THE THIRSTS OF JESUS
John 19:25b-30

A sermon given by the Rev. Richard H. Taylor
April 4, 2004 / Palm Sunday

If we can say anything about the Holy Week stories, one of the things we must say is that they are full of contrasts and contradictions: from an adoring crowd to a crucifying crowd; from being carried by a donkey, to carrying a cross; from celebrating the resurrection of Lazarus, to the death of Jesus.

And then there is Jesus crying from the cross "I thirst." Just the night before he had said, "I will drink no more of the fruit if the vine, until I drink it again in my Father's realm." But now he is thirsty. Has he forgotten his promise? Or is his thirst so real that his human need leaps out past his intended plan?

We are actually not even sure if he did drink. Matthew actually tells us that Jesus was offered vinegar – sour wine – twice. First at the foot of the cross, before he is nailed to it, he is offered sour wine. Matthew says he tastes it, but refuses to drink. Later, when he is on the cross, when he cries "Eloi, Eloi!..," "My God, My God,…"the three synoptic writers say that the crowd is stirred that he is calling for Elijah. Someone goes and grabs a sponge and puts it on a stick and dips it in the vinegar and offers it to him. Luke says this was actually done by soldiers mocking him. But the crowd cries out "Wait! Let us see whether Elijah will come…" And Jesus does not call out for the stick.

But John is different. John does not repeat the promise of Jesus not to drink. And when the spongy sour drink if offered up, John says Jesus received it. John says that only after Jesus received the wine does he say "It is finished."

So the gospels do not agree. They contradict. They crackle and snap over any preacher or Hollywood producer that would make them into a literal reality. They are the same story from many differing angles, many points of view. We are told this amazing story, but the details are full of contradictions.

But the contradictions run deeper than that. Who is the Jesus, this God-figure that he should cry out in front of foreigners and riff-raff, criminals, and all sorts and conditions of men, "I thirst!" What kind of a God has a human need, a bodily desire, so puny a need that it must be shouted out at the gate of the City, "I thirst!"

Isn't this the Jesus who said he was living water? Who said that anyone who came to him for a drink would never thirst? Didn't he say "let anyone who is thirsty come to me, let the one who believes in me drink?" Has he now forgotten who he is? Isn't this the person who changed water into wine, who said that wine was his blood?

Isn't this the Jesus who loved Isaiah and knew the prophecy "Ho! everyone who thirsts, come to the waters, and you that have no money, come, buy, and eat!" Isn't this the Savior whom we would claim is the good shepherd, the good shepherd whose cup runneth over?

And he thirsts? Why does he thirst? For what does he thirst? Does he really want the vinegar, or does he pass it by? Or is he uncertain like humans, divided internally, does some of him want the vinegar, and some part not? Does some part of us want to be a glutton this week, and some part of us fast for Holy Week? Is Jesus just as divided, just as pulled in variant directions as any human being? Is Jesus really tempted? Is Jesus really human? Does Jesus really suffer?

For that matter does God suffer? Does God agonize, and recoil, anger and repent, as any emotional human – filled with hope and pain, tears and anguish?

Humans thirst. Like the woman at well, we thirst for that living water so that we will not have to draw again.

Like the Psalmist "my soul thirsts for the Lord, before the morning watch I say, before the morning watch…" As "in a dry and weary land," we thirst.

Jesus even seems to bless our thirsting: "Blessed is the one who hungers and thirsts after righteousness. For they shall be filled."

Does God thirst? Does God desire? Does God hunger and thirst? Perhaps that is the most profound blessing of the incarnation: that God can learn the language of human need. An imaginary God who has never walked in a desert, never tasted water, can never say "I thirst!" But a God who has walked with us can say “I thirst!"

Jesus says "I thirst."

For what does Jesus thirst?

For the sour wine, the vinegar on the stick – I suspect, even if I don’t know if he took it.

For fresh water, for the kind of water the Samaritan woman could draw from Jacob’s well, cool and refreshing on a sweaty day? Yes, of course. He thirsts for water. "Give me something to drink."

Jesus is the eternally thirsty one. He tells us that heaven will open because he was thirsty and we gave him drink. But we ask when were you thirsty, when were you hungry, when were you naked? And Jesus says "inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my brothers and sisters, ye did it to me." Jesus says he is in every thirsty person. Every prisoner in a hot prison cell in Guantanamo or Chechnya, I am thirsty give me to drink. Every child who lives in a drought strewn country, a dust storm in Mali or in a slum in Port-au-Prince. Jesus is the child crying, "Give me to drink." Every young mother whose breasts are running dry is Jesus asking to be renewed. Every soldier far away from home in a dry and weary land is Jesus, "I thirst."

But Jesus thirsts for more water than a cup or a glass. He thirsts for water that rushes down like a mighty overflowing stream. But not for the water only, but for the justice. He thirsts for the justice which shall flow forth like water, and for the righteousness – yes the righteousness that will flow forth like an everlasting stream.

Jesus is thirsting for a world where everyone will pour themselves out like water, for a world where everyone will be a living stream.

Jesus is thirsting for people who will tend the gardens of this world; who will water every dying plant, every twisted grape vine, every parched forest. Jesus is thirsting for people who will plant trees for paradise, and food for thousands. Jesus thirsts for the day when the rains of the world can again nurture rain forests in Haiti and fruit trees in the desert. He thirsts for the lush vines that shall bedeck the walls of the New Jerusalem.

But what he thirsts for the most is a eucharistic imagination. Jesus spends his last day on earth passing cups around and encouraging people to share. Drink this. Drink all of you. Do this is remembrance of me. Drinking and sharing, sharing and drinking, this is what the Jesus on the cross wants us to do. This is what the thirsting Jesus wants us to do: drinking and sharing, passing the cup.

The world's imagination is an imagination of death: restrict consumption by eliminating your enemy. Send the wealth on to Rome, and let the local peons make due. But Jesus has proposed a new solution to the thirsts of the world: pass the cup and share. It is a eucharistic imagination, a hopeful dream. A holy week message. A drink that quenches.

Amen.