We are so familiar with the crucifixion and the resurrection that it would be easy to pass over what happens in between. The burial of Jesus gets just five verses in Matthew, six in Mark, and seven in Luke and John. And yet even though only a handful of verses are given to it, the burial is very important — because there is a potential crisis looming over Jesus that we could easily miss if we are not familiar with Roman and Jewish burial customs. The Roman custom was to leave a crucified body on the cross to rot and be eaten by birds and animals of prey. The Jewish custom demanded burial on the same day. If neither prevailed in the right way, the body of Jesus was destined for an unmarked mass grave. What happened instead — and who God had waiting in the wings to make it happen — is a remarkable story of sovereignty, courage, and love.
The Need for Burial
Jesus has died and his body is now lifeless, hanging on the cross. What is going to happen to it? The Roman custom after crucifixion was to leave the corpse there — to rot, to be eaten by vultures and dogs. That was deliberately designed to put horror into the hearts of anyone who witnessed it. The Jewish law, however, demanded that even executed criminals be buried: "If a man guilty of a capital offence is put to death and his body is hung on a tree, you must not leave his body on the tree overnight. Be sure to bury him that same day, because anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse" (Deuteronomy 21:22-23).
So if the Jews have their way, the body will be buried — but without honour. It will be thrown into an unmarked mass grave outside Jerusalem alongside the two terrorists crucified with him. That is what the Jewish leaders intended. John tells us: "Because the Jews did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down" (John 19:31).
Now imagine if that had happened — or worse, the Roman custom prevailed and the body was left on the cross to decompose. It would not mean that God could not raise Jesus from the dead. But it would introduce all kinds of uncertainty and confusion. Think of how sceptical people already are about the resurrection, even though the evidence is superb. If Jesus had been left to rot on the cross, it would be far easier to claim the disciples stole the body, or that nobody knew what happened to it. It would have left a huge question mark over the central element of our faith.
But we have seen over and over in Mark's Gospel that God has everything under control. He is going to safeguard Jesus' body. He is going to safeguard the credibility of the resurrection. He has someone ready and waiting to come forward at exactly the right moment.
The Provider of the Burial
The disciples have all run away and are in hiding — and it is very unlikely that Pilate would have given them the body anyway. The women would certainly have done it if they could, but they have no influence or power. So who can do it? The answer is someone we have not met before in the Gospels and will not meet again: a man called Joseph, from Arimathea.
Mark tells us he was "a prominent member of the council" (v. 43) — the very Sanhedrin that sentenced Jesus to death, that had him blindfolded and mocked and beaten. But Luke tells us that Joseph "had not consented to their decision and action." Perhaps he had not been invited to that irregular midnight meeting — perhaps they knew he was a man of integrity who would have no truck with such things. As a member of the Sanhedrin, he had access to Pilate, he had respect, he had influence. Matthew tells us he was a rich man — he had the means to provide not just a burial, but a highly honourable one. And that in itself is encouraging, because the last time we met a rich man in Mark's Gospel, Jesus said it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. But then he added: "What is impossible with man is possible with God." Joseph of Arimathea is a testimony to that truth.
Luke tells us he was "a good and upright man" who "was waiting for the kingdom of God" (Luke 23:50-51). Matthew adds that "he himself had become a disciple of Jesus" (Matthew 27:57). But John gives us the key detail: "Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, because he feared the Jews" (John 19:38). He was one of those John describes in chapter 12: "Many even among the leaders believed in Jesus. But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith, for fear they would be put out of the synagogue. For they loved praise from men more than praise from God."
Joseph did not want to go public with his faith because the good opinion of other people mattered more to him than the praise of God. He knew that if he nailed his colours to the mast, his whole way of life could be ruined. He could not bear to think about the gossip — "Did you hear about Joseph? Such a waste of all that ability, to throw it all away associating with an outcast like Jesus."
But now everything changes. The events of the previous night have exposed the evil hypocrisy and unbelief of the Sanhedrin. These men whose good opinion Joseph had coveted — suddenly he does not care what they think. And so he goes openly to Pilate and asks for Jesus' body. Verse 43 says he "went boldly to Pilate" — and the word translated "boldly" describes an act of great daring. It literally means "he took courage."
Why was it so daring? Because Jesus had been convicted and executed on a charge of high treason against Rome. Joseph is not a relative. Why would he identify with this dead "terrorist" unless he sympathised with him? It is daring because it is going to infuriate the other members of the Sanhedrin. He is burning a lot of bridges. And it is daring above all because, as far as Joseph is concerned, Jesus is dead. It is over. He had hoped Jesus was the Messiah, but obviously he got it wrong. And yet he still boldly sacrifices his reputation, his way of life, for what is — as far as he knows — a lost cause. He does not stand to gain anything. He stands to lose everything. For the sake of a dead man.
As John Calvin put it: "If Joseph summoned up his confidence when Christ hung dead on the cross, in his holy desire to do him honour, and we today, after his resurrection from the dead, have not at least the same flourishing zeal for his glory in our hearts — then woe to our idle ways." If Joseph could risk everything for a dead Jesus, what about your commitment and mine to a living, resurrected, reigning, returning Jesus?
The Arrangements of the Burial
Joseph has only three hours — between the death of Jesus at the ninth hour and the beginning of the Sabbath at the twelfth hour. John tells us that Nicodemus, another secret disciple and Sanhedrin member, helped with the work. Both men, being wealthy, would have had servants to assist. But there was still not much time.
They took the body down from the cross, washed it, and wrapped it in the fine linen Joseph had bought. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes — about seventy-five pounds of it (John 19:39). That is a lavish expense. They were not stinting in any way. This was a burial fit for a king. And it was fitting — because he is the King.
The tomb itself was of exceptional quality. Matthew tells us it was Joseph's own tomb, cut out of the bedrock of the hillside and set in a large garden — more like an orchard than a little plot. Most tombs had simple stone slabs to block the entrance. But exceptionally fine tombs like this one had a disc-shaped stone, about a metre across, like a millstone — set vertically in a track cut from the rock, on a slight incline, so that it was relatively easy for one person to roll it shut, but very hard for even several people to roll it back up the track to open the tomb.
Now that Jesus' body is placed in the tomb, it is safe — from animals, from anyone who might try to steal it. And the Pharisees helpfully make doubly sure by persuading Pilate to set a guard and seal on the tomb. The location of Jesus' body is absolutely certain, beyond dispute. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph "saw where he was laid" (v. 47). The Roman guard is set there. It is sealed. It is near the place where Jesus was crucified. It is not the kind of tomb you would confuse with another — it is not like rows of identical headstones in a cemetery, but an ornate, unmistakable monument.
The burial also certifies Jesus' death. Joseph and Nicodemus carried the dead weight of his lifeless body. They washed his terrible wounds — his wrists, his ankles, his side, his back torn to ribbons by the scourging. They wound linen strips around his corpse in the quietness. If there had been even the slightest breath, the slightest pulse, the slightest sign of life, they would have noticed it. They would have been longing for it, hyper-alert, hoping. But there was nothing. And so they sealed the tomb.
All of this fulfils Isaiah 53:9: "He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death." The Jews must have scratched their heads over that prophecy for years — how can someone be assigned a grave with both the wicked and the rich? Now we know. He died a criminal's death between two terrorists — "with the wicked" — yet his body was laid in the grave of a nobleman — "with the rich in his death."
A Challenge and a Comfort
God's purposes cannot be frustrated. Every tiny detail of salvation has been provided for — right down to the burial of the body of Jesus. That corpse hanging on the cross at 3 p.m. seemed destined for a mass grave of criminals. Who would have imagined that within three hours it would be wrapped in the finest linen, scented with vast quantities of the most expensive perfumes, and lying in one of the finest tombs in all the land? God had prepared all of this from eternity. It was not revealed until the last minute — but it was not a last-minute decision on God's part. He did not leave anything to chance. And that reminds us that God is sovereign over everything in the universe. You can trust him with the details of your life and your death.
God also has his people in the most unlikely and unpromising situations — a good encouragement for us in a place like Galway on the west of Ireland. Remember Elijah? He thought everyone had abandoned the faith apart from him. But God had 7,000 who had not bowed the knee to Baal. And here, in the Sanhedrin of all places — the council responsible for orchestrating this whole horrible affair — there are two men who have not sold out to the devil, and who stand up to be counted at the critical moment.
Perhaps there are some Josephs here today. You are a disciple — you are following Jesus, no doubt about that. But perhaps too often you are following him secretly. Nobody knows you are a Christian in your workplace, or your school, or your university, or among your non-Christian friends. Maybe, like Joseph, you are too concerned about what people think of you. You do not want to stand out. You do not want to pay the cost. And maybe there are times — there certainly are, for all of us — when we know we should speak but we keep quiet. We know we should take a stand, but we do not.
If that is you, take heart from Joseph. He may have acted in a shameful, cowardly way before this. But he is done with that. And God still had work for him to do — work of incalculable value. God has work for you too. Do not miss your opportunity. Take courage. Come out of the shadows. Nail your colours to the mast.
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