Joseph of Arimathea - the Fearful Disciple

For Good Friday service.
D. Marion Clark 

I had to do something. I was ashamed, ashamed that I had not owned up to believing that he was the Messiah. So why now, when it is clear that he is not the One for whom we hope, do I come forth to show my devotion?

It seemed like the decent thing to do. The Romans would have thrown his body into a common grave, maybe not even that. They would have defiled Jesus’ body. And yet how much more could it have been defiled than it already was to be hung on a tree – a curse to the Romans and even by our law a curse to God?

Why now? Why not before when I first believed he was the Anointed One? Why not then profess my faith in him?

I can explain why not before. I am a man of no little distinction. I have responsibility. I am a member of the Sanhedrin, the highest council of my people. My actions have consequences. What if I were wrong about Jesus and led people astray? That is why my brothers on the council and the priests were so careful. There had been others who had professed to be sent from God, if not the Messiah himself. Some had drawn many followers. They all perished and their followers suffered – some being killed with their leaders, others shamed, all of them disillusioned. No, when you have responsibility, you cannot follow your whims.

And so we sent messengers to observe him, listen to him, and to ask him questions. He was drawing crowds, mostly through his signs of wonder. Even I was sent out to observe and to make a report. I saw with my own eyes his signs. I saw the sick healed; I could attest that real sicknesses were cured, even the blind given light. I saw certified lepers be cleansed. It is said that Jews look for signs. We do. If someone truly is from God, signs will accompany him that certify his claim. I could not deny these signs of Jesus of Nazareth.

Then there were his teachings. He spoke of the kingdom of God and with authority, as a prophet of God would speak. John had spoken with similar authority, and yet not with the profundity of Jesus. He spoke in such a way that one felt his words piercing one’s heart – as the old expression says it, dividing bone and marrow. And I did not like what I saw – the meanness of spirit, the hypocrisy, and too many other sins. No, I did not like such teaching, and yet I knew his words to be true.

Then there were his claims about himself. He was careful with his words, but my training gave me ears to hear what he was saying beneath the surface. He thought he was the Messiah. That was clear enough. And I believed him. I believed he was the One to usher in the kingdom of God.

So why not confess him then? I was the only one besides Nicodemus. We consulted with each other. We thought it best to wait. Jesus himself was careful with his words. When he publicly declared himself, we would then stand up for him. There was too much opposition from the leadership, and to step out now might harm Jesus’ plans. No doubt he had a strategy. It was best for us to wait. At the right time, wait for the right time. We would be there for him then.

The right time never came. Plans were made behind our backs by our leaders. We were summoned the very night before Passover to try Jesus of Nazareth. We protested. We pointed out the impropriety of meeting at night and other violations of the proceedings.

What more could we have done? Speak up for him? We did in our own way. But he would not speak up for himself! He was on trial for his life, and he would not speak. He was asked directly if he were the Messiah. Even then his words were defiant and slippery, and only by the decree of the high priest was he declared guilty of blasphemy. We started to protest, but our voices were lost in the shouts of the others condemning him. By that time we knew the cause was lost.

Perhaps, though, that was what Jesus was waiting for. Perhaps now would be the time that he demonstrated who he was. But he remained silent and no sign appeared from heaven, even as he was spit upon and struck.

What went wrong? If he were the Messiah, how could he have let this happen? How could the Holy One let this happen to his Anointed? If I had not known better, I would have thought Jesus had actually planned his death. He was but another pretender, and yet, he had seemed different. He lived a righteous life. He preached against injustice and hypocrisy. He preached a love even for enemies. And now he walks into the trap laid by his enemies and on to his death.

I knew his cause was lost when they sent him to Pilate. It was plain that the leaders were orchestrating the proceedings. Pilate would acquiesce.  Nicodemus and I heard the sentence given; then we departed.

I later walked to the site where Jesus was being crucified. He was not the Messiah, no, but he was a good man. He should not die this way. I became aware of someone standing beside me. It was Nicodemus. We watched in silence until Nicodemus asked, “What will happen to the body?” I had not thought about it, though we both knew. It would be dumped in an open pit most likely. We looked at each other and understood. This should not happen. We had failed to save his life from desecration; could we not save his body? We had failed because…because we had been too cowardly to act. All of our excuses were rational, reasonable. And they were false. We had failed to confess Jesus publicly because we feared the consequences – our reputations, our standing among our brothers. We had failed.

It was too late now to speak up for Jesus, certainly too late to proclaim him as the Messiah. But there was one last act that we could accomplish if we acted with haste. They would not leave the bodies past sunset because of the Passover. They would do something to kill the victims. We needed to act quickly. Nicodemus already had the necessary spices and materials. I would go to Pilate.

He would see me because of my standing that I have valued so highly. I would now lay it down for this request. I hurried to his house. He came out. “I have come to ask for the body of Jesus of Nazareth.”

He seemed surprised that Jesus should have died so quickly. Victims will last for two to three days. He sent off for a report and went back into the house. The messenger returned with the report that Jesus was dead. Pilate looked at me with a wry smile. “You may have your body.”

I rushed to the site. On my way, some of the priests and Sanhedrin members were walking back to the city. “It is finished,” one of them called out to me, thinking that I wanted to join in the spectacle. My servants were waiting for me. I had sent for them while waiting for Pilate’s decision. We had not much time before the sun would set. Hurriedly, but with gentleness, we lowered his body onto a cot the servants had brought. Nicodemus came up with his servants.

“Where do we have time to prepare the body and bury him?” Nicodemus asked.

“I know the spot. It is my own grave. Come, it is nearby.”

I had bought the site only recently for my family burial. The cave was freshly hewn and no body had yet been buried. Together, with the servants, we carried his body and prepared it, wrapping it in layers and spreading the spices and ointments between. Nicodemus had spared nothing. He had brought enough spices for the burial of a king. The sun was just setting as we laid the body in the cave and rolled the stone over the entrance.

We were tired but satisfied. We had done something to honor this good man. Perhaps he was not the Messiah, but we believed he was sent from the Holy One. I consider him a prophet. Prophets are often killed for their words. Besides, who but a prophet could have performed the signs that he did?

We will hear from our leaders about what we have done. And yet, for the first time, I am not worried. As Jesus himself once said, “Do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell.” When you get that straight – who to fear and who not to fear, decisions become easier to make. This was right to do. We did not show Jesus the proper honor in his life, but we could now show him honor in his death.

Two days later, it feels good; it feels right. I can face whatever the world brings my way, knowing that I have done right before my God. I have heard that the leaders have set guard over the grave site, fearing that the disciples might steal the body. It is reported that Jesus claimed he would rise in three days. Have Nicodemus and I spooked them with our act? It would be nice to think so. Now a resurrection – that would indeed be a sign of wonder.