The invitation from my friend, Greg, was irresistible. “If there was a memorial service for Jesus, what would Nicodemus say in a eulogy?”

Here’s what I wrote. The eulogy part was part of the service on Good Friday evening, 2023. The rest I wrote to help myself think through the moment.

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Nick hated days like today.

As clergy, he knew, people expected that he would be good at death. People looked to him for answers, for meaning, for compassion. His study meant that he should be able to explain and defend God and death and life and why these excruciating moments were acceptable and necessary.

He always worked hard to be helpful. But he never liked it.

And on days like today, it would be worse. He knew the man who had been buried.

And not just knew him, Nick respected him. Talked with him. Shifted his life because of those conversations. Had been at the graveside.

They weren’t friends. They couldn’t be. They weren’t on the same theological page. Not as far as people could tell. But there was much that people didn’t really know.

His wife touched his arm. He realized they were standing outside the door they’d been told of. He had no idea how long they had been standing here. His legs shook, but it wasn’t from the walk or from the wait. Since the earthquake, since the spectacle, since the death, nothing was stable/solid.

She asked if he was ready. He wasn’t but he nodded.

They climbed the steps and were in the room. She sat in the back. He walked up the side aisle, knowing that everyone was watching him. No one wanted him there. Not really.

Nick nodded to the leader of the service.

He knew the leader’s family well. He’d been to a funeral in their family not long before.

But Nick kept his distance. His colleagues had been angry at the family, at the leader of tonight’s gathering. And the family had been uncertain, then terrified of his colleagues.

Finally, the service started.

Everyone who spoke had been good friends, had been relatives, had been changed.

They talked about time together, about ways their lives were different because of that time. They talked about their deep sense of loss.

It was his turn. The time to pull himself together, to pull this despair together, to give meaning. But this would be the hardest eulogy ever.

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You can read the rest here or download it.