And Jesus, having again cried with a loud voice, gave up the ghost.
Matthew closes his account of the crucifixion with a single sentence: a loud cry, and then the end. The darkness, the mockery, the cry of abandonment — all of it narrows to this one moment. And the way Matthew tells it raises a question: did Jesus die as other men die?
The word "again" points back to the earlier cry from the darkness. Both times His voice was strong.
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.
The older English "yielded up the ghost" hides something. Matthew's phrase describes an act, not something that happened to Him.
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.
Matthew records the cry but not the words. The other Gospels supply them, and set the order of events.
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.
Each writer keeps the words that fit what he is showing us about Christ.
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.
Scripture elsewhere says no one holds his own life in his hand. That makes this death stand apart.
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 next verse describes the temple curtain torn in two. The timing matters.
The veil was torn the moment our Lord died (Matthew 27:50-51) — one more proof that propitiation was made on the cross.
The soldier on guard drew his own conclusion from the way Jesus died.
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.
- Strength. The loud cry shows no exhaustion. Twice His voice rang out at full power, and the second time He died.
- Authority. Matthew's word is "dismissed His spirit" — the act of One with authority to lay down His life and take it up again.
- Words. Matthew names the cry but not its content. Luke supplies "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." John supplies "It is finished."
- Uniqueness. No one else holds power over his own spirit or the day of his death; He alone commanded both.
- Proof. The curtain tore at that instant, and the watching soldier concluded he had seen the Son of God.
And lo, the veil of the temple was rent in two from the top to the bottom, and the earth was shaken, and the rocks were rent,
The moment Jesus died, God acted. Matthew records three signs at once: a torn curtain, shaking ground, split rocks. Who tore that curtain? And what does it mean for how God now deals with people?
The direction of the tear is the whole point. One commentator rejected the idea that the earthquake did it:
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 curtain shut off the temple's innermost room. Its message changed the moment it tore:
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.
One writer ties the curtain to Christ's own body, and to why His life alone could not open the way:
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.
For the temple itself, the torn curtain was a closing notice:
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."
The act that ended one system opened the way in:
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.
The signs did not stop at the curtain:
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).
The timing and the manner both matter:
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 hand — the tear starts at the top because God did it, not the earthquake and not any human hand.
- The cause — the curtain pictured Christ's flesh; while He lived it barred the way, and only His death could open it.
- The gift — what had shut man out is gone, and sin that would have kept the believer out is put away.
- The reach — the shaking earth and split rocks say the King's death broke the power of death itself.
- The result — God tore the curtain; He did not draw it aside. Returning to what His death set aside is a solemn thing.
and the tombs were opened; and many bodies of the saints fallen asleep arose,
Jesus dies, and the signs come fast: the temple curtain tears, the earth shakes, rocks split, tombs open. Readers still ask why graves opened at a death, why these saints did not rise until later, and what became of them.
One writer hears in the open tombs a word spoken to death itself:
"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.
Another writer notes what Matthew adds next, and who now holds the keys of death:
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.
The tombs open at the death, but the bodies come out only after His rising. One writer explains the order:
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.
Matthew records this beside the death, though it happened three days later. One writer asks why:
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.
One writer ties this to the torn curtain three days earlier:
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.
Matthew's words settle what "sleep" means in Scripture:
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."
Commentators differ here. One argues these saints were not like Lazarus, who came back to normal life and died again:
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.
Another calls the question itself idle curiosity:
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.
- Cause — The tombs open the moment Jesus dies; His death, not merely His rising, is what breaks the grave's claim.
- Order — No one may go before the firstfruits, so the bodies wait and come out only after His resurrection.
- Placement — Matthew reports it beside the cross to show what the cross achieved. The torn curtain and the open tombs are twin fruits of one death.
- Reach — They entered the city and appeared to many. On the ground where He was condemned, His death broke the devil's might.
- Result — A foretaste of the first resurrection. What happened to them next, Scripture does not say.
and going out of the tombs after his arising, entered into the holy city and appeared unto many.
The graves near Jerusalem opened at the moment Jesus died, yet the bodies inside did not walk out until the third day. Matthew alone records this. The gap between those two moments — the opened tomb and the raised body — carries the meaning of the whole scene.
The order is deliberate. Death broke the graves open, but no one left them ahead of Christ.
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.
In time this happened after the resurrection. Matthew still reports it beside the cross.
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.
Only some graves gave up their dead.
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.
One writer traces this back to God's purpose for His own people.
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.
The words "appeared to many" do real work as evidence.
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.
Jerusalem had just crucified its Messiah, yet Matthew still gives it this title.
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.
Matthew names none of them. Commentators differ on how far the wording lets us go. One draws what he can from it:
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.
Another writer stops the question at the door:
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.
- Cause — His death opened the graves. The bodies came out after His resurrection. Both halves of the verse trace back to the cross.
- Order — No one could rise ahead of the Firstfruits. Christ keeps first place in the world of resurrection.
- Selection — Only saints rose. No unbeliever's grave stirred. This is an anticipation of the first resurrection.
- Witness — They "appeared to many." Many people saw them, so this was not one person's imagination or a small group's invention.
- Silence — Scripture does not say where they went. The fact itself testifies to the power of Christ's death, and God does not answer mere curiosity.
But the centurion, and they who were with him on guard over Jesus, seeing the earthquake and the things that took place, feared greatly, saying, Truly this [man] was Son of God.
Roman soldiers came to that hill to carry out an execution. Yet they are the ones who name the dying man as the Son of God, and their words raise two questions: what convinced them, and how much did they understand?
The Gospels give different triggers for the same confession, and the difference is worth noticing. One writer sets Matthew's account beside Mark's:
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.
Matthew says they were "filled with awe." Older translations read "they feared greatly." That fear is the turning point of the scene, and it stands against the mood of those who had demanded His death:
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.
One writer counts three signs together — the torn curtain in the temple, the shaken earth with its opened graves, and the raised saints — then notes who responded:
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.
A Roman soldier had no worked-out teaching about who Jesus is. One writer weighs what the man himself could have meant against what the Spirit made his words say:
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.
The confession comes from outside Israel. Writers read it as the opening of something far wider:
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.
Matthew alone adds "those who were with him," and that detail carries weight:
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.
Commentators differ on how far to press this. Darby says of the soldiers, "As to the result in themselves, no one can know anything of it." Others read the words as real faith, and draw a lesson from what the centurion refused to listen to:
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.
- Signs — Matthew traces the confession to the earthquake, split rocks and opened tombs. Mark traces it to the loud cry of a dying man who should have had no strength left.
- Fear — the same events that struck fear into pagan soldiers left the religious leaders rejoicing. Nothing hardens like religion when the heart does not change.
- Confession — the soldier likely meant only that this was no ordinary man. Yet the Spirit gave his words a shape beyond what he knew.
- Reach — the first voice of faith from outside Israel, and in Matthew a whole Gentile company, confessing the very thing His own nation denied.
- Heart — writers differ on whether these men were saved. All agree where faith begins — at Christ crucified.