The Book of Matthew

Word Study

"innocent," Greek athoos (ἀθῷος). The word means guiltless, free from blame. Two guilty men declare Jesus guiltless, and the first of them is the traitor himself: Judas confesses he betrayed "the innocent blood" (athoon). This is essential to the cross: He did not die for His own sins, for He had none, but as the innocent in the place of the guilty.

"just," Greek dikaios (δίκαιος). The second witness is the judge: Pilate washes his hands of "this just person" (dikaios, righteous). So both the traitor and the judge testify that Jesus was without fault, the sinless, righteous One. The righteous One was condemned that unrighteous sinners might go free, exactly what happened as Barabbas walked away.

Explanation

Judas, seized by remorse too late, flings back the silver and hangs himself -- sorrow without repentance ends in despair. Before Pilate, Jesus is silent to the charges, and the governor, knowing envy drove the accusation, tries to release Him but yields to the mob, offering them the murderer Barabbas instead. The exchange is the gospel in miniature: the guilty man goes free and the innocent is condemned in his place. Pilate washes his hands, but no water clears the guilt; the crowd cries "his blood be on us" -- the very blood that, received rightly, cleanses from all sin.

Gospel Focus

This trial is a study in guilt and grace. Judas, seeing Jesus condemned, is seized with remorse and cries, "I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood." But his was the sorrow of despair, not repentance; he goes not to the Saviour for mercy but to a rope, and "hanged himself." Remorse that runs from Christ instead of to Him ends in death. Pilate, meanwhile, knows Jesus is innocent, "for he knew that for envy they had delivered him", is warned by his wife about "that just man," and tries every escape. He offers the crowd a choice: "Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ?" But the chief priests stir the multitude, and they choose the murderer and cry of the Messiah, "Let him be crucified." Pilate, unwilling to do right at the cost of the crowd's favor, "washed his hands," declaring, "I am innocent of the blood of this just person." But no water can wash away the guilt of condemning the Son of God against his own conscience; the man who will not act on the truth he knows is not innocent. At the center of the scene stands a living picture of the gospel: Barabbas, a guilty man deserving death, is set free, while Jesus, the innocent, is condemned and led away to the cross in his place. That is substitution. Every sinner is Barabbas; the guilty one goes free because the innocent One takes his place. And notice the terrible cry of the crowd, "His blood be on us, and on our children." They meant it as a curse upon themselves; yet that same blood, shed on the cross, is the only thing that can cleanse them, and us. The blood they called down in judgment is the blood that saves all who will receive it.

Word Study

"crown of thorns," Greek stephanon ex akanthon (στέφανον ἐξ ἀκανθῶν). The soldiers meant it as cruel mockery, a crown of pain for a "king." But there is a deeper meaning. Thorns first appeared as part of the curse upon the ground when man sinned, "thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth" (Genesis 3:18). Now the King wears the curse woven upon His own brow. In bearing the crown of thorns, Christ is bearing the curse our sin brought into the world, "made a curse for us" (Galatians 3:13), so that His people might one day wear a crown of glory.

Explanation

The soldiers crown the King of the Jews with thorns, robe Him in mock purple, and beat Him, unknowingly acting out the truth they scorn. At Golgotha He is crucified between two thieves, and the taunts converge on one theme: "If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross." It is the same challenge the tempter used in the wilderness -- prove your sonship by refusing the Father's will. He saves others; Himself He will not save, for coming down would have unsaved us all. The mockers state the very reason He stays: He is the Son of God, and love holds Him there.

Gospel Focus

The soldiers turn the King's suffering into sport, dressing Him in a "scarlet robe," pressing a "crown of thorns" on His head, bowing in mock homage, "Hail, King of the Jews!", spitting on Him and striking Him. They did not know they were crowning the true King of kings, nor that His silent endurance of their cruelty was the very love that would save some of them. He is led to Golgotha, "a place of a skull," and there, in the plainest and most restrained words, Matthew writes the sentence on which the world turns: "they crucified him." The Gospels do not dwell on the physical horror; they let the fact stand. Every detail fulfills Scripture written centuries before, David having foretold in Psalm 22:18 the parting of the sufferer's garments and the casting of lots for his clothing, exactly as the soldiers now did. Over His head is nailed the charge, "THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS", a mockery that is in truth the deepest confession. And the mockery deepens. Passersby wag their heads; rulers jeer, "He saved others; himself he cannot save." They meant it as scorn, but it is the profoundest gospel truth ever spoken in unbelief. It was precisely because He would save others that He would not save Himself. He could have come down; He could have summoned legions of angels; but had He saved Himself, He could not have saved us. He stayed on the cross by love, not by nails. "If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross", the same taunt the devil used in the wilderness, "If thou be the Son of God." The proof that He was the Son of God was not that He came down, but that He stayed up, bearing our sin to the end. The King wore our crown of thorns and hung under our curse, so that we, who deserved it, might go free.

Word Study

"forsaken," Greek egkatelipes (ἐγκατέλιπες). The word means to abandon, to leave utterly alone in the hour of need. Jesus quotes Psalm 22:1, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?", the deepest word ever spoken. On the cross the sinless One, in His true humanity, bore in our place the judgment our sin deserved, and tasted the horror of being forsaken. This was no rupture within God, as though one divine person abandoned another, for "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself" (2 Corinthians 5:19); it was the Man made sin for us who drank the cup of the forsaking we deserved. This is the darkness at the heart of the atonement: He was forsaken that we might never be. Yet the very psalm He quotes moves from that cry to triumph and worldwide praise, so even His anguish looked to the victory beyond.

Explanation

Darkness covers the land three hours as the sinless Man bears the sin of the world, and from that darkness comes the cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" In His true humanity the incarnate Lord tastes the horror of judgment our sin deserved, drinking the cup to its dregs. At His death the temple veil is torn "from the top to the bottom" -- God's own hand opening the way into His presence that Christ's blood has secured -- and the earth quakes and tombs open. The Gentile centurion, watching, confesses what the mockers denied: "Truly this was the Son of God."

Gospel Focus

Here we stand at the holiest and most solemn moment in all of history. For three hours, from noon to three, "there was darkness over all the land", a supernatural darkness, as if creation itself veiled its face while the Creator suffered. Then from that darkness comes the cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" We must tread softly here. On the cross Jesus was bearing the full weight of the world's sin, and with it the judgment that sin deserves. In His genuine humanity He entered, in our place, the God-forsakenness that is the wages of sin. This was not one divine person turning away from another, for the one God was in Christ; it was the sinless Man, made sin for us, who tasted the horror of being forsaken, so that we, who deserved to be forsaken forever, might be received forever. This is the cost of our redemption, and no words can plumb it. Then "Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost." Note that word "yielded", His life was not simply taken from Him; He gave it up. He died as He had lived, in command, laying down His life of His own will. And at the instant of His death, God gave signs to interpret it. "The veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom." That veil had shut sinful men out of the holiest place, the symbolic presence of God; now, torn from top to bottom, from heaven's side down, by God's own hand, it declares that the way to God is open through the death of Christ. His body broken opened the way that the veil had barred. The earth quaked, rocks rent, and graves opened, the death of Christ shaking the power of death itself. And a hardened Roman centurion, watching it all, was moved to the confession this whole Gospel has been building toward: "Truly this was the Son of God." At the cross, a Gentile soldier sees what the rulers would not: that the crucified One is the Son of God. The blood that opened the veil opens the door of faith to all who, like the centurion, look on Him and believe.

Word Study

"new tomb," Greek kainon mnemeion (καινὸν μνημεῖον). The word for "new" means fresh, never used, one "wherein was never man yet laid" (John 19:41). Buried in a rich man's own unused tomb, Jesus fulfilled Isaiah's prophecy that the Servant would be "with the rich in his death" (Isaiah 53:9). The detail matters for the resurrection: because no other body had ever lain there, no one could later claim it was some other man who rose. God arranged even the borrowed grave, so that the empty tomb would testify plainly to the risen Christ.

Explanation

Joseph of Arimathaea, a secret disciple grown bold, begs the body and lays it in his own new tomb, fulfilling Isaiah's word that the Servant would be "with the rich in his death." The women keep watch, and the leaders, remembering Jesus' promise to rise, secure the tomb with a seal and a guard "lest his disciples come... and steal him away." Their precautions, meant to bury the story, instead furnish unimpeachable witnesses that the tomb was truly sealed and truly emptied. The King lies in the grave through the Sabbath, and His enemies unwittingly guard the stage for His resurrection.

Gospel Focus

The burial of Jesus is quiet after the storm of the crucifixion, but every detail is meaningful. Joseph of Arimathaea, "a rich man" and secret disciple, now finds courage to step into the open, going to Pilate to beg the body and giving his own "new tomb" for the burial. What the frightened apostles could not do, this man does, love making him bold at the very moment when following Jesus seemed most hopeless. He wraps the body "in a clean linen cloth" and lays it in a tomb "hewn out in the rock," rolling "a great stone" to the door. The faithful women who had followed from Galilee sit watching, keeping vigil in their grief. Two truths shine in this burial. First, it confirms that Jesus truly died. He was not merely faint; His body was taken down, wrapped, and sealed in a tomb, witnessed by friends and enemies alike. The gospel rests on a real death and a real burial. Second, God is weaving fulfillment even here: buried "with the rich in his death," in a fresh tomb where no other had lain, so that the empty grave would speak for itself. Then, in unwitting irony, the rulers themselves guarantee the evidence for the resurrection. Remembering that Jesus said, "After three days I will rise again," they ask Pilate to secure the tomb "lest his disciples come by night, and steal him away." So the stone is sealed and a guard is set. They meant to prevent a fraud; instead they made it impossible for anyone later to claim the body was stolen. A sealed, guarded tomb with the King of glory inside, this is the calm before the greatest morning the world has ever known. The enemies of Christ, trying to keep Him in the grave, only made His rising more certain and more glorious. The stone they sealed, God would roll away.