Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips.
John 19:28-29

As I reflected on this passage I was struck by the beginning phrase, “knowing that all was now completed.” This is a climactic moment on many levels. It is the climax of John’s literary work. It is the climax of Jesus’ messianic work. And it is the climax of God’s creative and re-creative work. Everything converges at this moment of time and space.

So at this watershed moment in creation’s history, why does John record Jesus’ first words as “I am thirsty?” Having read through most of John’s gospel together in our community of faith, I found Jesus statement evoking frightening questions within me. Here hangs Jesus, at the climax of his and God’s work. And he states he is thirsty. In light of this confession, how could he have told the Samaritan woman, “whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14)? Or how could he tell the crowds “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35)? Or when he interrupts the Feast of Tabernacles in Jerusalem and controversially proclaims, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him” (John 7:37-38)?

Or let me restate the question to bring out what I’m really getting at: How dare Jesus make such extravagant claims about himself when at the climactic and pivotal moment of history, he himself is thirsty? His proclamation of thirst makes me aware of my thirst and my desire to have that thirst quenched. I am needy. But at this climactic moment when I come to him with my need, he himself seems needy.

So what’s the answer to the questions? Some have said, that Jesus realizes that everything is completed, and like an athlete who has completed his competition, Jesus is now racked with fatigue and physical thirst. But this trivializes the moment. “Jesus, now that you’ve finished your Father’s eternal plan for creation, what are you going to do now?” “I’m going to have a drink.”

Others have locked onto John’s statement that Jesus is fulfilling Scripture and linked it with the obscure reference to vinegar in Psalm 69:21. But again, why would John climax everything with such a seemingly vague reference to a psalm that contains such little and even contradictory meaning?

The more I reflect, the more I’m convinced that there are no easy answers. But then, I need to ask myself, “Why do I want easy answers?” In this moment when God’s complex and mysterious plans are being fulfilled, why do I want to trivialize everything into neat, tidy, understandable answers?

I realize that as I stand before Jesus hanging on a tree, the new tree of life, my desire to have an easy answer is my way of eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. In other words, my desire to have palatable answers is my way of trying to be like God. When I can fathom the mysteries of God, I’m in control. I no longer have to wrestle with the dissonance in my soul. I no longer have to be embarrassed by the difficulties of the unknown. And in turn, I can dispense wisdom to others, exerting another form of control since knowledge is power. I fool myself with the rationalization that if I understood, I could worship better. But in reality, when I possess easy answers, I no longer have to stand in silence and reverence. I no longer have to wrestle with God and be like Jacob, emerging from the struggle with no answers, but with a lifelong limp.

So rather than searching for answers, I choose to bask in the immensity of John’s message. I choose to relax in the mystery of the moment. Rather than asking “How?” or “Why?”, I choose to immerse myself in John’s story and when it has played itself out, simply say, “Thank you.”

As we enter the climax of John’s story, we notice a couple of symbols dovetailing together at this moment. The first one is wine. Jesus proclaims his thirst and it is satiated with cheap wine. And almost reflexively, our minds go back to the first reference of wine in John’s story – the transforming of water into wine at the wedding in Cana.

John told us that this was the first sign within his story. Like small road signs, John’s signs would eventually lead us somewhere. That first sign, turning water into the best wine, has subtly led us to our destination. And in many ways, we have ended where we started. Jesus is still transforming the water of human need into the best wine of God’s love. But to do this, we find a significant reversal. Rather than giving the best wine for others to drink, Jesus drinks the cheap wine of humanity’s depravity. This is the mysterious climax of God’s work – the fullness of God entering into and drinking deep from the depths of our pain, our thirst, our hunger, our need, in order to rescue us.

An equally significant symbol is water. As I mentioned earlier, Jesus has spoken often about the living water he offers. And as the wine-giver must drink from humanity’s bitter wine, the living water also experiences humanity’s thirst. In Isaiah, water and thirst have layers of meaning. Thirst is symbolic of exile and the restoration of water is part of the vision of returning from exile.

Therefore my people will go into exile for lack of understanding; their men of rank will die of hunger and their masses will be parched with thirst.
Is. 5:13; cf Is 35:1-10

Thirst is also equated with the absence of justice and the provision of water as God setting things to rights.

For the fool speaks folly, his mind is busy with evil: He practices ungodliness and spreads error concerning the LORD; the hungry he leaves empty and from the thirsty he withholds water.
Is. 32:6

Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says: “My servants will eat, but you will go hungry; my servants will drink, but you will go thirsty; my servants will rejoice, but you will be put to shame.
Is. 65:13

Ultimately, water represents the Spirit of God.

For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring, and my blessing on your descendants. Is. 44:3

The return from exile, the defeat of evil with justice, and the presence of God. These were the three distinguishing aspects that virtually everyone expected from the Messiah. Jesus’ offer of living water was God’s cup of compassion, quenching humanity’s thirst of exile, injustice and the absence of God.

So at this climactic moment of God’s salvation in creation, Jesus enters into humanity’s thirst – the anointed one exiled, the righteous one suffering the greatest injustice, the intimate one forsaken. The river of living water converges and mingles with the sewer of humanity’s deepest needs. This again, is a mystery. Because at this moment, Jesus seems as needy and barren as the rest of us. And in moments, he will plummet even deeper into humanity’s barrenness – the eternal life dies.

As I come to the cross to drink, to be delivered from exile, evil and God’s absence, Jesus seems to be as dry and unyielding as a rock rather than the fresh river of pure living water that I expected. Yet, in my wilderness I have nowhere else to go. Then it dawns on me that Jesus truly is the rock in my wilderness. And as God’s cross-shaped staff strikes the seemingly barren rock, miraculously, life-giving water flows.

I’m overwhelmed by this mystery. At the height of God’s climactic event, Jesus stoops into the furthest depths of human need. And it is from the depths of his thirst that my thirst is quenched.

As I live my daily life in the silhouette of the cross and hear Jesus say, “I am thirsty,” I am more aware of my own thirst. From where will I drink? Will I try to satisfy my need with the bitter gall of humanity’s cheap wine easily within my reach? Or will I look up at this barren man, seemingly dry as a rock and above my reach, but from whom miraculously flows living water? And as this living water touches my life, it’s transformed into the choicest wine of God’s love.

And all I can say is, “Thank you.”