Matthew 27:32–56

Follow Him from Pilate's judgment hall. There they mocked Him, and His own nation rejected Him, crying out, "Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him"... So Jesus is given up to be the Sacrifice, and there the cross is laid on Him. Do you not envy the one who had the privilege of bearing that cross with Him? He goes outside the gate to Golgotha, "the place of a skull," the unclean place.

At the time of His death, and until Jerusalem fell, everyone there knew well where Golgotha or Calvary was. So the different Gospel writers who mention the place do not directly say it was outside the gate. To mention Golgotha was enough for readers then. John (19:17), if not Matthew also (27:32) and Mark (15:20), seems to indicate it was outside the city. But God had another purpose in the Lord's death at Golgotha: Christ suffered there so that His people might be sanctified, or set apart for God, by His blood.

Then they led Him away to be crucified. On the way they forced one Simon, a Cyrenian, a Greek-speaking Jew, to bear the cross behind Him. Was he a disciple? He had clearly taken no part with the crowd, for he was coming from the country. So he must have met the procession on its way to Golgotha. He was also, as Mark tells us, the father of Alexander and Rufus — very likely that Rufus mentioned by Paul in Romans 16:13.

The contrast between the two Simons has been pointed out: the one who promised the fullest obedience but denied his Lord in the hour of testing, and this man who bears the cross. It does not seem that he offered himself; the demands of the moment pressed him into service. Still, we are not told that he refused. The Spirit of God has recorded this incident, and it deserves our careful attention.

Notice how Luke's account brings together John's statement with that of Matthew and Mark. The Lord must have borne the cross alone until Simon relieved Him of part of it.

Part of the way He had borne His own cross (John 19:17), but Simon, a man of Cyrene, was then commandeered to do so. Some have imagined that Jesus fainted under the load. We must not trust that assumption: it is only imagination.

Nor had He forgotten Simon the Cyrenian, who was passing by. As he came from the field, a mob of soldiers and others forced him to carry the cross while they led Jesus out to His crucifixion. The Lord repaid with interest the burden of that day. Compare Mark 15:21. Rufus is here before us as "the elect in the Lord," along with his mother, who had been a mother to the apostle as well. Salvation came to that house.

God's goodness, I suppose, used this very circumstance, wicked as it was on man's part. He would not allow even His Son's humiliation to fail to turn to the blessing of man.

Simon carrying His cross does show that in a certain sense believers have the privilege of bearing the cross of the Lord Jesus. Certainly this does not involve His atoning sufferings, but a path of rejection by the world for His sake.

Every disciple of Christ bears a cross. It is his — the disciple's — cross. Without it he cannot be a disciple of Jesus (Luke 14:27). It is the reproach of Christ, that is, as reproached by man. The Lord Jesus did not say, "Whoever does not bear My cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple." That would mean perfect reproach, and would imply a perfect walk. But every believer, in his measure, suffers reproach. It is the same in character as Christ's, and so it is called a cross. But it is his cross, not Christ's.

The Greek word is kranion, "a skull." The word "Calvary" comes from the Latin Calvaria, which means the same thing. It agrees with the Hebrew Golgotha, which also means the same. Matt. 27:33; Luke 23:33. This is the place where the Lord was crucified, and near it was the tomb in which He was buried. The traditional site of the Holy Sepulchre now lies well inside the city of Jerusalem. A much more likely place is the one the Jews point out on the north of the city, near the Grotto of Jeremiah. Visitors have said that this site has, from a distance, the natural contour of a human skull.

The place got its name from the peculiar shape of the rock, but it is significant all the same! 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. He went to bear it in a place that pictured the end of all man's glory.

Golgotha, that place of a skull, sets out the features of man's empty knowledge. No eyes to see God. No ears to hear anything about God. No tongue to speak for God. Nothing in the mind held for God. The skull is an empty thing, standing for all man's accumulated wisdom.

So Calvary was a witness to the moral condition of the whole world. It was also a witness to the love and grace that came down to the very place where the ugliness of sin was shown, to triumph over it there. From the skull of Calvary springs the beauty of resurrection. Death had no power at all over the Son of God, and could not disfigure Him, though it might hide His beauty from human eyes. But that resurrection beauty is for the whole family of the redeemed too, who are risen with Christ, forever beyond the power of death to mar or disfigure.

The priests of old could not have guessed what their act pictured. As they carried the body of the sin offering out to a clean place outside the camp, they were picturing the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ outside the gate. Here alone (Heb. 13:12) is this fact plainly stated. 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.

So the place of a skull is reached, the destination which had been before the Lord all through. A scene of death was the attraction for the Lord of life; no one else could have found any attraction in it. But He comes into it, then, not merely as a visitor, but to "taste death" in its reality. So He refuses the numbing drink offered to those led out to execution. He gives Himself up to the full endurance of all that lies before Him.

In the other records we read that He was led out by His enemies. John tells us this too, for that was the height of their guilt. But He went out, and that was the triumph of His love. He went out; do we not see the majesty of that lonely Man, with thorns on His head and a cross on His shoulders? He was not driven out or dragged out, but in obedience to His Father's command He went out to lay down His life and to take it again.

Gall (rosh, chole) is some extremely bitter or poisonous plant, not identified for certain. This word is used as a symbol of "bitterness." … The Roman soldiers drank sour wine, or vinegar, and gall was mixed with it and given to those about to be crucified. The purpose, it is now thought, was to make them feel the torture less. It was offered to the Lord, but refused. Ps. 69:21; Matt. 27:34. In Mark 15:23 myrrh is read instead of gall; the meaning would be the same.

He tasted it first before refusing it. Of course He knew what it was before tasting it. But by tasting it He let His enemies see why He refused. He was not turning down a drink out of defiance. He refused it because of the stupefying gall added to it. He would bear His sufferings without this, and in full awareness of all that was involved. That means not only what men inflicted, but the far deeper sufferings of being made a curse of God.

The drink of vinegar mixed with gall reminds us of the bitterness of the "cup" our Lord drank at the hands of man. It also implies a rough try at easing the intensity of His physical sufferings, like an opiate. This seems to be the ground of our Lord's refusing to drink it. He would not allow anything to dull the sharpness of those sufferings. The physical ones were the least of them.

Sometimes people take steps to strengthen the body against the feeling of these trials and pains. Not so the Lord Jesus. No; He would take the vinegar, but He did not take the potion meant to deaden feeling — that He refused. There was a cup given, out of human mercy, to the ordinary criminal, to deaden pain, a kind of opiate, as we call it. But the Lord would not allow that. No, no; He allowed no anaesthetics for Himself.

We must not confuse this circumstance with the one mentioned in John, where the Lord says, "I thirst." In Matthew's account it was the stupefying drink given to prisoners before they suffered. This the Lord would not drink. Whereas in John, the Lord, while on the cross, fulfils a Scripture. … He was alive to the honour of Scripture, and to fulfil a word that had not yet come true, He says, "I thirst." … He did drink the vinegar then. But here in Matthew, on the contrary, when He had tasted it He would not drink — He wished for no relief from man.

This was doubtless because He would have nothing of any human device to lessen the physical suffering involved. Also, at that moment He felt no thirst. Divine predictions must be fulfilled with exactness and precision.

Or was it mercy that offered Him vinegar mingled with gall? Mercy, we believe it was not. It was a stimulant they offered Him. They did not know that the Life in their hands could not be overcome; no one could take that life from Him. He would not drink what was given to Him; He did not seek relief, He did not need it. His loving will was to endure all the suffering in perfect consciousness.

We are spared the pain of details in the actual crucifixion of the blessed Sufferer. It is described in these brief words: "They crucified Him." We know from other scriptures that they nailed Him to the cross. The cross was lifted up from the earth, and He hung on the tree.

Here they crucified Him. No description of the act itself is given in any of the Gospels. Crucifixion was the most horrible, torturing way of putting criminals to death. It began in Phoenicia, and the Roman government took it up. The Jews themselves knew nothing of putting offenders to death by the cross. The Holy Spirit does not describe the awful act, the nailing of the Lord to the cross. So we shall not try to describe it either.

The soldiers in charge of the execution thought no further than their poor perks. But God's eye was now, as ever, on His Son, and He had taken care to mark this in His word. One of the psalms that speaks most clearly of the Messiah (Ps. 22:18) holds the detailed prediction, written a thousand years beforehand: the soldiers would take the garments of the Saviour in a way that can only fit Him... The very smallness of the detail bears witness to how exactly real the prophecy is.

Four soldiers, it seems, were on duty at the cross, and the garments were divided into five lots. But to whom would the fifth lot fall? That was a coat woven without seam throughout. To divide it would spoil it. So they cast lots for it, and in that way fulfilled the words of Ps. 22:18... The cross and all connected with it had been under the eye of God. David, by the Spirit, wrote of the events around it as a historian might write of past history.

Someone added the words "that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots" to Matthew 27:35. A copyist doubtless took them from John 19:24.

They part among them the garments they have stripped from Him. They cast the lot — in Israel sacred to Jehovah (Prov. 16:33) — to decide who owns that seamless priestly robe. The robe marks Him as what He is, "the Mediator between God and men," on whom all the blessing of man depends... Here is the complete stripping of Christ, in the very madness of passion and unbelief. They strip Him of all that shows Him to be man's tender and compassionate Saviour, and qualified to be it.

The 22nd Psalm, that great prophecy about the sin-bearer, comes first of all into view... Some say that dividing the garments of the victims was a Roman custom. But there is a deeper significance than a mere fulfilment of prophecy. His enemies, those who nailed Him to the cross, received His clothes. And so for His naked creature He has provided the robe of righteousness by His death on the cross.

The soldiers crucify Him and part His garments among them by lottery. The world hates Him personally. Yet it will gladly profit from His pure character and habits, which His garments picture. Indeed, most false religions do this.

They write His accusation over the cross. It was the truth about who He was: "The King of the Jews." What charge could there be against the One who was perfect in every way? They put Him between two thieves, in the place of the murderer Barabbas. He stood there as a Substitute for him. Yet "this man has done nothing wrong" (Luke 23:41). Yes, this is "Jesus, the King of the Jews."

This confession that He was the Son of God meant nothing to the Roman judge. He needed something more if he was to condemn Him too. So came the charge that He made Himself a king. When Pilate asked Him about this, He confessed the truth again. For this cause He had come into the world. So the accusation that Pilate wrote and placed over His head on the cross was not, This is the Son of God, but "This is Jesus, THE KING OF THE JEWS."

Usually a board naming the crime of a condemned man went ahead of him. They led him through the crowded streets to the place of execution. This custom was most likely followed with our Lord. Pilate himself had the inscription drawn up... Pilate could not help himself. He had to write what he wrote, though he may have meant it as revenge on the Jews and as mockery. Despite their hatred, He received His true title, and from a Gentile at that. There it stood written and could not be changed; so it is still.

We are told by John that the title was written in Hebrew, Greek and Latin. Here again we see God's almighty hand, for God would bring in the whole world guilty of this foul crime. The religious world (Hebrew), the heathen world (Greek) and the political world (Latin) all had a part in rejecting and crucifying the Holy Son of God. The Jews were stung by the form of the sentence... and would gladly have had it changed, but Pilate is unmovable.

The accusation set over His cross is what Pilate had pronounced as his sentence of condemnation. It was the technical charge on which He had been declared guilty. It meant, of course, the end of all Jewish kingship, and much else besides. Here we see, in this Gospel of the kingdom, the final rejection of their King by the Jews.

They reviled Him, wagging their heads, and saying, "If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross"... They did not understand the meaning of His Name. Because He was Jesus, He could not come down from the cross. If He had come down, He must have given up His Name. He must have denied Himself, for He could not have been Jesus any more. How blind these foes of His were! Their hatred had so darkened their minds that they missed one thing. The very Name He bore was the reason He could not save Himself.

He was born King of the Jews (Matt. 2:2). He died as King of the Jews (Matt. 27:37). He shall reign as King of the Jews (Zech. 9:9).

They had to add one more insult, so that the words of Isaiah might be fulfilled: "and was numbered with the transgressors" (Isa. 53:12). "Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him." What a sight! He who was God, walking with two thieves to that place. There the great work of the preparation day had to be done — the work that would bring lost sinners into the sabbath, the rest of God.

That morning they searched the prison cells of Jerusalem for the worst of all the criminals that city held. They led them out to die along with Jesus. These men had been guilty of appalling crimes. That is why they picked them to hang one on His right hand and the other on His left, and 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.

Mark, like Matthew, mentions the robbers — in fact all the Gospel writers do. It is a testimony to the complete humiliation of God's Servant and Son on the cross. Men would not even give Him that place by Himself. He was indeed alone in the grace and moral glory of the cross. But to increase the shame of it they crucified these two robbers with Him, one on His right hand, and the other on His left.

It proves, beyond all question, that there was no difference between the two thieves. They were both condemned criminals. And more than that: when they were on the very edge of the eternal world, both were busy with the awful sin of reviling the blessed Son of God.

The cross is the only perfect measure of man — of the world — of sin. If we really want to know what the world is, we must remember this. It preferred a robber to Christ. It crucified between two thieves the only perfect man who ever lived.

God's sovereign power and grace was over this. He used it to bring one of these men to genuine repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus. He used it, too, to show the solemn fact that Christ crucified is the great Divider between the lost and the saved.

The two thieves represent the two great classes into which mankind has been divided. God's Christ is the one great and all-deciding test in every case. Every shade of moral character, every level of social life, every caste, class, sect and party into which the human family has been, is, or ever will be divided — all are absorbed in this one momentous point: "In or out of Christ."

The work of grace for us and the work of grace in us are not the same thing. Take the thief. The death of Christ for him, and the change inside him that made him stop blaspheming and own Jesus, were not one and the same thing either. The first is outside of us, and was in and by CHRIST. The second is in ourselves, though worked there by grace.

Those who passed by were mere travellers along the road, men left in the distance, or as far as they were concerned. They revile Him, venting helpless hatred, like so many Shimeis in the day of David. And disciples, a people brought near and privileged, show the same common corruption. They take part in this scene of shame to man. They heartlessly abandon their Lord in the hour of danger, when He had looked for some to stand by Him.

The Gospel writer's quiet remark settles the meaning of His reply. "He spoke," he tells us, "of the temple of His body."... When first spoken, the Jews thought He was talking about the building they were standing in. Later, on the cross, they taunted Him with His supposed statement: "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself." They still thought He meant the temple building. So they put into His mouth what He had never said. "Destroy this temple," He did say. "You who destroy the temple," they assumed He had said, so misquoting His words and getting it thoroughly wrong.

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 on the point of being completely fulfilled!

It is sad that such ridicule from man fell within the appointed sufferings of the Messiah. But it was written of Him, "All who see me mock me" (Ps. 22:7), and the fulfilment of this scripture reached its climax at the cross. He was the Servant whom man despised and the nation abhorred (Isa. 49:7).

The gospels note this wagging of the head by those passing by. They also note the very words of the psalm, used by the chief priests with the scribes and elders as they mocked Him. On the surface it might look as if God's rule over events had supplied them with this reproach. In fact it was their own hardness. They had no sense of what they themselves deserved, nor of the holiness and mercy of God. That is what blinded them to the meaning of the scriptures they were so plainly fulfilling.

Without knowing it, they use the very language of the tempter himself in the wilderness: "If you are the Son of God." Satan may have been tempting Him again. But he could no more move Him to come down from the cross than to make bread out of the stones or to throw Himself down from the temple.

Power displayed would in their eyes be proof of His divine Sonship. He gave no reply to their taunt. But because He was God's Son, He stayed on the cross... "Save yourself." Those words showed where their thoughts ran: self, not the Father's will, should be the rule for how people live.

There is none to pity in the scene before us. He is alone, cruelly mocked, and He must have felt the reproach as only one who is absolutely holy could feel it. He was reviled but He did not revile in return. Our Gospel does not report a single word from His lips.

When He first said this, the Jews thought He meant the building they were standing in. Later, on the cross, they taunted Him with what they thought He had said. They still thought He had meant the temple building itself, so they credited Him with words He had never said. "Destroy this temple," He did say. "You who would destroy the temple," they assumed He had said. They misquoted His words, and so got it completely wrong.

Power displayed would in their eyes be proof of His divine Sonship. He gave no reply to their taunt; but, because He was God's Son, He stayed on the cross. They linked power with Sonship. He accepted that obedience was part of that relationship. He showed perfect obedience to His Father's will by staying on that cross… "Save yourself." That kind of talk showed the way their minds ran: self, not the Father's will, should guide how a person lives. Without realising it, they were defending the sin of Adam and Eve. They proved they were descended from them, born in Adam's likeness.

Here is the echo of the old desert temptation, "If you are the Son of God." And here too is the constant temptation of God's people in every age — if — why? If you are a child of God, why is this allowed to come upon you? If you do trust Him, why are you left in this condition or circumstance?

If it were only a question of power, He might have stepped in. The holy Sufferer could have come down from the cross with ease. It was even part of His suffering at that moment to be challenged by a dying criminal to do so — what did He not suffer? But we must see this: no act of power could atone.

His name, given at His birth, means Saviour… They did not understand the meaning of His name. Because He was Jesus, He could not come down from the cross. If He had come down, He would have given up His name. He would have denied Himself, for He could not have been Jesus any more. If He was to bear that name for ever, He had to die, for only by His death could He be the Saviour of those who lay under death's power.

They revile Him, and He does not revile back. Our Gospel does not report a single word from His lips… He is silent under the cruel and vile mockeries, born in the pit, the very breath of Satan. Once more they hold the old accusation up against Him. They had no idea that they were fulfilling that very word about destroying the temple. The third day, when He would rise as the mighty victor, was not far off.

Verses 39-44 show us how all classes united in reviling Him as He was dying on the cross. Hardened criminals have had to listen to stern words when they were condemned to death. But we have never heard of even the worst and most depraved being mocked while they died in agony. Yet this is what happened to Him who was perfection itself, Divine as well as human. The only difference was the kind of language used. "Those who passed by" were ordinary people going about their business. "The chief priests … with the scribes and elders" were the upper classes. "The thieves also … threw the same insults at Him." They were the lowest, the criminal class; but they were only following the fashion, in their own crude and vulgar way.

They wagged the head, saying, "He saved others: himself he cannot save." What words! They admitted that His power had been fully displayed, they rejected what was divine, they declared that they had driven God out from among them! In fact, He could not save Himself, because He could not 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 had come for others, not for Himself.

What they add is completely false, for they say, "Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross, so that we may see and believe." Faith comes by hearing, not by sight. Besides, if He had come down from the cross, belief would have been pointless. We would still be in our sins.

In their wicked glee, they promise to believe in Him if He would come down from the cross and so prove Himself the King of Israel. Sadly, when His resurrection from the dead gave them a mightier proof, they could bribe the Roman soldiers to hide the dreaded truth.

They acknowledged His works done on behalf of others, yet refused to accept the claims those works proved. Those acts showed that He was God's servant, the Christ, as the men who claimed to teach God's word should have known. Yet after all they had heard and seen, they asked Him to settle His claim to be the Messiah by coming down from the cross at once. Power used for the good of others was a proof that He was the Messiah. Power used to save Himself from death on the cross was never predicted as a proof that the King of Israel was on earth.

It is astonishing that these cultured religious men, in their fearful blindness, quoted Scripture as they gazed at Him. David had written Psalm 22 by the Spirit, the great prophetic psalm of the suffering One, and they knew it well. In that psalm the wicked enemies of the great sufferer speak. It even gives the words they would use to revile Him in the presence of the forsaken sufferer: "He trusted in the Lord that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, since He delighted in Him." These very words the sneering chief priests, elders and scribes spoke before the cross.

Think of the Roman centurion watching the leaders of the Jewish nation come out to mock a poor criminal as he died — for that is how it looked. There was the religion and the learning of the nation, busy at this work. The two high priests, the elders and the scribes were degrading themselves, even in human eyes. The enmity expressed was against God Himself; but see how deep its display had sunk poor man!

They acknowledged His works done for others, yet refused to accept what those works proved. They knew His life on earth, and could speak of His acts of kindness and power. Those acts testified that He was God's servant — the Christ — as the men who professed to explain God's word should have known; yet they asked, after all they had heard and seen, that His claim to be the Messiah should be settled by His coming down from the cross at once.

As has often been the case, the very insult they threw at Him is His glory. It was true in a way their spite never dreamed of: "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." That was not the "cannot" of weakness or inability. It was the "cannot" of divine love.

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, and perfect love for us kept Him from saving Himself. He might have had His twelve legions of angels, but He had come for others, not for Himself... If He was to save others, He could not save Himself.

He laid down His life for us. There was no other way we could be saved. More than that, He obeyed the Father at all cost, set on carrying out His will — even our sanctification. In that sense only He could not save Himself. Nothing in the nature of the Lord Jesus Christ made death necessary. All other men must die because of Adam; Christ did not have to... 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 could not have come down from the cross, for His Name was Jesus. Had He come down, as their mocking demanded, He would have had to strip Himself of that Name. No sinner could then be saved, and He would never have done the work God gave Him to do.

The chief priests joined the others in mocking the Lord. They said, "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." This was true, little as they realised it. But what they add is wholly false... 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.

It is astonishing to see these educated religious men, in their terrible blindness, quoting Scripture as they stared at Him... Israel's great king David had written by the Spirit that great prophetic psalm about the suffering One — Psalm 22, and they knew it well. In that psalm the wicked enemies of the great sufferer speak. The psalm gives the very words they would use to insult Him in front of the forsaken sufferer: "He trusts in the LORD; let him deliver him; let him rescue him, for he delights in him!" (verse 8). The sneering chief priests, elders and scribes spoke those very words in front of the cross.

There is no help for Him in His God. Others had cried in their need, and God heard and answered them (Ps. 22:4-5). But now righteousness stands alone and unheard. His enemies read this — and in one solemn sense they read it rightly — as if God were against Him. They say, "He trusts in God" — literally, "rolled Himself on Jehovah"... They daringly claim God as on their side against His blessed Son.

The bitterness of its sting lay in the truth of the sneer, and in its apparent reasonableness. For no one ever trusted in God as this suffering One did. His whole life had been one of unwavering confidence in God, so that of no one else could it be said so truthfully and so emphatically, "He trusted in God."

Yet the scoffers around the cross meant an untruth even while they spoke the truth. Their taunt charged Him with being a real impostor, since God's word and human experience alike said that God had never failed to deliver anyone who truly trusted Him.

Consider the sneer flung into the sensitive heart of our Lord by the chief priests and scribes and elders, who could say, "Let God deliver Him now, IF He desires Him." "If He desires Him!" With these words in His ears, the lonely Sufferer hangs in silence, with no voice from heaven to answer for Him then. One further note reveals the real force ranged against Him — the voice of Satan — in their closing reminder: "For He said, 'I am the Son of God.'"

What was it for the Holy One of God to be forsaken by His God, when He cried and no answer came? To be forsaken by His disciples? To be despised by men and scorned by His own people, from the high priest down to the lowest of the Jews, and by the very robbers crucified beside Him, who deserved it? Yet at no time was He suffering so effectively for God's glory. At no time was He so fully the object of divine delight. And yet His God, who could not overlook sin in the slightest, did not deliver Him then. Instead He made Him, the sinless One, sin for us.

His trust in God remained unshaken, even when He cried, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?" And right at the end, after He had met death in its full power, it is to God He cries: "Save me from the mouth of the lion! You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen" (Psalm 22:21). His trust in God to the very end was not put to shame. God answered His cry by raising Him from the dead.

The Lord Jesus has left us an example, that we should follow His steps. God had one Son without sin, but none without suffering. The lesson of it all to our hearts is to trust Him at all times — despite the enemy, despite being misunderstood, despite our own hearts... Appearances were against Him. He met heart-breaking reproach, loneliness and desertion by nearly all. Still He trusted in God and finished the course without wavering.

Verses 39-44 show us how all classes united in reviling Him as He was dying on the cross. Hardened criminals have had to listen to stern words when a court condemned them to death. But we have never heard of anyone mocking even the most vicious and depraved while they died in agony. Yet this is what happened when He who was the embodiment of all perfection, Divine as well as human, was on the cross. There was no difference, except in the type of language used. "Those who passed by" were ordinary folk going about their business. "The chief priests, with the scribes and elders" were the upper classes. The robbers "also reviled him in the same way." They stood for the lowest class, the criminals. But they only followed the fashion in their crude and vulgar way.

The scenes around the cross expose the evil of fallen man in all its enormity. Every class is there — Jews and Gentiles, priests and people, the ruler and his soldiers, the passers-by and the criminals. Their political and social differences may be great, but they all share the same hatred and rejection of Christ.

The thieves heard the revilings, and adopted them, for they threw the same taunts at Him. But an entire change came over one of them. Light broke in upon his soul, and in its case it was the light of life — eternal life.

So it is completely useless for anyone to try to make a distinction between these two men. They were alike in their nature, in their guilt, in their criminality, and in their godless wickedness. There was no difference until the moment the arrow of conviction entered the soul of the one we call the penitent thief. The more clearly we see this, the more the sovereign grace of God shines out in all its blessed brightness. "There is no difference; for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God."

But no sorrow, no shame, no suffering brings the heart too low to scorn Jesus; a crucified robber despises Him! In every unrenewed heart there is an instinct, so to speak, against Jesus. Not even the power of love that carried Him down into the deepest humiliation could silence it… Do not say that you are one bit better than this wretched man.

We see still deeper sufferings of the Holy One… "Reproach has broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness; and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none" (Psalm 69:20). No one pities Him in the scene before us. He is alone, and they mock Him cruelly. He must have felt the reproach as only one who is perfectly holy could have felt it. He was insulted, but He did not insult back. Our Gospel does not report a single word coming from His lips.

Here God would give a testimony of His grace to man, suited to His Son and suited to the Cross. So He was pleased to choose what nature would call the most hopeless circumstances. He was delivering a soul that until then was steeped in guilt and degradation. The man was in the agonies of death, and he dreaded a far more solemn judgment, one that is eternal.

The sixth hour of which Matthew speaks would correspond to our midday, and the ninth hour in that verse to our three o'clock in the afternoon.

John states that Christ stood before Pilate's court "about the sixth hour" (John 19:14), while Matthew, Mark and Luke record that He was on the cross at the sixth hour. There is no real discrepancy here, for John counted hours the Roman way, and the other three counted the Jewish way. So the sixth hour was 6 a.m. for John; for them it was noon.

It was certainly supernatural. The moon was full, so no eclipse of the sun could account for it. But it fit perfectly with what was taking place. At the fall of the king of Egypt God declared, "I will cover the heavens, and make their stars dark; I will cover the sun with a cloud, and the moon shall not give its light" (Ezek. 32:7). How much more might that actually happen when the Creator, who upholds everything by the word of His power, was dying on the cross! That mysterious darkness lasted three hours. It was the first sign since the Lord's arrest that God was not indifferent to all that was going on.

Now comes the moment when His position, His relation with God, must pass before our eyes… Even by outward circumstances, God separated His Son from insults and outrages that were purely human, in order that He should be alone with Him and entirely for His solemn work. He was alone with God, made sin; nothing to turn aside the cup of justice; nothing to deaden it.

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 may be in the tent of meeting from the time he enters to make atonement in the Holy Place" (Lev. 16:17)… God intended to withdraw His Son in that hour, so that no eye should see what passed between Him and Christ when the Blessed One bore the judgment of God against sin.

Scripture would have us know that a change took place at the sixth hour, when there was darkness over all the land to the ninth hour. His cry then shows what that change was. Up to it He had through the eternal Spirit offered Himself up to be the victim. Then sins were laid on Him. He who knew no sin was made sin, and so God's face was hidden — He was forsaken by God. All that He had suffered up to this point from man's hand — and Psalm 22 shows how He felt it — is left immeasurably far behind by what He suffered from God's hand.

Did the darkness cover the entire earth? Hardly — in part of the world it was night already. No doubt it covered the whole land, and perhaps the whole Roman world. It hid the cross and the great sufferer from the guards and the onlookers… His cry explains the meaning of the darkness, and the darkness gives us the meaning of His bitter cry. God had turned from Him, left Him, who had taken the sinner's place.

The three hours of darkness were to Him the measure of what to anyone else would have been an infinite, hopeless distance… The veil torn from top to bottom proclaimed that it had been crossed and removed.

For those saved by it, the darkness of distance from God who is light has passed away with the darkness on the cross… The veil meant darkness — the darkness in which God dwelt, as far as man was concerned. Its tearing means that "God is in the light" (1 John 1:7).

An Aramaic word meaning "My God." Matthew 27:46. It seems strange that anyone heard this as a call for "Elijah." Perhaps some who did not know the language made the mistake.

Eloi is the Aramaic form. Eli in Matthew 27:46 is the Hebrew. Wellhausen supposed the Hebrew form was the one the Lord used, since it sounds more like Elijah. As he says, the Jews could not have misunderstood Eloi, their own everyday speech.

It was likely Romans who thought He called for Elijah. The Jews would know their own language better than that.

Who were those who said, "This man is calling Elijah"? Most assume they were some of the soldiers. They knew little Hebrew, it is said, and mistook the word "Eli," My God, for Elijah. But against this we must say that they knew just as little about Elijah. We think instead that these were mocking Jews. They understood the words and used them for fresh mockery.

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 people were saying about Him, they replied, "Some say you are Elijah" (Matthew 16:13-14).

The poor crowd knew nothing of the Scripture they were fulfilling, and nothing of the place Elijah held. He was calling on the Lord God of Elijah, not on His servant.

To those standing by the cross, the Lord's words sound like a call for Elijah. This was a misunderstanding, likely by the soldiers rather than the Jews. But these were men who had picked up some of the common Jewish beliefs they would have heard around them. Would Elijah come and take Him down? Their conscience stirs. They quiet it with feeble mockery, aimed at the man who offers vinegar for the agonising thirst of crucifixion: "Let Him be; let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."

He Himself announced this dreadful experience aloud. Anyone who wished could hear it: "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" As so often, those who heard did not understand what He said. That this crucified One should speak to God in heaven this way was beyond their grasp. Yet in it lies the central truth of the propitiation Christ made for our sins and for the whole world.

At the cross "they gave Him vinegar to drink mingled with gall" (v. 34). We must not confuse this with what is mentioned in John, where the Lord says, "I thirst." In Matthew's account it was the drink given to prisoners before they suffered, to dull their senses. This the Lord would not drink. Whereas in John, the Lord, while on the cross, fulfils a Scripture... He did drink the vinegar then. But here in Matthew, on the contrary, "when He had tasted it, He would not drink" (v. 34) — He wished for no relief from man.

In John's account we get another of those flashes of omniscience which mark this Gospel. A few verses earlier we saw the soldiers fulfil Scripture without knowing it. We now see Jesus Himself in that dark hour, surveying the whole field of prophecy. He knew well that of all the predictions centring on His death, only one still remained to be fulfilled. In Psalm 69 David had written, "In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink." A small thing in itself, but every word of God must be verified in its season. In that hour of suffering He was able to rise above His circumstances. He could both see the one thing still lacking and speak the words that at once brought it to pass. No mere man could have done either the one or the other.

The vinegar was a kind of drink the soldiers had. Some have thought it mockery, but this is not the way it is presented here.

His words, "I thirst," seem like a challenge to those who stood around. Had the sight of His sorrow melted their hearts?... Listen to the Lord's own answer to these questions. "Reproach has broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness; and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none. They gave me also gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink" (Ps. 69:20-21). Here was brought to light what men are; utterly, altogether sinful. No sentiment of pity moved their evil hearts when they stood in the presence of absolute goodness in the extremity of suffering.

To those standing by the cross the Lord's words are a call for Elijah. This was a misunderstanding, probably 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? Their conscience is roused, and they quiet it with faint mockery. It is aimed at the man who gives the vinegar to the agonising thirst of crucifixion: "Let be: let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."

A plant used in the Jewish observances. It is often associated with cedar wood and scarlet, and was used in sprinkling the unclean. It springs out of the wall, which shows how small it is. Yet some of its stems may have been long enough to serve as the reed that held the sponge, which gave the Lord vinegar when He was on the cross... The hyssop is in contrast to the stately cedar, and is symbolical of man's littleness.

To those standing by the cross the Lord's words are a call for Elijah. This was probably a mistake 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? Their conscience was stirring, and they quieted it with a faint mockery. They aimed it at the man who holds out the vinegar to a thirst made agonising by crucifixion: "Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him."

Who were those who said, This man calls for Elijah? Most people assume they were some of the soldiers. They perhaps knew little Hebrew, it is said, and mistook the word "Eli," My God, for Elijah. But against this we must say that they equally knew little or nothing of Elijah. We think rather that the people were mocking Jews, who understood the words and made them the occasion of new mockery.

As so often, those who heard did not understand His speech. They said, "Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him." They could not understand how this crucified One could speak to God in heaven like that. Yet that is where the central truth lies: the propitiation Christ made for our sins and for the whole world.

Man understands nothing of it; they say, He calls for Elias!

Was there any relenting in His foes who heard 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 would be fulfilled, though they did not know they were fulfilling Scripture. There was no pity, no mercy for a suffering Saviour.

Others had cried to God, and every one of them was delivered; He was not. For the suffering had to go all the way, and sin be atoned for in righteousness — and this not by power, but by suffering.

If it were only a question of power, He might step in. The holy Sufferer could easily have come down from the cross. It was even part of His suffering at that moment to hear a dying criminal challenge Him to do it — for what did He not suffer? But we must see that no act of power could atone.

He was dying — and dying of thirst, as they thought. One man, more tender than the others, would have given Him something to drink. But the rest said, "Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him." Seeing Him suffer, they say, "Let Him suffer; give Him nothing to ease His burning thirst." And He died! And does God at once take vengeance for the murder of His Son? No; God takes that moment, as it were, to say, I will put away everything that could come between you and Me. He tears the veil of the temple from top to bottom.

But here in our Gospel we read, "And Jesus, having cried again with a loud voice, dismissed His spirit." It is significant that twice we read of His loud voice. There was no sign or evidence of exhaustion. His life was not taken from Him; He gave His life. He laid it down Himself. The King Himself, when the moment had come, dismissed His spirit.

Still master of Himself, He was not conquered by death. He yielded Himself to it. He cries with the loud voice of unexhausted strength, and dismisses His spirit. The expression belongs to Matthew alone, the royal Gospel. It is a great pity that the older English translation hides it. At the moment of death it states plainly what He had declared before: "No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again" (John 10:18). Here it is the plain expression of authority, and so exactly in place in the Gospel of Matthew… But what a testimony to Him whose royal title was proclaimed on a cross, whose sceptre was a reed, whose crown was of thorns.

It was about the ninth hour (Matthew 27:46) that "Jesus cried out with a loud voice… My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Then verse 50 of the same chapter says, "Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit." Turning again to Luke we read, "Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, 'Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!' And having said this he breathed his last" (23:46). So this cry to the "Father" came right at the close of the blessed Lord's hours of suffering on the cross.

Matthew and Mark both give our Lord saying, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" This could not be in John. Luke gives us, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit," because there the perfect man never abandons His perfect reliance on God. God must, in judging our sins, forsake Him, but He would never forsake God. The atonement would not be what it is unless God had forsaken Him in this way. But in Luke it is the sign of absolute trust in His Father, not of God's abandonment. In John He says, "It is finished," because He is the Son, by whom all worlds were made… He was put to death, no doubt, but at the same time it was His own voluntary will. Who but a divine person could have such a will about death itself? In a mere man it would be sin; in Him it was perfection.

The wise man of the Old Testament wrote, "No man has power to retain the spirit, or power over the day of death" (Ecclesiastes 8:8). But here is One who had that power. He is able at one moment to lift up His voice with unimpaired strength, and the next moment to deliver up His spirit… When God calls a man's spirit, go he must. But this One had full command over His spirit. He delivered it up to His Father, and so He laid down His life.

The veil was torn the moment our Lord died (Matthew 27:50-51) — one more proof that propitiation was made on the cross.

He noticed two things peculiar to the death of Jesus: first, that He "cried out in that way" — there was no failing of physical strength. Second, that He "yielded up His spirit" — He dismissed it by His own choice. These two supernatural acts convinced this soldier that the central figure at Calvary was more than man — He was the Son of God.

Some say a shock of the earthquake tore the veil of the temple apart. In my judgment that comment on this passage is both inadequate and unjustified. Simply reading the passage ought to show how much importance is attached to the tearing of the veil. That tearing was in truth the end of the Jewish ritual priesthood and system. Matthew names it separately from the earthquake and its effects, and before them. It may also bear on this point that the veil was torn not from below but from above, "from top to bottom."

The veil separated the holy place from the holy of holies. It spoke, indeed, of the presence of God, but 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. 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.

The tearing of the veil in two, from top to bottom, is most significant. The veil is a picture of "His flesh" (Heb. 10:20). As soon as His flesh was torn in death, God bore witness to the value of this matchless death, and the tearing came from above. While He was still living, His flesh, as the veil, barred the way into the holiest for anyone else. Only His death could open that way. Through that veil, now torn, believers are invited to enter with boldness today (Heb. 10:19-20). Without that tearing, they could not dare to do this.

There was no longer anyone behind the veil. The Jewish house was left to them desolate (Matt. 23:38). God was no longer there! The Jew was left with an empty house! The tearing of the veil was the work of God's own hand — so we read, "from top to bottom."

God had always been hidden behind the veil. Through the death of Jesus He revealed Himself completely. The entrance into the holy place is now open — a new and living way which God has consecrated for us through the veil. The entire Jewish system fell with the tearing of the veil — its priesthood, and the whole relationship between man and God under its rule. Everyone now stood in the presence of God with no veil between. But that same act dealt with the sin that would have made it impossible for us to stand there. For the believer, God has put that sin away completely from before Himself.

Next the earth shook, the rocks were split, and the tombs opened. Matthew alone records this; we do not find it in the other Gospels. The death of the King shook the earth and split the rocks. The opened tombs declared the glorious news that His death has broken the chains of death forever. Through death He destroyed the one who had the power of death, that is, the devil (Heb. 2:14).

No one can say there was a gap between Christ's precious death and that meaningful tearing of the veil. He dies; the veil is torn. The two happen at one and the same time. Mark it well: God tore the veil. He did not remove it, or draw it back, or roll it up from the bottom, or lower it from the top: it was torn in two. Much of professed Christianity today is really putting the veil back up. How solemn to return to what was done away in the death of Jesus!

"The earth shook, and the rocks were split" — every sphere felt the touch of the victor. He made His touch felt in heaven and on earth. "And the tombs also were opened," as if it were said to death, Until now you have had a right to hold, but no more.

The first Gospel mentions the earth shaken, the rocks split, and the tombs opened. It takes care to add that after Christ's resurrection many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, left the tombs, entered the holy city, and appeared to many. This is a bright testimony to the victory after His atoning death. By that death He annulled the devil's might, and He Himself has the keys of death and of Hades.

They do not come out of their graves till "after His resurrection." They do not rise till then. The reason is plain: Christ is the "firstfruits" of those who have fallen asleep, the "firstborn from the dead," and no one could go before Him. Yet the graves open when the Lord dies. His death is what opens them. We are meant to see the link between that death and the appearing of living men brought up out of death. These were no ghosts, we are assured. "Bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep" rose — not to take up their place among men again, but as those who belong to another sphere.

Why is it mentioned here and not in the next chapter in connection with His own resurrection? It belongs there historically. The Holy Spirit puts it here to show the effect of the great work finished on the cross, the power of our Saviour's death. Death is now to be swallowed up in victory... His death has finished the great work of deliverance, and this makes resurrection possible.

So three days passed between the tearing of the curtain and the resurrection of the saints. The Holy Spirit has still joined the two, because both alike are the fruits of the death of Christ. The tearing of the curtain speaks of the power of His precious blood. The raising of these saints tells just as clearly of Him who is the resurrection and the life.

Resurrection teaches that what is dead is raised. It must therefore apply to the body, for it is the body that dies, not the soul. We read, "many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised."

There would be no point in saying "after His resurrection," seeing that He is the firstfruits, if these saints were like Lazarus and died again. They had risen bodies. They did not go on living here again like Lazarus. I take it these belong to the company of those who have part in the first resurrection.

It is a question of the bodies of saints — a precious anticipation of the first resurrection, when death will be swallowed up in victory. Someone may ask, "What became of them?" No one knows, because God has not said. The fact itself is a testimony rendered to the efficacy of the death of Jesus. The question comes only from man's empty curiosity, and God does not reveal things to satisfy it.

Notice the unusual way Matthew here ties this resurrection of the saints to the work of atonement. They do not come out of their graves till "after His resurrection." They do not actually rise till then. The reason is plain: Christ is the "firstfruits" of those who sleep, the "Firstborn from the dead," so no one could go before Him. On the other hand, it is when the Lord dies that the graves open: it is this that opens them. We are meant to see the connection between this death and the appearing of living men brought up out of death. This was no mere phantom, we are assured. "Bodies of the saints that slept" were rising — not to take their place among men again, but as those who belong to another sphere, glowing with its light.

Historically it was only after the resurrection of Jesus that the dead rose and appeared to many in Jerusalem, as a witness to what had been done. Yet the fact stands here connected with the death of Jesus. By this death Christ accomplished the work of deliverance, and that work made resurrection possible. This event bore witness to that work in an extraordinary way. It is a question of the bodies of saints — a precious anticipation of the first resurrection, when death will be swallowed up in victory.

All around Jerusalem lay the graves of those who had died. But Christ, the Firstfruits, rose from among the dead. He was the "Firstborn among many brothers" (Rom. 8:29). He was the "Firstborn from among the dead" (Col. 1:18; the ESV reads "the firstborn from the dead"). And with Him, after His resurrection, many bodies of the saints rose also. But not one grave of an unbeliever was stirred to let him rise.

Why did the bodies of these saints come forth? Because God would not separate His people from Him in resurrection. His own people should first be raised up in blessing. He would not have it hidden that He was raised from the dead. "Ah, Satan, you can do nothing! You cannot keep the prisoners. The prison door bursts open, and they escape." Looking at these bodies of the saints, we may see their rising as a stamp put by God on the resurrection of His Son. He would not let Him come up from the grave alone.

Such wonderful testimony as "many saints coming out of their graves" after Christ's resurrection was certainly not useless. It showed that death was then overcome. To give such testimony they had to appear. They appeared "to many." That ruled out one person's overheated imagination. It also ruled out an invented story from a few supporters of Jesus' claims.

Some may wonder why Scripture calls Jerusalem the "holy city." Even at the time of the crucifixion Matthew calls it "the holy city" (Matt. 4:5; Matt. 27:53). But the word "holy" has two different meanings. Sometimes it means holy in nature, as God is holy. But it also means "set apart," or devoted — as the temple, the city, the land are holy because chosen by Him.

They must have been people of that generation, who had been known, and so this was a striking testimony to the value of the death of Christ. What happened to them after that is not stated, but the language does not sound as if they remained.

Perhaps someone will ask, "What became of them?" No one knows, because God has not said. The fact itself is a testimony to the power of the death of Jesus. The question only comes from the empty curiosity of man, and God does not make revelations to satisfy that curiosity.

Here the reasons for the centurion's confession are clear. In Matthew it was the severe earthquake, the splitting of the rocks and the opening of the tombs. In Mark it was the Lord's shout with a loud voice just before He gave up His spirit. That struck the centurion, who had no doubt seen many such executions. A man crucified gets weaker and weaker until he cannot speak above a whisper. Here was One who could shout with a loud voice just before He died, showing supernatural strength.

The Roman officer on guard, and the soldiers with him, seeing the earthquake and all that had happened, are seized with fear, and acknowledge that Jesus is indeed "the Son of God." … These poor pagan hearts were under the influence of the events passing before their eyes, and they could not refuse this testimony. Meanwhile the hardened hearts of the Jews — "His own," those to whom He had come — were rejoicing in His death. Nothing hardens like religion when the heart is not changed.

There was plenty of witness to the wonder of that hour, yet we read of no one who was impressed except the centurion on duty and those with him. In his heart the conviction took hold that here was the Son of God — the very thing that His own people denied, and still deny.

He was most likely a pagan, and meant no more than to admit that Christ was not just a man. He meant that He was somehow what the king of Babylon heard and spoke of in Daniel 2 and 4. … He felt that, though He lived in flesh, yet He was a Divine being, and not just the Son of man. … At the same time, the Spirit of God could well give the centurion's or the king's words a shape beyond what either knew.

Here is another special testimony to the mighty power of His death, and to the meaning of His words: "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." Trembling, the centurion confesses the glory of His Person. Stranger to Israel as he is, he gives the first testimony of faith among Gentiles.

All they have seen and heard has convinced the Gentile centurion and those with him. They confess Him to be, not just the King of the Jews, but the Son of God. So the Roman soldier takes his place with Peter the apostle in proclaiming what Israel has denied. … Mark and Luke give this as the centurion's own faith; here it is shared by "those that were with him." It is the general faith of a Gentile company.

Reason might have said, "These leaders of the Jews should know, and they have challenged Him to prove that He is the Son of God, the Christ, the King of Israel, by coming down from the cross…" But if the centurion had listened to that reasoning — and it was logical enough — he would have gone home at the end of his day's work still a pagan. But faith, not reason, moved him. … And it is here that all true faith finds its birth. We must begin with Christ crucified.

These women gave to the Lord out of what they owned. The Lord of glory owns all creation, yet in lowly humility He made Himself dependent on the care of women. That is a blessed testimony to the grace of His heart. At the same time it gave them the chance to show what His grace meant to them — and God will reward that in full.

Some of them had been "healed of evil spirits and infirmities." Among them was Mary called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out. She was not a woman of the streets, as people commonly suppose; her plight was worse than that. A sevenfold evil satanic power had enslaved her, and Jesus had set her free. With her were Joanna the wife of Herod's steward, Susanna, and many others. We are not told what particular evils they had been delivered from, but they joined the Magdalene in the happy, grateful service of giving to Him out of what they owned. They had something to give, and they gave it to Him with a willing and glad heart. Rich men cared for Him in His death, but these women of means cared for Him in His life (Luke 8:2-3).

"There were also many women there, looking on from a distance." But where were the disciples? What a withering condemnation of all their boasted courage! They had forsaken Jesus and fled. Yet here were these women, against their natural timidity, "out of weakness made strong," still watching, even from a distance... If apostles and disciples fled, God can, and does, raise up testimony for His name's sake.

So it is clear that Mary had now moved back from the place she held near the cross, and had joined the other women who had followed Jesus from Galilee. When the Lord entrusted His mother to the disciple He loved, we read that from that hour the disciple took her to his own home. If that means at once, it was likely what broke up that little devoted group... and what moved the Magdalene, with Mary the wife of Cleophas, back to where their companions from Galilee stood. That was far off — at a distance, and yet placed so that they could see what was happening.

But if disciples fail, there are others who do not. At first the women who had followed Him from Galilee are seen at a distance from that scene of horror, as we would expect. Later, it seems (John 20), they came as close as the spears of the Roman guard would allow. Faith may have died out of their hearts, but fear found no place there. Love is never stronger than when the one it loves is most in need, and that love marks these women. The Spirit of God describes their devotion in just those terms. They would watch by His body until the stone hid it from their sight.

Some poor women were standing near the cross, watching what was done to Him they loved. Devotion often gives them, on God's part, more courage than men have in their more responsible and busy positions.

In love they had followed the Lord through His life of service. They clung to Him in His death 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.

All the Gospel writers tell us of a company of women who watched the scene of the cross from a distance. Matthew says that many women were there watching from far off, and he names some of them. Mark mentions the two Marys and a third called Salome. Luke mentions only the company. John tells us that standing by the cross of Jesus were His mother, His mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene.

Then certain devoted women receive honourable mention. During His life on earth they had followed the Lord and supported Him from their own resources. In love they had followed the Lord in His life of service. They clung to Him in death on the cross. They watch when His body is laid in the grave. It is easy to dwell on their lack of understanding, while falling far short of their devoted love.

Notice carefully that the mother of our Lord is not named first in this list, but second. Nor is she described as our Lord's mother, but as the mother of James and Joses. The same order is kept in Mark 15:40. An uninspired writer would certainly have put the name of the Virgin Mary first, but Scripture does not, and for a good reason.

Compare Matt. 27:56, 61; Matt. 28:1; Mark 15:40, 47; Mark 16:1; and Luke 24:10. It appears probable that "the other Mary" and "Mary the mother of James (or James the less) and Joses" refer to the same person. She may have been the wife of Clopas. In John 19:25 this Mary is called the sister of the Lord's mother, if we take the word "and" to separate the persons, which is the most obvious sense. That would give three Marys in that verse, and not four.

Compare Matt. 27:56 with Mark 15:40, and it appears that Salome was the wife of Zebedee. If so, she came with her two sons, James and John, when they asked to sit at the right hand and at the left of the Lord in His kingdom.

Her heart was clearly won by the Master her sons had followed. She knew He was a King, and was one day coming into His kingdom. Perhaps she knew still more, for she worshipped Him. But she did not know or realise that He was a rejected King, and that she was living in the time of His rejection.

Some poor women were standing near the cross, watching what was done to Him whom they loved. Devotedness often gives such women, on God's part, more courage than it gives men in their more responsible and busy position.

But if disciples fail, there are others who do not. At first the women who followed Him from Galilee stand far off from that scene of horror. Later, it would appear, they draw as near as the spears of the Roman guard would allow. Faith may have died out of their hearts, but fear found no place there. Love — never stronger than when the one it loves is most in need — is what marks them.

The women stood by the cross when all the men who had declared their devotion to Him had fled away, except John. The women were the last at His tomb on the night of His death and the first there on the morning of His resurrection. He revealed Himself alive to them, before any of the men knew of His resurrection. And Mary Magdalene was chief among those women and the first to see Him.