Mark 15 — Why Have You Forsaken Me?

Today’s Passage: Mark 15

This is the morning after the long night in the courtyard. The council binds Jesus and hands Him over to Pilate, and before the day is out a rebel named Barabbas will walk free while the innocent King is dressed in mock purple and crowned with thorns. Simon of Cyrene is pressed into service under the weight of the beam, and at a place called Golgotha they crucify Jesus between two robbers, with the charge nailed over His head: THE KING OF THE JEWS. From noon until three the sky goes dark, and then comes the cry, which we must not soften or explain away. The veil of the temple tears from top to bottom. A Gentile centurion, of all people, says out loud the very thing Mark has been driving toward since his first verse. The women keep watch, Joseph lays the body in a tomb, and the chapter asks us to be honest before it lets us confess, because the confession comes only after the cry.

As you read, hold this: My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?

Mark 15:1–15 (BSB)

¹ Early in the morning, the chief priests, elders, scribes, and the whole Sanhedrin devised a plan. They bound Jesus, led Him away, and handed Him over to Pilate. ² So Pilate questioned Him, “Are You the King of the Jews?” “You have said so,” Jesus replied. ³ And the chief priests began to accuse Him of many things. ⁴ Then Pilate questioned Him again, “Have You no answer? Look how many charges they are bringing against You!” ⁵ But to Pilate’s amazement, Jesus made no further reply. ⁶ Now it was Pilate’s custom at the feast to release to the people a prisoner of their choosing. ⁷ And a man named Barabbas was imprisoned with the rebels who had committed murder during the insurrection. ⁸ So the crowd went up and began asking Pilate to keep his custom. ⁹ “Do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” Pilate asked. ¹⁰ For he knew it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed Jesus over. ¹¹ But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas to them instead. ¹² So Pilate asked them again, “What then do you want me to do with the One you call the King of the Jews?” ¹³ And they shouted back, “Crucify Him!” ¹⁴ “Why?” asked Pilate. “What evil has He done?”

But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify Him!” ¹⁵ And wishing to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed Him over to be crucified.

The day opens with politics: a plan laid at dawn, Jesus bound and led away, and the whole matter transferred to Rome. Pilate’s one real question is about kingship, and Jesus answers it with You have said so, an affirmation that refuses the script of an earthly revolution. Then, under a flood of accusations, He falls silent, the Lamb of Isaiah who does not open His mouth, and Pilate is left amazed. A yearly custom now becomes a catastrophe. Pilate offers them the King, and the crowd demands the murderer instead, for envy has herded them along toward the shout for blood. Pilate’s question, What evil has He done?, hangs in the air unanswered, because there is no answer to give. So Barabbas walks free, and the innocent One is flogged and handed over. This is substitution, and it is no theory invented by later teachers: a guilty man goes home, and the Son walks toward the wood in his place.

Mark 15:16–32 (BSB)

¹⁶ Then the soldiers led Jesus away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium) and called the whole company together. ¹⁷ They dressed Him in a purple robe, twisted together a crown of thorns, and set it on His head. ¹⁸ And they began to salute Him: “Hail, King of the Jews!” ¹⁹ They kept striking His head with a staff and spitting on Him. And they knelt down and bowed before Him. ²⁰ After they had mocked Him, they removed the purple robe and put His own clothes back on Him. Then they led Him out to crucify Him. ²¹ Now Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and the soldiers forced him to carry the cross of Jesus. ²² They brought Jesus to a place called Golgotha, which means The Place of the Skull. ²³ There they offered Him wine mixed with myrrh, but He did not take it. ²⁴ And they crucified Him.

They also divided His garments by casting lots to decide what each of them would take. ²⁵ It was the third hour when they crucified Him. ²⁶ And the charge inscribed against Him read:

THE KING OF THE JEWS. ²⁷ Along with Jesus, they crucified two robbers, one on His right and one on His left. ²⁹ And those who passed by heaped abuse on Him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who are going to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, ³⁰ come down from the cross and save Yourself!” ³¹ In the same way, the chief priests and scribes mocked Him among themselves, saying, “He saved others, but He cannot save Himself! ³² Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross, so that we may see and believe!” And even those who were crucified with Him berated Him.

The whole company of soldiers is gathered as if for a cruel piece of theater. They dress Him in purple, twist together a crown of thorns, and bend the knee before Him, every gesture meant as mockery, and yet in their scorn they speak the plain truth about who He is. Simon is pressed under the beam, and they bring Jesus to Golgotha, where He refuses the wine mixed with myrrh that would have dulled the pain, choosing to drink the cup clear-eyed. Soldiers cast lots for His garments and so fulfill the psalm, and over His head the charge reads, without a trace of exaggeration, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Numbered among the criminals, He is mocked by those who pass by, by the chief priests, and even by the men crucified beside Him. Their taunt runs on the old logic: prove Yourself by coming down and saving Yourself. But that is the very thing they cannot see, for if He were to come down, we could not be saved. When they jeer, He saved others, but He cannot save Himself, they speak a truth deeper than they know. To save others, He will not save Himself. The forsakenness has not yet been spoken aloud, but with every hour it is already being walked.

Mark 15:33–41 (BSB)

³³ From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. ³⁴ At the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” ³⁵ When some of those standing nearby heard this, they said, “Behold, He is calling Elijah.” ³⁶ And someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine. He put it on a reed and held it up for Jesus to drink, saying, “Leave Him alone. Let us see if Elijah comes to take Him down.” ³⁷ But Jesus let out a loud cry and breathed His last. ³⁸ And the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. ³⁹ When the centurion standing there in front of Jesus saw how He had breathed His last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” ⁴⁰ And there were also women watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. ⁴¹ These women had followed Jesus and ministered to Him while He was in Galilee, and there were many other women who had come up to Jerusalem with Him.

The darkness at noon is a sign of judgment hanging over a guilty world and over the sin-bearing Savior at its center. The loud cry drawn from Psalm 22 is not a cry of unbelief; it is the righteous Sufferer entering forsakenness on our behalf, and even here He still says My God. Some of the bystanders mishear Eloi as a call for Elijah, and someone lifts up a sponge of sour wine, and then Jesus gives a final loud cry and His breath ends. At that very moment the veil of the temple splits from the top down, which is God’s own act and no piece of human vandalism, for by this death the barrier into the Most Holy Place is thrown open. The centurion, watching how Jesus dies, speaks the very thesis of Mark’s book: Truly this man was the Son of God. The title that stood over the opening of the Gospel is now heard at the foot of the cross, and heard from the mouth of a man of the empire. The women who had followed Jesus and served Him keep their watch when most of the Twelve have fled. The confession does not cancel the cry; it tells us who it was that cried it.

Mark 15:42–47 (BSB)

⁴² Now it was already evening. Since it was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath), ⁴³ Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent Council member who himself was waiting for the kingdom of God, boldly went to Pilate to ask for the body of Jesus. ⁴⁴ Pilate was surprised to hear that Jesus was already dead, so he summoned the centurion to ask if this was so. ⁴⁵ When Pilate had confirmed it with the centurion, he granted the body to Joseph. ⁴⁶ So Joseph bought a linen cloth, took down the body of Jesus, wrapped it in the cloth, and placed it in a tomb that had been cut out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb. ⁴⁷ Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where His body was placed.

Evening comes on and the Sabbath draws near. Joseph steps out of his secrecy into a costly courage, going boldly to Pilate to ask for the body. Pilate makes sure that Jesus is truly dead, for there is no fainting or half-death in Mark’s account. Then come the linen cloth, the tomb cut from rock, the stone rolled across the entrance, and the women watching to see where He is laid. The burial is real, and located, and witnessed. The King is dead and buried, and the gospel is not a myth about a spirit floating free of the body; it is a body in a tomb, waiting for the first day of the week. The cry has been cried, and the forsaken One is laid down to rest.