‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'



BENEDICT XVI GENERAL AUDIENCE

Paul VI Audience Hall
Wednesday, 8 February 2012

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Dear Brothers and Sisters, Today I would like to reflect with you on the prayer of Jesus when death was imminent, pausing to think about everything St Mark and St Matthew tell us. The two Evangelists record the prayer of the dying Jesus not only in Greek, in which their accounts are written but, because of the importance of these words, also in a mixture of Hebrew and Aramaic. In this way they have passed down not only the content but also the sound that this prayer had on Jesus’ lips: let us really listen to Jesus’ words as they were. At the same time, the Evangelists describe to us the attitude of those present at the crucifixion who did not understand — or did not want to understand — this prayer. St Mark wrote, as we have heard: “when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’”. (15:33-34). In the structure of the account, the prayer, Jesus’ cry, is raised at the end of the three hours of darkness that shrouded all the earth from midday until three o’clock in the afternoon. These three hours of darkness are in turn the continuation of a previous span of time, also of three hours, that began with the crucifixion of Jesus. The Evangelist Mark, in fact, tells us that “it was the third hour, when they crucified him” (15:25). All the times given in the narrative, Jesus’ six hours on the Cross are divided into two parts of equal length. The mockery of various groups which displays their scepticism and confirms their disbelief fits into the first three hours, from nine o’clock in the morning until midday. St Mark writes: “Those who passed by derided him” (15:29); “So also the chief priests mocked him to one another with the scribes” (15:31); “those who were crucified with him also reviled him” (15:32). In the following three hours, from midday until “the ninth hour” [three o’clock in the afternoon], the Evangelist spoke only of the darkness that had come down over the entire earth; only darkness fills the whole scene without any references to people’s movements or words. While Jesus is drawing ever closer to death, there is nothing but darkness that covers “the whole land”. The cosmos also takes part in this event: the darkness envelops people and things, but even at this moment of darkness God is present, he does not abandon them. In the biblical tradition darkness has an ambivalent meaning: it is a sign of the presence and action of evil, but also of a mysterious presence and action of God who can triumph over every shadow. In the Book of Exodus, for example, we read “The Lord said to Moses: “Lo, I am coming to you in a thick cloud” (19:9); and, further: “the people stood afar off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was” (20:21). And in his discourses in Deuteronomy, Moses recounts: “And you came near and stood at the foot of the mountain, while the mountain burned with fire to the heart of heaven wrapped in darkness, cloud, and gloom” (4:11); you “heard the voice out of the midst of the darkness, while the mountain was burning with fire” (5,23). In the scene of the crucifixion of Jesus the darkness engulfs the earth and the Son of God immerses himself in the shadows of death in order to bring life, with his act of love. Returning to St Mark’s narrative, in the face of the insults of various categories of people, in the face of the pall of darkness that shrouds everything, at the moment when he faces death, Jesus, with the cry of his prayer, shows that with the burden of suffering and death in which there seems to be abandonment, the absence of God, Jesus is utterly certain of the closeness of the Father who approves this supreme act of love, the total gift of himself, although the voice from on high is not heard, as it was on other occasions. In reading the Gospels we realize that in other important passages on his earthly existence Jesus had also seen the explanatory voice of God associated with the signs of the Father’s presence and approval of his journey of love. Thus in the event that follows the Baptism in the Jordan, at the opening of the heavens, the words of the Father had been heard: “Thou art my beloved Son, with thee I am well pleased” (Mk 1:11). Then in the Transfiguration, the sign of the cloud was accompanied with these words: “this is my beloved Son; listen to him” (Mk 9:7). Instead, at the approach of the death of the Crucified One, silence falls, no voice is heard but the Father’s loving gaze is fixed on his Son’s gift of love. However, what is the meaning of Jesus’ prayer, of the cry he addresses to the Father: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”: doubt about his mission, about the Father’s presence? Might there not be in this prayer the knowledge that he had been forsaken? The words that Jesus addresses to the Father are the beginning of Psalm 22[21], in which the Psalmist expresses to God his being torn between feeling forsaken and the certain knowledge of God’s presence in his People’s midst. He, the Psalmist, prays: “O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest. Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel” (vv. 3-4). The Psalmist speaks of this “cry” in order to express the full suffering of his prayer to God, seemingly absent: in the moment of anguish his prayer becomes a cry. This also happens in our relationship with the Lord: when we face the most difficult and painful situations, when it seems that God does not hear, we must not be afraid to entrust the whole weight of our overburdened hearts to him, we must not fear to cry out to him in our suffering, we must be convinced that God is close, even if he seems silent. Repeating from the Cross the first words of Psalm 22[21] “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” — “My God my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46); uttering the words of the Psalm, Jesus prays at the moment of his ultimate rejection by men, at the moment of abandonment; yet he prays, with the Psalm, in the awareness of God’s presence, even in that hour when he is feeling the human drama of death. However a question arises within us: how is it possible that such a powerful God does not intervene to save his Son from this terrible trial? It is important to understand that Jesus’ prayer is not the cry of one who meets death with despair, nor is it the cry of one who knows he has been forsaken. At this moment Jesus makes his own the whole of Psalm 22[21], the Psalm of the suffering People of Israel. In this way he takes upon himself not only the sin of his people, but also that of all men and women who are suffering from the oppression of evil and, at the same time, he places all this before God’s own heart, in the certainty that his cry will be heard in the Resurrection: “The cry of extreme anguish is at the same time the certainty of an answer from God, the certainty of salvation — not only for Jesus himself, but for ‘many’” (Jesus of Nazareth, II, pp. 213-214 Ignatius Press, San Francisco 2011). In this prayer of Jesus are contained his extreme trust and his abandonment into God’s hands, even when God seems absent, even when he seems to be silent, complying with a plan incomprehensible to us. In the Catechism of the Catholic Church we read: “in the redeeming love that always united him to the Father, he assumed us in the state of our waywardness of sin, to the point that he could say in our name from the cross: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (n. 603). His is a suffering in communion with us and for us, which derives from love and already bears within it redemption, the victory of love. The bystanders at the foot of the Cross of Jesus fail to understand, thinking that his cry is a supplication addressed to Elijah. In the scene they seek to assuage his thirst in order to prolong his life and to find out whether Elijah will truly come to his aid, but with a loud cry Jesus’ earthly life comes to an end, as well as their wish. At the supreme moment, Jesus gives vent to his heart’s grief, but at the same time makes clear the meaning of the Father’s presence and his consent to the Father’s plan of salvation of humanity. We too have to face ever anew the “today” of suffering of God’s silence — we express it so often in our prayers — but we also find ourselves facing the “today” of the Resurrection, of the response of God who took upon himself our sufferings, to carry them together with us and to give us the firm hope that they will be overcome (cf. Encyclical Letter Spe Salvi, nn. 35-40). Dear friends, let us lay our daily crosses before God in our prayers, in the certainty that he is present and hears us. Jesus’ cry reminds us that in prayer we must surmount the barriers of our “ego” and our problems and open ourselves to the needs and suffering of others. May the prayer of Jesus dying on the Cross teach us to pray lovingly for our many brothers and sisters who are oppressed by the weight of daily life, who are living through difficult moments, who are in pain, who have no word of comfort; let us place all this before God’s heart, so that they too may feel the love of God who never abandons us. Many thanks.

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APPEAL In the past few weeks a wave of cold weather and freezing temperatures has hit some parts of Europe, giving rise to great hardship and immense damage, as we know. I would like to express my closeness to the peoples affected by this intense bad weather, while I ask for prayers for the victims and their families. At the same time, I encourage solidarity, so that those affected by these tragic events may be given generous help. * * * I greet all the English-speaking visitors and pilgrims present at today’s Audience, including groups from England, Ireland, Norway and the United States of America. I extend a special welcome to the many students who are here, and I pray that your studies may serve to deepen your knowledge and love of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Whatever darkness you experience in your lives, may you always remain firm in faith, hope and love.
May God bless all of you!

© Copyright 2012 - Libreria Editrice Vaticana

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Taken from: http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/audiences/2012/documents/hf_ben-xvi_aud_20120208_en.html

Reading common sense into the Geography of the Book of Tobit

 

To the good friend who wrote this about the geography of the Book of Tobit:

Tobias and the Tigris.

Several possibilities exist here. It is not unknown for several streams to bear the same name, nor is it impossible that the swiftest road into Media was a highway which was accessed by Tobias traveling to the real Tigris River to connect with this route.

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The AMAIC replies:

 

What we have argued with early Genesis, especially the Six Days and the Flood, is that a ‘surface’ reading of a biblical text may sometimes lead one to a conclusion that is far from what the original scribe(s) intended, and often far also from common sense. Such we believe to be the case, too, with standard versions of the Book of Tobit with regard to its geography. If we would believe the text as it currently stands, the angel Raphael was leading young Tobias (our Job) a merry dance inasmuch as, with a starting point at Assyrian Nineveh, and with the aim of arriving at Rages near Ecbatana in Media - Ecbatana being some 185 miles east of Nineveh - the angel brings Tobias in the evening to the river Tigris, directly west of Nineveh.

No wonder then that, on this basis, The Jerusalem Bible says that “the geography is inexact”, and that Fr. D. Dumm (“Tobit”) in The Jerome Biblical Commentary, exclaims that:

 

“[The angel] Raphael knows the journey of life far better than the route to Media!”

 

Unfortunately, though, Fr. Dumm just leaves it at that, without being willing, or able, to defend the accuracy of the Bible with a proper explanation of what is happening here.

But we need to go to other versions of the Book of Tobit to find the solution.

There is no geographical support in the Book of Tobit for an eastwards journey, from Nineveh to the classical Media (Ecbatana and Rhages):

 

For one, the River Tigris is west of Nineveh;

And, whilst the Median Rhages is in the plain, with Ecbatana being in the mountains, the Book of Tobit has Ecbatana in the plain and Rages in the mountains (see below);

And again, Charan (Haran), in Syria, is, according to the Douay version of Tobit, ‘midway’ between Nineveh and ‘Media’;

And furthermore, whereas the journey from Tobit's Ecbatana to Rages normally took “two full days”, the almost 200-mile journey from the Median Ecbatana to Rhages would have taken significantly longer. In fact it took the army of Alexander the Great 11 days at full gallop to march from the one to the other ^13]. Rightly then does Jan Simons observe (according to a Median context) that the journey referred to in the Book of Tobit "would be a forced 'journey of two days' even for an express messenger"^14].

 

Thankfully there are versions of the Book of Tobit that set us aright, however, with Ecbatana becoming “Bathania” (the Roman province of Batanaea), that is, the fertile Bashan, east of the River Jordan in Palestine, and Media becoming “Midian”.

Thus the angel Raphael knows exactly what he is doing.

Why, did he not inform the anxious Tobit that he knew the way thoroughly (as an angel would know)?

So we find that the real angel Raphael was escorting the young Tobias, not eastwards, but westwards from Nineveh, to the Tigris crossing, then to Haran, and on to Bashan (where the angel then leaves on an early flight for Damascus).   

 

I [Damien Mackey] discussed all this in Volume Two [of my thesis], Chapter 2, pp. 38-40, where I had specifically claimed that “Rages”, a city in the mountains, must be the city of Damascus that dominated the province of Batanaea” (p. 39). Damascus, almost 700 m above sea level, is actually situated on a plateau. Secondly, I gave there very specific geographical details in order to identify this “Rages” in relation to “Ecbatana” (Tobit 5:6), which I had in turn identified (following the Heb. Londinii, or HL, fragment version of Tobit) with “Bathania”, or Bashan (possibly Herodotus’ Syrian Ecbatana as opposed to the better known Median Ecbatana). According to Tobit, “Rages is situated in the mountains, two days’ walk from Ecbatana which is in the plain”. Now Damascus is precisely two days’ walk from Bashan in the Hauran plain, as according to Jâkût el-Hamawi who says of Batanaea’s most central town of Nawâ …: “Between Nawa and Damascus is two days’ journey” (as quoted on p. 39). What further consolidates the fact that Tobit’s ‘Ecbatana’ was in a westerly direction, rather than an easterly one, is that his son Tobias, leaving Nineveh, arrived at the Tigris river in the evening; an impossibility were he heading for Median Ecbatana in the east. And, according to the Vulgate version of Tobit, Charan, that is, Haran, is situated “in the halfway” between Nineveh and Ecbatana. The traveller is clearly journeying towards the west. Whilst Bible scholars today tend to dismiss the whole geography of the Book of Tobit as nonsensical, a simple adjustment based on a genuine version (Heb. Londinii), makes perfect - even very precise (“two days walk”) - sense of it.

 

The testimony of Jâkût el-Hamawi here was an absolute clincher for me, not only when trying to make sense of the geography of the Book of Tobit, but also for having Tobias, with the angel, heading to the very region in Naphtali from where Tobit himself had hailed (Naphtalian Bashan), but also - from the point of view of having the geography of Tobit converge with that of Job (my Tobias) - with the pair of travellers heading to the very geographical region, Bashan, where ancient legends of Job place his home of Uz and his final resting place.

 

Syro-Arabic Traditions

Again, this Damascene region is the very one in which the Syro-Arabic traditions place the home of Job.

The Jâkût el-Hamawi and Moslem tradition generally mention the east Hauran fertile tract of country north-west of Têmâ and Bûzân, el-Bethenîje (i.e. Batanaea), as the district in which Job dwelt. According to Abufelda ^25]: "The whole of Bethenije, a part of the province of Damascus, belonged to Job as his possession".

The Syrian tradition also locates Job's abode in Batanaea, where lies an ancient "Monastery of Job" (Dair Êjûb), built in honour of the holy man.

All the larger works on Palestine and Syria agree that "Uz" is not to be sought in Edom proper. In these works we also find it recorded that Batanaea is there called Job's fatherland. In Batanaea itself the traveller hears this constantly. If any one speaks of the fruitfulness of the whole district; or of the fields around a village, he is always answered: 'Is it not the land of Job (bilâd Êjûb)?'; 'Does it not belong to the villages of Job (diâ Êjûb)?'.

It seems that Batanaea (Hauran) and the land of Job are synonymous.

Job's Tomb and other Relics

Regarding Job's tomb, we read from Ibn er-Râbi that ^26]: "To the prophets buried in the region of Damascus belongs also Job, and his tomb is near Nawa, in the district of Hauran".

Delitzsch ^27] notes, in favour of Batanaea, that the "heap of ashes" (Job 2:8) upon which Job sat in his misery is variously translated as "dunghill", and that only in a Batanaean context is there no contradiction, since the two were "synonymous notions". There the dung, being useless for agricultural purposes, is burnt from time to time in an appointed place before the town; while in any other part of Syria it is as valuable as among any farmer. This distinctive fact, he concludes, is yet another indication that Job's "land of Uz" cannot refer to the land of Edom.