The Crimson Worm: A Hidden Picture of Christ in Psalm 22
Do you want proof that the Bible is miraculous? Consider this: the entire Gospel of Jesus Christ—His sacrifice, His blood, His resurrection—can be seen a thousand years before His birth, hidden within one single Hebrew word.
Let’s explore.
Psalm 22:6 says,
“But I am a worm, and no man,
A reproach of men, and despised by the people.”
At first glance, “I am a worm” seems almost trivial—a humble metaphor for suffering. But the original Hebrew reveals something astonishing. When we think of a “worm”, we usually imagine a small squiggly, stretchy creature. In Hebrew, that’s the word “rimmah“. But the Hebree word used here for “worm” is not rimmah. Instead, it is a creature called “tola’ath“, referring to a very specific type of worm: the Crimson Worm, scientifically known as Coccus ilicis or Kermes ilicis.
This small insect was the ancient source of red crimson and scarlet dye in the Middle East. But it’s the life cycle of this worm that transforms Psalm 22 from poetic lament into prophetic revelation.
The Life of the Crimson Worm
When the female Crimson Worm is ready to lay her eggs, she does something remarkable. She willingly, of her own volition, climbs a tree or a wooden post, attaches her body permanently to it, so much so that detaching the worm from the tree would rip her body apart. She theb forms a hard crimson shell around herself. Once attached, she can never leave. Her life is bound to the wood.
Under the shell, she lays her eggs. The young eggs hatch and remain under her body for protection, and grow only by eating her flesh and drinking her blood. When the young have grown large enough that the mother’s body can’t contain them anymore, the mother’s body explodes and dies. In dying, her red crimson blood paints and stains her children—marking them permanently red.
The Tree is also covered in her blood but, unlike the children, after three days, that crimson stain fades and turns white, flaking away like snow, leaving behind a clean, white surface.
This strange little worm offers a breathtaking reflection of the Gospel itself.
Christ, the Crimson Worm
Psalm 22 is widely recognized as a prophetic picture of the crucifixion of Christ. It begins with the haunting words that Jesus Himself cried from the cross:
“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)
Throughout the psalm, the details align perfectly with the events of the crucifixion:
- “They pierce My hands and My feet.” (Psalm 22:16; Luke 24:39)
- “They divide My garments among them.” (Psalm 22:18; Matthew 27:35)
- “All who see Me mock Me.” (Psalm 22:7; Matthew 27:39–43)
And right in the middle of this prophecy, Jesus calls Himself the tola’ath—the Crimson Worm.
Just as the worm willingly fastens herself to a tree to bring forth new life, Jesus willingly went to the cross. John 10:17–18 records His words:
“No one takes My life from Me, but I lay it down of My own accord.”
The worm’s act is permanent and irreversible—once she attaches to the wood, there is no going back. Likewise, Jesus’ choice to die was final, deliberate, and sacrificial. Hebrews 10:10 tells us:
“We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.”
Jesus, our Father
Isaiah 53:10 says,
“Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. When You make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His Children (literally. “Seed” “Offspring”), He shall prolong His days, And the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.”
This clearly states that in some way, we are Jesus’ children. Jesus is our God by virtue of creation, our Brother by virtue of humanity, and our Father by virtue of Salvation. Jesus can be described as our Father, not Because He is the person of God the Father, but because “Father” can mean different things in different contexts, and in this context, it is metaphorically to refer to those whom He died for as He the “author” or “beginner” of their salvation. The term “father”, like when we say “Galileo is the father of modern science” has this exact meaning. Jesus is the Father of our salvation because He is the Author and Originator of it. This sacrifice is what makes us children of God. John 1:12 says,
“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name”
Death on a Tree
When Jesus gave His life for the world, He was not only crucified on a Roman cross — Scripture deliberately describes it as a tree. This language isn’t poetic flourish; it’s deeply theological. The wooden tree of death becomes the very instrument through which life blossoms.
Acts 5:30 declares,
“The God of our fathers raised up Jesus whom you murdered by hanging on a tree.”
The same phrase is used again by Peter in Acts 10:39 and by Paul in Galatians 3:13, who writes,
“Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.’”
That last line reaches back to Deuteronomy 21:23, where anyone hung on a tree was considered under God’s curse. By using this exact wording, the apostles wanted to make a profound point: Jesus bore the curse that belonged to humanity. The wood that symbolized shame became the altar of redemption.
This is where the tola’ath connection deepens. Just as the crimson worm climbs a tree and willingly attaches herself to it, so Christ willingly allowed Himself to be nailed to the wooden beam. Once the worm attaches, she can never be removed without dying. In the same way, Jesus’ union with the cross was voluntary and final — an irreversible act of love.
John 12:27 captures His resolve:
“Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour.”
The tree becomes the meeting point of heaven and earth, of curse and redemption, of death and eternal life. On that wooden structure, Jesus transformed the symbol of humanity’s sin into the emblem of salvation.
Just as the crimson worm stains the tree with her blood and dies so that her offspring might live, the Son of God hung upon the tree, His blood staining the wood of the cross — not as a defeat, but as the beginning of life for His children.
The Blood That Covers and Gives Life
Just as the baby worms live by consuming their mother’s body and blood, Jesus said in John 6:53–56:
“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you…”
Through His sacrifice, His children—those who believe—are nourished and given eternal life by partaking of the Holy Eucharist, Holy Communion, feeding on the Lord Jesus and drink His blood to grow and be nourished.
We are sealed and covered by His blood, just as the baby worms are marked by their mother’s. As 1 Corinthians 5:7 declares,
“Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us.”
The sprinkling of blood was also a part of Levitical rituals, used to atone for sin and to cleanse or consecrate both people and objects:
Then he shall sprinkle some of the blood on it with his finger seven times, cleanse it, and consecrate it from the uncleanness of the children of Israel. – Leviticus 16:19
The Third Day
And then there’s the third day.
When the crimson stain of the worm fades to white, it mirrors the resurrection of Christ—His transformation from death to life. The red of blood becomes the white of purity and victory. Revelation 7:14 speaks of believers who
“washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
Even Isaiah foresaw this miracle:
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson (tola’ath), they shall be as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)
Intrestingly, the word for “crimson” here is the same word from Psalm 22:6, “crimson worm”. So this would literally read, “though they are red like the crimson worm, they shall be as wool.” which points back to the blood turning white.
Hidden in Plain Sight
In the middle of a Psalm about the Lord’s crucifixion, He says that He is a worm and not a man because which man dies like He did. The life of a man cannot do any of that, only the crimson worm’s life. We see the Gospel written into creation itself—a humble creature proclaiming the story of redemption long before the cross was raised.
A mother who willingly dies on a tree, staining the wood with her blood, giving life to her children by allowing herself to be eaten, and her blood turning white after three days. A Savior who willingly dies on a cross, His blood shed for His children, giving Himself over to be eaten for the growth of His spiritual children, rising in glory on the third day to make us pure.
Psalm 22 is more than a prophecy. It’s a portrait—an encoded promise of divine love hidden in the fabric of nature.
Truly, as the heavens declare the glory of God, even the smallest worm whispers His story.