Sermon, April 9, 2003, by Rev. Art Wiese
Sermon Text -- John 19:28-29
A cartoonist friend of mine once drew a brief comic strip which featured a young man looking up into the night and staring at the stars in the sky. As he gazed up at the constellations, the stars slowly began to move from place to place, arranging and rearranging themselves in new patterns, until they finally came to rest spelling out the words: "You are absolutely insignificant!" Now, we can perhaps excuse him for expressing the naïve frustrations of a college student, or we can forgive him for the feelings of emptiness and isolation which sometimes accompany the difficulties of life, or we can explain his views as an example of the alienation and estrangement that is sometimes common to the young, or maybe we could say that he was just beginning to appreciate the vastness of God's entire universe. I don't know that we ever discussed it, but I do know that such feelings are not unusual for people who undergo the sufferings and hardships of this world. We might say that our individuality is a miraculous gift, but it is also a source of the feelings of isolation and loneliness that creep into everyone' s life from time to time. We are born alone and we die alone. No one can do it for us. As we take our particular set of talents and abilities into the our journey through life, we alone experience the questions, the emotions and the mysteries that seem to accompany us. Occasionally, we all may look up into the night sky and wonder if our lives do have any significance. Does what we do in this world really matter? Is there anyone out there who really cares?
When Jesus dragged his cross through the streets of Jerusalem toward the place of crucifixion, he did it, for the most part, alone. There was no one there to encourage him, to comfort him, to lift his spirits. Instead, the crowds that lined the way jeered at him, hurled insults at him, and scoffed at his beaten figure. Eventually, a bystander was enlisted to help him carry the heavy cross. It was the only comfort he received. Later, as he hung on that same cross, his body dehydrated from the ordeal, we hear that he cried out in human need, "I am thirsty." It was a simple request. But his request for something to drink was not met with compassion and kindness, but an offering of sour wine, the equivalent of vinegar. Psalm 69 gives us some insight into the scene. "Insults have broken my heart, so that I am in despair," it says in part. "I looked for pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found no one. They gave me poison for food, and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink" (Ps. 69:20-21). Why? Why were the people so cruel when he called for water? Why was he so alone in his ultimate struggle? What was God trying to say through this unfolding drama of abandonment. abuse and pain? The answer is that God would have us know that when Jesus asks for water he is one of us. He is thirsty. He is human. He knows loneliness. He hurts. He has needs. He is just like us.
None of us may ever be physically beaten like Jesus. We may never have to endure the kind of scorn that was showered upon him, nor may we ever have to undergo the public humiliation that he did; but, we do know what it is like to feel pain. We do know what it is like to be criticized and to be overlooked. The road through life is never smooth. There are times when we are disappointed and we need encouragement. We get left out of the action and we need love. Our favorite project fails and we need support. A friend spreads gossip about us and we need understanding. We wonder whether anyone really cares and we need to find a gentle touch. Of course, it's not all just emotional pain and suffering. We hurt physically too. Our bodies weaken. Our joints ache. Our backs cry out in pain. We get sick. Illness takes its toll and someday we'll die. Like Jesus, in our hurt or weakness or loneliness, we thirst for the cool water of God's comfort and the power of God's love. When life overwhelms us, we want to feel the assurance of God's help. But, how can we know that God cares?
We know because the Scriptures tell us that God has gone before us on this journey we call life. In Jesus, God has walked the dusty road of human need. In Jesus, God identified with the needy and they were healed. In Jesus, God grieved over the death of a beloved friend and raised him from the dead. In Jesus, God endured the pain of human suffering and overcame it in victory over all the powers of evil. Had he not shown his humanness, we might despair in our struggles, but Jesus called out in his moment of need, "I am thirsty! I am thirsty!" In his anguish, we see our own pains. In his suffering, we see our own distress. Because of it, we know we are loved. Because of it, we know we are not alone. God loves us. In our deepest hour of human need, Jesus stoops down to be with us. And through his dying, he says to us, "I am your partner on this journey through life."
That is no small thing. In his commentary on Psalm 110, Martin Luther relates Jesus' suffering to the words "he will drink from the brook (or stream)." That means, says Luther, that "he will suffer and die." "By 'drink ' or 'cup'," he goes on, "Scripture means any sort of torture, misery and suffering .. 'He will drink from the brook' is intended to show that he will not feel ordinary or small pains and misery; but he will bear and endure the greatest, the most bitter and cruel pain and torture, and will die a most contemptible death." Through his death on the cross, Jesus desires no mere sip of human suffering. He takes a big gulp of human agony. And through it, he tastes the entire flood of human need.
Amen.