A Sermon on Mark 15:42-47
42 When evening had come, and since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 44 Then Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he had been dead for some time. 45 When he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph. 46 Then Joseph bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body, wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. 47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid.
Perhaps you know someone like Joseph of Arimathea; dutiful, always busy behind the scenes doing work that needs to be done, and often without thanks. Although Joseph was no follower of Jesus, we are told he was a respected council member and that he was waiting expectantly for God’s Kingdom. Most scholars understand this council he belonged to, to mean he was a member of the Sanhedrin – the very same body that petitioned Pilate to have Jesus put to death. So how is it that we now see him acting to honor Jesus in this way?
It could be that his was a dissenting voice and that he was simply out-voted, but we aren’t told this, so we’d just be guessing. What we do know is that Joseph wasn’t a disciple and yet he is the one we see act justly here—it is he who insures that Jesus receives a proper burial. By this time, most of Jesus’ followers had fled. We didn’t hear it today, but earlier in the story, we are told that some women who were followers of Jesus, including Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and Salome had remained at the crucifixion site, but even they watched from a distance.
Roman custom, dictated that those who were executed forfeited all their rights and worldly possessions. As a result, those killed mostly wound up in trash heaps outside the city. Getting permission to bury a crucified prisoner took a special writ of permission; something Pilate surely would not have granted one of Jesus’ disciples or family members. But Joseph, being from the Sanhedrin, wasn’t viewed with such suspicion. Jewish custom differed from Roman practice in that it recognized the rights of even enemies to receive a dignified burial. And so, we see Joseph boldly request permission to bury a man he most likely saw as a troublemaker.
At times, I think we, as followers of Christ, don’t know what to do with people like Joseph—people whose lives reflect kingdom values and yet they are not “one of us.” In this sense, Joseph can be seen as representative of people sincere in their own traditions, but not Christian, or perhaps, as like those without any tradition at all. I’m reminded of two women I met while working as a hospital chaplain. Each of them worked as Emergency Room social workers, frequently pulling all-nighters, and each of them were dedicated to the often distressed people they served. Once, while chatting, our conversation veered towards deeper matters and I learned that both of them were very happily agnostic.
Or there was this guy I met in India named Alan. He has spent over nine years volunteering at a clinic established by Mother Teresa. Each day he trolls through markets and train stations looking for people so sick or starved they are barely alive to bring them help. Every year, he returns home to the Netherlands for a few months to work odd jobs, saving just enough money to finance another year in India. Despite having worked alongside Catholic nuns for years, Alan, one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, remains staunchly non-religious.
My guess is that each of you can think of someone like Alan or these social workers. I see wrestling with how we as Christians respond to and interact with our non-Christian brothers and sisters as part of our Christian duty. And it’s here that I think Joseph’s story is helpful.
Perhaps ironically, leading up to this moment in Mark’s Gospel, we hear of many instances where Jesus’ followers either mess up or miss his message entirely. I think of the disciples and their petty squabbling or their inability to stay awake in Gethsemane. Perhaps most prominently, we see this in the story of Judas Iscariot. Only hours before today’s moment in the story, we see Judas betray Jesus, thereby facilitating his murder. Here, one of Christ’s own, after having walked and ate and learned beside Jesus for some time, turns against him.
If we held Judas up in comparison with Joseph of Arimathea (a man who may or may not have even been familiar with Jesus’ message), judging which of the two’s actions correlate with Christ’s self-giving, other-oriented nature would be no contest. In fact, Mark explicitly identifies Joseph as, “waiting expectantly for the Kingdom of God.” He associates this man, who isn’t even a disciple, with a phrase synonymous for Jesus’ life and message. “Kingdom of God”—it’s like a shorthand way of referencing Jesus’ solidarity with the outcast, sick, and poor. Hearing it conjures memories of Jesus healing the blind man Bartimaeus or the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter. We think of a world healed, free of power struggles, where inhabitants share freely in creation’s bounty.
So what of Mark’s linking of this glorious ideal with Joseph of Arimathea? Is Mark merely identifying Joseph as sympathetic to Jesus’ vision, or could Mark be drawing our attention to his piety, irrespective of his religious beliefs? Maybe it’s neither. Maybe Mark is suggesting that, when it comes to righteousness, actions speak louder than words. But… I’m not comfortable with any of these. I see Joseph’s presence as a challenge, like he’s asking us to embody all that we—Christ’s followers—say we stand for.
Remember, Judas Iscariot was one of Jesus’ closest students—a member of his inner circle. And even he, despite having learned first-hand about God’s Kingdom, is remembered for failing to live into it. Judas, like us, was guilty of many things, but ignorance wasn’t one of them. There seems to be a need for coupling right thought with right action. Or maybe it’s more proper to envision the two feeding into one another. But the fact remains that Jesus wasn’t crucified for coming up with provocative ideas—it was for their bold enactment—for his new way of being. That’s what made the authorities nervous. So maybe Joseph’s witness to us is as a reminder that God wills for our heartfelt convictions to take form in this world through obedient action.
And if we see those not part of the Church, like Joseph, busy with compassionate, self-giving work, a hunger for newness and possibility ought to awaken within us. What might have happened had those women who loyally stayed with Jesus, watching his crucifixion, crossed over to Joseph and offered their help? What might have been, had Joseph and those women recognized their mutual aims and worked together? And where, in today’s world, are such opportunities? What might we be allowing ideological divides or boundaries of our own fashioning to keep us from? My prayer for us is that we might become awakened to these divides so we can move into them fearlessly, working side-by-side with anyone about the Kingdom’s work.
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