Good Friday Homily: “I Thirst” (John 19:28)

 

Good Friday Homily: “I Thirst” (John 19:28): Friday the 18th of April 2025

Praise be to Jesus Christ 

Once, in a remote village an old woman lived. She was very poor and uneducated.  However, she used to go to the village church almost every day.  And in her hands, she always carried two things: a small bottle of water… and a piece of cloth.as she reach the church, she would slowly walk up to the crucifix, kneel down before the Cross,  and gently wipe the feet of Jesus with that cloth, and leave the water at the foot of the Cross. Then she would quietly return home. One day, the young assistant parish priest, who noticed it regularly, asked her curiously, “Granny, why do you keep this bottle of water here at the foot of the cross and wipe His feet like this every day?”

Her eyes were filled with tears. And she simply said, “Father, I don’t know how to say big prayers.  But when I look at Jesus on the Cross, I feel He is still suffering and He is still thirsty. This water, this cloth, it’s my little way of saying: I love You. I have not forgotten You.”

Yes, dear friends , She had no education. However, her heart understood something that many  of us miss: Jesus is still thirsty, and Jesus is still suffering.

On the Cross, in one of His last words, Jesus said, “I thirst.” And yes, He was physically thirsty. He had been beaten, crowned with thorns, nailed to a cross under the burning sun. Of course His body cried for water. But those words meant something deeper. It was not just the thirst of a dying man. It was the thirst of God; a thirst for us.

He thirsted for your heart. He thirsted for my return. He thirsted for the forgiveness of sinners, for the healing of broken souls, for the reunion of His children with the Father. His thirst was a longing… to love and to be loved.

And even while suffering so much, He was not thinking of Himself. He was thinking of us. He was thirsty… thirsty to forgive the very ones who nailed Him to the Cross — so He said, “Father, forgive them.” He was thirsty to give hope to a dying thief who turned to Him with a simple prayer — so He promised, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” He was thirsty to give us His own mother, to make sure we’re never alone — so He looked down and said, “Behold your mother.” And then, after giving everything… He whispered from the depths of His heart, “I thirst.”

And that thirst has not gone away. It is the thirst of God: a God who thirsts to save His people, a God who gives everything He has and still waits for us to come back, a God who is not angry, but thirsty – thirsty for our love, our return, our forgiveness, our prayer, our presence.

This thirst did not stop on Calvary. It continues even today. Mother Teresa of Calcutta understood this deeply. In every chapel of her Missionaries of Charity, behind the altar, these words are written: “I thirst.” She said that Jesus still thirsts for souls, especially for the poor, the lonely, the abandoned. She believed that we are called not just to hear those words, but to respond.

Look around our world today, there’s so much thirst. Families are dry. Love is fading. People live in the same house but don’t speak. Everyone is busy scrolling their phones, but no one looks each other in the eye. We have got Wi-Fi connections, but we have lost heart-to-heart connections. Everyone is holding a phone but, sadly, no one is holding each other. The mobile phone has entered our homes, but it has taken away our attention, our time, our love. People are in love with their screens more than with the faces around them. And Jesus is watching… and He is thirsty.

He is thirsty when a father comes home drunk and angry, and the family lives in fear.
He is thirsty when a mother cries alone at night, and the children no longer laugh.
He is thirsty when we walk past each other with bitterness in our hearts, refusing to forgive.
He is thirsty when people die without knowing His love.

He is thirsty in the confessional, waiting to forgive, but seldom we gone.
He is thirsty in the tabernacle, waiting silently, but we are too busy.

He is thirsty for our time, our return, our presence, our prayer.

The  Psalm 22,  which was fulfilled on the Cross, says: “My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws.” But that Psalm does not end in sorrow. It ends with hope: “They will proclaim His righteousness to a people yet unborn.” That is us. Jesus thirsted then, and He still thirsts, for this generation.

So, what can we do? Maybe we are small. Maybe we are tired. However, we can be like that old woman in the village. We can offer small acts of love. And those small acts, they matter.

Remember, when you forgive someone who hurt you, you give him a drink. When you sit with your parents, put away your phone, and talk with them you quench His thirst. When you go to confession with tears repenting of your sins, you quench His thirst. When you kneel in front of the Blessed Sacrament and say nothing but “Here I am”, you give him a drink. When you cook with love, speak kindly, help the sick, call someone who is lonely, you quench His thirst.

He does not ask for big things. He asks for our heart. Let us not leave Him thirsty. Let us not let Him cry alone from the Cross. Let us answer Him with our love, with our time, with our presence, with our return. Let today not be just the memory of a death but the beginning of new life in our families, in our hearts, in our faith.

Jesus is still thirsting. Will you give Him a drink?

Let us pray:

Jesus, I may not have much, but I give You my heart. 

Help me, O Lord, to quench Your thirst

With my love, with my return, with my life. Amen.

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God Bless…