The Psalm David Wrote When He Felt God Had Abandoned Him

Psalm 22 begins: Eli, Eli, lama azavtani — "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" It is the most honest opening line in the Hebrew Bible. Not a request, not a declaration of faith, not a praise — a question hurled at a silent sky from someone in agony. The psalm continues for 31 verses, moving from abandonment to memory to community to cosmic praise, ending in a vision of all nations worshipping the God of Israel. The Midrash on Psalms (Midrash Tehillim, compiled c. 700-900 CE) says David wrote Psalm 22 about himself — and that God held it in reserve as the script for every future generation that would speak those opening words.

What Was David Going Through When He Wrote It?

The superscription of Psalm 22 says only "For the leader, on the deer of the dawn" — a musical notation whose meaning has been lost. The text gives no explicit historical setting. The Talmud in tractate Berachot (12b, compiled c. 500 CE) and the Midrash Aggadah traditions identify several candidates for the occasion of Psalm 22's composition: Saul pursuing David through the wilderness, David hiding in the cave of Adullam, David's flight from his son Absalom. The Midrash Tehillim (22:1, c. 700-900 CE) offers the most expansive reading: David composed it in a state of prophetic vision, seeing not only his own suffering but the suffering of every generation of Israel — the exiles in Babylon, the persecuted in Persia, the dispersed across centuries. He wrote one psalm and they all speak it with him.

What Does the Midrash Say About the Opening Cry?

"My God, my God" — the double invocation was unusual enough to require explanation. The Midrash Tehillim (22:2, c. 700-900 CE) reads it as two separate cries: one for the day, one for the night. The full verse continues: "Why have You forsaken me, so far from my salvation, from the words of my moaning? My God, I call by day and You do not answer; and by night, and there is no respite for me." The Zohar (Parashat Vayakhel, 2:215b, c. 1280 CE) reads the day/night structure as a cosmic alternation: in the daytime of history, Israel serves God publicly and the nations see; in the night of exile, Israel cries privately and no answer comes. The Psalm encodes both modes of relationship in its first three verses. The Kabbalah collection at jewishmythology.com contains over 60 texts exploring the theology of hester panim — divine hiddenness — that Psalm 22 navigates.

How Does the Psalm Turn?

The pivot comes in verse 4: "But You are holy, dwelling amid the praises of Israel." This line does something structurally remarkable — it does not answer the question of why God has been silent. It pivots away from the question entirely and toward a statement of fact about God's nature. God inhabits praise. This is not a solution to the problem. It is a refusal to let the problem define the relationship. The cry of abandonment is real; the assertion of God's holiness is also real; the psalm holds both without resolving the tension. The Legends of the Jews (Louis Ginzberg, 1909-1938) cites the rabbinic principle that authentic prayer does not require answered questions — it requires honest speech. The Psalmist's greatness is not that he found faith by the end but that he kept praying in the middle.

What Are the Wild Imagery of Verses 13-22?

The central section of Psalm 22 (verses 13-22) contains some of the most visceral imagery in the Psalms: bulls of Bashan surrounding him, lions opening their mouths, dogs encircling him, a group of evildoers piercing his hands and feet, his bones out of joint, his heart melted like wax. The imagery is animal, physical, and surrounded — the speaker at the center of a ring of predators. The Midrash Rabbah on Esther (Esther Rabbah, compiled c. 500 CE) reads the bulls, lions, and dogs as stand-ins for specific nations and kingdoms that persecuted Israel throughout history. The personal becomes national; the national becomes personal. The speaker is David; the speaker is Israel; the speaker is any individual who has stood at the center of overwhelming threat and felt their bones melt.

How Does the Psalm End?

The final verses of Psalm 22 (verses 23-32) move from personal crisis to universal vision. All the ends of the earth will remember and return to God. All the families of the nations will bow down. "They will come and tell of His righteousness, to a people yet to be born, that He has acted." The Midrash Tehillim (22:7, c. 700-900 CE) reads the "people yet to be born" as the generation of resurrection — those who will hear the testimony of those who passed through the darkness and found, at the end, the praise waiting for them. The psalm is structured as an argument: this is what it felt like; this is who You are; this is what the future holds. The three movements mirror the structure of teshuvah itself — honest acknowledgment of the present, memory of the relationship, anticipation of restoration. Explore the full tradition of Psalm commentary and prophetic poetry in our collection at jewishmythology.com.