1a. 1.13
This verse is usually taken to conclude the prologue to the Gospel, which sets the scene for the whole gospel by telling the reader who Jesus is, namely the son of God foretold by the prophets and heralded by John the Baptist. The reader can then watch the actors in the drama gradually and painfully discovering. Some scholars hold that the prologue includes also the initial proclamation of Jesus, others that it ends with the Baptism.
The significance of the scene, so much shorter than those of Mt and Lk, is already given by the time period. Forty is a biblical figure for an indefinitely long period. In addition it is often a period of preparation for a mission (the Israelites 40 years in the desert; Elijah 40 days on Mount Horeb; the disciples waiting 40 days before the Ascension); of the three, the allusion is most likely to be to the first, for Jesus succeeds in staying faithful where Israel failed. The desert is often a fearful place, the abode of demons, though also a place of peaceful experience of God.
The wild beasts have been interpreted diversely. They may be part of the horror and testing of the desert, but they may also be a reminiscence of Isaiah, for in the messianic renewal the peace of Eden will be renewed by the lion lying down with the lamb, etc. The angels ministering to Jesus could therefore be either an intensification or a compensation for this; in any case it has important christological implications that the ministers of God here minister to Jesus.
Perhaps the most important element is Satan, the tempter/tester of Job. This marks the beginning of Jesus' triumphant battle with evil which will be marked by his exorcisms, and is the sign of the inbreaking of the sovereignty of God.
1b. 1.27
A scene in the synagogue at Capernaum, part of the sample Sabbath day of Jesus' ministry assembled by Mark to signal the opening of Jesus' ministry.
It is the first explicit notice of Jesus' authority, though that authority has already been seen in the gob-struck way in which the first four disciples follow his call without preparation or demur. The authority is seen in two ways. First in Jesus' teaching, for he teaches on his own authority, unlike the standard Jewish teachers, who are careful to remain within the tradition of the oral Torah. Adherence to this tradition remains important within Judaism. The good student is called a library full of books, denoting the importance of knowing the previous case-lore, and in theory the tradition of Oral Torah goes back to Moses in an unbroken chain (whence it is important for the rabbi to be able to trace is pedigree). Jesus, however, dares to depart from it with his own halakhoth.
Secondly, this authority is confirmed by his authority over the unclean spirits, a quasi-physical proof of his spiritual authority. Next Jesus will show in the same way his authority to forgive sins. No doubt several of the disorders described primitively as 'unclean spirits' would today be analysed as mental illness. Nevertheless, the authority of Jesus in curing the malady is no less than that shown by curing a physical sickness. It shows the command of Jesus which cannot go unrecognised. This command is expressed by giving Jesus the title 'son of God', though the absence of this expression on human lips until it is spoken by the centurion does suggest that it may have been more a theological recognition by Mark rather than a cry audible at the time.
1c. 7.18-19
This private teaching to the disciples after the controversy about clean and unclean food is summed up by the final Markan parenthesis in a sense which can hardly stem from Jesus. The point was hotly disputed in the early Christian community, witness the controversies shown by Peter's vision at Joppe, at the Council of Jerusalem and at Antioch (Ga 2). Jesus can hardly have made the matter so plain. Matthew is distinctly less sweeping on the subject, both omitting the parenthesis here and correspondingly cutting out the sweeping dismissal of the importance of the Sabbath in Mark 2.27. There may well have been different practices in different Christian communities, according to the degree of Judaism present. Mark was clearly writing for a community sprung from gentiles, for he frequently explains Jewish customs - as earlier in this pericope he explains the custom of washing after return from the market.
Sanders wisely suggests that in this and other pericopes Mark may well have taken a genuine saying of Jesus and inserted it in a controversy-story more relevant to his own community. The possible application of the saying is wider than clean and unclean food (which ranked so important to the Pharisees that they have been caricatured as a Clean Food Club).
This is also a typical example of the failure of the disciples to understand, which will be discussed in the answer to question 5.
1d. 9.4-5
The transfiguration is a crucial moment of revelation. In Mark the Voice at the baptism was to Jesus alone, showing him (and the reader) the sonship of Jesus. Now this is made irrevocably clear to the disciples also, following Peter's confession of Jesus as the Christ. Jesus is shown as a heavenly figure by the whiteness of his garments.
The significance of Elijah and Moses (why in that order, corresponding neither to chronology nor to the normal estimate of their relative importance? Matthew 'corrects' it) has been explained as representing the Law and the Prophets. Perhaps more likely is that they were both recipients of a revelation of the nature of God on a mountain, Sinai and Horeb respectively. At any rate their presence shows the central thrust of the scene: it is an experience of the divine quality of Jesus.
Bultmann and others have suggested that such a scene cannot have taken place now, or the disciples would never have fled at the Passion. Is it therefore a transposed resurrection appearance? Another puzzle about its positioning is that it immediately succeeds the saying that some standing here will see the kingdom of God come in power. Is this the moment or a moment of the coming of the Kingdom?
Again Peter, the spokesman of the disciples, speaks their failure to understand (see Question 5). This failure is perhaps expressed in the suggestion of contructing three bothies, as though all three figures were on a level.
1e. 11.13
This constitutes the first half of a sandwich around the demonstration of Jesus in the Temple, the second half being the observation that the fig-tree has indeed withered. Mark often uses this technique of intercalation to interpret scenes (e.g. spiritual healing sandwiched by physical healing, Jesus' declaration before the High Priest sandwiched by Peter's denial). Here the fig-tree stands for Israel, as often in the Old Testament. The meaning therefore is that Judaism as it is at present is barren and about to he destroyed. This is an important interpretation of Jesus' action in the Temple: it is no mere cleansing, as though the Temple was about to be put right; it is a symbolic destruction.
There are some oddities about the passage. Why does Mark say that there are leaves on the tree? In Mk 13 leaves are the sign of approaching spring and fertility, but here the leaves have no such significance. Ecologists have complained at Jesus' irrational behaviour: he should have known that it was not the season for figs; and why does Mark specifically point it out (the delayed explanation with ga.r is phrased in a typically Markan manner)? Perhaps the meaning has intruded into the parable, since there was no harvest to be reaped from the fig-tree of Israel.
1f. 14.23-24
The significance of the coming Passion is clearly delineated here, particularly by two features, the cup and the covenant. The cup is a frequent biblical symbol of trial and suffering, and often also of God's wrath. In Mark alone we have seen Jesus offer a share in the cup of suffering to the two ambitious sons of Zebedee, and will see him struggling to accept it for himself in the Garden. The covenant corresponds to the covenant of YHWH in the Exodus; this is Jesus' covenant, locking to himself the new holy people in the same way as Israel was locked to YHWH by the covenant in the desert. It is fitting that this should occur at a Passover meal, which commemorated the liberation from Egypt, though there are difficulties over the dating and interpretation of this last supper of Jesus and his disciples.
The saying and the whole narrative of the institution of the Eucharist are handed down in two slightly different forms, one in Mark-Matthew, one in Luke-Paul. The latter, probably intended for gentiles, changes the semitic 'many' into 'you', thus removing for a Greek mind the limiting seeming connotation of pollw/n which is not in fact present in Aramaic. However, the multiple attestation and the antiquity of the attestation in Paul (in 1 Cor 11) as already a piece of tradition learned by heart by his converts, is a valuable indication of its antiquity.
It has been maintained that for Jews to drink blood was so shocking that this would have been impossible until Christianity moved into the gentile sphere. Shocking as it certainly is, the alternative, that this word was added simply to give the cup a meaning, and a semitised meaning at that, is feeble.
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2a. 7.25-30 The Syro-Phoenician
This lively story of Jesus' only certain encounter with a gentile forms part of the section of Mark between the two Feeding Miracles, in which every pericope touches food or eating. It has been thought to be at least related to a eucharistic catechesis. The importance of it is that it shows that Jesus, while not encouraging gentiles, is at least open to them.
Jesus is uncompromisingly brusque to the woman, using to her the contemptuous name commonly used by Jews to gentiles, 'dog'; there is no escaping the insult by means of the diminutive kuna,rion as though it were an affectionate expression, 'puppies', 'pets'. The woman's response is striking: she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. This is market-place bargaining, and it is by her wit that she wins her way. It is not till Matthew's re-writing of the story that it is explicitly attributed to her faith, although of course it is her faith in Jesus which makes her so persistent and so bold.
The form of address which she uses, ku,rie, can mean simply 'Sir!', and in Mark need have no further overtones. It is used by Mark only twice with the definite article, and then in contexts where it may apply to God rather than to Jesus himself. It cannot therefore be taken as indication that she regards Jesus as superhuman or divine.
This miracle of curing a sick gentile child at a distance is a form which occurs in all four gospels, but with different characters and in different circumstances. The variations between them make it dubious whether the same incident is involved or whether this is simply a standard pattern. Thus Matthew and Luke have the very similar story of the healing of the Centurion's Boy/Son at Capernaum, and John's second sign at Cana is the Healing of the Son of the Royal Official at Capernaum. In each a gentile parent comes to Jesus to ask healing for a child at the point of death, Jesus cures the child at a distance and the gentile finds faith. In each gospel there is only one such story, but such a healing is not unprecedented, being attibuted also to Rabbi Honi the Rain-Maker.
Mark contains rare but firm indications of an openness to the gentile mission. Apart from this incident, the Gerasene demoniac may shakily be classified as a gentile: the Decapolis is certainly gentile territory, and a good Jew has no business to be associating with pigs. While the famous parenthesis in 1c above suggests that, by the time the gospel comes to be written, the gentile mission is in full swing, Mark's indication that a gentile centurion is, after the death of Jesus, the first human being to recognise Jesus as 'son of God/god' is surely a pointer to the important place gentiles will have in Mark's church. In addition, the diversion of the Temple from being a house of prayer 'for all nations' is given as a cause of its supersession. But we need not insist that Jesus had fully worked out all the modalities of his mission.
2b. 12.6-10 The Wicked Vine-Dressers
This is one of the two major story-parables in Mark, each at a turning-point in the story, one in the first half, the other in the second. This one is sandwiched between controversies with the Jewish authorities and forms a sort of image of their bad faith and its impending result. They immediately recognise this meaning, made obvious by the allusion to the vineyard of Isaiah 5.
To make the matter even clearer, the addition of a verse from the psalms drives home the lesson - and Mark often uses scripture to emphasise the will of God and the inevitability of its accomplishment.
In Mark's gospel this must be regarded as an allegory, the servants being the prophets, the son being Jesus. This is certainly how Matthew (an inveterate allegoriser) regards it, for he intensifies the allegorical elements. Mark's emphasis on Jesus as son of God, which brackets the gospel, means that for him too it must be allegorical. The question must be raised whether in Jesus' mouth the story should be so regarded. Jülicher attempted to deny all allegory to Jesus, on the grounds that it is a hellenistic not a Palestinian form. The story makes sufficient sense if it is meant simply as an account of the endless and increasing care of God in sending messenger after messenger, even the most precious. The solution lies, perhaps, in Mk 13.32, a saying authenticated by the ascription of ignorance to Jesus (so hardly an invention of the early Church), which calls Jesus 'the son'.
It should be stressed that the story and its meaning are not anti-Jewish, still less anti-Semitic (Jewish =/= Semitic). The vineyard, a classic image of Israel, is not rejected, only the vinedressers. The parable, as the subequent verse attests, is directed only against the leaders of the people.
It seems vain to adduce putative evidence of inheritance laws as illustration of the story. It is suggested that in Palestinian legislation if there is no heir the property falls to those currently in possession. However, the tenants are just as probably engaging in sheer piracy. They still have to cope with the owner before they can be secure in possession! Nor would it be wise to use this story as proof of Jesus' misunderstood mission as a social reformer. Talk of widespread latifundia in Galilee and absentee landlords in the first third of the century is poorly evidenced.
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3. Are there any valid arguments for a connection of Mark's Gospel with Peter? How would you assess them?
The arguments for a connection of Mark with Peter are both internal and external, the ones as weak as the others. It will be argued that the external arguments all stem from the worthless testimony of Papias, and that the internal arguments are valid only on the anachronistic presumption of a certain sort of spirituality. Initially it should also be noted that in Christian tradition there were strong motives for attaching this gospel to one of the Twelve, for it was felt that inspiration demanded a vir apostolicus. For the same reason the third gospel has clung limpet-like to a companion of Paul. A wider view of inspiration makes this argument unnecessary even for Christians, since the modern outlook is that the writings of the NT are the expression of the faith of the whole Church, reliant on and guaranteed by the first generation of Christians as a whole rather than on individuals. In any case, it is dangerous to decide questions of history on grounds of faith.
It is Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis in Asia Minor in 110, who claims that Mark was the hermeneutes of Peter. The claim is recorded by Eusebius, who passes it on 'for the information of scholars'. He himself sets little store by it, but then he considers Papias to be a pin-head (mi,kroj to.n nou/n) because of his views on milleniarism, with which Eusebius disagreed - not strong grounds for his historical unreliability. More damning is the fact that Papias makes several other mistakes in his testimony about the gospel-writers, despite the claim that he knew at least John the Elder at one remove (through Polycarp). For instance, he thinks that Matthew was written in Aramaic, which is disproved by the fact that several of Matthew's quotations of the Old Testament require the Greek LXX text in order to be apposite at all.
Papias may himself be relying on 1 Pt 5.13, which claims that a Mark was with the author in 'Babylon'. The matter is fraught with uncertainty: how much credence may be placed on the historical data of this pseudonymous writing? Is 'Babylon' here a cryptogram for Rome? How long, if at all, was Peter in Rome? Is this Mark the same as the author of the gospel? Mark is a common name in the Roman world. The name is mentioned in four other works of the NT (Acts, Colossians, 2 Timothy, Philemon), the first two probably referring to the same person, John Mark, cousin and partner of Barnabas, whose mother had a house in Jerusalem. Whether there is any connection between the others is purely a matter of conjecture.
The internal evidence is largely personal. Peter plays a large and not wholly creditable part in the gospel. This, it is claimed, is so damaging that it can stem only from Peter's humble testimony. Similarly, the young man in the Garden 'must' be John Mark, who bravely put this humiliating signature to his work. (Alternatively the young man may be considered a mirror-image of the disciples who left all to follow Jesus: in time of trial he leaves all to get away). Much of the embarrassing material, it is said, is omitted by the other evangelists. But is it? Matthew, it may be argued, is just as damaging: there is no reconciliation for Peter at the end, and the last we see of him is weeping bitterly after his denial. The Fourth Gospel similarly presents Peter often at a disadvantage compared to the Beloved Disciple. Humiliations to Peter are no preserve of the gospel of Mark.
Attempts have been made to pin Mark down in Rome through Latinisms (denarius, quadrans, kenturion), but Latinisms were current throughout the Empire, not only in the capital. Other geographical details of the gospel make greater difficulties for a link with John Mark of Jerusalem. The author of the Second Gospel is surely ignorant of the Holy Land: Jesus routes up in the north are tortuous and unlikely, and the sketchy knowledge of Jerusalem compares unfavourably with that of the Fourth Gospel. Would John Mark, who split off from Paul over his antinomianism, have written a gospel for the gentiles which shows such scant interest in jewish observance? Would an inhabitant of Jerusalem have shown Jesus using a coin, the denarius, which was unknown in Palestine till the very end of the first century?
More difficult to handle are the arguments from style. The impression, which form-critical studies have made canonical, is that the stories are threadbare from passing through many hands. The lively details come not from personal witness but from the gifts of an inspired raconteur, such as Mark certainly is - witness his brilliant technique of zooming in (onto Jesus' cushion as he sleeps in the boat, onto the bloody head of the Baptist, onto the slip of a girl who sends the doughty fisherman snivelling out of the High Priest's hall). Mark was chosen by his community to write down the Good News not because he happened to have heard Peter, but because his scintillating, repetitive, oral style and the masterly build-up of his structure were ideal vehicles to transmit his gripping picture of the Master.
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4. Will a consideration Jesus' titles suffice to give a fair picture of Mark's Christology?
The fashion for title-Christology, so popular in the times of Cullmann and Fuller, has long since passed. By themselves the titles of Jesus do not suffice; they must be supplemented by narrative theology. It is more profitable and enlightening to see the titles as shorthand expressions which serve to sum up a wider definition. Among the various titles which are used for Jesus in Mark (e.g. 'son of David') we will focus on those which Mark brings together at the trial scene, that 'compendium of Markan Christology' (Conzelmann).
Mark's chief title for Jesus is perhaps 'son of God'. In the OT this title is used widely to signify Israel (Ho and Dt), the king (2 Sm 7, Ps 2), the angelic courtiers of God (Job) and even the just man (Wisdom Literature); it thus indicates a person with a special mission from and special closeness to God. When Mark uses this title to bracket his gospel, and boldly pierces his ironical presentation to remind the reader through the declarations of supernatural beings, he is opening a broad field full of possibilities which need to be defined by the story itself. Mark's ironical presentation, expressed in the gradual discovery by the actors in the drama of the truth which the reader has already been told in the introduction, means that the expression 'son of God' surfaces only occasionally as a reminder. After the mention in the first verse of the gospel (if the extremely strong MS evidence is accepted) the Voice from heaven brings it to attention at the Baptism and Transfiguration. Otherwise the ejected unclean spirits show by their cry (surely an interpretation of Mark) that Jesus' authority over them is due to his supernatural authority as 'son of God'
Similarly with 'son of man'. On the lips of Jesus this expression may well have been a deliberately enigmatic and self-deprecating circumlocution. In the gospel of Mark it has three principal emphases, denoting Jesus' authority on earth (forgiveness of sin in 2.10, authority over the Sabbath in 2.28), his triumph through suffering (in each of the great prophecies of the Passion) and his future eschatological role (8.38; 13.26; 14.62). Mark clearly sees in it allusion to the prophecy of Daniel, emphasising this at key points. Such an allusion to Daniel in itself carries endless possibilities which require definition. Is Mark suggesting that Jesus is the people of God, the referent of the Danielic son of man, who stands for the Jewish people just as do the preceding beasts for foreign oppressors? Is he suggesting that Jesus can reach his goal only through suffering, as the people of God in Antiochus' persecution triumphed only after suffering? Is he stressing the extent of Jesus' vindication and power over 'all authority on earth', the supernatural authority received by Daniel's son of man? This title is open-ended, so that the reader, seeing the son of man acting in these three roles, realises that there is also presage of endless further possibilities.
The third title in the trio is 'Messiah'. One prominent theme of Mark's gospel is the proclamation of the sovereignty of God and its arrival by means of Jesus' teaching and devastation of evil. This is the message of so many of Jesus' actions, his healings and exorcisms, his renewal of the the observance of the Law to bring it closer to the fulfilment of the Kingdom. It must also be the meaning of that culmnation of his mission, the demonstration in the Temple, which showed that the old regime was ended and the new begun. There were many views of messianism and many expectations current at the time of Jesus, but if there is one value which all the messianic theories and pretentions share it is as agent of the arrival of God's sovereignty, the end of the 'exile' and the reign of evil.
All these titles therefore make sense only against the growing impression of Jesus in action, his boundless authority, his godlike action. He acts as God acts, both by his sovereign teaching and by his sovereign control of sin, evil and nature. He shows the divine love in his care for individuals, and the divine tenacity in his determination to set through his proclamation. The Markan titles are handy ways of partially summing up this man who fits no formula (Bornkamm).
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6. Does Mark seek to convey a political message?
Current discussions tend to run rather in the opposite direction, suggesting that Jesus had a political message which is either misunderstood or masked by Mark. SGF Brandon famously maintained that Jesus was in fact a Zealot, a political revolutionary devoted to the overthrow of the Romans, and that after the disaster of the Jewish War his followers (including Mark) found it politic to mask this political thrust. John Dominic Crossan regarded Jesus as 'a hippy among Augustan yuppies', proclaiming a brokerless Kingdom of God; this also could be regarded as a political message which is only partially evident in Mark. On the other hand, in the theocratic state of Israel, even under the more or less remote control of the Romans, any change proposed to the methods by which God should be approached could be construed as political. To propose that those held unclean by the Law, lepers and sinners, should have equal or prior status to faithful observers of the Law, was surely a political message. Certainly Jesus' action in the Temple must have been construed as political, for the Temple was the symbolic centre of national life, and not only of national life but also of ethnic life, extending its influence beyond the borders of Palestina all over the Jewish Diaspora. To Mark's audience, however, these interests would be remote and unimportant, and his message is rather primarily religious, though not without consequences for daily life.
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9. 'Mark's Gospel has no need for any account of appearances of the risen Christ' - is, then, the ending of Mark satisfactory?
The first question to ask is 'which ending?' Two of the three great MSS of Mark, namely Sinaiticus and Vaticanus, end the gospel at 16.8. The third great witness to the MS tradition, Alexandrinus, is joined by other important MSS in adding verses 9-20. This can hardly be original, but does indicate dissatisfaction with the present ending. It is therefore important to show Mark's purpose in concluding his gospel thus.
The secondary character of 16.9-20 is clear from its vocabulary and style. It is full of words which occur nowhere in Mark but plentifully in other NT writings. Gone are the succinct little stories of Mark, to be replaced by mere summary statements and commands, such as the appearance to Mary Magdalene, the Ascension and session at God's right hand, the charge to preach the gospel to every creature. It is all too obvious that this helter-skelter shower of facts is culled from the other gospels and the Acts. It is, however, an indication that at some stage the ending at 16.8 was felt to require a supplement. This may be on linguistic or theoogical grounds.
Linguistically there are two difficulties, evfobou/nto and ga.r. It is claimed that the former requires either a direct object or an object clause, and that the latter is an impossible ending for a paragraph, let alone a book. Unusual they are, but diligent search through ancient literature has thrown up sufficient examples to show that they are not impossible. The latter, at least, the succinct little delayed explanation introduced by ga.r, is typical of Mark's style. Theologically the difficulty may be read off the other synoptic gospels, which both conclude with appearances of the risen Lord. Once these had been written it is understandable that Christians felt that a gospel should end with such appearances, and set about providing Mark with a similar ending.
The alternatives therefore are to explain what happened to an original ending, now lost, or to show that the ending at 16.8 is in fact satisfactory. A series of silly explanations has been offered for the disappearance of an original ending, that Mark died or was imprisoned before he could complete the gospel, or that the single copy of the original ending was lost. These demand too much coincidence, both of timing and of severance. It would be extraordinary if Mark had been removed or the text cut off exactly at a point which made at least tolerable sense. This leaves as the only alternative an explanation of the text as it stands.
Several approaches and several factors here coincide, not all compatible with one another; of these three will be offered. The first rests on a negative interpretation of the fear of the women: after all, it is claimed, fear is always a negative force in Mark. The climax of the gospel is the crucifixion. This has been prepared by the bursting of the messianic secret at the trial scene, and is completed by the acknowledgement of Jesus as son of God by the gentile centurion. After this there is no more to be said, and there remains only the quiet ending as the whole story comes to rest, a reposeful cadenza of the kind much favoured in ancient Greek literature. It is also a completion, in that the women too, the last hope of fidelity, fail just as their male colleagues have done. Jesus has, humanly speaking, failed in his mission to bring the sovereignty of God to completion; the last remnants of his following has deserted. It is now left to God, accepting Jesus' supreme act of obedience, to vindicate Jesus by the spread of the Kingdom. It is left also to the reader of the gospel to make the supreme leap of faith.
The second explanation is diametrically opposed to the first, regarding the fear of the women as positive: after all, it is riposted, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom. The dominant and repeated emphasis on fear in the narrative of the Empty Tomb brings home the awesomeness of the action of God in raising Jesus. The eschaton has already begun with this presage of the general resurrection of the dead, and the only possible reaction is to flee in terror and reverence. The only important detail to be included is the positive one of reconciliation with Peter and the others, expressed in the assurance of meeting in Galilee.
A third explanation depends on the presentation of Jesus as a prophet, knowing the future in every detail. Throughout the gospel there has been a repeated rhythm of prophecy and fulfilment. The triple prophecy of the crucifixion has been fulfilled; the triple prophecy of the resurrection is fulfilled now. The pre-Passion prophecy of a meeting in Galilee was given at 14.28; its repetition now is sufficent reminder and guarantee of the future. Through all the persecutions so strongly intimated by Mark's theologia crucis the risen Christ will be present with his community. The gospel is open-ended and confident.
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