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“Unhh!” groaned his cross. “Unnnhh!” louder. His jaw distended and moving as though trying to form words . . . “Eli!” The Name escaped his lips in whispered longing. “Listen!” said a voice in the crowd. “I think he calls for Elijah!” A moment passed. Jesus labored each painful breath. Silence as he hung there. Flies, braving the wind, lick hungrily at his blood. “Eli - i – i – i – i !!” The sound exploded from his writhing body as he screamed for the first time. He sank upon the cross. His breath evaporating, diminishing . . .
“lama sabachthani?”
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The meaning was unambiguous. Could it be? Could God the Father actually turn away from God the Son? That his Son thought so, is clear. Could not even the eyes of omnipotent, unconditional Love behold such agony? Such shame? Or did this selfsame agony so derange the thoughts of Jesus that he merely felt forsaken? How does one fathom such terrible rage? For rage it was. I came to understand. I came to know far later than I should have that eternal Holiness was exhausting its wrath, exhausting all of the pent-up choleristic spleen, taking violent vengeance against evil in the miserable souls of humankind. There was Jesus, the solitary focus of the wrath of God, exhausting it, draining it of force, emptying it of meaning, sucking it of relevance. Only God could exhaust the infinite wrath of God and on that day of morbid darkness, it happened.
The terrible wrath of God . . . exhausted!
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Dark, forboding clouds blanketed the expanse above. The noon of day had turned to night. Heat lightning snapped through the billows giving rise to distant rumblings. It seemed it was going to rain, but not a drop of revitalizing liquid fell from the sky. Like an Angel of Death, Darkness crept over the land shaken by an occasional thunderous streak of dancing white through the morass of black and gray. The winds lifted, debris rolled along the fields of Golgotha, urged on by invisible but powerful forces. The body of Jesus rose and fell with each strained, excruciating breath. The sun hid itself from the shame.