically alluding to Psalm 22: “He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if He desires him” (Matt. 27:43 echoes Ps. 22:8). In the narrative, therefore, Jesus’ cry fulfills the very psalm that his enemies have unwittingly been quoting. It poignantly encapsulates the drama: Jesus is treated as one forsaken (“a worm and not a man, scorned by humankind” per Ps.22:6–8), even as his use of Scripture hints that this is not the end of the story.
In Roman terms, Jesus’ loud cry at death also served as a sort of testimony. Crucifixion victims’ last words, if audible, could be significant to observers (centurions or bystanders). The Gospels note that immediately after this cry and Jesus’ death, the temple veil tore and a centurion exclaimed, “Truly this was the Son of God!” (Matt. 27:54). The darkness that had fallen from noon to the ninth hour (27:45) and Jesus’ scriptural lament together created a climactic impression. A Roman execution squad would not have understood the Aramaic, but the Jewish onlookers did. The cultural context, therefore, is one of profound irony and tragedy: the long-awaited Messiah of Israel is dying the most cursed death (cf. Deut. 21:23, “cursed is anyone hanged on a tree”), and in that moment he invokes Israel’s Scriptures. To a first-century Jew, the idea of God’s chosen one feeling forsaken by God was deeply paradoxical. It either meant Jesus was truly abandoned as a fraud, or – as the early Christians came to understand – he was fulfilling the prophetic pattern of the suffering righteous one, vindicated by God after apparent defeat. Thus, the historical setting of this verse is charged with theological meaning: Roman cruelty and Jewish scripture intersect at the cross, as Jesus utters words that both acknowledge extreme desolation and proclaim the scriptural storyline being enacted.
Patristic Commentary
The puzzling cry of dereliction (“My God, why have you forsaken me?”) received much attention from the early Church Fathers, who were keen to reconcile Jesus’ words with his divinity and the Father’s love. Far from seeing it as a lapse of faith, the Fathers found deep theological purpose in this utterance:
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Augustine of Hippo (4th–5th c.) read Jesus’ cry in a vicarious and typological sense. In his exposition on the Psalms, Augustine maintains that Christ “uttered from the Cross not His own cry, but ours.” Jesus, the sinless one, was not truly forsaken by the Father; rather, Augustine says, “God never forsook Him; nor did He Himself ever depart from the Father; but it was on behalf of us that He spoke this: ‘My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?’” Augustine notes that the very next lines of Psalm 22 continue, “Far from my salvation are the words of my sins” – which would not apply to the spotless Christ. Thus, he concludes Jesus is speaking in the voice of sinful humanity, identifying with our alienation from God. In this view, the Son of God experiences the feeling of abandonment representatively, as the Head of His Body (the Church) crying out in the name of all humanity. Augustine and other Latin Fathers also saw no actual rupture in the Trinity; the cry was a fulfillment of prophecy and a profound expression of Jesus’ human soul in agony, offered so that we might never be truly forsaken by God.
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Origen of Alexandria (3rd c.) likewise grappled with this verse, especially in apologetic contexts. Confronting pagan critics who saw the cry as weakness, Origen argued that the Gospel writers recorded these words precisely because they happened and carried meaning – not because they wanted to fabricate a flawless hero. He points out that if the early Christians were inventing stories, “there was an easy method of concealing these occurrences – namely, not recording them at all”. The fact that “My God, why have you forsaken me?” appears in Scripture, despite seeming to portray Jesus in distress, is proof of the Evangelists’ honesty and of a divine purpose. Origen suggested that Jesus, in his human nature, truly felt the weight of abandonment at that moment, fully tasting death for every person. However, Origen did not believe the Father literally abandoned the Son. In his writings (as later reflected by other Fathers), he explains that Jesus took on the curse and desolation of crucifixion so that those joined to Him would be spared – it was part of the “exchange” of salvation. Origen also interpreted Jesus’ quote of Psalm 22 as a deliberate invocation of prophetic fulfillment. By citing the psalm’s first line, Jesus directs attentive readers to the entire psalm, which begins in despair but ends in triumph. Thus, Origen sees the cry as Jesus teaching through scripture even in death, and ensuring that no part of the passion – even the moment of God-forsakenness – is outside the plan of God as foretold in the Scriptures.
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John Chrysostom (4th c.), the great preacher of Constantinople, emphasized Christ’s loyalty to the Father even in this cry. He notes that Jesus used the address “My God” twice, showing that even at the peak of suffering he did not reject the Father. Chrysostom, in Homily 88 on Matthew, explains that Jesus “uttered a cry from the prophet [Psalmist]… in Hebrew, so as to be plain and intelligible to them [the Jewish witnesses],” thereby “bearing witness to the Old Testament” up to his final breath. According to Chrysostom, Jesus wanted to show “that He honors His Father, and is of one mind with Him that begot Him”. Far from a despairing lapse, the cry was proof of Jesus’ constant filial trust – precisely because he directs his anguish to God. Chrysostom also remarks on why Jesus chose this scripture: to manifest that the prophetic psalms were being fulfilled in that very hour. By quoting Psalm 22, Jesus gave a clue to those with ears to hear that the ancient prophecy of a righteous sufferer was coming to pass. In Chrysostom’s understanding, the Son was not truly abandoned by the Father (“it was not He whom the Father forsook,” he elsewhere says), but Jesus entered into the experience of being treated as if forsaken. He did so voluntarily, “in order that he might testify that Scripture was being fulfilled” and to draw even the mockers’ attention to the Messianic psalm. Thus, Chrysostom, like other Fathers, reads the cry not as a theological breach between Father and Son, but as a loving economy (i.e., part of God’s redemptive plan): the Son of God quoting Scripture to reveal God’s plan, even while fully participating in the depth of human suffering.
Several other Fathers echoed similar interpretations. Tertullian (2nd–3rd c.) used Jesus’ “Eli, Eli…” cry to argue against the modalist heresy (Praxeas) – noting that Jesus addresses the Father as a distinct person, which shows the Son truly experienced distress in his human nature while the Father “remained” to receive the prayer. Gregory of Nazianzus (4th c.) famously said that Jesus uttered these words “according to us” – that is, voicing the condition of our separation from God – in order to heal it. Across the patristic board, there was a consensus that the meaning of Matthew 27:46 is profound and not to be taken as Christ doubting the Father. Rather, the Fathers teach that Jesus fulfilled Psalm 22 on the cross: expressing the reality of human desolation (feeling God-forsaken which is the lot of sinners) while remaining the divine Son, ever-united to the Father in will. The cry was a mystery of the incarnate Word: in Chrysostom’s words, “even to His last hour He is found bearing witness to the sacred text”, thereby turning a moment of utmost tragedy into a revelation of scripture’s truth and God’s redemptive love.
Modern Scholarship
Contemporary biblical scholarship continues to explore the literary, historical, and theological dimensions of Jesus’ cry of abandonment. From a literary standpoint, scholars note that Matthew’s account (following Mark’s earlier Gospel) deliberately presents this cry as Jesus’ sole utterance from the cross (apart from a final shout) to highlight its importance. It stands in contrast to Luke and John, where Jesus’ last words convey assurance (“Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit” in Luke 23:46) or triumph (“It is finished” in John 19:30). Matthew and Mark’s inclusion of “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” gives the crucifixion a stark tone of agony and fulfillment of prophecy. Many scholars believe this reflects a theological emphasis in the first two Gospels: portraying Jesus as the suffering Messiah who fully experiences the depths of human despair. It may also preserve a more raw historical memory – often called the “cry of dereliction” – which the later Gospels chose to frame differently. The criterion of embarrassment in historical Jesus studies even suggests that the early church would not have invented Jesus crying out this question unless it truly happened. Its very presence in two Gospel accounts lends credibility to its historicity and significance. Thus, modern scholars see Matthew 27:46 as a window into Jesus’ psyche on the cross and into the early Christian understanding of his fulfillment of Scripture.
The intertextual relationship with Psalm 22 is a focal point of modern exegesis. Researchers observe that Matthew’s Passion narrative is saturated with allusions to Psalm 22. For instance, the mocking bystanders echo Psalm 22:8, casting lots for Jesus’ garments echoes Psalm 22:18, and finally Jesus quotes Psalm 22:1 itself. This psalm was likely understood by the early Christians as a prophetic foreshadowing of the Messiah’s suffering and vindication. Contemporary commentators stress that by quoting the first line, Jesus invokes the whole psalm. In ancient Jewish practice, the opening line of a psalm could stand for the entire poem. Psalm 22, after describing intense suffering and feelings of abandonment, moves toward trust and a promise that “He has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted… he heard when he cried to him” (Ps 22:24). It ends on notes of deliverance and hope: “Posterity shall serve Him; it shall be told of the Lord to coming generations” (Ps 22:30). Modern scholars often posit that Jesus, by crying out verse 1, was signaling that his suffering would likewise end in vindication – essentially preaching from the cross. Rather than a despairing lapse, the cry could be seen as an intentional scriptural reference that invites those with faith to see the larger picture of God’s plan. As one scholar puts it, “By quoting Psalm 22, Jesus is actually expressing messianic confidence in the face of suffering, trusting that God will ultimately deliver him,” even as he experiences the absence of that deliverance in the moment. This view aligns with many modern theologians who argue that Jesus knew the Father had not ultimately abandoned him, despite the real anguish he felt.
At the same time, there is considerable theological discussion in modern scholarship about what it means that Jesus felt “forsaken.” Some interpretations (popularized in sermons and hymns) suggest that at that moment, Jesus was indeed experiencing a form of spiritual abandonment as he bore the weight of humanity’s sin. In this line of thought – often rooted in Reformation theology – the Father’s wrath was poured out on the Son, causing a temporary rupture in fellowship. A frequently cited concept is that the Father “turned His face away” from the Son on the cross. However, many contemporary scholars and theologians caution against a literalistic reading of a breach within the Trinity. They retrieve insights from the early church to argue that the Father and Son remained united in will and love even as Jesus endured the penalty of sin. As one modern analysis notes, popular views of the cross as a moment of personal estrangement between Father and Son may owe more to hymn lyrics than to biblical exegesis. A careful Trinitarian approach emphasizes that the Father was never absent from Jesus’ suffering; rather, as 2 Corinthians 5:19 says, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” Thus, contemporary scholarship often frames Jesus’ cry as expressing the relational agony that corresponds to bearing our sin, without suggesting the Father hated or truly abandoned the Son. Jesus experienced the feeling of godforsakenness that is the just consequence of sin – a feeling every sinner should feel, alienated from God – but this occurred within the mysterious unity of the Godhead’s saving purpose. In sum, modern theologians argue that Jesus was not forsaken by the Father in ultimate reality; rather, he entered into the forsakenness of the human condition. This is sometimes described as the Son experiencing the “God-abandonment” that we deserved, so that we might not be abandoned by God. It’s a moment of profound empathy and substitution.
Literary analysis by contemporary scholars also highlights how Matthew as an author shapes the scene. Matthew’s addition of the translation (“that is, ‘My God, my God…’”) shows his concern that readers understand the reference. It suggests Matthew wanted his Greek-speaking audience to grasp the psalmic allusion and theological import. Some have pointed out that Matthew’s form “Eli” could also deliberately connect to the Hebrew form of the Psalm, thus bridging Jesus’ Aramaic speech with the Hebrew Scriptures. The narrative pacing – darkness at noon, the solitary cry at three o’clock, then Jesus’ death – is seen as Matthew’s dramatic portrayal of Jesus as the righteous sufferer who is momentarily abandoned. There is also a contrast between the silence of God (implied by Jesus’ unanswered question) and the cosmic signs that follow (earthquake, veil torn), which answer in deeds what is not answered in words. Modern commentators often note that Matthew does not explicitly resolve the tension of the cry within his Gospel text – he leaves the question “why?” hanging. The resolution comes implicitly with the resurrection, God’s definitive answer to Jesus’ lament. In the resurrection, it is shown that the Father did not ultimately abandon Jesus to the grave. As one scholar succinctly put it, “If Psalm 22:1 is Jesus’ question on Friday, Psalm 22’s conclusion is God’s answer on Sunday.” Thus, the literary and theological arc from crucifixion to resurrection in Matthew can be seen as enacting the journey of Psalm 22 from despair to deliverance.
In contemporary biblical scholarship, this cry is often termed “the cry of dereliction.” Scholars engage in nuanced debates over its meaning: Was Jesus expressing actual despair, or was he still in control, reciting a planned scripture? The majority view accepts a both-and: Jesus was truly in agony and felt abandoned (“dereliction”), which reflects authentic human experience, and by choosing those particular words (as opposed to any other expression of pain) he consciously linked his suffering to the righteous sufferer motif of Scripture. In other words, Jesus prayed the prayer of the anguished faithful. Modern exegetes frequently emphasize that we should not minimize the depth of Jesus’ suffering here – psychologically and spiritually, he is experiencing the profound silence of the Father as he bears sin. This fulfills the suffering servant motif (cf. Isaiah 53, which early Christians also applied to Jesus). Yet, Jesus’ use of “My God” twice shows that even in feeling forsaken, he clings to God with the language of personal relationship. Some scholars, therefore, describe the cry as a paradox of absence and presence: God is paradoxically present even in the act of abandonment. It’s as if Jesus says, “Even though I feel forsaken, you are still my God.” This raw honesty combined with trust is the dynamic of lament literature (as in many Psalms), and Jesus epitomizes it on the cross.
