“Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea and he was waiting for the Kingdom of God. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one yet unused” (Luke 23:50)
Orthodox Christians not only listen to the reading of the death and crucifixion of Jesus Christ on Good Friday. They feel the emotion of his funeral. They share the mystery of burying the Source of life by reenacting the Lord’s entombment. The bishop or priest in full vestments paces beneath the Holy Shroud held above him. He then leads the procession of mourners to the center of the church where each person approaches to make a loving reverence before it. On the borders surrounding the Body of Christ is a verse describing what the Shroud signifies. The words bear a single name: Joseph. He is called noble Joseph, translating the Slavonic blagoobrazni meaning “lovely visage.” One whose dignity is revealed in his very countenance. In other terms, a living icon. Joseph was an aristocrat, a respected Council member, and more. He had the courage to ask for Jesus’ corpse, the compassion to care for His internment and the charity to give Him a dignified burial in his own family’s tomb.
Often we find commentators on this passage accent the negative. If Joseph had been a member of the Sanhedrin sitting in judgment at Jesus’ trial, why did he not speak out in His defense? Nothing relates anybody there taking the Lord’s side, or at least offering Him encouragement. If Joseph or Nicodemus, the other follower of Christ, had done so, we do not know. The Bible is silent. Perhaps neither had been at the trial, since it had been convened at great haste at night, which was illegal. The records indicate a contrived trial with the predictable outcome. The perpetrators would not call neutral or pro-Jesus members to the session.
Events of life have a way of taking us unaware. Something catches us up and overwhelms us at the time. We reflect many times afterward on what we might have done and did not, what we should have said and were unable to utter at the moment. It does not mean that we cannot offer charity and compassion after the fact. The Church has no interest in passing judgment on Joseph. What he might have done on that night that changed the world we simply cannot know. He was the first of all who called themselves Christ’s followers to act decisively after the crucifixion. He was not capable of changing the course of events. Evidently he was not one who could speak with authority and sway the minds of the crowd bent on crucifying Jesus; yet he did what he was able. He mustered the courage to ask Pilate for His body. Then he provided it with a decent burial in his own family’s grave. In the Church’s hymn:
“Noble Joseph took down Your most pure body from the Cross and sorrowing, placed it in a new tomb.”
He grieved for the Giver of life who raised others like Lazarus from death, now lying lifeless in his arms. He grieved for his own people so blinded by rage and self-righteousness that they failed to realize they had demanded and arranged the death of their long-awaited Messiah. He grieved for himself, helpless to prevent the death of One he discovered to be his own Savior. The guilt of the survivor. He grieved for the world then and now which goes on thinking of death and destruction as a means to solve life’s problems.