“Suddenly, the curtain of the sanctuary was split in two from top to bottom;
the earth quakes and the rocks were split.” Matthew 27:51
“Then the curtain of the sanctuary was split in two from top to bottom.” Mark 15:38
“…The curtain of the sanctuary was split down the middle.” Luke 23:45
I remember the first time I understood the meaning behind the torn curtain. I was in college and taking an Old Testament survey class. I’ll admit, I’d never spent much time studying the instructions for the building of the tabernacle or the temple. I tended to skim the Old Testament books that are weighted with measurements and materials, spans and cubits. For years, I missed the significance of the temple structure and what it meant for how the people of God could–and could not–approach their God. In tandem with His instructions for the tabernacle’s construction in Exodus, God gave the Law which exposed man’s deep need for propitiation. The job of the priests was to make atonement for the people day in and day out through the offering of sacrifices within the structure where God would live. The priests’ work was perpetual for the sin of man was a beast that would not be tamed or quieted. Buried in the explanations of the tabernacle’s height and width and the placement of the furniture within is a description of a curtain, a veil, that would separate the main portion of the structure from its holiest square footage.
What was this curtain and why did its splitting in two come up thousands of years later in the crucifixion story?
The curtain was put in place in the tabernacle after God delivered His people from slavery in Egypt. The Lord said to Moses, “They are to make a sanctuary for Me so that I may dwell among them. You must make it according to all that I show you–the pattern of the tabernacle as well as the pattern of all its furnishings” (Ex. 25:8-9). He had promised to dwell among His people, and He kept that promise. The construction of a dwelling place was His idea, and its blueprint was incredibly detailed. One of those details implied that a veil should be erected between the holiest portion of the sanctuary–where God’s presence would dwell–and the rest of the building. Tradition indicates that the curtain was sixty feet long and thirty feet wide, and the fabric was as thick as a man’s palm.
When God brought His people into the land He had promised to give them, the tabernacle was eventually exchanged for the more permanent structure of the temple. Again, God gave stipulations for its construction, this time to King Solomon. Rather than fabrics that could be folded up and moved throughout the wilderness during Israel’s wanderings, the temple was built with stones. The veil that separated the most holy place from the rest of the temple was ornate and colorful, a masterful work of art (2 Chron. 3:14). For hundreds of years, priests would pass through the veil to make offerings for the sins of the people, a process that was often less sincere than it should have been. God lived among His people as promised, but the sin of man was a constant wedge between man and Maker. Access to God was severely limited at best.
The curtain in the temple signified God’s complete holiness and offered protection for the people; they could not stand before Him in their dead and dark-hearted condition. His holiness was too bright, their sin too dark. The chasm was as wide and deep as the human heart is wicked and deceitful. Who could stand before God and live? No one.
Except for One. He was God and He was man, and He was never tainted by sin.
“Every priest stands day after day ministering and offering the same sacrifices time after time, which can never take away sins. But this man, after offering one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God.” Hebrews 10:11-12
When Jesus made intercession for us at the cross by spilling His own blood, His work was complete. Until that point, the priests never ceased in their temple work. Atonement was an ongoing work until the sinless Savior died, exchanging His glory for our curse. He stepped into the chasm. He was the bridge, the mediator between God and man. Unlike the priests who continually made sacrifices for the continual sins of man, Jesus’ work was so effective, so accepted by God, so perfect and complete that He sat down at the right hand of God when He was finished. Priests never sat down because the sin of man could never be adequately covered. Until the Jesus. Until the cross. Until the perfect Lamb of God cried out, “It is finished!” Until the history-splitting moment when the One through whom all of creation was made did not take another breath. The earth groaned in response, the graves of the long dead broke open, and the curtain that had long ago separated sinful man from holy God was rent down the middle from top to bottom. The curtain didn’t tear because it was brittle with age or because some sneaky priest was tired of making intercession for the endless sins of man and himself. The curtain was torn because the priestly work of Jesus was finished and the gap was bridged. In the rending of holy fabric, the chasm between man and God was sealed up with the blood of Christ. The curtain was torn, but in Christ, man’s relationship with God was mended.
It was finished. The lifeless body of the hope of all mankind was the final sacrifice, the only one sufficient to take away sins. Jesus’ death bridged the chasm between God and man, but it wasn’t merely a heroic, last-ditch attempt at stepping in and fixing our problem. It was always God’s plan for Jesus to be our reconciliation. Before the first threads of the first curtain were woven together, God had planned to send Jesus. Before there was even a need for the curtain, God had planned to tear it down the middle.
Before the first threads of the first curtain were woven together, God had planned to send Jesus. Before there was even a need for the curtain, God had planned to tear it down the middle. Share on XThis is our God, who made a way for us to know Him in spite of our efforts to ignore Him. This is our hope, Jesus who went behind the curtain and did what no other priest could do. This is the way unto salvation, believing that Jesus’ death paid for our sins. This is our gift, free access to our Creator. There is no curtain because there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ. You can stand before the Father on the blood of Jesus with the covering of His righteousness. No one can sew the curtain back together. Jesus’ resurrection was the proof of His victory over sin and the evidence that the curtain was no longer necessary. The temple which had once been built with stones has become the heart of God’s people, constructed with living stones built together upon the Cornerstone, who is Christ.
No more do we have to hope that the blood of animals and the intercession of mediators might be enough. Or, as contemporary thinking suggests, no longer do we have to depend upon our good works to be enough. None of that would ever be enough. Only Jesus’ work was enough, entirely enough, to secure our access to the Father and our right standing before Him. The tattered curtain in the temple and the broken body on the cross made a dark Friday outside Jerusalem a very Good Friday for us.
There is no curtain because there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ. Share on X“We have this hope as an anchor for our lives, safe and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain. Jesus has entered there on our behalf…” Heb. 6:19-20
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.