Matthew 27:55-61: a reflection

55Many women were there watching from afar, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, serving him. 56Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee. 57When evening had come, a rich man from Arimathaea named Joseph, who himself was also Jesus’ disciple, came. 58This man went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Then Pilate commanded the body to be given up. 59Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth 60and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had cut out in the rock. Then he rolled a large stone against the door of the tomb, and departed. 61Mary Magdalene was there, and the other Mary, sitting opposite the tomb.

In the aftermath of the crucifixion, when the crowds have gone and hope seems dead, a few faithful people remain. Many women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and cared for his needs are there, watching from a distance, unwilling to abandon him even in death. Their devotion does not depend on triumph. When there is nothing left to gain and everything to grieve, they simply stay near.

Then Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy man and a secret disciple, steps forward with quiet courage. He goes to Pilate, asks for the body of Jesus, wraps it in clean linen, and lays it in his own new tomb. It is a tender, costly act of love for the dead, performed when the cause looked utterly lost. And the women, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, sit facing the tomb, keeping vigil in their grief. Love kept its post when everything seemed over.

There is something deeply moving about this faithfulness in the dark, before any resurrection is known. These followers loved Jesus when there was no visible reward, cared for his body, and stayed near the tomb in sorrow. Their example speaks to those seasons when hope seems buried and God seems silent. Faithfulness that keeps its post in the darkness, that stays near and does the small acts of love it can, is precious to God, and, as their story would soon show, it is not the end. Sunday was coming.

Lord, when hope seemed buried, the women kept watch and Joseph tenderly cared for your body, faithful in the dark before any resurrection was known. Teach me that same faithfulness, to stay near you and do the small acts of love I can even when the cause seems lost and you seem silent. Thank you that their vigil was not the end, and that with you, morning always comes. Amen.