“Now there was a good and righteous man named
Joseph, who, though a member of the council, had
not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea,
and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God.
This
man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then
he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb
where no one had ever been laid. It
was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.”
- Luke 23:50-54
The
crowd had dispersed. The Roman soldiers had been assigned to new posts. The
religious leaders had returned to the temple. For the first time all morning,
the air was still at Golgotha. Three bloodstained crosses lay flat on the
hillside, stripped of the bodies they had once held aloft. Those discarded
crosses testified to the same truth as the silence: the crucifixion was over.
Jesus of Nazareth was dead.
For
a follower of Jesus, Friday afternoon was surely a day of soul searching. Some
had lost faith the moment they heard Jesus had been arrested. Others had been
holding out hope that even from the cross there would be some miraculous
escape, some angelic intervention, that at the last second Jesus would come
down from the cross in glory and claim his kingdom. But by Friday afternoon,
all hope was gone. Jesus was dead, and with him so were all their expectations
of God’s kingdom coming to earth. Friday was a day for mourning—mourning not
only the death of their Lord, but of their hope.
But
for one man, Joseph of Arimathea, there was still work to do. Like many others,
he had seen something in Jesus that inspired him, something that made him think
the arrival of God’s kingdom was imminent. Despite his position on the council,
he had not backed the religious leaders’ scheme to have Jesus killed, believing
that far from being a blasphemer, Jesus might actually be the anointed one the
prophets had foretold. Like the rest of Jesus’s followers, the crucifixion had
dashed his hopes. But even in his disappointment and grief, he felt he owed
something to Jesus. This man, Messiah or not, deserved more dignity than he had
been given. Maybe he had not brought the kingdom like he’d promised, but he at
least deserved a decent burial.
So,
mustering up his courage, Joseph had the gall to approach Pilate, who’d had more
than enough of the Jews and their demands for one day, to request the body of
Jesus. Sabbath was about to begin, he explained, and the body would need to be
tended to immediately. Could Pilate grant this last accommodation and give him
custody of it? Pilate, whether from a place of graciousness or simple
convenience, acquiesced.
Accompanied
only by Nicodemus and the women who had witnessed the crucifixion, Joseph placed
the body of Jesus in an unused rock tomb, wrapped it in linen cloth, and sealed
the tomb shut. With this last act, perhaps he could finally move on from the
Jesus who had so captivated him. With the stone rolled in front of the tomb
door, with Friday turning to Saturday and the Sabbath now in full effect,
perhaps he could use the day to reflect, for the last time, on all he had seen
Jesus do and heard him say. With the body now out of sight and his memory of
the crucifixion already beginning to fade in the cool light of a new morning, maybe
now he could transition from disappointment back to expectantly waiting on God.
After all, the crucifixion had been a piercing blow, but he still had faith—someday
God’s kingdom would come.
“Who
knows?” he thought. “It could even come tomorrow.”
No comments:
Post a Comment