“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over the whole earth, until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying: ‘Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani?’ That is, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ And some that stood there and heard, said, “This man calleth Elias.’ And immediately one of them running took a sponge, and filled it with vinegar; and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink. And the others said: ‘Let be, let us see whether Elias will come to deliver him.’ And Jesus again crying with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.”
Creation, made in love,every individual thing itself being embodied love: “How great are thy works, O Lord? Thou hast made all things in wisdom: the earth is filled with thy riches” (Psalm 103:24), weeps and displays its outrage at the loss of its loving Maker. The Word fashioned all things as expressions of His love, as an artist displays himself through his art: “All things were made by him: and without him was made nothing that was made” (John 1:3), and so at the crucifixion of the source of its being and Architect of all that it is, the sun withdraws its light from those that crucified their Maker. So too, when one crucifies the image of Christ in themselves: “Having tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, and are fallen away: to be renewed again to penance, crucifying again to themselves the Son of God” (Hebrews 6:5-6), love withdraws itself, the darkness of the lack of love overshadowing their souls: “For the whole world was enlightened with a clear light, and none were hindered in their labours. But over them only was spread a heavy night, an image of that darkness which was to come upon them. But they were to themselves more grievous than the darkness” (Wisdom 17:19-20). This takes place after those that hated Him had exhausted all of their mockery and taunts, that, emptied of all their expressions of hatred, something wondrous may take place to make them see what they had done, that when the pleasure gleaned from nursing hatred had run its course, the darkness may testify to their lack of love and what love truly looks like. Jesus then cries out using the Scriptures, so to show that weaving them into one’s being replaces the tattered fabric of old conversation and thinking with the gold of the Gospel: “The priest… shall put off his former vestments, and being clothed with others, shall carry them forth without the camp, and shall cause them to be consumed to dust in a very clean place” (Leviticus 6:11); “They shall take gold, and violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine linen. And they shall make the ephod of gold, and violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine twisted linen, embroidered with divers colours” (Exodus 28:5-6). Now, there is a place in the spiritual life where God seems crushingly absent, and while this can happen throughout one’s spiritual journey, it takes particular form when love is at its zenith, with the beloved soul not encountering God because they have become, in totality, Jesus Christ, not by substance but by participation in His nature, which is love: “Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called, and should be the sons of God” (1 John 3:1). Making radical acts of faith at every passing second, when God seems to be entirely alien, they are a clear window through which He shines through them to their fellow man with beauty, rather than on themselves to be enjoyed: “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). This also takes place that, with the extremely heavy weight of spiritual purification, they can exercise heroic virtues of faith, hope, and love, that when He returns in fullness to their perception, the things they practiced while under this darkness may then be easy and delightful, rather than toilsome and terrifying, thus does the Psalmist say for the one that emerges from this darkness: “He heard my prayers, and brought me out of the pit of misery and the mire of dregs. And he set my feet upon a rock, and directed my steps” (Psalm 39:3). With this in mind, Jesus here is a perfect window of the Father’s love in His crucifixion, Himself displaying the Father’s unbreakable love for humanity by grave spiritual, emotional, and physical suffering, but with none of these deterring Him from perfect love: “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why dost thou disquiet me? Hope thou in God, for I will still give praise to him: the salvation of my countenance, and my God” (Psalm 41:12), but with all of this being to His glory in the resurrection: “Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands; and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side; and be not faithless, but believing” (John 20:27). It is also a participation in human nature, that man, when overcome by suffering: “Save me, O God: for the waters are come in even unto my soul. I stick fast in the mire of the deep: and there is no sure standing. I am come into the depth of the sea: and a tempest hath overwhelmed me” (Psalm 68:2-4) believes himself to be abandoned by God, and the ultimately compassionate Jesus, not wishing to miss a drop of the human experience, Himself takes part in this: “For we have not a high priest, who can not have compassion on our infirmities: but one tempted in all things like as we are, without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). At His cry, “Eli,” the Romans that did not know Hebrew thought He was crying out for the prophet Elijah, at which He is offered vinegar. St. Hilary defines vinegar as wine that has turned sour from neglect or the fault of the vessel; and if one takes the symbolism of wine as devotion: “He brought me into the cellar of wine” (Canticle 2:4), this means that the poor, crucified Savior receives a bitter drink from those whose devotion has spoiled, and thus is offered bitter prayer: “But if you have bitter zeal, and there be contentions in your hearts; glory not” (James 3:14) from a sponge, that is a heart that is full of holes, that is, openings to vanities: “They have digged to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water” (Jeremias 2:13) from a reed, which represents feebleness, that is, with a bitter, feeble devotion that still longs for worldly things, is lifted up sour prayer rather than the sweet wine of an interaction of love: “Behold thou art fair, O my love, behold thou art fair, thy eyes are as those of doves. Behold thou art fair, my beloved, and comely. Our bed is flourishing” (Canticle 1:14-15). Or, to know divine truths and not live in accord with them is to offer wine mixed with gall, for truth is in the heart but an ugly life makes it bitter to the King, whereas to offer vinegar is to take the reed of the Scriptures and place upon it a theology that does not do justice to the divine majesty, which is represented by the leaky sponge, whereas heavenly wisdom deserves a golden chalice: “Then were the golden and silver vessels brought, which he had brought away out the temple that was in Jerusalem” (Daniel 5:3). Thus, bitter, poor wisdom is lifted up to the mouth of Jesus, that is, His words are taken as something less than the perfect expression of perfect love and all the glories that He brings with Him. With this, Jesus cries in a loud voice, and dies. O divine marriage, that comes from the loving repose of the bosom of the Father to be united to mankind in all his sufferings, including that of death! “Wherefore a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they shall be two in one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). Like a mother that would rather suffer than see her children suffer, or a lover that does all for his infirm beloved, so too does Jesus go to the most extreme measures to show you how loved you are: “Whatsoever thy soul shall say to me, I will do for thee” (1 Kings 20:4). For Jesus lowered Himself to even the destitution of a horrifying death on the cross that you may not fear Him, but love Him, to be appreciated by one that loves you rather than terrorized to follow commands under threat of punishment: “’Hath no man condemned thee?’ Who said: ‘No man, Lord.’ And Jesus said: ‘Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more” (John 8:10-11). This was not, however, a destruction of soul or divinity, both of which are indestructible, but bodily death, for had His divinity ceased to be, so would existence itself: “For with thee is the fountain of life; and in thy light we shall see light” (Psalm 35:10). He cries out in a loud voice before His death in sorrow, that even by going to such an extent as to die for man’s sin, there would be many that would not place their sins upon Him, that He may dissolve them in the endless ocean of merciful love that is the Sacred Heart: “He will put away our iniquities: and he will cast all our sins into the bottom of the sea” (Micheas 7:19) to begin a relationship of love, but rather stay exiled from His love. Thus, hold onto no sin, Theophila: “I will be merciful to their iniquities, and their sins I will remember no more” (Hebrews 8:12), but cast them all into the furnace of mercy, that you may love and be loved, rather than held down under the yoke of guilt: “Let us draw near with a true heart in fulness of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with clean water” (Hebrews 10:22).