Give Me His Body

Mark 15:42-47

March 24, 2024 (Palm Sunday) • Mount Pleasant UMC

As he made his way to the fortress, all sorts of things were probably going through his mind. I sort of imagine he was remembering the events of the week, especially the past Sunday when Jesus had entered the city. A triumph it wasn’t, at least not in the way most of his disciples expected, but it was significant. It caught the attention of the religious leaders, for sure, as people waved palm branches and laid down their cloaks on the ground. Those were the sorts of things you did for a king. You would go out of the city and welcome him to town because if you didn’t it would appear as if you couldn’t be bothered to greet the king properly (Keener, Bible Background Commentary: New Testament, pg. 165; Wright, Surprised by Hope, pgs. 132-133). This is just what you did. Of course, a king would have been riding a stallion, not a donkey, so the contrast was a little jarring. But nonetheless, Joseph, who believed in Jesus but hadn’t made that belief public yet (cf. John 19:38), was excited when he saw it happening and even more excited when he heard what the people were calling out. “Hosanna!” they shouted, which means “Save us!” And then they sang that song from the Psalms: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” There was great hope in the air that this was the year Jesus was coming to Jerusalem to re-establish the kingdom of David and send the Romans packing (cf. Mark 11:7-10).

Even that evening, though, Jesus didn’t do what was expected. He entered the city, ditched the donkey, went into the Temple courts, and then—nothing. He left town. He took his followers back across the Mount of Olives and spent the night with friends in Bethany (Mark 11:11). Why did he not take advantage of the momentum that the parade into town built up? Joseph didn’t understand, and as the week went on and Jesus said and did things that made people angry, he understood less and less. He had been ready to reveal his loyalty to Jesus at the beginning of the week, but within a day or so, he was thinking again that maybe he should keep it quiet.

After all, Joseph had a lot to lose if he revealed his connection to Jesus. He had moved to Jerusalem some time ago from a small village called Arimathea, a hill town. And while he appreciated his heritage, he had always known he was made for more. He also knew he wasn’t going to be successful if he stayed in the small town. So he came to Jerusalem, worked hard, and became a wealthy man. He was well-thought-of and belonged to all the best organizations in town. He was respected, liked, and was often the first person contacted if there was a big project to be funded. He was a “good and upright man” (Luke 23:50), and because of that he had even been elected to the Sanhedrin, the Jewish ruling council (cf. Kalas, Seven Words to the Cross, pgs. 49-50). But it was that election that had now landed his soul in such turmoil.

The night before, a meeting of the Sanhedrin had been called quickly. It was the middle of the night as he made his way through the streets to the meeting chambers, and Joseph was confused. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait until morning? And then, when he entered, he saw Jesus standing before the council. That’s when he understood. They had finally arrested him, and since tomorrow (or later today, actually) was the beginning of the Passover celebration, those who wanted to get rid of Jesus had to do something before the festival. The debate and questioning had been fierce, and Joseph was one of the few dissenting voices (cf. Luke 23:51). But by the time it was over and the Sanhedrin rulers led Jesus away to Pilate, Joseph felt like it had all been pre-decided anyway. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have made any difference in the outcome. But he sure was going to make a difference now. He hadn’t spoke up much then, but now there was a conviction in his gut that propelled him forward.

Still, he remembered what had gotten him to this point. Joseph had watched helplessly as Jesus was condemned to death by the people (who, he was certain, had been stirred up by the religious leaders). He watched sadly as Jesus carried the crossbeam through the city, staggering and falling because of the beating he had taken, until the Roman soldiers forced another man to carry the beam, so as to speed up the whole process (cf. Mark 15:21). And then Joseph couldn’t watch anymore while they nailed this innocent man to a rugged cross and hoisted him up into the air. He wanted to leave but he couldn’t. Instead, he stood there on the hillside in silence, off to the side, as the horrific drama played out.

We don’t know at what point Joseph of Arimathea became a disciple of Jesus. We know he was a faithful Jew; the Gospels are clear on that. And he apparently saw in Jesus the fulfillment of the Jewish hopes. Two of the Gospels tell us that Joseph was “waiting for the kingdom of God” (15:43; cf. Luke 23:51). Neither of them, however, tell us what Joseph meant by that, what he believed about Jesus, just that somehow he saw a connection between what Jesus was teaching and doing and the fulfillment of all the promises God had made to their people over the centuries (cf. Kalas 51). Yet, as he stood there on that hillside, as he watched the life literally drain out of Jesus’ body, as he heard the things Jesus said and then watched him give up his spirit (cf. John 19:30), something crystallized in Joseph’s spirit. “For Joseph, waiting for the kingdom of God meant denying himself in some sense and honoring Jesus” (Kernaghan, Mark [IVPNTC], pg. 337). That’s when he decided to go to Pilate and speak his own word to the cross.

According to most estimates, it was about 3:00 in the afternoon when Jesus died. The beginning of the Jewish sabbath, during which no work could be done, would come at 6:00, around sunset. That gave Joseph a very narrow window of opportunity in which to act, and the Gospels seem to say that he did most of this by himself (though John says Nicodemus did help with the burial, John 19:39). So he had to have hurried to Pilate’s office, somehow gotten an audience with the prefect (I did mention that Joseph was an important person, right?), and convinced him first of all to hand over Jesus’ body for burial. This would not have been the normal Roman custom. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, normally Romans didn’t bother to bury the bodies of criminals, which is what Jesus was considered to be if he was crucified. They usually just removed the bodies from the crosses and tossed them in a mass grave outside the city where, then, the scavenger dogs and vultures would take care of things. In fact, some scholars believe this place where they crucified people was known as “Skull Hill” not because it was shaped like a skull necessarily but because of all the bones that were left there in the open from various crucifixions (cf. Kalas 51). It’s pretty gruesome to think about, and Joseph couldn’t imagine Jesus being treated that way. So he made a bold move, approached the Roman prefect who had, in fact, condemned Jesus to this death, and said to him, “Give me his body.”

Mark tells us Pilate was surprised that Jesus was already dead and sent a centurion to confirm it. Crucifixion was a slow death; it usually took two to three days, and one ancient report indicates one man survived on the cross as long as eight days (Card, Mark: The Gospel of Passion, pg. 186). Jesus died in six hours, so no wonder Pilate was surprised, but once the truth is confirmed, he consents to giving the body to Joseph. What did he care? Just one more criminal he didn’t have to deal with. Once Pilate gave his permission, Joseph would have to hurry. He had to either purchase or find a linen cloth to wrap the body in, go get the body from the cross, take Jesus’ body to the tomb (which apparently was nearby) and lay Jesus’ body in the tomb. Finally, he would have rolled a giant round stone in front of the entrance to the tomb. And all of that in about three hours.

Going to Pilate was bold. It was risky. But Joseph did something else here that was perhaps even more bold, even more daring, even more potentially damaging to his reputation and his standing in the community. If we take Mark at his word, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t, Joseph himself handled the dead body of Jesus. Now, I can understand why he would want to. He’d want to make sure that everything was handled appropriately and with respect. He may have been in one of those situations where he wanted to make sure everything was done correctly and he didn’t really trust anyone else to do it right. Ever been there? But here’s the challenge: the Sabbath was just a couple of hours away, and Jewish purity law required he be ritually clean before he could take part in the Sabbath. And this was not just any old Sabbath; this was Passover. This was an important one. This holiday is, in many ways, the centerpiece of Judaism. But touching a corpse was among the many things a person could do to become unclean. So it’s very likely that Joseph, and probably Nicodemus too, were banned from celebrating the Passover this year because of their contact with Jesus’ body (cf. Kernaghan 337).

And so…I wonder. I picture Joseph, standing just outside the tomb, just before sunset. His hand is on the rolling stone, and he’s prepared to push it into place. But I wonder if he stopped for a moment and whispered to the lifeless body inside. I wonder if he expressed his regret that he had been silent about his belief and trust in Jesus up to this time. I wonder if tears came to his eyes over the lost opportunities he had because he had been so silent. And I wonder if he harbored any anger against his colleagues, his one-time friends, who had conspired against Jesus and managed to get him killed in a spectacularly brutal way. I wonder what went through his mind and his heart as he stood there outside the tomb he had once thought would be his. Did he feel like this was the end of the story? Once he rolled the stone into the groove that would lock it into place, did he have any hope or faith left (cf. Kalas 52-53)?

To anyone who knew Joseph, it would seem, from an outside view anyway, that he had thrown away everything—his reputation, his community standing, maybe even his career—in order to align himself with an executed criminal. He could not keep his allegiance to Jesus secret anymore. And some might have said what was the point? Jesus was dead. Why bother making your belief public now? Of course, we know the rest of the story, but Joseph didn’t, not when he stood outside the tomb. He had no idea what was to come, and yet he still chose to take the risk and made the choice to confess his faith in Jesus by caring for his body. It would have made more sense for him to just keep quiet, resume his seat in the Sanhedrin, go along to get along, and maybe do whatever he could to keep Jesus’ other followers from being harmed in the aftermath. It would have been easy to just keep quiet.

Isn’t that what we are encouraged to do? Isn’t that what the world tells us we should do? You Christians, you have such strange beliefs, and you’re out of step with the rest of the world. Just go along to get along. Compromise a little here and a little there and everything will be okay. Several years ago, in another town I lived in, we had a neighbor a few houses down the street who decided to run for political office. He was, from all appearances, a good man and he was very active in his church and outspoken about his faith. He even asked me to come and pray at the rally where he was going to announce his candidacy, even though I wasn’t his pastor. All through the campaign he was up front about his faith and when he was elected he was very supportive of the various ministries in town. And then there began to be whispers about some financial dealings that weren’t above board. In fact, as more and more information came out, there were things happening that were actually illegal. He eventually was removed from office and ended up in jail, and I couldn’t help but wonder what happened. Where along the way had he decided that his faith didn’t apply in this particular area of his life, or in this part of his business? Where had his image and his success become more important than his faith? At what point had he decided that a little compromise here, a little there, and no one would be the wiser? And even more than that, I kept wondering what kind of an example he could have been if he had been bold like Joseph and stood for his faith even in the face of pressure to do otherwise.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but we are in a political year, a presidential election year, and like the last few, this year’s election is shaping up to be very contentious. Over the last few years, I’ve heard people talk about elections—all sorts of elections, not just the presidential one—in terms of choosing “the lesser of two evils.” I’ve even said that myself. But when did we give up calling the best out of people? Should we be voting just for the “lesser of two evils” or should we, the church, God’s people, be those who are calling for greater moral, ethical and even spiritual courage among those who represent us? I know, I know, salvation is not coming on Air Force One (I tell you that a lot), but shouldn’t we want more from our elected officials, especially those who claim a faith in Jesus? Shouldn’t we want to have leaders who, like Joseph, are firmly and passionately and authentically on the side of Jesus and living that way (not just talking about it)?

But the temptation to compromise in small areas isn’t just in the realm of politics. It shows up in our work life and in our home life and in our community life—in all areas of our life. Every moment of every day there are temptations to hide or deny our faith in Jesus. And in the world we live in, where the values of our faith seem to be increasingly out of step with the wider world, it can be hard or even risky to identify with Jesus. I’m not sure it was ever meant to be easy or safe, but it certainly isn’t now. As we talked about a couple of months ago, church attendance and identification with the Christian faith is at an all-time low in our country. To stand up and proclaim faith in Jesus can be risky, just as it was for Joseph. More than ever, we need people who are bold, who dare to live their faith fully.

Now, there’s a fine line between being bold and being obnoxious or contentious. However, we get so afraid of being labeled that way that we end up being “secret disciples,” like Joseph was. Out of fear of being labeled obnoxious or worse, we have tended to go too far in the other direction and we sacrifice “apparently small values in order to be agreeable and to win favor” (Kalas 55). What if, in a world where “the loudest voices win,” we let our life speak first? What if we served boldly and loved deeply so that those around us can clearly see Jesus in us? You’ll notice Joseph doesn’t say a word in this story, but his actions and his care for Jesus still come shining through.

What if we simply took the time to serve the person in need that is right in front of us? In the days before his death, Jesus taught his disciples that the evidence of true faith is found in what we do and don’t do. Do you remember? He was outside the Temple, that place where Hebrew worship was centered, and the disciples asked Jesus about the end of the world. He talked a lot about the signs of his return, and he seems to go back and forth between things that will happen soon, like the destruction of Jerusalem, and things that will actually happen at the end of history. And then he uses the image of sheep and goats to talk about who will be with him and who will not be with him at the final judgment. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t talk about any of the things we Christians fight over today, like modes of baptism or the meaning of communion or even which church you belong to. No, the evidence of faith, according to Jesus, is found in whether or not that faith compels you to serve the people who are all around you: the thirsty, the hungry, the prisoner, the naked and the stranger. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine,” he says, “you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). We don’t earn our salvation that way, but we do demonstrate it, just as Joseph did by caring for the body of Jesus.

A big part of that parable of Jesus, though, is that the examples he gives are mostly of people who can’t serve you back. Same with Joseph, by the way. Jesus’ body was lifeless; Joseph was going to get nothing back from his act of service except maybe grief from his friends, relatives and business contacts. The hungry, the thirsty and the rest often can’t return the favor. Maybe the boldest act we can do in Jesus’ name is to serve someone who can’t serve us back, and to serve in a way that makes us take a risk or puts us in a place where we’re uncomfortable. For some that might be going on a mission trip that is way out of your comfort zone. For others that might be working at 14th & Chestnut with kids who are different than you. One of the places I serve every year at this time that is outside of my comfort zone is Grace Gala. I usually serve as a “buddy,” which means I am assigned a guest for the gala and it’s my responsibility to accompany that person all evening. Part of my discomfort is going into a completely unknown situation, not knowing what the needs or challenges are of my buddy. And I also feel the weight of making sure it is for them, as we always say, the “best party ever.” The bottom line for me is I don’t want to screw it up or do something that makes my guest’s life even more challenging that night. And yet every time, I am the one who comes away blessed. It’s always outside my comfort zone, even though I’ve done this for several years. So let me challenge you to step out of your comfort zone, and for some of you that might be volunteering at Grace Gala. I guarantee Jess will find a place you can serve. But, church, if we are going to follow in the footsteps of Joseph of Arimathea, we’ve got to be bold. We’ve got to put ourselves in places where we’re uncomfortable, where we risk who we are for the sake of the king of kings. Where is God calling you to serve?

So, as you know, today is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. And as I do every year at this time, I’m going to give you another challenge: set this week apart. You’ve heard that we have several opportunities to worship this week, and I can’t stress enough how important it is to take part in those opportunities. We can’t really celebrate Easter next Sunday if we haven’t fully walked to the cross with Jesus this week. It’s important that we sit with the disciples in the Upper Room on Thursday night. It’s vital that we spend some part of Friday gazing at the cross with the disciples and all of these folks we’ve been focusing on during Lent this year. And we really need to feel the despair of the sealed tomb when Joseph and Nicodemus roll the stone in front of the entrance. The joy of Easter means so much more when we’ve walked with Jesus through the week. And yes, I know it’s spring break around here, and I know your life is otherwise busy. But when we consider how much Jesus has done for us, is it asking too much to spend a week with him? As the old hymn asks: must Jesus bear the cross alone? Let’s pray.