Matthew 27:45-46 describes a moment of extraordinary darkness:
“From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’”
For many people who do not believe in the claims of Christianity, this scene can appear confusing, dramatic, or even troubling. Yet it is one of the most revealing moments in the entire narrative of the crucifixion, not because it demands immediate belief, but because it exposes the depth of human suffering, the weight of injustice, and the universal experience of abandonment.
The account takes place at midday, the time when light should be strongest. Instead, darkness spreads across the land for three hours. Whether one understands this darkness as supernatural, symbolic, or literary, the effect is unmistakable. At the moment when the execution of a man reaches its climax, the world itself appears to dim. The narrative places the suffering of a condemned individual into a cosmic frame, suggesting that something more profound than a routine execution is unfolding.
The cry that follows is equally striking. Jesus does not speak words of calm acceptance or triumph. Instead, he quotes the opening line of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It is a cry of anguish, the language of someone who feels utterly abandoned.
For non-believers, this moment can be approached without requiring acceptance of theological conclusions. At a human level, it presents a powerful picture: a man who has been betrayed by a friend, rejected by authorities, mocked by crowds, tortured by soldiers, and now publicly executed. In the final stages of suffering, he expresses the same question that countless people throughout history have asked during moments of despair: Why have I been abandoned?
The power of this scene lies partly in its honesty. The central figure of the Christian story does not appear detached from human suffering. Instead, the narrative emphasizes his participation in it. The cry is raw and unfiltered. It does not hide the experience of pain behind calm philosophical statements or distant spiritual language.
For many readers who approach the text without faith commitments, this moment can be seen as a profound literary and historical expression of the human condition. Across cultures and centuries, people have experienced moments when the world seems dark, when justice appears absent, and when hope feels distant. The question voiced on the cross echoes the questions people raise in war zones, hospital rooms, prison cells, and silent nights of grief.
The darkness in the passage reinforces this universal experience. Light is often associated with understanding, stability, and order. Darkness, by contrast, represents confusion, fear, and uncertainty. When the story describes darkness falling at noon, it reverses the natural order of the day. The moment communicates that something deeply unsettling has occurred, a disruption not only of a life but of the moral balance people expect from the world.
From a historical perspective, crucifixion was designed to humiliate and erase. It was meant to reduce a person to an object lesson for others. Victims were stripped of dignity, exposed to public ridicule, and left to die slowly. Yet in this narrative, the victim’s voice is preserved. His cry remains central to the story.
For readers who do not share the religious beliefs associated with the passage, this preservation of the voice of the condemned can be significant. It challenges the silence that systems of power often impose on the powerless. The cry refuses to allow suffering to be hidden or ignored.
Another remarkable aspect of the passage is that the cry is directed toward God even in the moment of perceived abandonment. The words do not deny the possibility of God; they confront the mystery of suffering directly. The question itself is ancient and persistent: if meaning exists, why does suffering occur? If justice exists, why does injustice prevail?
These questions are not unique to religion. Philosophers, poets, and skeptics alike have wrestled with them. The passage in Matthew does not resolve the tension immediately. Instead, it allows the question to stand in full force.
The darkness lasts three hours. During that time, the narrative gives no explanation. The silence itself becomes part of the story. In life, long stretches of uncertainty often occur before answers arrive, if they arrive at all. The text mirrors this experience by allowing the moment of darkness to linger.
For non-believers reading the account, the value of this passage may lie not in proving a doctrine but in revealing a profound intersection between suffering, injustice, and the search for meaning. The scene portrays a moment when human cruelty reaches its peak and when a voice rises from within that suffering to ask the question that humanity repeatedly returns to.
Why does suffering exist? Why does abandonment occur? Why does darkness sometimes fall when the day should be brightest?
The text does not immediately explain the darkness or silence the cry. Instead, it preserves the moment exactly as it is: unsettling, painful, and unresolved.
In doing so, the passage invites readers of any belief or background to confront one of the deepest realities of human existence—the experience of suffering and the enduring search for meaning within it.

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