Psalm 22 and Messianic Suffering: From Abandonment to Vindication

Introduction

When Jesus cried out from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46), he was not merely expressing personal anguish—he was quoting the opening line of Psalm 22, a text that would become the most christologically significant psalm in the entire Psalter. This single quotation transformed how the early church understood both the crucifixion and the ancient psalm itself. The question that has occupied biblical scholars for two millennia is whether Psalm 22 was originally composed as a messianic prophecy or whether the New Testament writers retrospectively applied it to Jesus. The answer, as we shall see, is more theologically complex than either option suggests.

Psalm 22 presents a dramatic narrative arc: from the cry of abandonment (22:1–21) to the declaration of vindication (22:22–31). The psalm's structure mirrors the paschal mystery itself—death and resurrection, suffering and glory, forsakenness and exaltation. Derek Kidner observes that the psalm "moves from the depths of desolation to the heights of praise with a suddenness that can only be called miraculous." This movement is not merely literary; it is theological. The psalm claims that divine vindication emerges precisely through—not despite—the experience of abandonment.

The historical context of Psalm 22 remains debated. The superscription attributes it to David, though many critical scholars date it to the exilic or post-exilic period based on linguistic features and theological themes. What is not debated is the psalm's profound influence on how the passion narrative was understood and recorded. The density of verbal parallels between Psalm 22 and the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion is unmatched by any other Old Testament text. This essay examines the cry of dereliction, the passion narrative parallels, the Hebrew terminology of suffering and vindication, the scholarly debate over prophecy and fulfillment, and the theological implications of reading Psalm 22 as a messianic text.

The Cry of Dereliction and Its Hebrew Context

Psalm 22 opens with one of the most anguished cries in Scripture: "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?"—"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (22:1). The Hebrew verb azab (עָזַב) carries the semantic range of abandoning, forsaking, or leaving behind. It is used in Deuteronomy 31:6 where God promises never to forsake his people, making its appearance here all the more jarring. The psalmist experiences what seems to be the negation of the covenant promise itself. God, who swore never to abandon his people, appears to have done precisely that.

Yet the cry is addressed to God—"My God, my God" (Eli, Eli). This is the paradox of biblical lament: the sufferer does not abandon God even when experiencing divine abandonment. The very act of crying out to God in the moment of forsakenness is an affirmation of the relationship that the forsakenness seems to deny. James L. Mays writes, "The lament is itself an act of faith, a refusal to let go of God even when God seems to have let go of the sufferer." The psalmist insists on the covenant relationship precisely when that relationship appears most broken.

The opening verse continues: "Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?" The Hebrew rachok (רָחוֹק, "far") emphasizes spatial and relational distance. God is not merely absent; he is distant, unreachable, beyond the range of the sufferer's voice. The phrase "cries of anguish" translates sha'agah (שַׁאֲגָה), a term typically used for the roaring of lions (Judges 14:5; Amos 3:4). The psalmist's suffering has reduced him to an animal-like state, roaring in pain rather than speaking in coherent words. This is suffering at its most primal and dehumanizing.

Verses 2–5 establish a contrast between the psalmist's present experience and Israel's historical experience of divine deliverance. "Our ancestors trusted in you; they trusted and you delivered them" (22:4). The psalmist knows the tradition of God's faithfulness, which makes his present abandonment all the more incomprehensible. Why has God delivered Israel's ancestors but not the psalmist? The question is not merely personal; it is theological. It challenges the coherence of the covenant itself.

The Passion Narrative Parallels

The verbal and thematic parallels between Psalm 22 and the Gospel passion narratives are so extensive that some scholars have argued the Gospel writers shaped their accounts of the crucifixion to conform to the psalm. The mockers who "shake their heads" (22:7) appear in Matthew 27:39 and Mark 15:29. The taunt "He trusts in the LORD; let the LORD rescue him" (22:8) is quoted almost verbatim in Matthew 27:43. The dividing of garments and casting of lots (22:18) is recorded in all four Gospels (Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34; John 19:24). The piercing of hands and feet (22:16) corresponds to the crucifixion itself, though the Hebrew text is notoriously difficult and some translations render it differently.

Peter Craigie, in his Word Biblical Commentary on Psalms 1–50 (1983), argues that the parallels do not require the conclusion that the Gospel writers invented details to match the psalm. Rather, the early church recognized in Psalm 22 a prophetic script that was fulfilled in the historical events of Good Friday. Craigie writes, "The psalm provided the theological framework within which the passion was understood, not the historical details from which the passion was constructed." This distinction is crucial: the Gospel writers were not fabricating history to match prophecy; they were interpreting history through the lens of prophecy.

John Goldingay, in his Baker Commentary on Psalms 1–41 (2006), offers a more nuanced reading. He suggests that the relationship between Psalm 22 and the passion narrative is typological rather than predictive. The psalmist's experience of suffering and vindication becomes a type—a pattern or template—that finds its ultimate fulfillment in Christ. Goldingay notes that typology does not require the original author to have conscious knowledge of the future fulfillment; rather, God's providence ensures that earlier patterns anticipate later realities. On this reading, David (or whoever composed Psalm 22) was describing his own experience of suffering, but that experience was divinely ordered to prefigure the Messiah's greater suffering.

The debate between these two approaches—direct prophecy versus typological fulfillment—has occupied Christian interpreters since the patristic era. Justin Martyr, writing in the mid-second century, read Psalm 22 as direct messianic prophecy, arguing that David spoke not of himself but of Christ. Augustine, in the early fifth century, adopted a more sophisticated approach, suggesting that David spoke both of himself and of Christ, with the psalm's meaning expanding from the historical to the eschatological. The Reformers generally followed Augustine's lead, seeing the psalm as having both a historical referent (David's suffering) and a christological fulfillment (Jesus's passion).

The Imagery of Dehumanization and Isolation

Psalm 22:6–8 employs striking imagery to describe the psalmist's degradation: "But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people." The Hebrew tola'at (תּוֹלַעַת, "worm") is not merely a metaphor for insignificance; it is a term of utter dehumanization. The psalmist has been reduced to something less than human, an object of contempt rather than a person worthy of dignity. This language anticipates Isaiah 53:3, where the Suffering Servant is "despised and rejected by mankind." Both texts describe a figure who suffers not merely physical pain but social and ontological degradation.

The mockers in verses 7–8 add insult to injury: "All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads: 'He trusts in the LORD,' they say, 'let the LORD rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.'" The taunt is theologically sophisticated. The mockers do not deny that the psalmist trusts in God; they mock him precisely because he trusts in God and yet God does not deliver him. The taunt implies that the psalmist's trust is misplaced, that his theology is false, that God either does not care or does not exist. This is suffering compounded by theological mockery—the sufferer is told that his faith itself is the problem.

Verses 12–18 shift to animal imagery: bulls, lions, and dogs surround the psalmist, threatening to devour him. "Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me; they pierce my hands and my feet" (22:16). The imagery is one of being hunted, of being prey rather than predator. Tremper Longman III, in his work How to Read the Psalms (1988), notes that this animal imagery serves to depict the psalmist's enemies as subhuman, irrational forces of chaos. The psalmist is caught between two forms of dehumanization: he himself is reduced to a worm, while his enemies are depicted as wild beasts. Humanity has collapsed into animality on both sides.

The physical description in verses 14–17 is graphic: "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; you lay me in the dust of death." This is not abstract suffering; it is visceral, bodily, concrete. The psalmist's body is disintegrating, liquefying, drying up. Martin Hengel, in his landmark study Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross (1977), argues that this description corresponds remarkably to the physiological effects of crucifixion: dehydration, dislocation of joints, cardiovascular collapse. Whether or not the psalmist had crucifixion in mind, the early church recognized in these verses a prophetic description of Jesus's physical suffering on the cross.

The Turn to Praise and the Theology of Vindication

The most theologically significant feature of Psalm 22 is its dramatic turn from lament to praise in verse 22: "I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you." The shift is abrupt, with no transitional explanation. One moment the psalmist is crying out in abandonment; the next moment he is declaring his intention to praise God publicly. What has changed? The psalmist's circumstances have not visibly improved—he is still in the midst of his suffering—but his theological perspective has shifted. He now speaks with confidence that God has heard and will respond.

Verse 24 makes the shift explicit: "For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help." The language directly reverses the opening complaint. In verse 1, God had forsaken the psalmist; in verse 24, God has not despised him. In verse 2, God did not answer; in verse 24, God has listened. The vindication is not yet visible, but it is declared as certain. This is faith in its most radical form: trusting in divine deliverance before the deliverance has arrived.

The psalm's conclusion (22:25–31) expands the vision of vindication to cosmic proportions. "All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him" (22:27). The suffering of the individual psalmist becomes the occasion for universal worship. The nations, who were not present in the opening lament, now appear as participants in the praise. How does the psalmist's suffering lead to the nations' worship? The psalm does not explain the mechanism, but the New Testament does: the suffering and vindication of Jesus become the basis for the universal proclamation of the gospel to all nations (Matthew 28:19; Acts 1:8).

Verse 29 introduces a startling claim: "All the rich of the earth will feast and worship; all who go down to the dust will kneel before him—those who cannot keep themselves alive." Even the dead will worship. This is one of the few Old Testament texts that hints at resurrection or post-mortem vindication. The psalmist envisions a worship that transcends the boundary between life and death, a vindication that extends even to those who have already perished. The early church read this verse as a prophetic anticipation of Christ's descent to the dead and his resurrection, which opened the way for the dead to participate in the worship of God.

The final verse (22:31) looks to future generations: "Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn: He has done it!" The Hebrew phrase asah (עָשָׂה, "he has done it") is rendered in the Greek Septuagint as a perfect tense, emphasizing completed action. When Jesus cried out from the cross, "It is finished" (tetelestai, John 19:30), he was echoing the conclusion of Psalm 22. The work of redemption, anticipated in the psalm, is accomplished in the crucifixion.

Scholarly Debate: Prophecy, Typology, or Retrospective Application?

The relationship between Psalm 22 and the passion narrative has generated significant scholarly debate. Three main positions have emerged. First, traditional Christian interpretation reads Psalm 22 as direct messianic prophecy. On this view, David (or the psalmist) was inspired by the Holy Spirit to describe events that would occur centuries later. The psalm is not primarily about David's own suffering but about the Messiah's suffering, with David serving as a prophetic mouthpiece. This view was dominant in patristic and medieval exegesis and remains influential in conservative evangelical circles today.

Second, historical-critical scholarship generally rejects the direct prophecy model, arguing instead that Psalm 22 was originally a lament psalm describing the psalmist's own experience of suffering. The Gospel writers, familiar with the psalm, recognized thematic and verbal parallels between the psalm and Jesus's crucifixion and either shaped their narratives to conform to the psalm or interpreted Jesus's suffering through the psalm's lens. On this view, the christological reading of Psalm 22 is a retrospective application, not the psalm's original meaning. This position is represented by scholars such as Hermann Gunkel and Sigmund Mowinckel in the early twentieth century and continues in much contemporary critical scholarship.

Third, a mediating position emphasizes typology: the psalmist's experience of suffering and vindication becomes a divinely ordained pattern that finds its ultimate fulfillment in Christ. This view, articulated by scholars such as Richard Bauckham and N.T. Wright, argues that God's providence ensures that earlier patterns anticipate later realities without requiring the original author to have conscious knowledge of the future fulfillment. Typology preserves both the historical integrity of the psalm (it genuinely describes the psalmist's experience) and its christological significance (it prefigures Christ's passion).

My own assessment is that the typological approach best accounts for the biblical evidence. Psalm 22 functions on multiple levels: it is a genuine lament describing real suffering, it participates in Israel's broader theology of righteous suffering, and it anticipates the Messiah's passion. The psalm's meaning is not exhausted by its original historical context, nor is it imposed artificially by later interpreters. Rather, the psalm's meaning unfolds progressively as God's redemptive plan unfolds in history. The crucifixion does not merely illustrate Psalm 22; it completes it, bringing to fulfillment what the psalm anticipated but could not fully articulate.

Conclusion

Psalm 22 stands as one of the most theologically profound texts in the Old Testament, a psalm that moves from the depths of abandonment to the heights of universal praise. The Gospel writers did not merely quote Psalm 22; they interpreted the entire passion narrative through its theological framework, recognizing in the psalm a prophetic script for understanding Jesus's suffering. Jesus's cry of dereliction from the cross was not a moment of despair but a declaration of solidarity with the psalmist and, through the psalmist, with all who suffer in apparent abandonment by God.

The psalm's movement from lament to praise mirrors the paschal mystery itself: death and resurrection, forsakenness and vindication, suffering and glory. The turn from complaint to confidence in verse 22 is not explained by any change in the psalmist's circumstances; it is a theological turn, a decision to trust in God's faithfulness even when that faithfulness is not yet visible. This is the essence of biblical faith: trusting in divine deliverance before the deliverance has arrived, declaring God's vindication while still in the midst of suffering.

The scholarly debate over whether Psalm 22 is direct prophecy, typological anticipation, or retrospective application will likely continue. But the theological claim of the psalm remains clear: God does not abandon the righteous sufferer, even when abandonment seems total. The cry "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" is answered not in the moment of crying but in the resurrection that follows. The psalm teaches us that vindication comes through suffering, not around it; that divine presence is affirmed precisely in the experience of divine absence; and that the suffering of the righteous becomes, mysteriously, the occasion for the nations' worship. In Christ, these themes find their ultimate fulfillment, as the one who was forsaken on the cross becomes the one through whom all the families of the earth are blessed.

Implications for Ministry and Credentialing

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