Joseph of Arimathea was a wealthy, influential man. He was a secret follower of Jesus, much like Nicodemus. Because of his status, he approached Pontius Pilate and boldly asked for the dead body of Jesus. He had a tomb, which was supposed to be for his use, but he wanted to provide it for this recently crucified and dead Jesus. Pilate agreed even though he was surprised to hear that the “criminal” had died so quickly. Jesus was indeed dead. His bitter death drained every ounce of His precious blood. The scourge had ripped His flesh. His beard and hair were soaked with sweat, blood and tears. Joseph wrapped the body in fine linen. He and his helpers carried the lifeless Jesus to Joseph’s tomb. Time was running out. It would soon be the Sabbath, so there would be no time to clean His body or prepare it for burial. They placed His smitten body upon a stone slab. Preparations would have to wait until Sunday.

Those Jesus left behind had to be confused and frightened for their own lives. They went into hiding. His mother shed all her tears the day before. None remained, yet her heart was grieving. She recalled the day that her Son was born and placed in an animal feeding trough. She pictured Him working alongside His stepfather as he crafted items people used every day. She recalled tending to the scuffs and scrapes of His young body. She thought about the day they thought Jesus was lost, but found Him in the temple, preaching from the ancient scrolls. She marveled at all His miracles – at His wisdom and knowledge. She saw Him walk the Via Delarosa carrying a cross which would hold His tortured body until He breathed His last. She couldn’t bear the sight, but she knew this day would come.

The tomb was sealed with a huge stone so that no one would steal the body during the night and claim that Jesus had risen from death, as He said He would. Guards we stationed outside the tomb as an additional security measure. His body lay dead. In the glow of the morning sunrise on that Sabbath, the sky turned red orange. A silhouette of the three crosses stood as a reminder of the cruelty of mankind. I wonder what was going through their minds on that day. We know what happened on the third day. They didn’t.