And they compel to go [with them] a certain passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, coming from the field, the father of Alexander and Rufus, that he might carry his cross.
On the road to the crucifixion, Mark stops to name a bystander. Soldiers seize a stranger walking in from the fields and make him carry the cross of a condemned man — and Mark alone records the names of his sons.
Simon had no say in the matter.
The violent soldiers, indifferent to the liberty and rights of others, compel one returning from his labours in the field to bear the cross. Simon the Cyrenian had the honour of bearing the actual cross for the One who suffered on the cross for all the world.
The verse gives three details about the man: his home city, his direction of travel, and his family.
Then they led Him away to be crucified, compelling on the way one Simon, a Cyrenian, a Hellenistic Jew, to bear the cross behind Him. Was he a disciple? Evidently he had taken no part with the crowd, for he was coming from the country, and so must have met the procession on its way to Golgotha. He was also, as Mark informs us, the father of Alexander and Rufus — that Rufus, very likely, who is mentioned by Paul in Romans 16:13.
Jesus carried the cross too. The accounts describe different stages of the same walk.
This in no way contradicts the fact that they compelled Simon the Cyrenian to bear it after Him. From the Gospel of Mark we would judge that our Lord was bearing His own cross at the start of the journey to Golgotha. On the way they met Simon coming in from the country. They took the cross from our Lord and put it on him.
One popular explanation for the switch goes beyond what the record says.
Some have supposed that Simon the Cyrenian was forced to bear His cross because the strength of the Lord Jesus gave way under it. This is only men's imagination: no such thing is indicated in the record. But Simon's bearing His cross does illustrate the fact that there is a certain sense in which believers are privileged to bear the cross of the Lord Jesus. This does not involve His atoning sufferings, but a path of rejection by the world for His sake.
Simon walked behind Jesus, under a cross. Set him beside the other Simon in the story, and the picture sharpens.
It is he who bears the cross. Its significance may well point to that sharing in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ which is the privilege of all who follow Him. Some have suggested a contrast between the two Simons. One claimed the fullest obedience, but denied his Lord in the hour of testing. This man bears the cross. It does not seem that he volunteered; the circumstances of the moment pressed him into service. Still, it is not said that he refused.
Men did wrong in forcing Simon. That did not stop God from using it.
It would appear that Simon's two sons, Alexander and Rufus, were afterwards well-known converts brought into the Church; so the detail is of interest. God's goodness, I suppose, used this very circumstance, wicked as it was on man's part. He would not let even His Son's humiliation pass without turning it to the blessing of man.
Paul later greets Rufus by name, and his mother too.
From Mark 15:21 we may conclude that the father of Rufus had carried the cross of Christ on the way to Golgotha. That service had its reward: the son is "chosen in the Lord". His mother is remembered too, for she had at some time acted as a mother to the Apostle.
Simon's own name carries a sense that fits what he did that day.
Mark records, as Matthew does, how Simon the Cyrenian was pressed into service on the road to bear His cross. But Mark adds something: this Simon, the "listener" and cross bearer, was the father of Alexander and Rufus. God's grace was fruitful in him. Is not this the true way of fruitfulness ever — to listen and bear the cross?
- Compelled. Soldiers with no regard for anyone's rights grabbed a man walking home from the fields and loaded the cross on him.
- Honoured. Force became honour: Simon carried the actual cross for the One who suffered on it for the whole world.
- Behind Him. He carried it after Jesus. That is where every follower walks — unlike the Simon who claimed the most and then denied his Lord.
- Fruitful. God's grace bore fruit in him. Alexander and Rufus became well-known believers in the Church, and Rufus is greeted as "chosen in the Lord."
- Remembered. Man's worst wickedness did not stop God turning even this into blessing for a household.
And they bring him to the place [called] Golgotha, which, being interpreted, is Place of a skull.
The march from Pilate's judgment hall ends at a named spot, and Mark pauses to translate the name for readers who would not know it. Why record where Jesus died with such care — and what does "Place of a Skull" say about the world that put Him there?
Mark's word for how Jesus arrived is stronger than most translations show. It points back to the scourging and the blows He had already taken.
Mark speaks of bringing Him to Golgotha. The word translated "bring" really means "bear" (translated that way in Mark 2:3 and Luke 23:26). "And they bear Him to the place Golgotha." They had to hold Him up. The blessed Servant had spent His strength. What a sight He must have been after all the scourging and cruel abuse! The awful blows had marred His face. No wonder that His real human body was weak. But could He give way? Never. No one could take His life.
Three languages meet in this one place-name, and the picture behind all three is the same.
The Greek is κρανίον, "a skull." The word "Calvary" is from the Latin Calvaria, which means the same; it agrees also with the Hebrew GOLGOTHA, which has the same meaning. The traditional site of the Holy Sepulchre is now well inside Jerusalem. Many have tried to prove that this spot was outside the city back then. This is not at all believable. A much more likely place is the one pointed out by the Jews on the north of the city, near the Grotto of Jeremiah. Visitors have said that this site has, at a distance, the natural outline of a human skull.
The name may have come from the shape of the ground. It still carries a meaning beyond geography.
The place got its name from the peculiar shape of the rock, but it is significant for all that! A skull speaks of the humiliating end of all man's power and glory. In some living man it may once have held as brilliant and powerful a brain as ever existed; and it has come to this! The Son of God accepted the judgment of death as from man's hand, and He went to bear it in a place that symbolically set out the end of all man's glory.
The same spot that shows what man has become is where God's answer breaks in.
Calvary was in this way a witness to the moral condition of the whole world. It was also a witness to the love and grace that would come down to the very place where sin showed all its hideousness, and triumph over it there. From the skull of Calvary springs the beauty of the resurrection. This is true first for the Son of God. Death had no power over Him and could not disfigure Him, though it might hide His beauty from human eyes. It is true also for the whole family of the redeemed. They are risen with Christ, forever beyond the power of death to mar or disfigure.
The first readers knew where Golgotha stood: outside the city wall. That location fulfilled an old pattern in Israel's sacrifices.
The priests of old carried the body of the sin offering out to a clean place outside the camp. Little could they have guessed what that act really pictured: the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ outside the gate. Now we learn that the priests' act pointed forward to the circumstances of the death of the true sacrifice. Here only (Hebrews 13:12) is this fact plainly stated. At the time of His death, and until Jerusalem was destroyed, everyone there knew where Golgotha or Calvary was. To mention Golgotha was enough for readers then… But God had another purpose in the Lord's death at Golgotha, little as the enemy could have guessed it. Christ suffered there so that His people might be sanctified, or set apart, for God by His blood.
Where He suffered becomes a call to His people. But what we share with Him there has a limit.
Here we must note one thing carefully. This outside place is no longer viewed as the place of judgment from God, but as the place of reproach from man. God does not call us to go outside under His judgment. He calls us to go outside under the reproach of men, and that to the full. He suffered as the holy victim under the judgment of God; He endured as the patient martyr under the reproach of men. We cannot share His sufferings at the hand of God, but it is our privilege to share the insults He received from the hands of men. He went outside the camp to bear our judgment; we go outside the camp to bear His reproach.
- Carried — Mark's verb means they had to bear Him up; the Servant had spent His strength, yet no one could take His life from Him.
- Named — Golgotha in Hebrew, Calvary in Latin, kranion in Greek: one meaning, a skull, at a site outside the city wall.
- Pictured — a skull is the humiliating end of all man's power and glory, and the Son of God went to that spot to bear death from man's hand.
- Answered — from the skull of Calvary springs the beauty of the resurrection, for Him and for all who are risen with Him.
- Outside — He suffered outside the gate to set His people apart by His blood; we go out to Him to bear His reproach, never His judgment.
And they offered him wine [to drink] medicated with myrrh; but he did not take [it].
At Golgotha the soldiers hold out a cup of drugged wine, and the Lord will not drink it. Mark alone tells us what was in it. Why would He turn down relief at the moment He needed it most?
The drink had a purpose. It was mixed to dull the long pain of the cross.
The object of giving Him this drink was to deaden anguish, the drawn-out and excessive pain of the cross, but He refused.
Myrrh has two sides. People used it as perfume, yet its name means bitterness.
Myrrh was the gum from a dwarf tree of the terebinth family, growing in Arabia. The gum flows from the trunk either on its own, or through cuts made for the purpose... It is fragrant to the smell, but very bitter to the taste. In fact the word is the same as the word for "bitterness" in the familiar "Marah" (Ex. 15:23). It was used as a perfume, and as a medicine for deadening pain (Mark 15:23)...
Matthew names gall where Mark names myrrh. Commentators differ on whether that means one substance or two.
Verse 23 calls the drink wine and myrrh instead of the vinegar and gall of Matthew. The wine was the ordinary, sour wine of the East, almost vinegar. The bitter myrrh may have been a more specific name for the gall, though some think two substances are meant.
What He was about to do decided what He would drink.
At Golgotha He had been offered wine mingled with myrrh. He would not receive it... He was very thirsty and His body dehydrated, but He would not receive that. In no way would He allow anything to take away from the full weight of the pain He had to endure as the Sin-bearer.
We dull pain wherever we can. He met His suffering with every sense awake, and He had gone through it before it came.
He never hardened His heart to shut out what was coming; He went through the trial before the trial came. We try not to think about it. Sometimes people also take something to strengthen the body against the feeling of these trials and pangs. The Lord Jesus did not. No; He would take the vinegar, but He did not take the drink that was meant to deaden feeling — that He refused. There was a cup given, out of human mercy for the ordinary criminal, to deaden pain, a kind of opiate. But the Lord would not allow that. No, no; He allowed no anaesthetics for Himself.
Two drinks came to Him at the cross, and only one of them fulfilled a prophecy.
They offered the Lord sour wine mixed with myrrh or gall, and He refused it. But He did take the sour wine after He said, "I thirst." That fulfilled the prophecy: "for my thirst they gave me sour wine to drink."
Mark shows a Servant whose strength was already spent, and who still refused help.
The blessed Servant had spent His strength... Mark alone reports that the wine they offered Him was mingled with myrrh. This was considered a painkiller, to relieve and deaden the pain. The Servant who had come to spend all He had and to give Himself did not need it, but refused the mixture.
The bitterness does not have the last word. Myrrh has another side, and it belongs to His kingdom.
The suffering love of the Lord Jesus, of which the myrrh speaks, will be fragrant to all around Him in His kingdom. No one will be allowed to forget, in the day of His glory, that He was once the Man of Sorrows in this world.
- Offered. The cup was a painkiller, mixed to deaden the drawn-out anguish of the cross.
- Bitter. Myrrh is fragrant to smell but bitter to taste; its name is the word behind "Marah," bitterness.
- Refused. He would let nothing reduce the full weight of what He bore as the Sin-bearer.
- Awake. He took no painkiller. He met the trial in full feeling, and He had gone through it before it came.
- Fragrant. The bitter spice He turned away becomes the perfume of His kingdom. No one there will forget His sufferings.
And having crucified him, they part his clothes amongst [themselves], casting lots on them, what each one should take.
Mark spends three words on the crucifixion itself, then a longer clause on a pile of clothes. He leaves us watching soldiers gamble at the foot of the cross while the Man above them dies.
Mark does not describe the act itself. The details come from other places in Scripture.
We are spared the pain of the details in the actual sacrifice of the blessed Sufferer. It is told in the brief words: "They crucified Him." We know from other scriptures that it was by nailing Him to the cross. The cross was lifted up from the earth, with Him suspended on it, hanging on the tree.
The silence has a reason, and it is not carelessness.
What the Lord Jesus suffered at the hands of men was very great. Yet it becomes small by comparison when we turn to what He endured at the hands of God as the Victim, when He was made sin for us. Mark compresses all this far greater matter into two verses — 33 and 34, while his account of the lesser matter covers 52 verses. The fact is, of course, that the lesser could be described, and the greater could not be.
The division of a condemned man's clothing was the executioners' normal payment. It also carried a public meaning.
"And having crucified Him, they part His garments, casting lots upon them, what each should take." This, we know from elsewhere, was the distinct accomplishment of divine prediction, as it was the human sign of one given up to capital punishment.
Nothing was held back from Him. Even His clothes became a game.
No indignity or humiliation is spared the Lord. Having crucified Him in the place of a skull, the soldiers gamble for His clothes.
The soldiers were Romans. They did not know the Jewish Scriptures, and that did not stop them from fulfilling them.
This is striking when we take the case of the Roman soldiers — men who did not know that the Scriptures existed... His face was to be "marred more than any man," according to Isaiah 52:14, and the crown of thorns and the beatings fulfilled this. The Judge of Israel was to be struck "with a rod upon the cheek," according to Micah 5:1. The soldiers did this, as verse 19 of our chapter shows. Verse 24 records their fulfilment of Psalm 22:18... We think we are right in saying that at least 24 prophecies were fulfilled in the 24-hour day when Jesus died.
The smallness of the detail is the point.
God's eye was now, as ever, on His Son, and He had taken care in His word to mark it. In one of the psalms that speak most plainly of the Messiah (Psalm 22:18) stands a prediction written a thousand years beforehand. It describes the soldiers taking the Saviour's garments in a way that can apply to no one but Him... The very smallness of the details mentioned bears witness to the exact truth of the prophecy. He is proved to be the Messiah, even while He is rejected.
The lot appears elsewhere in the Bible, and not only in the hands of soldiers.
The Roman soldiers also used the lot when they divided the garments of the Lord — Psalm 22:18; Mark 15:24. The lot was used again to fill the place left empty when Judas fell away. That time it came with prayer that the Lord would show which of the two He had chosen — Acts 1:26. There is no instruction in the New Testament about casting lots. It would have been quite out of place among the disciples while the Lord was with them, and it is out of place now that the Holy Spirit has been given to the Christian.
Beneath the greed there is an exchange. He loses His clothing; guilty people gain a covering.
Then they crucify Him and divide His garments among them, casting lots. All the while the light of prophecy shines on all this, and the great Eye of God watches in silence, though no one takes any notice of Him... But is He not in fact providing, at His own cost, the clothing that is to cover men's nakedness? And He does it by divine appointment too, which the lot in Israel spoke of, and even for His enemies. Only in this way can any one of us say, "He has covered me with the robe of righteousness" (Isaiah 61:10).
- Silence. "They crucified Him" is all Mark gives of the act. What He bore from God could not be put into words at all.
- Shame. They spared Him no shame: soldiers gambled for the clothes off His back while He hung there.
- Script. Men who had never read Israel's Scriptures fulfilled Psalm 22:18 to the letter. It was one of at least 24 prophecies that came true in that one day.
- Sovereignty. Even the lot — the thing men call chance — fell exactly where God had written it would fall a thousand years before.
- Substitution. He paid the cost Himself so that the naked could be covered. Only in this way can anyone say, "He has covered me with the robe of righteousness."
And it was the third hour, and they crucified him.
The third hour is the only time-stamp we have for the moment the cross was raised. It raises two questions. What hour is that on our own clock? And why does John seem to place Pilate's sentence three hours later?
Matthew and Luke tell the same scene without naming the hour.
Mark alone of the first three Gospels mentions the hour when the crucifixion began (v. 25).
Because of that one detail, we can measure the whole ordeal.
From him we learn that our Lord was six hours upon the cross. They crucified Him at the third hour (v. 25). The last three hours stand apart from the first three. Mark mentions them separately, and, above all, darkness covered the earth during them (v. 33). At the close of those hours came our Lord's memorable cry, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani" — spoken in Aramaic, and interpreted for us, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?"
The Jewish day started at sunrise, so we have to convert the numbers.
The day was divided into twelve hours, generally counted from sunrise to sunset. In Palestine the length varied, from ten of our hours in winter to fourteen in summer. So the summer hours were nearly half as long again as the winter ones. The hours of scripture are now usually reckoned from 6 o'clock a.m. to 6 o'clock p.m., which would make the third hour our 9 o'clock; the sixth hour our 12 o'clock; the ninth hour our 3 o'clock p.m., and so on.
Set out as a timeline, the day runs from the early council to the burial without a spare hour.
The Council meets, when it was day, for form's sake (Mark 15:1) to give Him up to Pilate. It was then early. He was crucified the third hour (Mark 15:25), nine o'clock — having been to Herod and back. From twelve to three (Matthew 27:45, and also Mark and Luke) there was darkness — that is, the sixth to the ninth hour, all counted from six in the morning. After that, He gives up His Spirit, and is laid in the tomb before six o'clock, when the Sabbath came. His Name be praised!
John's Gospel places Pilate's sentence at the sixth hour, three hours later.
This has caused much discussion and controversy. We cannot help asking: if He was crucified at the third hour, how can Pilate be giving his sentence about the sixth hour? The answer seems to be this. John is dealing with what happened before the Roman judge, so he uses the Roman reckoning, which was similar to ours. Mark reckons by Jewish custom. If this is so, all is simple. It was about 6 a.m. when Pilate's examination drew to a close, and about 9 a.m. when Jesus was crucified.
The gap between the sentence and the cross was not empty.
First we read that, after the wicked trial by furious men led on by Satan, the holy Sufferer was "scourged." That must have taken up some time. Then the soldiers took Him into the governor's headquarters, and the whole band gathered around Him. There they stripped Him of His own clothes, and put on Him a scarlet robe. There too, "twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on His head and put a reed in His right hand. And kneeling before Him, they mocked Him, saying, 'Hail, King of the Jews!'"… All this outrage and these other insults must have taken some time.
The first half of that time belonged to men; at noon everything changed.
For three hours, as He hung on the cross, this contemptuous mockery of men continued. But at the sixth hour (noon) God shut out all light, and darkness covered the land until 3 p.m… This was not only suffering at the hands of men. It was suffering from God — the full judgment that God must pour out against sin, and the judgment against our many sins as well. Absolutely alone He bore this anguish.
Mark records the act itself without a single detail of the physical horror.
We are spared the pain of details in the actual putting to death of the blessed Sufferer. It is described in the brief words: "They crucified Him." We know from other scriptures that they did it by nailing Him to the cross. The cross was then lifted up from the earth, with Him hanging on it, suspended upon the tree.
- Hour recorded. Mark alone of the first three Gospels notes when the cross was raised. That one detail lets us measure the whole day.
- Hour converted. Counting from sunrise, the third hour is our 9 a.m., the sixth is noon, the ninth is 3 p.m.
- Hour reconciled. John counts by Roman time, so his "sixth hour" is 6 a.m. The three hours in between held the sentence, the scourging and the mockery.
- Hours divided. Six hours on the cross, split at noon: three of men's mockery, then three of darkness ending in the cry of abandonment.
- Hour hidden. The act itself gets three words. Scripture spares us the details, and He bore the judgment absolutely alone.
And the superscription of what he was accused of was written up The King of the Jews.
A written notice hung over the cross of Jesus. It named the charge He died for: this man was Israel's King. Mark's wording is the shortest of the four Gospels. That raises two questions. Why do the accounts differ? And why was the only charge against Him a true one?
Each writer uses his own term for what hung over the Lord's head, and the wording is not interchangeable. One commentator draws out the distinction:
Let us note the term used by each writer, which must show what he wanted to convey to his readers. John calls it a title, Luke a superscription, Matthew His accusation, and Mark the superscription of His accusation. Now a title and an accusation are not the same thing, and neither are a superscription and an accusation. Mark makes this clear, since he uses both superscription and accusation.
Set the four accounts side by side and none of them gives every word; together they give the whole:
The inscription placed on the cross of Jesus is mentioned by all four writers, but all give it differently. Can we say they forgot this inscription? How unlikely! But compare the four accounts. Matthew: "This is Jesus the King of the Jews" (27:37). Mark: "The King of the Jews" (15:26). Luke: "This is the King of the Jews" (23:38). John: "Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews" (19:19). In full: "This is Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews." So all the writers were completely correct. Each gives the part of the inscription needed for the purpose of his Gospel.
The notice stood in three languages. One explanation ties Mark's short form to his readers:
The superscription on the cross was written in three languages. Mark's account (Mark 15:26) was likely read in particular by Roman Christians, so it would follow the Latin form, the shortest one.
No crime could be pinned on Him. So the notice over His head stated a fact instead:
They write over the cross His accusation — it was the truth as to what He was, "The King of the Jews," for what charge could there be against the all-perfect One? They put Him between two thieves, in the place of Barabbas, who was a murderer — a Substitute for him — but "this man has done nothing wrong" (Luke 23:41). Yes, this is "Jesus, the King of the Jews."
The mockery struck the nation as well as the Lord. It came as one humiliation after another:
No indignity or humiliation is spared the Lord. Having crucified Him in the place of a skull, the soldiers gamble for His clothes. In derision they pour contempt on the nation by the superscription of His accusation, "THE KING OF THE JEWS." At the same time they crucify Him between two thieves. Without knowing it they were fulfilling scripture, which said, "He was numbered with the transgressors."
The religious leaders wanted the wording softened. The governor who gave way over the life of Jesus would not give way over a sentence:
This title grates on them, however, and they want it altered. It seemed to declare that their actual king was there on the cross — which was indeed the solemn truth. Pilate gave way and wavered when the life of the holy One was at stake. He knew what he was doing when he sacrificed Him to their bitter hatred. Yet here he will not give way. God would not allow it, and the poor puppet of authority suddenly speaks with all the finality of a true ruler: "What I have written, I have written."
The words were written in scorn. They carry a weight the writers never intended:
He was the King of the Jews as none other has been or can be. That is why He did not save Himself. And so He can send out the message of salvation now and bring salvation by and by. Man in that day gave little weight to the meaning of what was written over Him in Greek and Roman and Hebrew letters: "This is the King of the Jews." If man wrote it in scorn, God will give it all its own force. God overrules the will and the anger of man to praise Him.
- Charge. Mark alone calls it "the superscription of His accusation." A title and an accusation are not the same thing, and Mark uses both words.
- Truth. The accusation was accurate. They could name no wrongdoing, so they named who He is.
- Written. The notice stood in three languages, and each writer gives the part his readers needed. Joined together they read, "This is Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews."
- Unalterable. The leaders wanted it reworded. Pilate was weak about a life but immovable about a sentence, and God would not let the testimony be changed.
- Crowned. Man wrote it in scorn, but it holds good. Because He was the King, He did not save Himself, and salvation goes out from that cross.
And with him they crucify two robbers, one on his right hand, and one on his left.
Mark adds one last touch of disgrace: men nailed the Servant of God between two criminals. Who were these men? Why were they put there? And what did God do with an insult aimed at His Son?
Mark's word means a bandit, not a small-time thief. A Bible dictionary traces the same word through the Gospels:
(λῃστής) 'robber, bandit.' Used by the Lord about those who bought and sold in the temple. Matthew 21:13; Mark 11:17; Luke 19:46. When the Lord was arrested He asked if they had come out as against a robber. Matthew 26:55; Mark 14:48; Luke 22:52. The two criminals crucified with the Lord were also men of this character. Matthew 27:38, 44; Mark 15:27.
The placing was not accidental. One writer describes how they picked the two men, and why they gave Jesus the middle cross:
That morning they searched the prison cells of Jerusalem for the most degraded criminals the city held. They led them out to die along with Jesus. These men had been guilty of appalling crimes. That is why they chose them to hang one on His right hand and the other on His left. That is why they put Him on the centre and highest cross. They meant to proclaim by their well-considered and malicious plan that He was the worst of the three. So they heaped shame on Him, adding the deepest insult to the deepest injury.
Men would not even let Him die alone. Yet the company forced on Him could not touch what He was:
Mark, like Matthew, mentions the robbers (indeed, all do) as a testimony to the complete humiliation of God's Servant and Son on the cross. Men would not even give Him that place on His own. He was indeed alone in the grace and moral glory of the cross. But to increase its shame they crucified these two robbers with Him, one on His right hand and the other on His left.
The men who arranged this were carrying out a prophecy they had no interest in fulfilling:
No indignity or humiliation is spared the Lord. The soldiers crucify Him between two thieves. Without knowing it they were fulfilling the Scripture which said, "He was numbered with the transgressors."
Both men abused Him at first. That rules out any idea that the one later saved was the better of the two:
Scripture is completely silent about any redeeming or qualifying circumstance in the man who repented. In fact, Scripture gives us the testimony of two inspired witnesses. They prove that, right up to the moment Luke brings him before us, he was doing what his fellow on the other side was doing: the terrible work of abusing the Son of God. Now, this is God's own conclusive proof. It proves, beyond all question, that there was no difference between the two thieves. They were both condemned criminals. They were also standing on the very edge of the eternal world. And there they were both busy with the terrible sin of reviling the blessed Son of God.
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The insult did not stay an insult. One writer follows what became of one of these two men:
They crucified Him between two robbers in order to humiliate Him, and in this way they numbered Him with the transgressors. Mark mentions nothing more of this. But Luke 23:39-43 shows us that God's sovereign power and grace was over it. He used it to bring one of these men to genuine repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus. It also shows the solemn fact that Christ crucified is the great Divider between the lost and the saved.
The places on His right and left went to criminals, not to His own followers. One writer explains why that mattered:
But I am glad that such men as these, and not James and John, became His companions that day. In this the devil showed his lack of foresight, and in this he was outwitted. Suppose they had crucified the sons of Zebedee, one on His right hand and the other on His left. People would then have said that these two were helping Him to finish His work of redemption.
- Shame — the two beside Him were bandits, picked from the worst in the city. His enemies put Him on the middle and highest cross to mark Him as the worst of the three.
- Prophecy — the men who staged the insult fulfilled Scripture without knowing it: He was numbered with the transgressors.
- Alone — men refused Him even a solitary death, yet He remained alone in the grace and moral glory of that cross.
- Level ground — both robbers reviled Him at first. Neither was the better man.
- Divider — grace saved one of the two. Christ crucified is the line between the lost and the saved.
[And the scripture was fulfilled which says, And he was reckoned with the lawless.]
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And they that passed by reviled him, shaking their heads, and saying, Aha, thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days,
At the cross the crowd walking past turns the Lord's own words into a joke. They throw back a charge that had already failed in court — but what had He said about the temple, and why does Mark record the sneer of strangers?
These people were only walking past. Nothing forced them to get involved.
You might think that the passers-by would at least hold back from taking part in this terrible scene. But even they wag their heads, insult Him, misuse His words, and challenge Him to "save Himself, and come down from the cross."
The insult fits a pattern that runs through the whole account.
Verses 16-32 paint a vivid picture of the terrible circumstances around the crucifixion. All classes combined against the Lord. Pilate had already scourged Him. The Roman soldiers mocked Him in ways that were cruel as well as contemptuous. The ordinary people — just passers-by — railed at Him. The priests mocked Him with sarcasm. The two thieves crucified with Him insulted Him too. They stood for the criminal class, the very lowest of humanity. High-born and low-born, Jew and Gentile, were all involved. Yet in the end they were all helping to fulfil the Scriptures, though no doubt without knowing it.
The temple line did not come from nowhere. It goes back to a twisted report of something Jesus had said, and the twist is easy to trace.
His accusers tried to use false witnesses to prove a charge that carried the death penalty. But it failed. No two of them agreed... "We heard him say," claimed two witnesses, "I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands" (Mark 14:58). What the Lord had said was this: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (John 2:19). Within three days of His examination before Caiaphas, those words came true. The Jews put Him to death. They destroyed the temple of His body. On the third day He rose again. The Lord's words and the statement of these witnesses were really very different.
So the crowd is repeating courtroom gossip. He never said He would pull the building down. He said they would destroy, and He would raise — and the temple He meant was His body.
The mockers had the roles the wrong way round.
The passers-by insult Him, wagging their heads as they look at Him hanging there. Their false accusation said He was going to destroy the temple and build it up again in three days. In fact it was they who were destroying it. In a little while they will begin to see the true meaning: "In three days I will rise again."
Their timing was worse than they knew.
His words were turned against Him, not only at His trial, but in His dying moments... How little they knew that His very words were now about to be completely fulfilled!
The gesture is not a small detail. It appears in Psalm 22, the psalm that describes this death. The mockers played out the script without knowing there was one.
The "reproach of men" followed Him into this place which He had taken for men. He was "despised" even "by the people" — Israel, the nation He had been sent to in particular. Yes, He was the common mockery of everyone who saw Him. The gospels make a point of noting this wagging of the head by those passing by. They note too the very words of the psalm, used by the chief priests along with the scribes and elders to mock Him. On the surface it might look as if the government of God supplied them with this reproach. In fact they were hard, and blind to what they themselves deserved and to the holiness and mercy of God. That blindness hid from them the meaning of the scriptures they were so plainly fulfilling.
- Words twisted. The taunt repeats a charge the court had already thrown out. He said they would destroy the temple and He would raise it (John 2:19).
- Words turned back. The passers-by mock Him with His own words. Within hours those words came true in His resurrection.
- Roles reversed. They were the ones destroying the temple of His body; only He could raise it up again.
- Script unread. The head-wagging acts out Psalm 22. Hard hearts blinded them to the Scripture they were fulfilling.
- All hands guilty. Governor, soldiers, priests, criminals and passers-by, Jew and Gentile — each added a share. None of them knew they were serving God's written purpose.
save thyself, and descend from the cross.
The crowd at the cross did not just watch. They taunted the dying Man, daring Him to step down and prove Himself. Their words raise the question at the heart of the gospel. If He had the power to save Himself, why did He stay?
The abuse came from every direction.
Verses 16-32 show us in vivid detail the terrible circumstances surrounding the crucifixion. All classes combined against the Lord. Pilate had already had Him flogged. The Roman soldiers mocked Him in ways that were cruel as well as scornful. The ordinary people — just passers-by — jeered at Him. The priests mocked Him with sarcasm. The two thieves crucified with Him — the lowest of criminals — insulted Him. High-born and low-born, Jew and Gentile, were all involved. Yet the result was that they all helped to fulfil the Scriptures, though no doubt they never realised it.
You might expect people with no stake in the trial to walk on by. They did not.
It might be thought that the passers by would at least refrain from taking part in this terrible scene, but even they wag their heads, rail upon Him, misapply His words, and challenge Him to "Save Himself, and come down from the cross."
The challenge was attached to something Jesus had once said about the temple. The irony was total.
Men turned His words against Him, not only at His trial, but in His dying moments. How little they knew that His very words were now about to be completely fulfilled!
The temple He spoke of was not the building.
In fact, at that very moment they were destroying that temple, which was His body. And He would indeed raise it up, as He did in three days. He would wait for the three days: He would not save Himself and come down from the cross, as they suggested. He would willingly bear its agony for the sake of the sinful souls of men!
Commentators are clear that the demand was not beyond Him. What kept Him there was not iron.
He could have come down from the cross. It was not the nails driven through His hands and His feet that held Him there. I could only admit it if I am allowed to spell out one word on them. The nail in His right hand is L. The nail in His left hand is O. The nail in the right foot is V. The nail in the left foot is E. It was LOVE that held Him there, the love of a Saviour-God.
There is a sense in which the taunt spoke the truth, though the mockers had no idea of it. His inability was moral, not physical.
In fact, He could not save Himself, not being able to think of Himself: the love which had saved others went farther and gave Himself for us. Perfect love for His Father, obedience to His commandments, His perfect love to us, hindered His saving Himself. He might have had His twelve legions of angels, but He came for others, not for Himself. If He was to save others, He could not save Himself. What marks the terrible blindness of these priests is that they quote words which, in the Psalm where His death is described just as it is described here, come out of the mouth of the godless and the wicked (Psalm 22:7-8).
The offer — believe on a Christ who steps down — is one people still make, and it would have cost them everything.
They are saying today, as they said when He was here, "Come down from the cross, and we will believe on you." What would have been the use of any of us believing on Him if He had come down from the cross? The only way He could save us was by staying there. If we receive the Lord Jesus Christ at all, we must take Him as He is: Christ crucified, the power and the wisdom of God.
- Everyone mocked. Soldiers, priests, criminals and passers-by all joined in, high and low, Jew and Gentile. Without knowing it, they were fulfilling the Scriptures.
- Blind irony. They threw His words about the temple back at Him. At that very moment they were destroying that temple — His body — which He would raise on the third day.
- He could. He was able to come down; nails were never what held Him. Love held Him there.
- He wouldn't. Love for the Father, obedience, and love for us held Him there. Saving Himself was the one thing He could not do. He came for others, not for Himself.
- So we are saved. Had He stepped down, there would be nothing to believe in. The only Christ who saves is the Christ who stayed.
In like manner the chief priests also, with the scribes, mocking with one another, said, He saved others; himself he cannot save.
The chief priests and scribes mocked Jesus while He was dying. They admitted He had saved others, then jeered that He could not save Himself — a taunt that was half lie and half truth. (The quotations below follow an older wording: "Himself He cannot save.")
Mocking a dying man is beneath ordinary decency. Who did the mocking here is the first shock of the verse.
It is not usual to mock at the sufferings of the dying. Even if it were a criminal, ordinary feelings of humanity would hold men back from such a crime. But this was the Son of God, and that made it an entirely different matter. Man had no regard for Him; nothing was too bad to heap on His holy head. We only see fully what man is when we look at the cross… And now He was on the cross, and men were mocking His dying agonies! But who? Was it the ignorant and depraved? No — it was the chief priests and scribes, the representatives of religion and learning in their day. What a tale this tells! It disproves the idea that better surroundings or education can ever put man right.
The first half of the taunt is a confession. They had watched His works and could not deny them.
Notice what they said. "He saved others." They knew His acts of power. He had cleansed the leper, cast out demons, and raised the dead. But they thought that now He was stripped of everything, that His power was gone. "Himself He cannot save." This was false. He was the mighty God, the Creator and sustainer of everything — there was no "cannot" with Him. One word from Him, and the whole pack of foes might have been sent to the pit… But they were blind to His glory.
If power was not the problem, something else held Him there. One writer finds the reason in love and obedience — and notices whose words the priests were borrowing.
In fact, He could not save Himself, because He could not think of Himself: the love which had saved others went further and gave Himself for us. Perfect love for His Father, obedience to His commandments, His perfect love to us — these kept Him from saving Himself… If He was to save others, He could not save Himself. His love and His obedience were complete. The frightful blindness of these poor priests shows in this: they quote words that Psalm 22:7-8 puts in the mouth of the godless and the wicked — the Psalm that describes His death just as we see it here.
So was it "cannot" or "would not"? Death had no claim on Him by nature.
He saved others, they said, and they could not help knowing it. Himself He would not — did not — save. No, in the sense of love and divine purpose, Himself He could not save. He laid down His life for us — there was no other way we could be saved… There was no necessity of death in the nature of the Lord Jesus Christ. Every other man had to die because of Adam; Christ did not… So He says plainly about His death: "I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again" (John 10:18). He alone of all men could say that since the world began.
The priests also offered to believe if He would come down from the cross.
The chief priests join the others in mocking the Lord. They say, "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." That was true, little as they realised it. But what they add is entirely false. They say, "Let Christ the King of Israel come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe." Faith comes by hearing, not by sight. Besides, had He come down from the cross, believing would have been pointless. We would still be in our sins.
His refusal to come down is what opened salvation to everyone.
He had come into the world to save sinners, to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself; and to do that He had to suffer and die. Nothing else would have worked… Had He saved Himself, salvation from eternal misery would have been impossible for anyone. Love led Him on. He has drained the awful cup and endured the dreadful baptism. Divine justice is satisfied, and God is glorified. Christ is no longer held back. Salvation is now free to all.
- Mockers exposed — The jeering came from the leaders of religion and learning. Nowhere do we see what man really is as fully as at the cross.
- Half admitted — "He saved others" was a fact they could not deny. They granted His saving power even while they sneered.
- Half denied — "Cannot" was false about His power. One word from Him could have ended the scene, but they were blind to whose voice it was.
- Half true — Love for His Father and for us made self-rescue impossible; He could not save Himself and save us too.
- Result received — Had He saved Himself, no one else could be saved. He stayed, justice is satisfied, and salvation is now free to all.
Let the Christ the King of Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and may believe. And they that were crucified with him reproached him.
At the cross the scorn is united. The religious leaders taunt the dying Saviour, and the two criminals beside Him join in. Their words offer a bargain: come down, and then we will believe. Yet their mockery hides a truth deeper than they knew.
The leaders meant "He saved others; He cannot save Himself" as proof of failure. Writers point out that the word "cannot" was true. It was just not true for the reason the mockers supposed.
As has often been the case, the very reproach which they cast upon Him is His glory. In a way their spite never dreamed of, it was true: "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." But that "cannot" was not weakness or inability. It was divine love.
Nothing forced Him to stay there. One writer traces that "cannot" back to His own choice and to what our salvation required.
He would not — did not — save Himself. In the sense of love and divine purpose, He could not save Himself. He laid down His life for us — there was no other way we could be saved... Death was no necessity in the nature of the Lord Jesus Christ. All other men must die because of Adam. Christ did not have to.
The chief priests taught Scripture for a living. Yet no prophet had ever named the proof they demanded.
They acknowledged His works done for others, yet refused to admit the claims those works established... They rejected what the word of God would have led them to look for, and asked for a sign which no prophet had authorised them to expect. It was right to link the King's presence with a display of power. It was wrong to expect Him to use that power to save Himself.
Their offer sounds reasonable: give us something to see, and we will believe. Commentators answer on two levels. They show how faith really comes, and what salvation would be left if He had done what they asked.
The chief priests join with others in mocking the Lord. They said, "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." This was indeed true, though they hardly realised it. But what they add is completely false. They say, "Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe." Faith comes by hearing, not by sight. Moreover, had He come down from the cross, belief would have been in vain. We should still be in our sins.
Their promise was worthless. His resurrection later gave them a far greater proof, and they paid to hide it.
In their wicked glee, they promise to believe on Him if He would come down from the cross and so prove Himself to be the King of Israel. Sadly, when a mightier proof is given them by His resurrection from the dead, they could bribe the Roman soldiers to hide the dreaded truth.
The mockery reached further than the one man on the cross.
The Jewish nation had to be humbled, and the soldiers mocked the whole nation in mocking its King... What comes out especially here is the humiliation of the King of Israel.
Mark records that both criminals reviled Him. That detail matters. One of them changed, and the change came without the proof the priests demanded.
The spirit of unbelief was so complete that even the men crucified with Him had time to turn round and add to His sufferings. They did it in the middle of their own dying agonies. Mark does not mention the conversion of one of these robbers. Luke does. We know that the one who was converted did not ask Him to come down from the cross. He owned Him as the King before the kingdom comes, believing without seeing... The chief priests gloried over these same circumstances as the defeat of Jesus. The thief gloried in them as deliverance for his own soul.
Writers hear that same demand from people who want Christ without the cross.
They would like Christ without a cross; they would like a gospel without blood... They are saying what the Jews said to Him when He hung upon the cross — "Come down and we will believe on you"... We know that if He had come down from the cross, it would be no use believing on Him. What use would He have been to us if those hands He stretches out to us were not nail-pierced hands?
- Cannot — "Himself He cannot save" was true, but it was the "cannot" of divine love, not of weakness.
- Chose — death had no claim on Him; He would not save Himself so that He could save others.
- Condition — they set terms for faith. They asked for a sign no prophet ever promised.
- Come down — had He obliged them, faith would have had nothing to rest on; we would still be in our sins.
- Contrast — both robbers mocked. One ended up owning Him as King from his own cross, believing without seeing.
And when [the] sixth hour was come, there came darkness over the whole land until [the] ninth hour;
Mark moves from the noise of mockery to a silence God Himself imposed. At midday the light failed, and darkness covered the cross for three hours. Why did God draw a curtain over the death of His Son, and what happened behind it?
Mark counts time the Jewish way, starting at six in the morning. His hours need converting before the sequence makes sense.
All the mockeries and preparations came first, including perhaps the trial of the two robbers. Then the actual crucifixion began at the third Jewish hour, which Mark alone specifies — that is, our 9 o'clock in the morning on Friday. The supernatural darkness came at the sixth Jewish hour, our noon. And the Lord died at the ninth Jewish hour, our 3 p.m.
That gives six hours on the cross, split in half: three in daylight, three in darkness.
Three questions arise: how far did the darkness reach, what caused it, and what did it mean?
Did the darkness cover the whole earth? Hardly, for in part of the world it was already night, so darkness there was not possible. No doubt it covered the whole land, and perhaps the whole Roman world... We know it was not an eclipse of the sun, because it was full moon at that time. It was a supernatural darkness... But what is the meaning of this darkness? It was the outward sign of what passed over Him. He was then the sinner's substitute before a holy and righteous God. God had hidden His face from Him; He was forsaken by God Himself. His cry explains the meaning of the darkness, and the darkness gives us the meaning of His bitter cry.
So far the scene has been full of human voices, from the chief priests down to the thieves. Now God replies.
It was more than human: God caused a witness of that hour that stood out from all before and after. There was darkness; the very world felt it... So here men showed no feeling. They reviled and scoffed at the Son of God, from the chief priests down to the thieves. God answered by veiling all nature in the presence of the death of Him who created all.
The darkness cleared the scene. One writer finds its pattern in the law of the Day of Atonement, when the high priest entered the sanctuary alone.
At the last stage of this great transaction there is darkness over all the earth. How fitting that it should be so! God and Christ were alone there. This scene had been pictured long before in these words: "No one shall be in the tent of meeting when he enters to make atonement in the Holy Place" (Lev. 16:17). In one sense that darkness stood for the darkness resting on the mind and heart of the nation at that moment, the terrible moral darkness over Israel. Yet God certainly intended to withdraw His Son in that hour. No one was to see what passed between Him and Christ, when the Blessed One bore the judgment of God against sin.
Behind the covering, the suffering changed in kind.
He no longer has to bear the envy, malice, and cruelty of men. Now He bears the penalty of sin, delivered up to death by a holy God... Darkness was over the land. Christ was alone with God, hidden from every eye, when He who knew no sin was made sin... That such a sacrifice was required magnifies the holy nature of God. That such a sacrifice could be given magnifies the love of God. No smaller sacrifice could secure the glory of God or gain the salvation of men.
The three hours had an end, and what closed for Him opened for others.
Those three hours of darkness rolled on — three hours of total eclipse between God and the One on the cross. Then at the ninth hour, three o'clock in the afternoon, came that great, that terrible cry from Him: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He forsook Jesus in that hour, so that He might never forsake you and me. There was darkness for Him that there might be only light for us. He bore the judgment that we might go free.
- Noon. Mark counts from six in the morning. So the sixth hour is midday and the ninth is three in the afternoon. The light failed at the brightest hour of the day.
- Sign. It was full moon, so no eclipse could explain it; the darkness was God's own witness, and the world felt it.
- Screen. God drew the darkness like the curtain of the Day of Atonement. No one saw what passed between God and His Son.
- Substitution. Behind that screen the suffering came from God, not from men. The One who knew no sin was made sin and bore the judgment.
- Exchange. He was forsaken so that we need never be: darkness for Him, light for us; judgment on Him, freedom for us.
and at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, [saying], Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
The darkness ends with a cry, and Jesus calls God "My God," not "Father." Two questions press on every reader: why was the sinless One abandoned, and who could give the answer?
Until now in Mark's account, the suffering came from people. The darkness draws a line across that.
We have seen the Lord rejected by all men from the highest to the lowest, and forsaken by His disciples. Now we are permitted to hear of His far deeper sufferings when forsaken by God. He no longer bears the envy, malice, and cruelty of men. He now bears the penalty of sin, delivered up to death by a holy God. Into this solemn scene no man can, or shall, intrude. Darkness was over the land. Christ was alone with God, hidden from every eye, when He, who knew no sin, was made sin.
Mark preserves the sound of the cry, not only its sense.
It is as the sin-offering that we see our Lord here. There is the cry of anguish, given no doubt in the very words our blessed Lord used, and not the Hebrew as in Matthew. These are in Aramaic, the everyday language used in Palestine at that time.
The words come from Psalm 22, and the answer to the "why" comes a few lines later in the same psalm: "Yet you are holy" (Psalm 22:3, ESV).
For God to forsake a perfectly righteous man in his distress goes against all His ways with men. Yet we know there can be no unrighteousness with God. So we learn from the lips of Christ Himself what happened on this solemn and unique occasion. God was perfectly righteous in forsaking the One who was perfectly righteous. The Lord can say, "But You are holy." So the One whom God forsakes is the One who fully vindicates God.
Suffering is not rare. Being left without God is.
Others suffered cruel mocking and beatings, chains and prison. Others had nothing, and were afflicted and tormented. But not one was forsaken. While they suffered, grace held them up, the Spirit of God strengthened them, and the felt presence of the Lord cheered them... But here is One who is forsaken. He can say to God, "Why are You so far from helping Me?" He cries to God, and has to say, "You do not hear." Forsaken by God, no help in God, no answer from God.
The reason lay in us, not in Him.
But was not Jesus holy? Yes. He was as holy in His perfect Manhood as in the glory of the Godhead. He was as holy in His own Person on that cross as when He created the angels. Then why was He forsaken? I answer for myself — it was for me. That which we were, He was made. He became sin — the thing God hates for ever and without limit — so that God's love might reach us in absolute righteousness.
He says "My God" here, not "Father." That change is not a loss of trust.
First, His trust is perfect. He does not say Jehovah. That relationship was not in use at that moment, as His relationship with His Father was in Gethsemane. He says, "My God, My God." Whatever the dreadful forsaking was, His perfect faith in God and devotion to God, as the only One He owned, remains absolute and unshaken.
The same title also settles a question about when He bore sin — it belongs to the cross, not to His whole life.
"My God, My God," says Jesus when and because He was forsaken on the cross, made sin and bearing our sins in His own body on the tree. It is the true, simple and strong answer to those who suppose that He had been bearing sin all His life here below... But now the sin charged to Him is gone, because He died for it. As the witness that all was gone, He is raised from the dead. Then He declares that very name — "My Father, and your Father; and My God, and your God."
Those hours had a purpose for us.
Those three hours of darkness, those three hours of total eclipse between God and the One on the cross, rolled on. Then at the ninth hour, three o'clock in the afternoon, comes that great, that terrible cry from Him. He forsook Jesus in that hour, so that He might never forsake you and me. There was darkness for Him so that there might be only light for us. He bore the judgment so that we might go free.
- Darkness — three hours where suffering from men ends and suffering from God begins. No eye may see it.
- Distance — God never left a righteous sufferer without an answer. This forsaking stands alone.
- Demand — Psalm 22 answers the "why": "Yet you are holy." God's holiness required it, and the forsaken One vindicates God.
- Debt — He was as holy on the cross as ever. The reason lay in what He was made for us.
- Deliverance — He was forsaken so that we never will be. Darkness for Him, light for us.
And some of those who stood by, when they heard [it], said, Behold, he calls for Elias.
Jesus has just cried out from the cross, and the people standing nearest hear the name of a prophet where He had spoken the name of God. Who were these bystanders, and how could they miss a cry out of their own Scriptures?
Mark and Matthew do not record the cry with the same word, and that difference decides who could have misheard it.
Eloi. This is the Aramaic form. Eli in Matthew 27:46 is the Hebrew, which Wellhausen supposes was the form the Lord Himself used, since it sounds more like Elijah. As he says, the Jews could not have misunderstood Eloi, their everyday language.
Another writer sees a reason behind the two forms.
In the cry itself there is a difference, and there must be a reason for it. It is "Eli" in Matthew and "Eloi" in Mark. Both are names of God, but the meaning differs. "Eloi" is the ordinary expression for "my God," while "Eli" speaks more of power — "my Mighty One." "Eloi," the word in Mark, suits better the thought of the sin-offering, which has in view the holiness of God, or His nature.
The name did not come out of nowhere. Israel was waiting for Elijah to return, and people had already linked that hope to Jesus.
There was a general feeling in Israel that Elijah would come back. Malachi 4:5 was ample authority for this expectation. Among the questions put to John the Baptist was, "Are you Elijah?" And he says, "I am not" (John 1:21). The Lord Jesus once asked His disciples what people were saying about Him. They replied that some said He was Elijah (Matthew 16:13-14). When He cried out in anguish upon the cross, the bystanders said, "He calls for Elijah… let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."
Commentators differ on who spoke these words. Some read it as a language problem among foreign soldiers.
Hearing His cry, some thought He was calling for Elijah. This must have been Romans who did not understand Hebrew, for Jews would know full well that He was crying to God.
Others say there was no confusion at all. To them, the remark is one more taunt.
"And some of the bystanders hearing it said, Behold, he is calling Elijah." This seems to be mere scoffing again. There is no reason to suppose they did not know that He said "My God, My God," and not Elijah.
Either way, their reaction shows who they were.
They would hardly have found a reference to Elijah in His words if they had not been Jews. But then, how dense and ignorant of them! They did not recognise the cry to God written in their own Scriptures.
What they failed to grasp was not a detail of pronunciation but the heart of what was happening on that cross.
This terrible experience He Himself announced aloud, so that anyone who wanted to could hear — "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" As so often, those who heard did not understand His words. They said, "Let Him alone, let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him." They could not grasp how this crucified One could speak to God in heaven like that. Yet in it lies the central truth of the propitiation Christ made for our sins and for the whole world.
Even their failure to understand had a place.
Their thoughts far from His, those who surrounded Him did not even understand His words, but by their ignorance they fulfilled the prophecies.
- Heard wrongly — Mark records the cry as "Eloi," the everyday word for "my God." Jews could not have mistaken it.
- Heard through expectation — Israel was waiting for Elijah, on the authority of Malachi 4:5. People had linked that hope to Jesus long before the cross.
- Heard by whom — writers differ. Some say Roman soldiers who did not know the language. Others say it was more mockery from people who understood.
- Heard without hearing — the words came from their own Scriptures. They missed the propitiation, the sacrifice for sins, that Christ was making in front of them.
- Heard in God's plan — their ignorance changed nothing. In these very words they fulfilled prophecies they did not recognise.
And one, running and filling a sponge with vinegar, fixed it on a reed, and gave him to drink, saying, Let alone, let us see if Elias comes to take him down.
Jesus has just cried out from the cross, and the people standing near hear a prophet's name in it. What follows is a man running with a sponge of sour drink, and a taunt shaped like a question: wait and see if help comes.
The "sour wine" here is not the same cup Jesus had already turned away earlier in the crucifixion. One writer distinguishes the two by the Greek word used and by what had been mixed into the first:
The corresponding text in Matthew 27:34 seems to show that the wine in this case was a sour, weak liquor — the word translated "vinegar," which appears again later in that chapter and in Mark 15:36, Luke 23:36 and John 19:29-30. The mixing with myrrh was to produce stupefaction, and the Lord refused that cup.
Psalm 69:21 says, "for my thirst they gave me sour wine to drink." Older translations read "vinegar" there. One writer sets that verse beside the raised sponge and asks whether anyone at the cross felt pity:
I think we sometimes forget that the Lord suffered physically, probably as no other could suffer. He never used His Godhead power to relieve His human suffering. When He cried, "I thirst," we see the suffering Man — the suffering Man in His perfection, showing that He truly suffered. Was there any relenting in His enemies who heard that cry? That cry of distress? Was there any pity, any mercy in any of them? He tells us in Psalm 69 that they gave Him gall for His food, and in His thirst they gave Him vinegar to drink. They pressed the sponge to His mouth so that this Scripture might be fulfilled, though they did not know they were fulfilling Scripture. There was no pity, no mercy for a suffering Saviour.
Commentators differ over the motive of the man who ran with it. Where the writer above sees no mercy, another notes what the sour drink was to the soldiers:
The vinegar was a kind of drink the soldiers had. Some have thought it mockery, but this is not the way in which it is presented here.
The bystanders turned His cry "My God, My God" into the name of a prophet. Writers disagree about whether this was honest confusion or deliberate insult. One reads it as a sneer from people who knew better:
This seems to be mere scoffing again. There is no reason to suppose they did not know that He said, "My God, My God," not Elijah.
Another sees soldiers who did not know the language, and links the drink to the words John records:
Hearing His cry, some thought He was calling for Elijah. This must have been Romans who did not understand Hebrew, for Jews would know full well that He was crying to God. In His thirst they gave Him vinegar to drink, evidently in response to His words, "I thirst" (John 19:28-29).
Israel had long expected that prophet to return. One writer traces the hope to Malachi, and finds the same question asked twice before in the Gospels:
There was a general feeling in Israel that Elijah would come back. Malachi 4:5 was ample authority for this expectation. Among the questions put to John the Baptist was, "Are you Elijah?" And he says, "I am not" (John 1:21). When the Lord Jesus asked His disciples what the people were saying about Him, they replied, "Some say you are Elijah" (Matthew 16:13-14). When He cried out in anguish upon the cross, the bystanders said, "He is calling for Elijah… let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."
The words spoken over the sponge are not a question anyone wanted answered. Writing on the parallel scene in Matthew, one commentator explains what that "wait and see" was doing inside the men who said it:
To those standing by the cross the Lord's words are a call for Elijah. This was probably a misunderstanding by the soldiers rather than the Jews. They had picked up some of the common Jewish beliefs they would have heard around them. Would Elijah come and take Him down? Conscience was stirring in them, and they quieted it with faint mockery aimed at the man who gives the vinegar to One in the agonising thirst of crucifixion: "Let be; let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."
- Thirst. He never used divine power to ease His own pain; the cry of thirst was the real need of a real Man.
- Sour wine. He refused the earlier cup mixed with myrrh, which was meant to dull the senses. This later drink was the ordinary sour wine the soldiers had.
- Sponge. Writers differ on the motive: cruelty with no mercy, or the soldiers' own drink offered without mockery.
- Scripture. Whatever the motive, the men at the cross fulfilled Psalm 69:21 without knowing it.
- Elijah. Israel was waiting for the prophet Malachi promised. So the crowd heard that name in His cry to God, then used "let us see" to quiet a stirring conscience.
And Jesus, having uttered a loud cry, expired.
The verse gives the death of Jesus in the fewest possible words: a loud cry, then the end. Writers look closely at both halves, because the strength of the voice and the verb Mark chose show a death unlike any other.
A dying man's strength fades and his last words drop to a whisper. Here the voice is at full power. That single detail rules out the idea that Jesus simply reached the end of what His body could bear.
It was no exhaustion of nature. Jesus did not die because He could not live, as all others do. He had still the full energy of life. He died not only in atonement, but to take His life again. How else could He have proved that His life was greater than death, if He had not died? Still less could He have delivered us. "We were reconciled to God by the death of His Son" (Rom. 5:10).
The change from one moment to the next struck the soldier on guard duty.
Mark gives the fact of His actual death in the briefest way. Right after He cried with a loud voice, He breathed out His spirit into the hands of God. Luke and John record what He said. Mark tells us only the way He said it. There was no gradual failing of strength, so that His last words were a feeble whisper. At one moment a loud voice, and the next moment He was dead! His death was plainly supernatural. It deeply impressed the centurion on duty, who stood watching.
Each Gospel writer picks a different word for the moment of death.
Nowhere in the Gospels is the word "died" used as the result of our Lord's crucifixion. Mark's word here is exepneusen, "expired," the same word Luke uses, while Matthew's word is "dismissed His spirit," and John's is "gave up."
Why the humbler word here? This Gospel shows Him at the very bottom of His self-humbling, not as One holding power over the moment.
Mark also has the forsaking of God — the marks of the sin offering. Here is the Son of God in the glory of His willing humbling. He was obedient even to death, glorifying God at His own personal cost… But His humiliation is most absolute. In Matthew He "dismisses His spirit," as One who had power to keep it. In Mark, in true sin-offering character, He "expires."
The plain word does not make Him a victim. His death was needed if sinners were to be saved, and nothing outside Him brought it about.
When everything was accomplished, "Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last." That loud cry proved that His death was not the result of failing, exhausted natural powers. If the holiness of God was to be met, and salvation made possible for sinners, He had to die. But no man took His life from Him. He Himself gave up His life.
Two reactions at the cross prove it.
Notice how carefully Scripture rules out the thought that His death came from anything outside Him. It was not the result of crucifixion. Crucifixion went with His death, but that is all. The soldiers came to hurry His death by breaking His legs. They found He was already dead, but the two criminals were not (John 19:31-33). Pilate was surprised that He was already dead (Mark 15:44). No! He laid down His life Himself, as He had said (John 10:17-18).
His service was finished, so nothing kept Him here. The death itself is the last act of obedience.
Others understood little of this. Everything is between Himself and God. Crying again with a loud voice, He gives up His spirit. His service was completed. What more had He to do in a world where He lived only to do the will of God? All was finished, and He had to depart. I do not mean physical necessity, for He still kept His strength… He had drunk in His soul the cup of death and of judgment for sin. There was nothing left for Him but the act of dying; and He expires, obedient to the end.
- Cry — The loud voice shows strength, not collapse. He did not die because He could not live.
- Word — Mark says "expired," not "died"; the Gospels never say Jesus simply died of crucifixion.
- Character — The lower word fits Mark's picture: humbled to the very bottom, obedient even to death.
- Act — Yet it remained His own giving. No man took His life; Pilate himself was surprised He was already dead.
- Purpose — He died to reconcile us to God and to take His life again. The work was complete, so He departed, obedient to the end.
And the veil of the temple was rent in two from the top to the bottom.
The moment Jesus died, something happened inside the temple. The heavy curtain that closed off the innermost room ripped in two, and the tear ran from the top down. Mark records it without comment, leaving the reader to ask who tore it, and what the tearing announced.
The curtain was not decoration. Older translations call it the veil. It closed off a room man could not enter, and its message was the message of the whole time of law.
The veil separated the holy place from the holy of holies. It spoke of the presence of God, but it also spoke of man shut out from God. Such was the character of the time of law. God present but man unable to draw near to God. The tearing of the veil proclaimed that all was over with Judaism. But it tells us more than that. God can now, in righteousness, come out in grace with the good news of forgiveness for man. And man can draw near to God on the ground of the precious blood.
Some have explained the tear as damage from an earthquake. One commentator answers that the record itself rules this out.
Simply reading the passage ought to show the enormous importance attached to the tearing of the veil. That tearing was in truth the death-knell of the Jewish ritual priesthood and system. It is named separately from the account of the earthquake and its effects, and before it. It may also bear on this point to notice that the veil was torn not from below but from above, "from top to bottom."
Hebrews calls the curtain a picture of Christ's own body. That link fixes where Christ finished the work, and when.
Long ago the veil showed that the way into the holiest of all — communion with God from above the mercy-seat — was not yet made known (Heb. 9:8). But torn like this, it proclaimed that a new and living way into the holiest had been dedicated. So by the blood of Jesus we may enter with boldness. But the veil was above all a figure of Christ's flesh (Heb. 10:19-20). It points clearly to this: the work that removed the restrictions of the most holy place was done in His flesh on the cross, and not in heaven after His death.
A torn curtain opens a road that runs two ways.
This was a divine action, God's own intervention. Hebrews 9 and 10 show what it means. It proclaimed that God was now free, in righteousness as well as in grace, to go out after the sinner, on the ground of what was accomplished on the cross. The sinner was now free too. On receiving the testimony about that finished work, he could go into the holiest of all, into the immediate presence of God.
Mark and Matthew describe the tear by its direction; Luke describes it by its place. Writers have read the two descriptions as carrying different emphases.
Matthew and Mark both write of the tearing of the veil in two from top to bottom (Matt. 27:51; Mark 15:38), which speaks of God coming forth to meet man as a Saviour God, but in Luke 23:45 the veil is spoken of as torn "in the midst," no doubt signifying that the legal system of Judaism, in which there was no access to God, had been set aside in the death of Christ, so that by that same death men might have access to God in an entirely new system.
A curtain pulled aside can be drawn back; a curtain ripped in half cannot.
The veil of the temple separated the presence of God from man. It hid the throne and barred the way into His presence. Now it was torn in two from the top to the bottom — not drawn aside or lifted up, but torn right through — declaring that it never again could be put back.
The tear also changed what people can know of God, and one writer warns that many are trying to reverse it.
God had said that He would dwell in thick darkness, but now He dwells in it no longer. He was hidden behind the veil. Now He reveals Himself in the death of Jesus, and by means of that death. The veil separated God in His holiness from man, and shut man in his sins out from God. It was torn in two from the top to the bottom; that is, from God to man. Could anything be more blessed? Yet man today is trying to put that veil up again — to put God in the darkness and man at a distance from Him.
- Barrier. The curtain announced God's presence and man's exclusion — the settled arrangement under law.
- Hand. The tear ran from top to bottom. This was God's act, not an earthquake's, and it sounded the death-knell of the whole ritual system.
- Body. The curtain pictured Christ's flesh. So the work was finished on the cross itself, not in heaven afterwards.
- Road. The opening runs both ways: God comes out to seek sinners, and by the blood of Jesus sinners go in with boldness.
- Permanent. It was torn, not drawn aside — it can never be hung again, though people keep trying to put God back in the dark.
And the centurion who stood by over against him, when he saw that he had expired having thus cried out, said, Truly this man was Son of God.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And there were women also looking on from afar off, among whom were both Mary of Magdala, and Mary the mother of James the less and of Joses, and Salome;
Mark now looks away from the cross to a group of women watching from a distance. He names three of them. Their presence raises a question: where were the men who had followed Him?
The disciples had left Him. Only the women are still there, and one writer reads that contrast as grace at work.
Mark 15 gives the crucifixion of our Lord. It also shows the effect on those who followed Him, and the grace that worked in the woman. The men betrayed their utter fear in the face of death. The women were strengthened: the weak truly made strong.
One writer compares them with the disciples who had gone, and ranks the women higher.
But the women, notice it well, have a place more blessed still. They had followed Him from Galilee, and had cared for Him out of their own means. We find them near the Lord when His disciples had left Him. They had not been sent to preach. Yet their devotion to the Lord, their faithfulness and their constant love for Him when danger comes, shine out in the Lord's history.
Salome is only a name here. Comparing the lists in the Gospels gives her a family.
One of the women who witnessed the crucifixion of the Lord, and brought spices to anoint His body. Mark 15:40; Mark 16:1. Comparing Matthew 27:56 with Mark 15:40, it appears that Salome was the wife of Zebedee. If so, she was the one who came with her two sons, James and John, when they asked to sit at the right hand and the left hand of the Lord in His kingdom.
This James is named only so that we know which Mary is meant.
The name occurs in Mark 15:40. Matthew 27:56, Mark 16:1 and Luke 24:10 call the same person just James. Scripture mentions him only to point out his mother, whose name was Mary. James and Joses were common names, and they appear among the brothers of the Lord too. But James the Less may be, as some think, the same person as James the son of Alphaeus.
One writer reads this second Mary as the Lord's own mother — named here by her other children, not by her relation to Jesus.
Here we find the Virgin Mary's name is second to Mary Magdalene's first. Further she is not described as the mother of our Lord, but of James and Joses (see Mark 6:3). The Roman Catholic Church denies that the Virgin Mary had other children than our Lord, but Scripture states it plainly. The supernatural did not set aside the natural.
Her name comes first in the list. Her reputation has suffered from a story the Bible never tells.
Mary of Magdala is one whose character has been badly slandered, as if she had been an immoral woman. Scripture does not speak of her that way, and neither should we. Men may name homes for poor fallen women after her. What Scripture records is this: "out of whom He had cast seven demons."
What Jesus had done for her explains why she is standing there at all.
She had been the bond-slave of Satan. He made her do his bidding, however revolting and wicked, with her soul and body under his evil control. Now she was brought into the blessed circle where grace was supreme... Once the seven demons held her in their grasp. Now the Lord Jesus had her heart, and, making His home there, He drew her after Him from that time on in the path of devotion and love.
They could see everything and change nothing. Mark records the fact and leaves the feeling unsaid.
Scripture records that they had followed Him and cared for Him in Galilee, but says no more. We are left to imagine what thoughts of unspeakable sorrow pierced their hearts.
They stayed through the burial too. One writer turns that into a warning for the rest of us.
Then certain devoted women have honourable mention. They had followed the Lord and given to Him out of their own means while He was here on earth. In love they had followed the Lord in His life of service. They clung to Him in death on the cross. They watched as His body was laid in the grave. It is easy to dwell on their lack of understanding, while falling far behind them in their devoted love.
- Grace first. The Lord cast seven demons out of Mary Magdalene and took the place they had held. Her devotion at the cross grows out of that.
- Grace names. Salome, James the younger, Joses — Mark writes down small names and family ties, while the disciples who left Him go unnamed.
- Grace strengthens. The men show their fear of death. The women, the weaker ones, are made strong.
- Grace serves without a platform. No one sent these women out to preach. They followed from Galilee, gave out of their own means, and stayed when it cost them.
- Grace outlasts confusion. Their understanding was small; their love was not. It is easy to point out what they missed and still fall far behind their love.
who also, when he was in Galilee, followed him and ministered to him; and many others who came up with him to Jerusalem.
Between the death of Jesus and His burial, Mark stops to say who the watching women were. He looks back over years of following and serving in Galilee. He names that service in the same breath as the cross.
The word behind their service is the one later used for "deacon". One writer contrasts it with what people picture today:
Certain women served as "deacons" (Mark 15:41). They served Christ out of their own money (Luke 8:3). How different from the modern idea of a "deacon" as a man appointed to handle other people's money!
There is a second side to it. The One they served owned everything, yet He let Himself need what they brought:
These women gave to the Lord out of what they owned. He is the Lord of glory and owns all creation, yet in lowly humility He made Himself dependent on the service of women. That is a blessed testimony to the grace of His heart. At the same time it gave them the chance to show how much they valued His grace, in a way that God will fully reward.
One group of people links the roads of Galilee, the cross, and the grave:
Then some devoted women are given honourable mention. They had followed the Lord and had served Him out of their own means while He was here on earth. In love they followed Him through His life of service. They clung to Him as He died on the cross. They watch as His body is laid in the grave. It is easy to dwell on how little they understood, while falling far behind them in devoted love.
The contrast with the men is hard to miss:
Mark 15 gives the crucifixion of our Lord. It shows the effect on those who followed Him, and the grace that worked in the women. The men showed their utter fear in the face of death. The women were strengthened — the weak truly made strong.
They stood at a distance, yet they stood. One writer traces how they moved closer:
At first the women who had followed Him from Galilee are seen "afar off" from that scene of horror, as we would expect. But later, it seems (John 20), they come as close as the Roman guard's spears would let them. Faith may have died out of their hearts, but fear found no place there. Love marks them out — love that is never stronger than when the one it loves is most in need — and the Spirit of God describes their devotion in just that way.
One writer sets this devotion apart from public work, and links it to real knowledge of Christ:
The activity of public service — what we usually call "work" — belongs naturally to men, though women have a very precious share in private. But there is another side of Christian life that belongs especially to women: personal and loving devotion to Christ. It was a woman who anointed the Lord while the disciples complained. It was women who were at the cross when everyone except John had left Him. It was women who came to the tomb, and who were sent to tell the apostles the news... Note too that this clinging of heart to Jesus is the place where true knowledge is received.
The burial follows at once, and the same people carry on into it:
The death of Jesus did not tear Him from the hearts of those weak ones who loved Him... those godly women who had followed Him and had often met His needs, and Joseph... These women and Joseph are alike taken up with the body of Jesus. The body in which the Son of God had lived is not left without the services that man owed to Him who had just left it.
Mark counts "many other women" here without naming them. Another writer dwells on the names Scripture does keep:
Happy, greatly privileged women! What joy to serve the Lord of glory in the days of His human need and humiliation! There stand their honoured names, written on the divine page by God the Holy Spirit, for untold millions to read, carried down the stream of time right on into eternity.
- Followed. Their presence at the cross was not a sudden impulse; it was the end of a road that started in Galilee.
- Ministered. They gave plain service out of their own means, and the Lord of all creation made Himself depend on it.
- Stayed. The men gave way to fear of death; grace made the weak truly strong, and these women stood watching.
- Clung. Their distinct service was personal devotion to Christ — and that clinging is where true knowledge is received.
- Recorded. Their names stand on the page of Scripture for ever — a warning against praising their love while falling short of it.