Psalm 22

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

The cry of dereliction from the cross. Perhaps the most famous line from the Psalms outside of "The Lord is my shepherd."

Opinions differ as to how Psalm 22 is functioning at Jesus' crucifixion. For the Winter Christians among us, we lean into the god-forsakenness of the cry and the desolations of first half of the psalm:

Many bulls surround me;
strong ones of Bashan encircle me.
They open their mouths against me—
lions, mauling and roaring.
I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are disjointed;
my heart is like wax,
melting within me.
My strength is dried up like baked clay;
my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
You put me into the dust of death.
For dogs have surrounded me;
a gang of evildoers has closed in on me;
they pierced my hands and my feet.
I can count all my bones;
people look and stare at me.
They divided my garments among themselves,
and they cast lots for my clothing.

But as is characteristic of the lament psalms, a turn comes in Psalm 22. There is the "plea-to-praise" movement described by Walter Brueggemann. Lament gives way to hope:   

I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters;
I will praise you in the assembly.
You who fear the Lord, praise him!
All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!
All you descendants of Israel, revere him!
For he has not despised or abhorred
the torment of the oppressed.
He did not hide his face from him
but listened when he cried to him for help.

I will give praise in the great assembly
because of you;
I will fulfill my vows
before those who fear you.
The humble will eat and be satisfied;
those who seek the Lord will praise him.
May your hearts live forever!

All the ends of the earth will remember
and turn to the Lord.
All the families of the nations
will bow down before you,
for kingship belongs to the Lord;
he rules the nations.
All who prosper on earth will eat and bow down;
all those who go down to the dust
will kneel before him—
even the one who cannot preserve his life.
Their descendants will serve him;
the next generation will be told about the Lord.
They will come and declare his righteousness;
to a people yet to be born
they will declare what he has done.

When Jesus cries out from the cross with the words of Psalm 22, does he intend for us to read the entirety of the song? That is, is there an echo of hope in the cry of dereliction? 

Of course, there is no way to settle this debate. Did Jesus believe in God's coming vindication through the resurrection when he cried out in god-forsaken anguish? Was Jesus entirely hopeless in this, his darkest, moment? Your answer here likely depends upon your Christology--high or low--and your spiritual temperament--summer or winter. (For new readers, related to the link I shared above, "Summer" versus "Winter" Christians are labels that come from my research into religious experience. Winter Christians tend toward doubt and lament and Summer Christians toward conviction and positivity. Search "summer winter" in the search bar for posts that share some of this research.)

My take is to hold these things in tension. We should give lament its full season, not rushing past it toward the Happy Ending. Let us spend time in the ambiguity and desolation of Holy Saturday, where all is lost and shattered. 

But it is also true that a diet of ashes is emotionally an spiritually unsustainable across the lifespan. Hope also has its season and does its proper work.