Psalm 22: The Messiah's Anguish

As much as the Gospels vividly describe the Messiah's anguish on the day of his crucifixion, we perceive only the tip of the iceberg of his travails, when we reflect on them on Good Friday.

Apart from the four gospels, which are first and second hand accounts of the crucifixion, I am amazed to read  the twenty second Psalm. Written centuries before the actual event, the Psalm describes Christ's ordeal in such accurate detail, that it makes me awestruck at the power of prophetic literature.

PSALMS 22

1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?

2 My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.

6 But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.

7 All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads.

8 “He trusts in the Lord,” they say, “let the Lord rescue him. 

Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.”

9 Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast.

10 From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God.

11 Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.

14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. 

My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me.

15 My mouth is dried up like a potsherd,

and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;

you lay me in the dust of death.

16 Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me;

they pierce my hands and my feet.

17 All my bones are on display; people stare and gloat over me.

18 They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.

This Psalm makes me conclude that the vein that runs across centuries is not man's imagination, but the Spirit's power.

The same Spirit allows us to perceive, even if in the smallest way what Christ went through, when he became the ultimate sacrifice for our Sin and sins.

A four hour Good Friday service would leave the uninitiated restless, specially if one is sitting in a large hall of a tropical country, in a near summer season, without modern amenities like the air-conditioner. Yet, almost every one sat through it. Short sermons, describing both the anguish of the Messiah and the meaning of his last words on the cross, poured out, each like a drink offering. The interludes with worship music were like fragrant wisps of aromatic smoke that filled the room as they weaved upwards towards the heavens. 

In all of these, two aspects tugged my heart and mind.   

The first, looking at Jesus through his mother's eyes. As someone who has known how special Jesus was, even before his birth, seeing her young son at the cross in so much anguish, must have rend Mary's heart. Even this was prophesized by Simeon, when Jesus was a small child. 

Luke 2:33The child’s father and mother marveled at what was said about him. 34Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, 35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

"A sword will pierce your own soul too".... reveals that the wounds of the mother are inflicted deeper than any tissue or organ of the body. 

The second, Jesus' thirst. Psalm 22 describes this as "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me. My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth". Jesus' thirst is a result of  copious body fluid loss from continuous sweating and bleeding from multiple wounds combined with intense exhaustion. These two words reveal not just Christ's suffering but his human-ness in its entirety. My reading leads me to explore the word "potsherd", with which I can imagine an earthen pot which once would have been used for water storage, is now broken in pieces and has dried and been discarded beyond repair. Jesus who can give Living Waters in now dying of intense thirst. 

I am reminded of a poem I wrote many seasons ago, on a similar day, and would like to share it here.

"I thirst"

- April 26, 2011

Hanging on a cursed tree,

pierced brow and  body badly broken,

ripped and torn apart your flesh and profusely bleeding!

Do I hear You uttering

your words that say..

You are feeling thirsty?

Was it many years ago,

travelling  by the desert road,

you stopped by the well just feeling very thirsty!

I was there you knew me,

my life was spent completely,

yet You asked me for the water saying "give me"!

Little had I to give to You,

while you had Your life to give me,

Water Living flowed on from You profusely!

Now I see You on the cross,

my shame and sorrow tie You

and I know that You die instead of me!

Searching at last I have found You,

there's an empty tomb beside me

I know You've risen into glory!