Good Friday – 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Tonight we continue our three day service. We really began two nights ago – at our healing Eucharist – when we remembered the betrayal of Jesus. But the three part service that makes up what we call the Paschal Triduum started last night, when we remembered the final meal Jesus shared with his disciples. There he washed their feet, an example of servant ministry, and commanded all who follow him to love one another as he loved us. And after praying in the garden of Gethsemane, he was arrested.
And, so we are now here on Good Friday to stand at the foot of the cross, to experience the pain of grief and loss, to bear witness to the cruelty of empire, to feel the darkness of the tomb.
Why would we willingly choose to do this?
Because we know that if we do not, Easter is rendered meaningless. There can be no victory over death without the death itself. And so here we are, gathered together, on this most holy night.
One particular moment of the Passion struck me this Good Friday. It was in the sixth reading tonight, and is something that happens in all four gospel accounts – Jesus is offered sour wine or vinegar (the poor man’s wine the soldiers would drink). Sometimes it is noted that it is mixed with gall, a narcotic mixture offered to those being crucified to ease their suffering. In the gospel of John, read this evening, this offering of sour wine is in response to Jesus saying, “I thirst.”
“I thirst.”
We can hear in these words the anguish of Jesus.
Crucifixion was a horrendous way to suffer before death – your lungs collapsing from your own weight, your body exposed to the full heat of the sun for hours, even days. And so one can only imagine the thirst anyone would have hanging on a cross.
“I thirst.”
He likely did, but perhaps there is a deeper meaning to his words in this gospel account.
Some say it is a reference to a number of Psalms Jesus would have known so well – Psalm 69 in particular. Perhaps. But earlier in this gospel, I think we get a better understanding of why he said it, and why it matters to us.
In one of the first chapters of this gospel, John 4, which we read just a few weeks ago, Jesus enters into a dialog with a Samaritan woman at a well. When this woman wonders why he has come to the well without something in which to draw the water out, Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”
And yet, as he nears death, Jesus says in his anguish, “I thirst.”
The living water thirsts.
How can this be?
One of the themes I keep being drawn back to this Holy Week, perhaps because of all that is happening in the world, is from another of our canonical Gospels – the Gospel of Matthew. In that gospel, Jesus tells us where he may be found in the world – in the poor, the immigrant, the imprisoned, the sick, the naked, the hungry, and those who thirst.
Tonight, Jesus, the living water thirsts.
Indeed, he truly does now. For he is in all who suffer in this world today. And he thirsts for righteousness, justice, love, healing, and grace.
Mother Theresa had a sign above the entrance to the chapel in all her missions around the word. It read, “I thirst, I quench.” Whenever we, the body of Christ, who is the living water, tend to those who thirst – physically, spiritually, mentally, or emotionally – we quench the thirst of Jesus himself.
That was Jesus’ final message to us all – he thirsts.
After all he had tried to do in the world, there was then, and now, more to do – Jesus thirsts, and so we too thirst, for alleviation of suffering for all of God’s children, for an end to the abuse of all of God’s creation.
In his final moments, Jesus reminds us of the work we are called to do. He implores us not to forget him.
“I thirst.”
So, as we go out into the night of the tomb, let us not forget him in the world, let us thirst too.
Let us hear his cry “I thirst,” and let it be our cry as the body of Christ.
Let us offer spiritual gall – not to dope the mind with narcotic, but to ease the pain of our sisters and brothers who suffer.
Let us be the water of life, quenching the thirst of others with his love, grace, and light.
Jesus thirsts.
May we go out into the world to meet him at the cross, and offer him the living water of our lives.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 3, 2026
Good Friday
Psalm 22
Gospel – John 18:1-19:42
