Mark 15:42-47
When we say the creeds, one of the key lines of Christian doctrine that we always recite is our belief that Jesus “suffered under Pontius Pilate and was crucified dead and buried.” It’s interesting to me that we have holy days to celebrate Jesus’ death and resurrection, but we don’t often say much about his burial—it’s just an assumed fact. And yet, in our New Testament lesson from I Corinthians 15, Paul mentions it again as part of the “first importance” of the Gospel record: that Christ “died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised according to the Scriptures.”
All four Gospels record the burial of Jesus in some detail, and many argue that they do so because the details of the tomb and the disposition of the body of Jesus are critical pieces of evidence that support the claims of the resurrection two days later—that Jesus was really dead and was buried in the usual way—the body washed and wrapped in a cloth and then laid out in a tomb that was either a natural or man-made cave. The body would then be anointed with spices to help keep down the smell and hasten decomposition. A year later, the family would return to the tomb and collect the bones, placing them in a stone box called an ossuary, that would then be put in a niche in the back of the tomb. All of this is stated and implied in the burial stories.
But while that is all critical to the story, the Gospels seem to be as concerned with who did the burying as they are with how it was done. In Roman practice, the bodies of crucified criminals and revolutionaries were either left to rot on their crosses as warnings to passersby, the flesh eventually stripped away by scavenging vultures, or they were tossed into an open garbage pit where they could be ignominiously disposed of by dogs. The Jews, however, were concerned about getting the bodies of their dead in tombs or underground since touching the dead could make one ritually unclean.
Usually, it was the family’s responsibility to care for the dead. There were no funeral homes then and people were generally well acquainted with the process of burial. When no family was present, or if they were indisposed, it was the responsibility of the friends of the deceased. The Gospel writers make it clear, however, that the Lord’s own twelve public disciples are nowhere to be found. They are hiding in fear or, in Peter’s case, in a corner weeping with shame over his denial of his friend and rabbi. This is such a contrast to the story earlier in Mark when John the Baptist was beheaded by the fearful puppet king Herod Antipas, who sold out the prophet in exchange for a dance by his ill-gotten wife’s beautiful daughter. After John was killed, it was John’s disciples who came and took his body for burial, risking themselves to appear in the open. Jesus’ disciples, however, are too afraid of being associated with the crucified Christ and stay far away from their duties.
Their absence, however, brings an unusual patron of Jesus on to center stage. All four Gospels tells us that Joseph of Arimathea was the one who took responsibility for the body of Jesus from the cross to the tomb. This is the only place he appears in any of the Gospel narratives. We don’t know much about him before our after he briefly appears on the stage as the unusual undertaker.
Each of the Gospel writers fills in a little detail of his resume. They all agree that he was from Arimathea, a nondescript place so obscure that scholars debate the location, but from there the Gospel portraits both diverge and converge. Mark tells us that he was “a respected member of the council, waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God.” Matthew adds that the was “a rich man,” while Luke sees him as “a good and righteous man who, though a member of the council, had not agreed to their plan or action” in wanting Jesus crucified. John gives us a less flattering portrait by saying that Joseph was “a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews.” If you put all those portraits together we get the idea that Joseph was a member of the council—the body of religious elites in Jerusalem who convicted Jesus, and yet he as also somewhat of a shadow disciple, an admirer of Jesus who opposed his crucifixion but kept to the background rather than risk his own life and reputation to stop it. And yet, when the time came to deal with Jesus’ death, it was Joseph alone who stepped up in a big way—so much so that he is still revered as a saint today in both the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches.
We have to ask: what changed him from a secret admirer to the caretaker of the body of Christ? What made him step from the shadows into the light? How did he move from being a fan to being a follower?
These are critical questions, particularly in a world that increasingly neither admires Jesus nor follows him. Even in many churches, people like to stay in the shadows and be fans of Jesus from a distance lest their association with him cost them their reputation and respectability in the world they inhabit the other six days a week.
But Jesus never called admirers, only followers and the journey from one to another requires some deep reflection—reflection that we find in the journey of Joseph of Arimathea from the shadows to the serving Jesus.
John tells us that Joseph was first only an admirer of Jesus because of his fear of what his fellow Jewish leaders would think or, as Matthew tells us, maybe it was because he was a rich man and feared the hit his reputation and bank account would take if he became publicly associated with Jesus. Joseph had a lot to lose, and as Jesus warned, it is harder for those who have a lot to lose to get into the kingdom of God—as difficult as a camel going through the eye of a needle. Others who admired Jesus, like the rich young ruler, fell into the same grip of fear. He wanted to follow Jesus, but when Jesus told him it would cost him everything, the young man went away sad. The thought of losing out on the good life the world has to offer is a strong pull for many. It is far safer to be an admirer of Jesus than a follower.
It’s a fear that still chases many Christians today. The Christian teenager in high school might be afraid to lose his or her reputation and status among friends if he or she doesn’t go along with their destructive behavior. The Christian businessman may find it difficult to follow Jesus when his paycheck is at stake, even though the company is engaged in unethical practices. The opportunities to remain an admirer of Jesus and still follow the ways of the world are myriad. It’s the temptation to think, “What will people say?” rather than “What will God say?”
“The difference between an admirer and a follower still remains, no matter where you are,” said the Danish Christian philosopher Soren Kierkegaard. “The admirer never makes any true sacrifices. He always plays it safe. Though in words, phrases, songs, he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, gives up nothing, will not reconstruct his life, will not be what he admires, and will not let his life express what it is he supposedly admires.”
But the truth is that the kingdom of God that Joseph was expectantly waiting for only comes through the bold movements of followers. Sometimes you have to risk your own reputation in order to advance God’s reputation. To be a Christian is personal, but it’s never private. Our faith is to be lived in the open, and that requires coming out of the shadows and taking a stand no matter the cost. Imagine if Paul had chosen a simple life of study instead of becoming a missionary; imagine if Martin Luther had simply had a few more beers instead of writing up and nailing his 95 theses to the Wittenberg Door; imagine if John Wesley had decided to live the comfortable life of a settled Anglican priest instead of taking to the fields with the gospel? Christ has plenty of admirers. What he is looking for is followers!
But how do we get that sort of holy boldness? What changed Joseph of Arimathea from a secret disciple to suddenly being the one person who would risk his reputation by lovingly burying the body of the very one his friends had condemned? Well, I think it’s the thing that turns anyone who is an admirer of Jesus into a follower—he was confronted with the cross.
Joseph no doubt had seen or at least heard about Jesus’ miracles, his healings, his teachings on the kingdom—all things that admirers flocked to experience. But it was the cross that seemed to grab him. Like the centurion at the foot of the cross who saw Jesus die, Joseph had seen Jesus on the cross and knew this was no ordinary person. While they pounded the nails, he forgave. While he hung in pain, he didn’t shout curses but prayers. With his last breath he gave praise to God. It was an unjust penalty, a horrific miscarriage of justice, and Joseph, watching the innocent man die, knew that he had to pick a side. He could no longer stand by silent and though he never speaks a word we get to hear in the Gospels, his actions speak loud—he was captivated by the cross.
Anyone who moves from being an admirer of Jesus to be a follower usually does so only after standing at the foot of the cross. “The cross is a wondrous magnet, drawing to Jesus every [person] of true metal,” said the great 19th century preacher Charles Spurgeon. When we are confronted with the reality that the one who died on the cross died for us and for the world, we cannot simply admire that fact—we have to respond to it. The follower of Jesus knows just how much he or she has been forgiven, how little he or she deserves his grace, and how much it cost him to make a new life possible.
As Spurgeon put it, “If the Cross does not bring a [person] out, what will? If the spectacle of dying love does not quicken us into courageous affection for him, what can?”
And so Joseph leaves behind comfort and security and goes to Pontius Pilate, a conversation with a Gentile that would likely leave him ritually unclean for the Passover Sabbath. It’s clear that Joseph is one of the wealthy elites who has access to power, but now he uses it not for his gain but for a strange request: give me the body of the man Jesus, so that I can bury him. Pilate grants the request, but then comes the gruesome task of washing and burying—a task that would certainly make him unclean given that touching dead body was one of the primary markers of uncleanness.
And yet Joseph still “took” the body of Jesus, the body of Christ, moving from secrecy to service, admirer to undertaker. He performs the task that will make him an outsider in more ways that one, and yet you get the sense from his work, burying Jesus in what was probably his own freshly cut tomb, that he does so with a new purpose. The cross changed him forever, his name forever associated with Jesus.
We still have the opportunity to “take” the body of Christ and become his disciples. Every time we come to the table of communion, we hear the words of institution: he “took, he gave thanks, he gave it to his disciples.” This is the body of Christ for the Body of Christ. We cannot come to the table as admirers of Jesus, lest the body of Christ remain dead and dark within us. Remember, Judas was an admirer of Jesus who left the table to look after his own interests. We must come as disciples who take the grace of Christ into ourselves. It’s only when we take him into the darkness of our lives that we can truly experience the bright light of his resurrection in us and through us!
As you prepare to come to the table today to take the body of Christ, what is the fear that holds you back from truly being his follower? What are you holding on to that keeps you in the shadows as a secret admirer? Whose opinions do you value more than God’s? How might the reality of the cross give you a holy boldness, knowing that Christ suffered and died on your behalf?
Joseph of Arimathea identified with Jesus in his death. We do the same in our baptism, taking on the death of Christ so that we then might participate in his resurrection. In a world where people will increasingly be afraid to say that they are his followers, we must be willing to step out of the shadows and into the light and proclaim the truth: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again!
Like the other two men we’ve talked about so far in this series, Joseph of Arimathea disappears from the Bible at this point, but that didn’t stop many subsequent legends from trying to fill in the blank. One of the more prominent legends about Joseph is that he took charge of the Holy Grail, the cup of Christ containing his blood, and brought it to Britain where he also became the ancestor of the legendary King Arthur. It’s an interesting story with virtually no basis in historical fact, but it nonetheless speaks to Joseph’s character as the servant and caretaker of Christ’s body and his blood.
As we receive Christ’s body and his blood today, let us be mindful that they are not to be hidden in us. We must step forth from the shelter of the sanctuary and into the world proclaiming that the one who hung on a cross is really the Lord and Savior of all. “The cross is a wondrous magnet, drawing to Jesus every [person] of true metal.” May it draw you to the table this morning with a new boldness to step forward and offer your life as a servant of Christ. Amen.
Source:
Kierkegaard, Soren. Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard.
Spurgeon, Charles H. “Joseph of Arimathea.” SpurgeonGems.org
