The Rich Man in His Death
Introduction: The Silence of Defeat
The world loves a winner. Our stories, our myths, our political contests are all built around the triumph of the strong. But the central event of all history, the hinge upon which the gate of eternity swings, is a moment of catastrophic, public, and undeniable defeat. The cross was a spectacle of noise, mockery, and agony. And now, as the sun sets on that Friday, a profound silence descends. The crowds have gone home. The soldiers are cleaning up. The disciples are scattered, hiding in their fear and confusion. The Son of God is dead.
This is the moment of honorable despair. This is where faith is shown to be what it is. It is easy to follow a king when he is riding into the city on a donkey to the sound of hosannas. It is another thing entirely to claim his body when it is hanging, cold and disgraced, on a Roman gibbet. The world had rendered its verdict. Caesar won, the Sanhedrin won, death won. And into this silence, into this apparent victory of darkness, steps a man who had, until this moment, been quiet.
The burial of Jesus is not a mere epilogue to the crucifixion. It is a necessary and profound act of worship, courage, and sovereign providence. It is the bridge of blackest night that must be crossed to get to the morning of the resurrection. It is here that God uses the courage of a secret disciple, the bureaucracy of a pagan governor, and the grief of faithful women to set the stage for the undoing of death itself. This is not just about wrapping a body and putting it in a tomb. This is about the precise and prophesied honor given to the King in His utter humiliation.
The Text
And when evening had already come, because it was Preparation day, that is, the day before the Sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea came, a prominent Council member, who himself was waiting for the kingdom of God; and he gathered up courage and went in before Pilate, and asked for the body of Jesus. And Pilate wondered if He had died by this time, and summoning the centurion, he questioned him as to whether He already died. And ascertaining this from the centurion, he granted the body to Joseph. And when Joseph had bought a linen cloth and took Him down, he wrapped Him in the linen cloth and laid Him in a tomb which had been hewn out in the rock. And he rolled a stone against the entrance of thetomb. And Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses were looking on to see where He had been laid.
(Mark 15:42-47 LSB)
A Deadline and a Hidden Disciple (vv. 42-43)
We begin with the ticking clock and the unexpected protagonist.
"And when evening had already come, because it was Preparation day, that is, the day before the Sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea came, a prominent Council member, who himself was waiting for the kingdom of God..." (Mark 15:42-43)
The timing is critical. It is the evening of Preparation day. The Sabbath is bearing down. According to the law of God, a body could not be left exposed overnight, and certainly not on a Sabbath (Deut. 21:23). The ordinary fate for a crucified criminal was to be left for the birds or dumped unceremoniously into a common grave. If something were not done, and done quickly, the body of Jesus would be dishonored.
And who steps into this crisis? Not Peter, not John, not any of the Twelve. They are in hiding. The man who steps forward is Joseph of Arimathea. Mark tells us two crucial things about him. First, he was a "prominent Council member." He was part of the Sanhedrin, the very ruling body that had engineered Jesus' condemnation. He was a man of the establishment, wealthy, powerful, and respected. He had everything to lose.
Second, he was "waiting for the kingdom of God." This is Mark's way of telling us he was a true believer, a devout and righteous man who, like Simeon and Anna, was looking for the consolation of Israel. John's gospel adds the detail that he was a disciple of Jesus, "but secretly, for fear of the Jews" (John 19:38). His faith was real, but it was private. But the cross has a way of forcing secrets into the light. The moment of Christ's greatest shame becomes the moment of Joseph's greatest courage.
The Courage of Public Faith (v. 43-45)
Joseph's private faith now becomes dangerously public.
"...and he gathered up courage and went in before Pilate, and asked for the body of Jesus. And Pilate wondered if He had died by this time... And ascertaining this from the centurion, he granted the body to Joseph." (Mark 15:43-45 LSB)
Notice the phrase, "he gathered up courage." This was not a casual act. This was a deliberate decision to risk it all. By asking for the body of a man executed for treason and blasphemy, Joseph was publicly identifying with a condemned criminal. He was outing himself to his colleagues on the Sanhedrin, who would see this as the highest form of betrayal. He was risking his reputation, his wealth, and his position. This is the antithesis of Peter's denial by the fire. While the boldest disciple crumbled under the questioning of a servant girl, this quiet councilman marched into the headquarters of the Roman governor to make a formal, audacious request.
Pilate's reaction is telling. He was surprised that Jesus was already dead. Crucifixion was designed to be a slow, torturous death, often lasting for days. Pilate's surprise is an unwitting testimony to the truth that Jesus gave up His own life; it was not simply taken from Him (John 10:18). But Pilate, the consummate bureaucrat, follows procedure. He summons the centurion, the professional in charge of the execution, to get an official report. The centurion, the very man who had just confessed that Jesus was the Son of God, confirms the death.
And so, the Roman Empire, the instrument of death, now provides the official certificate of death. God, in His sovereignty, uses the meticulous, pagan record-keeping of Rome to eliminate any possibility of a "swoon theory." No one stole a half-dead Jesus from the cross. The state that killed Him certified that He was, in fact, dead. And Pilate "granted" the body. He gave it as a gift. This cynical, hand-washing governor becomes an unknowing instrument in the fulfillment of ancient prophecy.
The Honor of the Grave (v. 46)
The actions that follow are not just practical; they are acts of profound worship and honor.
"And when Joseph had bought a linen cloth and took Him down, he wrapped Him in the linen cloth and laid Him in a tomb which had been hewn out in the rock. And he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb." (Mark 15:46 LSB)
Every detail here drips with significance. Joseph buys a new, clean linen cloth, an expense befitting an honorable burial. He performs the grim task of taking the mutilated body down from the cross. He wraps the Lord's body with care. And most importantly, he lays Him in a tomb "hewn out in the rock." Matthew's gospel tells us this was Joseph's own new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid (Matt. 27:60). This was not a borrowed hole in the ground. This was the expensive, personal tomb of a wealthy man.
This is the direct and stunning fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy, written seven centuries earlier: "His grave was assigned with wicked men, Yet He was with a rich man in His death" (Isaiah 53:9). He was crucified between two thieves, assigned a grave with the wicked. But God had ordained that in His death, He would be with a rich man. Joseph of Arimathea, likely having no idea of the role he was playing in redemptive history, acts out the script that God had written for him. He gives his King an honorable burial.
And then he rolled a great stone against the entrance. This is the act of finality. This is what you do when the story is over. The stone says, "He is dead. He is gone. This is the end." From a human perspective, this is an act of loving, hopeless resignation. The world has done its worst, and the only thing left to do is seal the tomb.
The Faithful Remnant (v. 47)
But the scene is not without its witnesses. The men have fled, but the women remain.
"And Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses were looking on to see where He had been laid." (Mark 15:47 LSB)
These women are the anchor of the narrative. They were at the cross, watching from a distance. Now they are at the tomb, watching intently. Their love for Jesus holds them there. They are not just passive observers; they are gathering information. They are marking the spot.
Their faithful watch is divinely appointed. Because they saw exactly where He was laid, there can be no "wrong tomb" theory. When they return on the first day of the week, they know precisely which tomb to go to. God ensures that the witnesses of the burial will be the first witnesses of the resurrection. Their grief-stricken vigil is essential for establishing the geographical certainty of the empty tomb. They are the guardians of the fact that Christ was well and truly buried.
Conclusion: Planting the Seed of Victory
It is a profound mistake to see this story as nothing more than a sad, final chapter before the good part begins. The burial of Jesus is an integral part of the gospel. Paul says that he delivered what was of first importance: that Christ died for our sins, that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day (1 Cor. 15:3-4). The burial is the proof of the death, and the death is the payment for our sin.
Joseph of Arimathea did not know that Sunday was coming. He acted in courageous faith, honoring his King in the moment of the world's greatest apparent victory over Him. He did the next right thing. He spent his money, risked his reputation, and gave his own tomb to honor the one he believed was the King of Israel, even when that King was a corpse. This is the nature of our calling. We are called to be faithful in the dark. We are called to honor Christ in a world that has sealed Him in a tomb and rolled a stone in front of the door, declaring the matter settled.
But that stone, meant to be a monument to death's finality, would become the first trophy of the resurrection. The tomb, meant to be a container for the dead, would become the womb of new creation. As Jesus Himself taught, "unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (John 12:24). In this honorable burial, Joseph was not just interring a body; he was planting the seed of the entire new creation. Because He was truly buried, we know His resurrection is a true victory. He went all the way down into the dust of death for us, so that He might bring us all the way up into the glory of His eternal life.