MATTHEW 27:54-61
AFTER COLLEGE I WAS PART OF A Christian basketball team that twice traveled to Cuba to play against the Cuban national team. My team had players from a number of schools around the country, most of them playing, as I did, for Division III programs. We had two Division I players. The last U.S. team the Cubans had played against was the Dream Team, which featured the greatest basketball players ever, including Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and a few others who played on teams other than the Bulls. In their Tournament of the Americas matchup, the Dream Team destroyed the Cubans. The score was 136-57. In turn, the Cubans were happy to go against my less-than-dreamy team as they destroyed us game after game. We must have played ten times on our two-week tour. I won’t give you the scores.
I was matched up against Juan Leopold Vazquez. Juan was stronger and could jump higher, run faster, and shoot better and was far meaner than I am or ever was. He never smiled. He was so serious. He looked so mad. It was the Cold War basketball edition. I felt like he wanted to kill me. I was not merely his competition but his enemy.
However, when you play toe to toe with someone day after day you begin to get to know him, even if he speaks another language. Toward the end of the trip, and especially after a meal the two teams had together, Juan’s heart somehow softened toward me. He now smiled at me after he made three- pointers over me. Quite seriously, some sort of heart-change was happening.
One day when I got to the gym, he came up to me and asked me for my shoes. All of the American players had at least two pairs of shoes with them.
He was asking me for my backup pair, the ones I wore to the gym but not during the game. I couldn’t believe that he wanted my old shoes. But that is indeed what he wanted. I then noticed how the Cuban players only had one pair of shoes and that my old pair was better than his game pair. (Let’s not become Communists anytime soon.) I agreed to give him the shoes. He thanked me. He told me, however, that he would get in a lot of trouble if the coach saw me give them to him. So we worked around the system. After the game, as planned, I left my bag with the shoes in it. He walked by, look the bag, went into the locker room, removed the shoes, and brought the bag back. He also told me that he would give me a gift in my bag but that I wasn’t to open it until I left the country. I told him that a memento wasn’t necessary. But he insisted.
The gift he gave me was his national team jersey!
Years later Juan defected to Canada. He escaped when his team came to play a game in Toronto. He now lives in Oshawa, Ontario. I visited him a few years ago. We went to see a Toronto Raptors basketball game. We sat together and enjoyed the game and a meal afterwards as good friends.
The Roman Soldiers Confessed Jesus
A change of heart is a beautiful thing to witness. In our text we witness such a change of heart take place in the Roman soldiers beneath the foot of the cross. Look at that remarkable verse 54: “When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, ‘Truly this was the Son of God!”’
There are at least three details about this change-of-heart verse that are remarkable—who confesses, why they confess, and what they confess. Let’s start backwards by answering the what question first. “Truly this was the Son of God!” is what was said the moment after Jesus died (v. 54). Now we can debate whether their confession was precisely orthodox. Shouldn’t they have said, “Jesus is [not was] the Son of God”? We can also debate if their confession was a momentary mouthing of the truth—that is, if their confession was “only a sudden and passing impulse,” as Calvin viewed it, or if it was a lasting, lived-out conviction. However, what we should not debate is their sincerity, a sincerity that is pitted against the mocking insults hurled at Jesus just hours before—“If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross” (v. 40b) and “He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God'” (v. 43).
These soldiers might have had imperfect faith in Jesus, but even imperfect faith in Jesus is faith in Jesus! Better to have mustard-seed faith than no faith. Better to have a missing-the-definite-article faith than a missing-the-direct-object faith. What they confessed was good enough for God. It was good enough for Matthew. It should be good enough for us. Echoing the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism and transfiguration—“This is my beloved Son” (3:17; 17:5) and Peter’s great confession at Caesarea—“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (16:16), these soldiers voice what all Believers are to voice: Jesus is the Son of God. They answer in the affirmative Caiaphas’s adjuration to Jesus: “I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God” (26:63). They somehow (by God’s transforming grace) see Jesus now as more than a common Jewish criminal whose pain they ignored and whose clothing they indifferently rolled the dice for, as well as more than (if at all) a “Greco-Roman 'divine man’ (a great human hero deified upon his death).” To Matthew, they mouthed what every post-crucifixion Believer must mouth: Jesus is “the unique Son of God” (cp. 1 John 5:5).
The second remarkable detail about verse 54 answers the question, why did they confess? Matthew touches on what they saw and how they felt. When they “saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe” (v. 54). Matthew links their confession with the divine fireworks of verses 51-53, where God gave the world three supernatural signs—his earthshaking, tomb-breaking, curtain-tearing celebration. Miraculously the temple veil is torn from top to bottom. Miraculously the earth shakes, and the rocks break. Miraculously the dead are raised to life again. And (miraculously?), witnessing some of this—certainly the odd earthquake as well as the strange darkness (v. 45)—these soldiers were “filled with awe” (or holy terror—the fear of the Lord) and filled with faith—“Truly this was the Son of God!” (v. 54). You see, following the earth’s response to Jesus’ death (the sun covers its eyes, and the earth shakes its feet) there comes the earthlings’ response (the dead are raised to life, and the true identity of Jesus is announced).
It is announced by Roman soldiers. That’s the answer to our who question. The first post-crucifixion Believers confession does not come from Peter or Mary or any of Jesus’ close friends or holy family. It doesn’t come from the high priest or one of the elders of Israel. Rather, it comes from a high-ranking centurion and the soldiers who were with him. In Mark’s account we hear only the voice of the centurion (Mark 15:39). In Matthew it’s a choral confession, which is far more dramatic. Must Matthew always outdo Mark? I suppose he must. We wonder, did the centurion first say, “Truly this was the Son of God!” and the eight to a hundred men under him all joined in? Or did they all say spontaneously and in unison, “Truly this was the Son of God!”? We don’t know. I like the latter. I’m with Matthew—the more dramatic the better.
While these soldiers likely didn’t witness the veil-tearing in the temple, they nevertheless acted out the teaching of it. They are Gentiles. They are Roman Gentiles. They are Roman soldier Gentiles. They are Gentile sinners. Whether they were the same soldiers involved in the brutal scourging, stripping, and spitting mockery of 27:26-30 we don’t know. But we do know that they nailed Jesus to the cross. Also we do know that moments earlier they showed no respect for him as a fellow human being. And yet here there was “a fundamental reformation of opinion,” or put more piously, “a conversion to Jesus as Christ.” Luther says it this way: “The blood of Christ not only wakens dead bodies, but also sinners’ souls.” Amen to that. These enemies of God come near to God through the blood of Jesus (cp. Romans 5:10) and the power of God.
Thus, this is the lesson for us: how these soldiers reacted to Jesus is how true disciples should react. In chapter 14 when Jesus walked on the water, the disciples were “terrified” (v. 26), and then that fear of God turned into a confession of Christ: “Truly you are the Son of God” (v. 33). Likewise, here these soldiers who were first filled with fear were then filled with faith: “Truly this was the Son of God!” (v. 54). They respond in faith to the cross of Christ. Psalm 22:27 prophesied that the nations would worship the righteous suffering King, and here is such worship. As Frederick Dale Bruner says, “The New Temple of the people of God is beginning its first worship service right here.” The soldiers’ voices join the voices of the wise men of 2:1-12, the centurion of 8:5-13, and the Canaanite woman of 15:21-28 and anticipate the resounding chorus to come when all nations (28:19) shall sing to Jesus as King of kings and Lord of lords, and he shall reign forever! Let us join in singing that song today. Let us confess the soldiers’ choral confession.
Joseph of Arimathea Buried Jesus
The Roman soldiers are the first of three characters we are considering in this tract. We have looked at their confession. The other two characters are Joseph of Arimathea and the women. Let's next look at and learn from Joseph and his burial of Jesus.
When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who also was a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. And Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen shroud and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had cut in the rock. And he rolled a great stone to the entrance of the tomb and went away. (vv. 57-60)
Here are three key observations about Joseph. First, he was Jewish. We know that fact from his Jewish name (Joseph) and his Jewish hometown (Arimathea). Some scholars identify Arimathea as “Ramathaim-zophim of the hill country of Ephraim,” the town where Samuel was born (1 Samuel 1:1), others as being “Ramah” where Jeremiah prophesied (see 2:18). Furthermore, we know from Luke 23:50 that he was a member of the Sanhedrin (“a respected member of the Council,” Mark 15:43) and also that he did not consent with the Council's condemnation of Jesus (Luke 23:51).
I bring out the fact that Joseph was Jewish to say that in the death of Jesus, God has not completely rejected his people Israel. Immediately following Jesus’ death, Gentiles enter the kingdom of heaven, and Jews (represented by Joseph and the women as well) anticipate something of the kingdom of heaven still being at hand (see Mark 14:43; Luke 23:51), even in a dead Messiah. Joseph was Jewish, but he was a Jewish “disciple of Jesus” (v. 57). This Jew followed Jesus.
Second, Joseph was “rich” (v. 57). Why does Matthew mention that detail? There is perhaps a reason—namely, even rich men can be faithful followers of Jesus. There is a place for rich men in the Ecclesia, men who put Jesus before money by putting their money to work for Jesus. This is the first time in Matthew that wealth takes on a positive connotation. Abraham was a wealthy man. Job was a wealthy man. Solomon was a wealthy man. Scripture is not silent on the fear of the Lord being found in frightfully rich men. But in Matthew, Jesus teaches his followers, most of whom are poor, to consider the lilies and to ask for daily bread. And in Matthew that last rich man we encountered was the rich young ruler, who walked away from Jesus “sorrowful, for he had great possessions” (19:22), or because great possessions had him. So, can a rich man enter the kingdom of heaven? Yes. Okay then, how does a rich man enter the kingdom of heaven? The same way anyone does—through God’s saving grace. “With man [such salvation] is impossible, but with God all things [even squeezing a fat camel through the eye of a needle] are possible” (see 19:26, 24).
Grace is truly amazing.
Moreover, Matthew mentions Joseph’s wealth for historical reasons. Only a rich (and politically connected) man could gain access to Pilate and actually be granted his request. And only a rich man would be able to afford “a clean linen shroud” (v. 59), a “new tomb” that was likely cut into a limestone hillside-cave (v. 60), and “a great stone” that was rolled in front of the tomb (v. 60). Poor men were buried in mass paupers’ graves. Joseph’s tomb had no other bodies in it; it was brand-new; it was above, not below, ground; and it had the expensive, state-of-the-art, rolling-stone feature. Most tombs had small square stones just to keep out animals and thieves. This tomb was the deluxe edition. It had all the bells and whistles.
In giving all this information, I don’t intend to make light of the death and especially the burial of our Lord. But I want you to see that Joseph’s procuring Jesus' body, covering it the way he did, and laying that dead body in such a tomb is filled with historical significance (and prophetic significance; see Isaiah 53:9). Jesus had to be really dead for Joseph to go to Pilate in the first place. Pilate had to agree that Jesus was really dead to give the body to Joseph. Jesus had to be really dead for his face to be covered with a shroud. He wasn’t breathing, and Joseph witnessed that firsthand.
The details of the tomb—above ground, in a known and visible place, a large circular stone, no other bodies in it—brings greater credence to the testimony of Jesus’ resurrection. The women didn’t mistakenly go to the wrong tomb. Joseph and Pilate could have easily checked. Unlike Moses (“no one knows the place of his burial to this day,’’ Deuteronomy 34:6), the location of Jesus’ tomb was well-known by a number of witnesses—the guards, the women, Joseph, Pilate, and likely others.
My third observation about Joseph was that he demonstrated courageous love for Christ. In Matthew’s Gospel, Joseph makes a short cameo appearance. His scene is short but sweet. He arrives as quickly as he departs. He reminds us of the earlier Joseph in Matthew 1, 2,8 as both Josephs are quiet (not a word of theirs is recorded for us) and both men’s deeds speak more loudly than their words.
Perhaps this second Joseph is not mentioned earlier in Matthew because he was a coward. John tells us as much, for he writes that Joseph “was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews” (John 19:38). Well, after Jesus’ courageous death it appears that Joseph had a conversion from bashful to brave. This coward became courageous. He is the only male disciple of Jesus to step forward in chapter 27. All the apostles are absent. It took great courage for a highly distinguished member of the Sanhedrin to go by himself to Pilate in order to ask for the body of a convicted and crucified criminal. What would the other members of the Council think about this? Would they resent him? Would they kick him out of the club? And what would Pilate think of such a politically-charged request? Pilate could have said no and ordered Jesus’ body to remain on the cross to rot in the sun the next day, be picked apart by birds, and then torn apart by scavenger dogs. That would be quite the warning to anyone aspiring to insurrection! (And that was done in those days.) Or he could have ordered that Jesus’ body be thrown into a mass grave with other criminals and no names. Or Pilate could have charged Joseph with siding with the enemy. Joseph was very bold here. By going to Pilate, he risked his reputation and perhaps even his life.
Along with being a courageous man, Joseph was a loving man. Rich men don’t usually do slave’s work. But here we see a rich man prepare Jesus’ body for a proper and honorable burial. He dirtied his clean hands, during Passover no less, by touching Jesus’ unclean body (thus, ironically, obeying the Law [Deuteronomy 21:22, 23]). He served the Servant of Servants, the one who came to serve and lay down his life for others. Joseph, who took, wrapped, laid, cut, rolled, and went away (note the six verbs), embodied Jesus’ John 13 foot-washing model. He loved the greatest man ever to live in the least great moment of that man’s life. Joseph’s kind action echoes the anonymous woman who anointed Jesus' body for burial (26:6-13). She anoints him for burial; Joseph prepares the body. Both are tender gestures. And both are now part of the Gospel story we tell (they have been rewarded for their good deeds). As the soldiers show us what Christian faith confesses, Joseph shows us how Christian faith works. Our faith is to be a courageous, loving, doing faith.
Aside from the person of Joseph, let’s not miss the person of Jesus—the man whom Joseph buries—and how much that burial matters. Just because Jesus isn’t doing anything in our text doesn’t mean what he has done is not of greatest significance. Often the burial of Christ gets little mention when compared to the cross of Christ. But the whole of Jesus’ humiliation is necessary for our salvation—his being born of a woman, born under the Law, born in a low condition, undergoing the normal miseries of human life, bearing the scorn of man and the wrath of God on the cross, and then dying and remaining dead and buried for three days.
Much can be said about the significance of Jesus’ burial. Herman Ridderbos provides an excellent summary of what I would say if I were as smart as he. Ridderbos writes:
Although the account of Jesus’ burial is extremely terse and sober, we must never forget that here, as through the whole gospel, the Evangelist is telling the story of the Christ. The absence of biographical details focuses all attention on the main point, namely, that the path of humiliation walked by God’s Anointed descended all the way to the grave, the place where death reigns supreme and mercilessly imposes its curse (see Gen. 3:19). Christ was dragged down to the place of deepest human humiliation and defilement and imprisoned behind a heavy stone. Even His closest friends thought He was gone for good, a figure from the past who now would be forgotten. Thus Jesus endured not only pain and suffering and the curse of death but even the terror of the grave, so that He could save His people from this forever."
Jesus’ burial is an essential part of the Believers creed. So let’s confess, "He suffered under Pontus Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried…” and let us do so with clear confidence and humble gratitude.
The Women Witnessed to Jesus
Jesus said, “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me” (John 12:32 kjv). We have seen the Jewish man, Joseph, and the Gentile men, the Roman soldiers, drawn to Jesus after he was raised up on the cross. But Jesus’ death draws “many women” as well. In 27:55, 56, 61 we read about them. Pre-burial, we are told that “There were also many women there, looking on from a distance, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him, among whom were Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Joseph and the mother of the sons of Zebedee” (vv. 55, 56). Then, post-burial, we are told that “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary [i.e., the mother of James and Joseph or Joses, cp. Mark 15:40, 47] were there, sitting opposite the tomb” (27:61).
There are three important observations to make about these women. First, there were “many” (v. 55). That detail is in contrast again with the twelve apostles, of whom none were there. While the women are eying the cross “from a distance”—perhaps due to “timidity or modesty”—they are nonetheless there. It is especially interesting to note that “the mother of the sons of Zebedee” (v. 56), in contrast with her “sons of thunder,” is present. “Her presence... serves as a foil for her sons’ cowardly absence,” and if she hadn’t yet learned Jesus’ lesson on kingdom greatness, perhaps witnessing his great death taught her “the true meaning of being on [his]... left and right.” Just as Mary Magdalene had seven demons cast out of her (Luke 8:2), this woman must have had those demons of her own pride cast out by Jesus’ seemingly inglorious and powerless yet truly glorious and powerful death.
Again, like the Roman soldiers and Joseph of Arimathca, the faith of these women might be inadequate, but it’s faith. Fearful faith is better than no faith. Faithful-till-the-end-on-the-hill-of-Golgotha faith is better than hiding-under-the-table-in-the-upper-room faith. But their faith might also be exemplary. I say that based on how Matthew describes them. They “followed Jesus from Galilee” (v. 55). The word “follow” is a favorite of Jesus. It’s a good, healthy, noble word. To come near him for the 100 miles or more from Galilee to Jerusalem is a good, healthy, noble action. Then to further describe them as “ministering to him” (v. 55) has a nice serve-Jesus-serve-people ring to it.
Second, the women are women! Yes, the extra X chromosome matters. Ever since Eve’s universally disastrous slip up, women have received bad press. In the Gospels, however, women make the front page for their heroic deeds. That’s not an exaggeration. Other than the two bad apples in Herod’s sordid family, the mother of Jesus’ momentary lapse of faith, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee’s misunderstanding of kingdom power, the women in Matthew are just marvelous, especially when it counts most (at the end). Christianity didn’t offer marginalized women feminism, but it did offer marginalized women freedom, the freedom that comes to both men and women, and that freedom comes through serving God and others. These women do both.
How do they serve both? They serve God as his witnesses to the crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. In our text many women were at the cross, and two women were at the tomb. Not a large funeral, but large enough to establish the Law’s requirement of two witnesses (Deuteronomy 19:15). Thus they serve the Ecclesia and the world as official eyewitnesses to the greatest events of history. I'll put it this strongly, in case that last sentence wasn’t strong enough: without the women’s witness, the Ecclesia has no testimony. While women were not viewed as creditable witnesses in that culture, God used them as his key witnesses, lending their “credibility... to the kerygmatic triad: Jesus died, was buried, was raised.” You see, the role of women in the Gospel of Matthew may be to teach the Ecclesia that God uses the weaker things (or what the world considers the weaker things) to confound the wise. That fits gospel logic. But more certainly, God uses faithful people—men or women—as his faithful witnesses.
I like to imagine, one day after Jesus’ ascension, Matthew sitting down with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary and taking notes about the events (28:1-10). “Now, Mary, tell me again about the tomb. It had a rolling stone? Really! And that bit about the angel after the stone was rolled away... say that over again. I need to make sure that I get all this down.”
Don't underestimate the girls in the Gospels. Without the girls there are no Gospels, at least no good news ending to the Gospels.
The Beginning of the End
Many years after the drafting of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson authored The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth: Extracted Textually from the Gospels in Greek, Latin, French, and English, now commonly referred to as the Jefferson Bible (c. 1820). This Bible was Jefferson’s private declaration of independence, we might say, from historic Christian teachings, for he edited out (with a razor blade no less) all the parts of the Gospels that didn’t fit his deistic theology. Using his naturalistic and rationalistic grid, he removed all supernaturalism, as well as to the divine miracles, and resurrection of Jesus. His Bible begins with the birth narrative, minus mention of angels and prophecy, and it concludes with the cross and the tomb (but not an empty one): “There laid they Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.” That’s Jefferson’s version of Matthew 27:60. To Jefferson, Jesus died and was buried—period, end of story.
But, of course, to end where Jefferson ended is an “inadequate ending to a ‘Gospel’ !” Gospel means “good news.” To cut out 27:62—28:20 is to miss the whole point of 27:54-61! This transitional text is in our Bibles not as a conclusion but as the bridge to a new beginning. We will walk with the women over that bridge in the next chapter. The story isn’t over. The best is yet to come. Will the stone stay still? Will the tomb be empty? Will the women’s tears be wiped away by fear and joy and eyewitness astonishment ? Will Jesus rise from the dead? Will this two-woman Ecclesia grow into a billion men and women and children and counting? We shall see. We shall see.
(R. Kent Hughes. and Douglas Sean O'Donnell., 2013; edited Carl Hinton., 2020)