"He was buried." A Sermon for Easter Even

In Short

This 1849 sermon by a Clapham curate explores the theological significance of Holy Saturday through the lens of Christ’s burial. By recounting the final acts of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, the text moves from the historical narrative of the tomb to a broader appeal for personal repentance and spiritual renewal. It remains a notable example of 19th-century Anglican homiletics, characterized by a solemn, rhythmic prose style intended to transform the reader’s understanding of death from a place of finality into the "vestibule of heaven."

The Story

The narrative begins with a universal observation: the solemn, arresting power of a funeral. Whether the deceased is a person of great renown or a friendless soul, the procession toward the grave forces the living to confront the reality of their own mortality. From this shared human experience, the focus shifts to the specific, historical burial of Jesus. The author paints a picture of a scene defined by abandonment. Most of the disciples have fled, leaving only a small, grieving band of women and two unlikely, distinguished mourners: Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.

These two men, both members of the Sanhedrim, represent a late-blooming courage. Having previously hidden their interest in Jesus due to fear of the world’s reproach, they are transformed by the sight of his death. They claim the body from Pilate, clean the wounds, and wrap the remains in fine linen and aromatic spices. They carry him to a new, rock-hewn tomb—a location chosen not by chance, but as a fulfillment of prophecy and a necessary guard against accusations of fraud.

As the body is laid within the tomb, the author invites the reader to linger in the garden, envisioning a place of beauty and fragrance rather than corruption. This setting serves as a pivot point for the sermon’s argument. The physical grave, once a terrifying symbol of end-points, is reimagined through the presence of Christ. By occupying the tomb, Jesus is said to have perfumed the "hateful garments of the dead" with the promise of immortality. The author contrasts the grief of the Marys—who initially misunderstand the purpose of this sacrifice—with the potential for a deeper, joy-filled faith.

The final movement of the sermon shifts from historical reflection to a direct address to the congregation. The author argues that true repentance is not merely an abstract concept, but a visceral reaction to realizing one’s own role in the "tragedy" of the crucifixion. He draws an analogy to the citizens of Rome, who, upon seeing the mangled mantle of Caesar, were moved to righteous fury against his murderers. He suggests that the believer, seeing the wounds of Jesus, should feel a similar, internal "mutiny" against their own sins. The sermon concludes by bridging the gap between the tomb of Christ and the graves of the reader’s own loved ones. The author posits that because Christ has sanctified the grave, death is no longer a prison, but a passage. He ends with a formal prayer, asking that through the mortification of corrupt affections, the reader might be "buried" with Christ in spirit, ultimately passing through the gate of death toward a joyful resurrection.

How It Unfolds

The universal funeral The author opens by reflecting on the majesty and gravity of death, noting how every funeral serves as a reminder that the grave is the inevitable house of all mankind. He establishes a somber, contemplative tone by contrasting the grand, pomp-filled processions of the wealthy with the quiet, unnoticed burials of the poor.

The unlikely mourners The focus turns to the cross, where the timid rulers Joseph and Nicodemus finally cast off their fear to claim the body of Jesus. Their actions highlight the unexpected ways in which faith can take root, transforming the cautious into the bold in the face of a world’s rejection.

The sepulchre as a garden The scene moves to the tomb itself, which is situated in a fragrant, peaceful garden. The author argues that this location, far from being a place of decay, has been transfigured by Christ into a symbol of hope and the "vestibule of heaven."

The call to repentance The narrative culminates in a challenge to the reader to view their own sins as the true cause of the crucifixion. By comparing the believer’s potential remorse to the citizens of Rome mourning Caesar, the author emphasizes that genuine spiritual life requires a personal, painful confrontation with one's own guilt.

The final hope The sermon closes by applying these lessons to the mourning of departed friends and the reader’s own approaching end. It transitions into a prayerful plea for the congregation to find comfort in the resurrection, transforming their grief into a steady, Christian expectation.

The People

The narrative is anchored by three primary types of figures: the historical actors, the grieving observers, and the collective reader.

Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus act as the catalysts for the burial. Initially defined by their timidity and their desire to protect their standing within the Sanhedrim, they represent the "hidden work of grace." Their shift from secret followers to public mourners serves as the sermon’s primary evidence that faith can overcome even the most paralyzing fear.

The two Marys—Mary Magdalene and the "other Mary"—serve as emotional mirrors for the reader. They represent the state of sorrow that is sincere but incomplete, possessing a love for the person of Jesus but lacking a full understanding of the necessity of his death. Their presence at the tomb provides the author with a bridge to discuss the difference between mourning out of loss and rejoicing in the fulfillment of a divine plan.

Finally, the reader is positioned as the central subject. The author addresses the audience as "companions in tribulation," directly involving them in the narrative. He demands that the reader step into the shoes of the mourners, forcing a transition from an external spectator of a historic event to an internal participant who must reconcile their own life with the reality of death and judgment.

In Its Own Voice

The mourners on this mysterious occasion were few in number.

The author contrasts the small group of followers present at the burial with the vast significance of the event.

How often are the very circumstances that seem most unfavorable to the progress of faith, chosen by God for the manifestation of His grace.

The author reflects on how the desertion of the disciples created the necessary space for the secret conversion of Joseph and Nicodemus.

O ye men of holy and humble hearts, how sad was your task!

The author offers a moment of sympathetic recognition for the two men performing the grim, hasty duty of preparing the body for the tomb.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the sanctification of death. The author argues that the grave is not a final, terrifying destination, but a "vestibule" that has been fundamentally altered by the presence of Christ. This transformation rests on the argument that the "evil of sin" is so profound that it required the death of the "Prince of Life" to remedy. The work serves as an exploration of the paradox of the cross: that the moment of highest human despair and divine abandonment is simultaneously the moment of the world’s salvation. The questions underneath the prose are existential: How does one reconcile personal sin with the magnitude of Christ’s sacrifice, and how can the reality of death be stripped of its "terrible features" to provide actual comfort to the living?

Why Read It Today

This sermon offers a window into the pastoral concerns of mid-19th-century England, where the rhythm of the church calendar dictated the emotional life of the community. Readers who appreciate Victorian-era religious oratory will find the author’s prose elevated, sincere, and often poetic, particularly in his descriptions of the "flowery abode" of the tomb.

However, the text requires patience. The language is formal and heavy with the theological vocabulary of its time, reflecting a period that prioritized sustained, complex argumentation over brevity. The author’s insistence on the "odiousness" of sin and his demand that the reader feel direct "blood guiltiness" for the crucifixion may strike contemporary readers as intense or even alienating. There is little attempt to modernize the narrative; it remains firmly rooted in an era of high-church solemnity.

Despite these difficulties, the sermon is remarkably effective at capturing a quiet, reflective intensity. It is best read slowly, perhaps in one sitting, as a way to engage with the theme of grief and the hope for continuity beyond death. It lingers in the mind not as a fast-paced story, but as a series of resonant images—the spices, the linen, the garden, and the empty, sealed rock—that urge the reader to consider their own final transition with a mix of gravity and peace.