The 7 Last Words and the Nicene Creed: ‘My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?’
National Catholic Register, 16 April 2025
The fourth of Christ’s ‘Seven Last Words From the Cross’ reflects the mystery at the heart of the Nicene Creed — a suffering God who prays Psalm 22 and transforms our dereliction into redemption.
“And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ … And Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Mark 15:33-34; 37-38).
If we were to encounter the Nicene Creed, the theme of our Seven Last Words this year, without knowing anything about it, we would read it rather serenely. It speaks of God, the creator of all things, visible and invisible. His Son, Jesus Christ, is God like He is, Light from Light, true God from true God. He comes down to accomplish some great task, and is born of the Virgin Mary. Astonishing to be sure, but tales of the divine should be astonishing.
We would then get a shock. The story takes an unexpected turn: For our sake, he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, suffered death, and was buried.
How can that happen? This short story is about God, the maker of all things, and now, all of a sudden, there is a crucifixion, a death so degrading that it was forbidden for Roman citizens, let alone the gods.
The middle word from the Cross, the fourth of the seven words, is likewise a shock. Jesus has already been lifted up on the Cross, which is itself a shock, a surprise, a distressing perplexity. He cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
How can that be? Does God ever forsake His disciples? Was it not the same Jesus who said that if there are 99 disciples, 99 in the flock who are safe, but one that is lost, He will go in search of it? How then could God forsake Jesus, His only Son, eternally begotten of the Father, born before all ages?
The middle of the creed and the middle word coincide by posing the same question.
In the Creed, the answer comes before we really have even time to consider the question. He suffered death and was buried, and rose again on the third day. We can say it in one breath. The Resurrection comes only a few syllables after the Crucifixion and burial. There is no time to think.
The fourth word permits time to think, time to be perplexed, time to ponder the question. Jesus must think the question worth reflection, for with His limited energies, with great pain He poses it: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Could God allow God to suffer? Is it possible that the Father would allow, much less will, the suffering of the Son? What is the meaning of this cry of dereliction? It sounds like dereliction. Everything is lost. Jesus has been abandoned, apparently. Certainly, the whole brutal calculation of crucifixion was designed to leave the condemned man alone and abandoned.
What does Jesus mean by His cry? It is a prayer. A very specific prayer. It is Psalm 22, which begins with those words, “My God, my God!”
The Psalms are the prayer book of the Jewish people, which is now the prayer book of all disciples. The Liturgy of the Hours (Breviary) prays the Psalms constantly. Everything we can experience has a Psalm that is suitable, from the depths of dereliction to the heights of exaltation. If you could imagine ever being crucified, you might wonder, “What would be the right prayer?” It would be Psalm 22.
We pray that psalm every Palm Sunday at Holy Mass. In different years we read different Passion accounts, but the Psalm is always the same on Palm Sunday, Psalm 22.
Jesus crucified on the Cross does not have much strength. Crucifixion makes it difficult to breathe and nearly impossible to speak. Praying all of Psalm 22 would not be possible, but He could begin it, and it begins precisely with those words. It’s His fourth word. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
The Psalm has three aspects to it. It begins with that cry of dereliction, of abandonment, of suffering, even of desperation:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' Why are you so far from saving me from the words of my groaning? My God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night I find no rest.
The Psalm then details the suffering, the degradation.
I am a worm, and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people. All who see me mock me. They wag their heads. For dogs encompass me. A company of evildoers encircles me. They have pierced my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones. They stare and gloat over me. They divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.
Jesus is fulfilling the prophecy of Psalm 22 in the stages of His crucifixion. At the same time, Psalm 22 includes verses of trust, even praise of God.
Yet you alone are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. In you our fathers trusted. They trusted and you delivered them. To you they cried and were rescued. In you they trusted and were not put to shame.
These two aspects — dereliction and salvation — seem to contend in the heart of the one praying Psalm 22. The one praying Psalm 22 is not a man who has lost his faith. It is a man whose faith is under a most difficult trial. And he is honest enough to pray both through the trial and to trust at the same time.
Therein lies a lesson. We should pray as we are, not as we would like to be. Circumstances may put us to the test, or sometimes we ourselves put our faith under trial. We can be perplexed and anxious — even afraid, doubtful. We don’t like to pray that way. We are then inclined to pray as if we were not perplexed or doubtful or anxious or afraid. And we might, if we are good at that, fool ourselves while we are praying, but we are not going to fool God. What would be the point?
We should pray as we are. Our prayer might sound like Psalm 22. Perhaps we go before the Lord and say, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
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