Sour Wine for a Suffering Savior

I have been thinking about bit roles lately. I have been lavishing my attention on the two verse characters of Matthew; the people who we overlook, acting as if they are merely a part of the plot, rather than beautiful creatures of God.

It so is, that this quiet Friday night, I'm reading the Crucifixion story hoping to read it with virgin eyes, desiring to not gloss the text as one who has heard the account over and over again. I wanted to read it as it is, for its beauty in literary form; for all that it was written to be and no more.

And there it is. A bit role that unfolds an image of reverence that we overlook. In Matthew 27:46, Christ cries out in agony. The crowds, we're told in verse 47, are confused. Yet one man runs to soak a sponge in sour wine.

Its a funny image, if you think about it. Here is this unidentified man who we are to assume is a part of this ground who does not understand what Jesus just said. Yet, seeing this man hanging on a cross, crying out in pain, he is moved to provide comfort. He finds a sponge, who knows where, and dips it in sour wine.

Sour wine, as I learned from Google, is really vinegar. Its likely that what this man was offering to Jesus was the same as what the guards had earlier offered. This vinegar was a painkiller of sorts, a way to lessen the pain.

So this man, who doesn't know Jesus, sees his pain and runs to provide something for it. He knows he can't save him, but he wants to offer something.

This man is left standing there with a vinegar soaked sponge, as Jesus dies.

That's all we have of this man. We know nothing of what he does after, nothing of his encounter with Christ's death, only that he aimed to comfort Christ in his last moments. He came to offer something Christ did not need, something that he likely knew was a small consolation in terms of the great agony of the Cross, yet he was moved to try anyways.

That's me. That's me most days to be honest. I see the work Christ has done and want to cut him a deal. I want to pitch in and do my part to make it ever so easier for him. I'm standing at the Cross with a Mary Poppins bag, asking Jesus what might make his day a little easier.

And to be honest, Christ would be the same with me or without me. He would carry the same weight, feel the same agonizing pain of true death, and he would rise and conquer it all in the same way.

Yet, there is something unexplainably beautiful about that man on the Cross that I seem to identify with. Its foolishness, sure, but its compassion. The others in the ground were content to wait and see. They beckon him to step away from the Cross and observe. Yet this one man betrays his friends and seeks out comfort for a stranger.

So when I sit at the foot of the Cross with my purse full of contraptions, I may never be able to help God out, but I will be demonstrating compassion and love.