“Back to the basics: Crucified, dead, buried”
John 19:38-42
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
Born in Moscow in November of 1821, Fyodor Dostoevsky was a Russian novelist and journalist. Today, he’s best-known for books like, Crime and Punishment, The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov. His short novel, what’s called a “novella,” Notes from Underground, is thought to be one of the finest in all of the world’s literature.
Now sometime, and we don’t know when, he heard of a painting by Hans Holbein called, Christ’s Body in the Tomb. And he really wanted to see it. So while on a trip in the summer of 1867, he made a special stop at the museum in Basel, Switzerland just to see it.
Later, his wife Anna described what happened next. She said, at first, he stood before it dumbstruck. Then he got a chair and stood on it so he could get a closer look. And while she said she just couldn’t stay in the same room with that painting for so long, she left him in there with it. Then when she came back twenty minutes later, he was still standing in front of it, “riveted by it,” and with an expression on his face as if he was about to go into another of his epileptic seizures. Quietly, she took him by the arm, brought him to another room and sat him down on a bench.
In his novel, The Idiot, Dostoevsky himself wrote of his experience. He said, “Painters are usually in the habit of portraying Christ, both on the cross and taken down from the cross, as still having a shade of extraordinary beauty in His face…but in this picture, there is not a word about beauty; this is in the fullest sense the corpse of Man who endured infinite suffering before the cross--wounds, torture, beating by the guards and beating by the people as He carried the cross and fell down under it, and finally suffered on the cross for six hours…In this picture His face is horribly hurt by blows, swollen, with horrible, swollen and bloody bruises, the eyelids are open, the eyes crossed; the large, open whites have a sort of deathly glassy shine.” And he wrote, those who loved Him, “must have gone off in terrible fear.”
So it was in the words of John chapter 19. I’ll begin at verse 38: “After these things Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus, and Pilate gave him permission. So he came and took away His body. Nicodemus also, who earlier had come to Jesus by night, came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds in weight. So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there” (John 19:38-42).
Each Sunday, as we gather for worship, we stand and confess, with all the church all around the world, the words of the Apostles’ creed. We say, “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only-begotten Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, died and was buried.”
If you think about it, that’s a very curious phrase—“crucified, died and was buried.”
Now it’s easy to understand why we say Jesus was crucified and why we say He died. But why do we say, “buried”? You’d think they would all go together. Jesus was crucified, died and was buried.
But you know, when men wrote the words of that creed, there was something very important they wanted us to know. They wanted us to know that Jesus was really dead. As one author put it, “The grave is an amen which every human must utter when death comes.” And as another put it, “Christ would not be a complete Savior if He had not descended into the grave.”
Study the history of the Christian church, and you’ll discover that, from the very beginning, when critics and skeptics have attacked Christianity, they’ve claimed Jesus never really rose from the dead. Some say He never really even died.
But these words from the book of John put an end to all of that. In fact, if you say the words quickly enough, they sound like a hammer sealing a coffin’s lid: “Crucified…dead…buried.” If there’s any question at all whether or not Jesus really died, then come to the garden tomb.
Imagine how it must have been. Though men declared Jesus innocent time after time, still the chief priests, Annas and Caiaphas, murdered the sinless Son of God. And, at the same time, trying to appear so holy, they scrupulously avoided any kind of ceremonial uncleanness. And having men hanging on crosses at Passover, just outside the city wall, was a defilement. Something had to be done. Bodies couldn’t just be left hanging there. They must be taken down.
But what if they weren’t dead? Victims could linger for days!
The Romans had an easy solution. They took an iron bar and smashed it across their legs, making it impossible for them to push themselves up for air. So death came, not within hours, but seconds.
And when they came to Jesus, they saw that He was already dead. The soldiers were, after all, expert executioners. They killed for a living. So just to be sure, without the shadow of a doubt, one took a spear and rammed it into His side. Blood and water flowed.
So now, what to do with His body? Who would take it? Who would bury it? And where would they lay it to rest?
By this time, most every one of Jesus’ disciples was out of sight, keeping their distance lest they suffer the same fate. Now was not the time to be associated with One who was crucified. And to make matters worse, the Sabbath was about to begin, so time was quickly running out.
But there was a problem. The Jews had handed Jesus over to Rome, so, in effect, His body belonged to Rome. But what would Rome want with some Jew disowned by His own countrymen? Certainly Pilate wouldn’t give anything more than a pauper’s grave.
That’s when, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, we meet a man named Joseph of Arimathea. Let’s look again at the text. Verse 38: “After these things Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus, and Pilate gave him permission” (John 19:38).
“Joseph of Arimathea,” it says, “a respected member of the council.” That’s interesting. Or rather, I should say, it’s amazing.
You see, when the Bible says, “the council,” it meant, the Sanhedrin, the ruling council, the supreme court of the Jews. These men were the best of the best in all the land of Israel who knew, respected, and obeyed the Word of God. In all matters of blasphemy and idolatry, this was the court of last resort. And Joseph of Arimathea was a member.
Even more, the Bible says he was a “respected” member, a prominent member, an honored member. Men sought out his wisdom and advice.
But all this is so strange. When the high priests bribed Judas to betray his Master, Joseph did not consent. When Caiaphas said, “It’s better that one Man die for the people, than that the whole nation should perish,” Joseph did not consent. When they sent armed troops to arrest Jesus in the garden as if He were a desperate and deadly criminal, Joseph did not consent. When they conducted an illegal trial, when they played on the passions of the people, inciting them to violence, when men led Him out to the place of the skull to be nailed to a Roman cross, then stripped Him and hung Him for everyone to see, Joseph did not consent.
As John records in his gospel account: “Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jews” (John 19:38).
But while he hid in the shadows throughout Jesus’ life, he would stand by Him in His death. So bravely, boldly, he asked for the body of Jesus.
Now we don’t know exactly what happened next, but we can guess. Carefully and lovingly, he took Jesus’ body down from the cross. He untangled the thorny crown from His head, then drew the nails out of His hands and feet. Then he washed Jesus’ body from head to toe—all the sweat, the dirt and the blood.
And as he turned His body back and forth, wrapping it in a fine linen cloth, he couldn’t help but see the torn, mangled flesh of His back, shredded by the scourge. He saw His face, swollen, slapped and spit on, beaten beyond recognition. He saw His head, struck with a rod, and His lips, cracked and parched, lips that refused, till the very end, to drink the sour wine.
And nearby, added John, there was a garden, and in that garden, a tomb.
It’s strange if you think about it. Near the place where Jesus was crucified wasn’t a pit or a slum, but a garden—a place for flowers and birds, fruit and vines, where one could sit and rest from the cares and troubles of the day.
How strange, yet how appropriate, for it was by these words that a prophecy was fulfilled. As Isaiah wrote: “He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in His death, though He had done no violence, nor was any deceit found in His mouth” (Isaiah 53:9).
Jesus was no apparition that seemed to die. He was not someone who only appeared to die. Instead, He was a Man who could die and did die. As the Apostles’ Creed puts it so well: “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, died and was buried.”
So why did the Bible tell us so much about the burial of Jesus?
Three things--one, to prove that He really died; two, to show us that God will not forsake us when we die; and three, to show the true cost of our salvation. Jesus loved us not only to the cross, but all the way to the grave.
In the words of a Lenten liturgy: “He whom none may touch was seized; He who looses Adam from the curse was bound. He who tries the hearts and inner thoughts of man was unjustly brought to trial; He who closed the abyss was shut in prison. He before whom the powers of heaven stand with trembling stood before Pilate; the Creator was struck by the hand of His creature. He who comes to judge the living and the dead was condemned to the Cross; the Destroyer of hell was enclosed in a tomb. O You who endures all these things in Your tender love, Who has saved all men from the curse, O longsuffering Lord, glory to You.”
John Wilbur Chapman was a nineteenth century preacher and evangelist, who traveled around the world to tell others of Christ, to places like Australia, Hong Kong, China and the Philippines. In 1895, Dwight L. Moody called him, “The greatest evangelist in the country.” He died on Christmas Day in 1918.
And over his fifty-nine years of life, he served six different churches and wrote a number of books like, Present Day Parables and From Life to Life.
And in 1910, eight years before he died, he wrote a song. Part of it went like this: “Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me; Buried, He carried my sins far away; Rising, He justified freely forever; One day He’s coming—O glorious day!”
How great is Your love for us, dear Father, for You have sent Your only Son. Grant us the grace to rest on Him, for He is our Redeemer, Savior and Lord. This we ask in His name. Amen