The Fifth Word: "I Thirst..."

rendering by Rembrandt

Today we come to the fifth word that came down from the cross. “After this, Jesus knowing that all was now finished said, ‘I thirst.’ A bowl full of vinegar and sour wine stood there; so they put a sponge full of vinegar on hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the vinegar, he said, ‘It is finished,’ and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

Let's read it again. "After this, Jesus knowing that it was all finished, he said, 'I thirst." After what? After four other words were spoken. After the sun was high in the sky and the afternoon wore on. After the blood had dried and the flies came. After the laughter had worn thin and the crowds had grown tired and began to dwindle away. After the dehydration had set in. For exposure to sun and wind and rain is the worst part they say of crucifixion. The body of the crucified literally dries out. Across the body there would steal a terrible desire for something to quench the thirst--to soothe the burning throat--just a drink to kill the parched, dry feeling for the moment. "After this...Jesus said, 'I thirst.'"

After what? After he had forgiven them—the crowds? After what? After he had remembered a dying thief?  After what? After he had given his mother to John and, the disciple John to his mother. After what? After he had spoken his “Why hast thou forsaken me?”—to the Father himself?

After all of this—we come to the fifth word. ”I thirst.” His time was almost gone. It would not be long now. This is the only word in seven that deals with physical pain. This is the only word that Jesus spoke about his suffering. 

What does this fifth word mean? Unless it means that he identified with all the hurting folk whose needs are elemental and basic. Abraham Maslow—psychologist—years ago said that if we do not meet the basic developmental needs of people we cannot ever deal with their other needs. They cannot hear, they cannot understand, if their primary needs have been ignored. Nor can ours.

Basic needs? The need for bread. The need to be loved. The need to be affirmed. The need to bed warm and safe and free. The need just to have a chance. Rubbing as Q-tip of water over cracked lips, holding a head so gently and putting into their mouths one of those little curving straws and whispering, "Can you taste it?" It's taking a glass of water down a darkened hallway in the middle of the night to a child who has called out, "Mama, I'm thirsty." This is basic business--this fifth word.

photo by Michael Hamann / flickr 

This is also a word for self. It is also a word for humanity. He asked the crowd, "Somebody, somebody out there help me!" Here he stands with all those whom the church has largely ignored. For Jesus knew that until the basic needs are met we cannot talk about other thing. Even Jesus or salvation or heaven or whatever.

Abraham Lincoln told this funny story about an extremely pious chaplain in the Civil War who would go from division to division asking theological questions. The soldiers dreaded to see him coming. He would purse his lips and say, “Do you believe in the sovereignty of God? “ He would say things like: “What do you think of predestination?” “How do you feel about the Antinomians in the book of Galatians.” Real cutting-edge questions. One day after it had rained and rained and the cannons were stuck in the mud, the Reverend came to a boy knee-deep in mud trying to push a cannon out of the mud. Tip-toeing through the muck the chaplain put his hand on the soldier’s shoulder and asked, “Brother, have you accepted the Lord?” And the man turned and said, “Don’t ask me any riddles I’m stuck in the mud!” 

And this fifth word that came down from the cross is a word for all the mud-splattered. They are everywhere.My daughter-teacher talks about all the kids in her school that get breakfast and lunch or they would be hungry all day. And on week-ends the school gives them food to take home in little sacks so they will have something to eat Saturdays and Sundays. This is America. And how in the world can we expect people to get any better when they don’t even have enough to eat. 

And all these people standing outside abortion clinics don’t have time for the born. They are trying to protect fetuses. And we know what happens to those born that fall through the cracks. Every person who has taken an AK 47 had shot up schools and churches—were kids who had never had a decent home life. Never had anybody to really love them. Because nobody met their basic needs—nobody took them a cup of water some night when they needed it. Nobody was there. 

We’re too busy worrying about giving teachers guns and talking about mental health facilities which we have cut almost in half. Talking about prayers in the classroom. Or getting those aging grandmas taking care of grandchildren off the rolls and back to work. Let’s quit dealing with riddles when people are hanging on by their fingernails.

photo by gato-gato-gato / flickr

Our text says that at the foot of the cross there was a bowl of vinegar—really soured wine. It was used for anesthetic purposes. They would place a sponge-full on a spear and hold it up to the parched lips of those on the cross. The crowd heard the fifth word that Jesus spoke, “I’m thirsty” and somebody responded and it helped—it helped enormously. Caring always does.

Caring matters. We’ve all known it. Remember that time you were in the hospital and couldn’t get out of bed. There were too many tubes and you felt terrible after surgery and you couldn’t help yourself. Nauseated and in pain that seemed endless. And you pushed the button on your bed and somebody came. They patted you on the am, they gave you a shot, they lifted a cup of water to your lips and wiped your brow. And that said, “Honey, it’s gonna get better.” And you made it because somebody heard you were thirsty and came and touched your need.

Do you remember the last parable that Jesus gave? What did he say, there toward the end? “Inasmuch as you do it unto the least of these…” Lord, who are the these? Who are they? And he named them one by one: the hungry…the thirsty…the naked…those in prison…the homeless…the sick. Anybody in need. And then he said: “Inasmuch as you do it unto the least of these—you do it unto me.” No qualifications. No deserving. Just folks. 

But we want to talk about the infallibility of the Bible. What are we gonna do with these gays? Reckon he believes in the virgin birth? Why is New Spring so big and we are so little. And down beside all of these we have this fifth word. Simple. Basic. “I thirst.” This is a word of identification. Whoever out there needs. This cross-beam comes all the way down to where you stand and I stand and where we weep and wonder. It is a word for all of us. A word for every human being. Nobody is left out.

photo by Lane Foumerot / flickr

Not even those women who wear hajis on their head and wonder if somebody will say something mean in the mall.  Not even children who dress in old hand-me-downs and never get chosen for anything. Nobody is left out. Not even that little couple with one little baby and not enough money and having such a strain in their marriage. They need somebody to knock on their door and invite them to church or just smile at them in the grocery store—or treat these strangers like they are somebody.

God knows my track record has not been too good with this fifth word. I have passed by more times than I should. Lousy Samaritan. But when I first lived here behind our church there was an old house the Drug and Alcohol Abuse Center wanted to use for a half-way house. Well—that was quite a discussion. But when the dust cleared we finally said yes and these troubled, troubled men came to find healing—we hoped. There was one man that lost his family. They couldn’t take the drinking and the drugs. But he got better and he talked his family into coming back. And the wife worked at our church for awhile. And they needed a place to live. And at that time we were trying to build a Habitat House for somebody. Its was the first Habitat House in Pickens Country. And we chose this family. I even worked a little on that house—but not enough to brag about. But when we finished this couple and their three children moved in. He got a job on a Garbage truck in the city and life began slowly to come together. We moved away. Were gone over twenty years and moved back. One morning I forgot to put our garbage can out. As the truck moved on I ran down the street with my garbage. And yelled, “Stop! Stop!”  And the truck stopped. And a black man got off the back and came to get my garbage sack. As he got closer he looked familiar. It was the man that received our first Habitat House. I couldn’t believe it. “Curtys,” I said. “Curtys, is that you?” And he said, “Dr. Lovette! Dr. Lovette!” “Curtys”, I said, “I didn’t know you were still here.” “Oh yeah” he said, “Still living in the house. Got it paid far. Getting ready too retire from the City.” 

We don’t get enough victories in this business. But once in a while it happens. It is the job of us all. Like that soldier at the cross. He dipped his spear in the soured wine on a sponge and lifted it up to the parched lips of Jesus. Somebody said of all the people around that cross he would have liked to be that soldier. I think he was right. 

Let’s try to take a cup of water to somebody out there who is thirsty. For inasmuch as you do unto the least of these—we do it unto him. Maybe that is where we meet him after all.

(This sermon was preached at the First Presbyterian Church, Pendleton, SC, March 18, 2018)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com