At the time of Jesus’ burial, two men are ready to take a risk. Both appear to be members of the Sanhedrin, a ruling body of Israel. One is Joseph who had been a secret disciple of Jesus for fear of other Jewish leaders (Luke 23:50-51) (John 19:38). He is the one who went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus, apparently so that he could place the body in the grave he had prepared for himself (Matt 27:57-60).
The other was also a member of the Sanhedrin. While Joseph got the body, and provided the tomb, the second brought about 75 pounds of myrrh and aloes to help Joseph prepare Jesus’ body for burial.
Together the two wrapped the body of Jesus (John 19:40). I wonder what they might have been saying to one another. Were their faces wet? Were they beating themselves up for not speaking more courageously in behalf of Jesus when he was alive?
We have no record of a possible meeting between Joseph and Jesus. But Nicodemus had come to Jesus under the cover of darkness for that, now famous, conversation. He had heard the teacher speak not only about the necessity of a second (spiritual) birth, but also those amazing words about needing to be lifted up, as Moses had lifted up the bronze snake in the wilderness so that those who were bitten and dying could live (John 3:14).
Now, as these two rulers of the Jews helped one another wrap Jesus’ body what were they saying, and thinking? Did they talk not only about the bronze snake–and that all the people had to do was look at it and live? Had Nicodemus really also heard Jesus say “For God so loved the world that…” (John 3:16).
As I think back over my life, I have so many questions about times when I did or didn’t seem to have the courage to start a conversation about the one who died in our place. Sometimes I spoke when I wish now I had asked questions–and been a better listener. Sometimes I was silent while longing for the courage and wisdom to know what to say. Sometimes, it all seemed to come together, as if God himself was providing both the occasion and the words. But over all, I’m wondering how much my thoughts echo the regrets–and eventual overwhelming gratefulness of those two men who would soon discover that–because of such personal failures, and far more… Jesus had died for them…
(+41 rating, 41 votes)
Loading...