“And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”
Gospel of Matthew 27:46
Gospel of Mark 15:34
During Holy Week, I felt the impulse to share my reflections on the words “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me,” spoken by Christ on the cross shortly before His death. These words help me better understand the so-called “dark night of the soul,” which is the final and most difficult stage of the processes of spiritual transformation.
In the fields of hermeneutics and eschatology, entire books are devoted solely to the interpretation of the last seven sayings spoken by Jesus before His death on the cross. However, they do not offer a psychological interpretation of these sayings in the way that Jungian analytical psychology allows—an approach that regards Christianity as the living myth through which the Soul of humanity lives.
At the center of this psychology stands the concept of the process of individuation, which is understood as identical to becoming Christ-like. Psychologically, this means living through the destiny of the Son of God, with all the trials and reversals that Life brings, without betraying one’s spiritual values and faith. It means walking a steep and thorny path, because it is the path of the pain of incarnation, of suffering caused by the injustice of the world, and of the agony of transformation.
Each of the seven sayings spoken by Jesus on the cross deserves a psychological interpretation, but from the perspective of understanding the “dark night of the soul,” the most important words for me are precisely: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” In my view, if there is an expression that can describe the very core of the dark night of the soul in just a few words, it is this one.
It refers to a specific inner state of profound disconnection—both from the bond with the Earth and the pleasures and joys that arise from it (I am referring here to anhedonia as one of the typical features of depressive states), and from the bond with Heaven. What previously gave meaning and inspiration, despite the disintegrating connection with the outer world, is now gone as well. The feeling of death and dying becomes more tangible than ever when even the last source of support—the connection with God—is no longer present.
If I continue with the life of Jesus, up to this moment He had the Father on His side—speaking to Him personally, informing Him of Judas’s impending betrayal, participating in the performance of His miracles. Where has He gone now? Why has He abandoned Him? He has gone nowhere. He has not abandoned Him. Quite the opposite—at this moment He has become incarnate in His body one hundred percent. He is within Him, dying together with Him on the cross, and at that very moment resurrecting into eternal life. At this point, the process of spiritual transformation reaches its deepest point, when feelings of powerlessness and loneliness have reached their most critical intensity.
The paradox is that such a state of extreme disconnection from Life is, in fact, a state of profound connectedness with that same Life. The connection simply does not occur in the way we are accustomed to imagining it. This is important for people who are passing through endogenous depression—the medical term for processes of spiritual awakening and transformation—to know. When they feel more disconnected from the world than ever, at that very moment the embodiment of Spirit in their body has reached its maximum. To endure this suffering is an act of the highest spiritual intelligence, which strongly reminds me of the parable of the two sets of footprints in the sand.
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” is a deeply human cry, and therefore unconditionally true. That is why I love it so much. It brings comfort to the human part of us, for whom the experience of this pain can be unbearably intense. Another source of comfort is understanding the meaning of this experience—the birth of eternal life, reflected in the Easter liturgy: “By death He trampled down death.”
After the final identifications with the transient and material world die, a new Self is born. In alchemy, this is called the philosopher’s stone, because it represents a center of inner stability and density, regardless of what happens on the periphery of life. This new Self gives us the strength to stand on our own feet and to endure trials, even when it seems that nothing supports us.
The last words Jesus spoke before He breathed His last were:
“And Jesus cried with a loud voice and said, Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit. And having said this, He breathed His last.”
Gospel of Luke 23:46
In an article devoted to the interpretation of the seven sayings of Christ on the cross, an author is quoted who describes the meaning of this difficult moment:
“When darkness seems to prevail in life, faith is required to speak to God, even if that means complaining to Him. These final words of Jesus on the cross show His absolute trust in God: ‘Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.’ This is a model of prayer for anyone who feels frightened, ill, or is facing their own death. In practice, it says: ‘I surrender myself to You, O God. In my living and in my dying, in good times and in bad times, when I am and when I have, I place myself in Your hands, O God, to protect me.’”
— Hamilton
It is as if faith has here reached its culmination—having transformed into trust in the Source of Life, but trust in its totality: in good times and in bad, in life and in death. That is why the expression “By death He trampled down death” carries such profound psychological meaning. It resembles a homeopathic remedy, where like cures like, and the experience of dying awakens us to eternal life.
Kameliya Hadzhiyska
